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collectivefandomstuff · 4 years

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Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Merry & Bright {23}: I Promise

Previous: Golden Days

Pairing: OT7 x Respective Partners

Genre: Fluff with Light Holiday Angst

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Days before Christmas, Bangtan find themselves stranded at the airport.

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“Are you fucking serious?” Namjoon’s voice is low, hushed in the slightly crowded airport lounge.

“When is the next flight?” Yoongi asks, glare staring at the airport attendant in front of him. Taehyung stands next to him, bag resting gently on the floor, cellphone in hand.

In seats across the way, Jimin and Hoseok sit, thumbs moving hastily as they text. Seokjin, sits with their managers, discussing solutions, and Jungkook is by the window, phone to his ear, disappointment in his posture.

“I know, I know,” Jungkook says, voice weary. “I’m trying jagi, I am.”

It’s the sound of Namjoon’s hand slamming against the wall that brings them all together, moving into a private room in the lounge, seated staring at one another.

“We were supposed to be home by now,” Hoseok says, frustration deep in the stoop of his eyebrows.

“I know,” Namjoon answers.

“It’s our first married Christmas,” Jungkook adds, stuffing his tattooed covered hands in the pocket of his sweats.

“It’s my child’s first Christmas!” Taehyung declares, aghast that anyone was missing anything nearly as important as him.

“I was supposed to take the kids for Christmas photos,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi’s voice is low, a prayer no one will hear, but a hope they will. “I was going to propose.”

“What?” Hoseok yells, nearly knocking Jimin off his perch.

Taehyung turns to his Hyung. “Why are we just hearing about this?”

“Do you have a ring?” Namjoon wonders.

“You’re involved with someone?” Jimin pokes. Yoongi glares at him, knowing full well Jimin knows the answer.

“On Christmas Eve, while we opened presents. Had it all planned for months, the ring is wrapped, it’s sitting under the fucking tree,” Yoongi explains.

“Won’t she notice a ring box?” Jimin asks.

“No, I put it in a larger box,” Yoongi’s humoring him, and Jimin knows.

“A box inside a box?” Jungkook laughs.

“Sort of,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Damn, how many years has it been?” Seokjin asks.

“Five,” Yoongi recounts each anniversary in his mind. The first one, spent on different continents during tour, the second, when they’d flown to New York for press, the third, when you’d gone to Paris, the fourth, when he’d finally convinced you to move to Korea half time, and the fifth, when you’d discussed marriage.

“Service time counts,” Hoseok adds.

“Fine, seven,” Yoongi tells them. Technically, years four and five were shared in your hearts only, Yoongi being a desk jockey in the military, but you counted them, nonetheless.

Jimin cackles “Wow, never imagined Yoongi-ah would settle down,”

“Who would’ve thought?” Namjoon chuckles, staring at his elder.

“You all are trash,” Yoongi says. “None of you are invited to the wedding.”

“How do you know she’ll say yes?” Taehyung asks, eyes wandering around the sterile lounge. It’s all marble and metal, cold and contemporary, Christmas wreaths hung periodically and poinsettias on all the tables. The only warmth coming from the men, all ganging up on their favorite member.

“I know,” Yoongi confirms.

“But how, are you psychic?” Seokjin wonders.

“No, she told me,” Yoongi tells him.

“She told you?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Yoongi scolds, cheeks puffed as he smiles.

“Alright, alright,” Jin resides.

“Tae, what are you plans for baby’s first Christmas?” Yoongi asks, deflecting.

“And baby’s first birthday,” Namjoon adds.

“He’s so cute, oh my gosh, he just teeters on his little feet, trying to walk. He’s taken a few steps, but he only likes walking if you hold his tiny little hands,” Taehyung gushes, opening the photos on his phone to show them.

“We’ve seen the videos,” Namjoon laughs, looking again at the numerous photos Taehyung has of his son, not mentioning that he’s seen them all, in an email, that Taehyung sent one day during nap time.

“Don’t act like we haven’t seen a million from you,” Jimin says elbowing Namjoon. “You’re just as shameless.”

“You just have more kids, so it seems less obnoxious,” Yoongi says.

“Two for the price of one!” Seokjin laughs.

“Don’t think we don’t have the same reaction to yours,” Hoseok laughs at Jin. “You might be the worst out of you three.”

Pointing at him, finger dagger like, Namjoon warns, “Oh, just you wait, Hope, it’s coming for you too.”

Taehyung looks from member to member, wondering aloud, “Who will have kids next?”

“Jungkook,” Jimin blurts. His eyes go wide, and he turns to the maknae.

“Or J Hope,” Jungkook says, his deflection evident in the blush on his cheeks.

“No, no, Jungkook, why are you blushing?” Namjoon asks.

“No reason just wasn’t paying attention,” Jungkook tries to brush it off, but Namjoon’s got him.

“Is she pregnant?” Hoseok asks, eyes wide.

“I, maybe, I don’t know,” Jungkook tries to burrow himself into his sweatsuit, beanie pulled lower and lower over his face.

“Holy shit!” Yoongi exclaims, glancing to make sure no one else has heard his expletive.

“Are you surprised the golden maknae is procreating before you?” Seokjin asks glancing at Yoongi.

“No, I’m not surprised at all, my money was on Jungkook,” Yoongi says still smiling.

“It’s, it’s too soon to tell anyone, we’ve only told our parents,” Jungkook’s cheeks continue to cherry, blossoming across his cheekbones, knowing full well he’s going to be in trouble when his wife finds out he squealed.

“Ah, discretion,” Seokjin nods. “We’ll pretend we’re not excited for you.”

“Hobi, what about you?” Jimin turns the attention to someone else, feeling guilty about spoiling Jungkook’s news.

“Ah, kids are a few years off for us,” Ho-Seok nods, twirling the wedding band on his finger. “Jiminie, what about you?”

“Me?” Jimin asks pointing to himself.

“You started this nonsense,” Namjoon reminds him.

“I, no, no babies, no engagement,” Jimin shakes his head.

“Why not?” Taehyung asks. “You’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, but talking and following through are two different things,” Jimin says. They all nod, knowing Jimin was going to get engaged shortly after Yoongi. Taehyung found it surprising, but not wholly out of character for Jimin to wait for his Hyung to propose first. It was odd, though, everyone had always bet Jimin would get married shortly after Jungkook, while Yoongi would remain the last man standing.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here,” Jungkook says again, glancing at the window. “Isn’t this why we stopped traveling before Christmas?”

Six years ago, when Namjoon had welcomed his first child, the band decided they would never travel over Christmas again, refusing to part from their growing families. They turned down any work outside the city, including New Years. If some program wanted them, they either wanted their entire blossoming families or they wouldn’t have BTS at all. It was a hard and fast rule, which in the six years since Namjoon became a father, they hadn’t broken.

Tonight, stranded in an airport in a place none of them could recognize, at least 1000 miles away, they were regretting agreeing to perform for the KBS special anywhere other than Seoul, or within two hours drive from their homes.

So, they sit, December 23rd, unconvinced they were going to be home by Christmas Eve, unsure if they were going to be home by Christmas.

“I would walk home,” Hoseok says, sinking in his chair.

“I would run,” Jimin counters.

“I’d cross the deserts,” Jungkook says.

“And the oceans,” Taehyung adds.

“A fucking frozen tundra,” Yoongi states.

“If only there was a guiding light, a star, leading us home,” Namjoon says.

Seokjin sighs, frustration and thoughtfulness in one breath. “She does so much for us, for our family, and here I am, sitting in a luxurious airport, while she’s home with the kids.”

“She hasn’t even hung the Christmas lights, we were going to decorate the tree together,” Yoongi says. “You know how much she loves Christmas.”

“I feel like we should go into the gift shops and buy something,” Hoseok suggests.

“What are we going to find?” Jungkook wonders.

“Wine,” Namjoon says.

“Candy,” Jungkook suggests.

“Oo, candy,” Hoseok laughs, his first laugh in the last few hours.

Namjoon, still lamenting, “She does everything, she’s the glue of our whole family.”

“Maybe we’ll go on vacation, somewhere warm,” Seokjin ponders.

“We should take a big family vacation!” Taehyung suggests.

“No,” Yoongi shuts it down.

Hoseok stares at Yoongi, reading the anxiety in his eyes over the suggestion. “It could be fun!”

Yoongi stares him down, countering his offer. “How about those who have kids go on one vacation, and those without go on their own,”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Seokjin asks.

“I’m tired, my proposal is going to shit, and I’m missing decorating my home with my future wife,” Yoongi lists.

“I can’t believe they have no hotel rooms anywhere near by,” Hoseok wonders.

“Maybe if we wish upon a star we’ll make it home by tomorrow,” Jungkook suggests.

“This is the first Christmas we’ve spent just us, just us seven, in what, a decade?” Taehyung inquires, looking at each of his brothers.

“Since we all came back from service,” Namjoon answers.

Agreeing, Hoseok speaks. “We should honor that,”

“We’ll be with our families as soon as we can,” Jimin concedes.

“Life goes on,” Jungkook sings softly.

“We’ll be home by Christmas Eve, swear it,” Taehyung’s attempt at inspiring them is what they need.

“Should we go find food and treats?” Jungkook suggests.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon says.

“And any souvenirs we can find from this place,” Hoseok reminds them.

In a small gift shop, Yoongi and Jimin stare at the chip selection.

“You should propose whenever you want,” Yoongi says to Jimin.

“Thank you hyung,” Jimin wants to hug him, but refrains.

“I don’t want to steal your thunder, you’ve been planning longer than me, do it when it feels right,” Yoongi glances at Jimin, slightly taller than him, and smiles.

“Thank you,” Jimin smiles, grateful for the unnecessary permission.

As they gather back in the lounge, snacks and gummy worms plentiful on the newly cleaned airport table, the seven of them share laughs over silly things their kids have said and reminisce on the years they’ve spent together. Through it all, with the weight of uncertainty waning, they had a glimmer of hope, a little belief, that they’ll be home by Christmas Eve.

Next: Happy Anniversary

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 4 years

Text

Daylight | Edward Cullen x Stark!OC

Chapter 1 | Hard Time Adjusting

"You gotta step into the daylight and let it go"

Summary: Delphina Stark, to be frank, is tired. After the events of the Accords are done and half of the Avengers are now considered fugitives, she moves from bustling New York to live with her mom in Forks, Washington. Wielding a sarcastic attitude and crippling self-deprecating humor, she somehow gets wrapped up in the supernatural world.

Word Count: ~4k

Note: Click here for the Masterlist for this series ♡ || Link for my tag list in my Bio ♡

Cold and rain, something so typical of this place, yet Delphina can’t help but scowl as she stares out the car window. The lush green trees from the forest that surround them zip past them, becoming nothing but blurs in shades of green and brown. Her forehead rests against the cool glass, the window fogging up wherever her warm breath hits. If she was seven years old, she’d excitedly draw little pictures on the window, writing witty things that only she laughed at, but she’s not seven anymore. Instead of bouncing in her seat, talking animatedly about everything to anyone who listens, she just sits in the car, barely moving an inch, as silent as a statue. Quiet music pours from the sterosystem of the car, an acoustic guitar and a smooth male voice easing the silence. Occasionally her mom sings along, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

Delphina looks over at her, taking in her brown hair that’s been cut to her shoulders. Her eyes trace over her mom’s pale complection, a stark contrast to Delphina’s sunkissed skin. Her brown eyes focus on the road in front of them, a small smile resting on her lips. Her gaze moves back to the window, a small sigh leaving her mouth, creating a large cloud of fog on the glass.

Forks, Washington; easily one of the dreariest places Delphina has had the privilege of visiting. Rain always pours from the sky, threatening to drown the town and sweep it away until it’s nothing more than Atlantis. On the off chance the rain ceases, a thick overcast covers the sky, blocking out any chance of sunlight shining down on the city, bathing everything in it’s warm glow. And on the especially rare days where there is no rain but only clear skies, blue is tinged with grey and the sun is dim, not as bright as the summer days in New York. The town is small, with a population of only around 3,000 people, which means the high school can only have one hundred students, two hundred tops.

“School starts tomorrow. Are you excited?” her mom, Anna asks from the driver’s side of the car. It’s been two hours since the plane hit Seattle, an hour of that time spent in the car. They didn’t exchange anything more than small talk and pleasantries in the airport, Delphina too lost in her own little world, dreaming of grand adventures far from here.

“About as excited as I’ll ever be,” she mutters, taking a sip of her soda. It’s awkward and tense, Delphina not having anything to say and her mom not knowing what to say. It feels like a lifetime since Delphina last visited, wearing two pigtails and bright summer dresses she’d inevitably ruin, only ten and causing a storm. But she doesn’t wear pigtails anymore, nor overly bright summer dresses she’d ruin, but still causes a storm everywhere she goes.

“What classes are you excited for?” she continues to prod, either not realizing how disconnected her daughter is or maybe she did and doesn’t care.

“The one with the books and the paper. Don’t even get me started on the ones involving pens and pencils. I’m getting giddy just thinking about it,” she says. A sardonic smile forms on Delphina’s face as her eyes continue to trace random shapes in the green-blue sky. Her mom reaches across the dash and smacks her arm lightly, the sound off beat with the music playing.

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

“Can’t help it, have you met my dad?” Delphina replies.

“Unfortunately.” her mom replies while rolling her eyes. Delphina simply snorts but says nothing else.

“You were the one that procreated with him,” she mutters, glancing at her mom from the corner of her eyes.

“Yeah and now I’ve got to deal with you,” Anna says, a smile creeping onto her lips that are painted a soft pink.

“Lucky you.”

The silence surrounds them for a few moments, the sound of rain pattering against the car piercing through it. Delphina slips her hand into the pocket of her sweatshirt, feeling the smooth surface of the flip phone. She runs her finger over its smooth surface, feeling the indent from glass to plastic. And it’s comforting, knowing Nat is only a phone call away, ready to swoop in if Delphina needs her. But more than that, it’s a piece of her home as she’s being thrown into the wolf den.

“You’re hair’s blonde,” her mom says, glancing at her briefly before returning her gaze to the winding road. Delphina touches the tips of her bleached hair, a light silver that she decided on after the abysmal mess Season 8 of Game of Thrones ended up being.

“Yeah, thought it’d look better,” Delphina says, dropping the strands of hair, watching as they limply fell, lying past her shoulders. She remembers lounging out in the main room, watching Game of Thrones with the TV on full blast, if only for the stern reprimanding she knew Steve would give her. And whenever he was on Earth, Thor would sit on one of the couches, enthusiastically watching it with her, despite not knowing what was happening. He’d cheer when Delphina did and get mad with her, even if he didn’t know why he should be upset when Daenerys burned King’s Landing.

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, the minutes dragging on until they reach the house, her new house. When they stop in the driveway, her mom turns off the car and the two of them get out and begin the slow process of unloading the things Delphina brought onto the plane. Her furniture and boxes already arrived two days prior, courtesy of her dad and expedited shipping. The process of unpacking is tedious and annoying, Delphina growing unreasonably frustrated with each passing moment. Her room here is much smaller than her room at the Compound so it’s like playing Tetris trying to fit her furniture. Delphina never liked Tetris. Eventually, she gives up, hearing the sounds of the front door opening and shutting, the old house shaking from the force, a second later unfamiliar voices filtering through the house.

Quietly, Delphina walks downstairs, the soft sound of feet touching the carpet the only sound she makes. It sounds like two voices - a man and a woman. Upon reaching the landing of the stairs, she sees two people standing in the living room with her mom. The girl looks around Delphina’s age, with mousy brown hair and a pale complexion that makes her mom look like a middle aged woman who fell asleep in a tanning bed. The man next to her is much older, probably her dad. He’s wearing a police officer uniform with short brown hair and a mustache that looks like something straight out of an 80s boy band.

“Delphina! I was just about to call you. Come in come in, I want you to meet some people.” her mom exclaims, the smile on her face a touch too wide. The two people look over at Delphina as she apprehensively walks further into the room until she stands next to her mom, directly across from the girl.

“This is Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella,” both of them smile at Delphina, the girl nodding when her mom says her name.

“Hey,” Delphina says, feeling the gaze of her mom that oozes with sugary sweetness, hiding daggers in them, silently demanding that Delphina play nice, if only for the next few minutes.

“Hey,” the girl, Bella, mimics. “You’re going to Fork High, right?”

“Not like there's any other high school,” Delphina says. Her mom digs her elbow into

Delphina’s side, subtle enough their guests don't notice, but firm enough to get her point across. Bella’s expression falls the tiniest bit, glancing at her dad and Delphina’s mom before moving her gaze back to her, and Delphina feels a small amount of guilt set in.

‘Must be Capsicle’s influence finally rubbing off on me.’

“Sorry, yes, I’ll be at Forks,” Delphina says, painting the most charming smile she can force on her lips. And Bella’s smile returns, nodding her head again as she opens her hand, pointing it towards Delphina.

“Me too, I can pick you up tomorrow, if you’d like?” she continued. Delphina opens her mouth to decline, not wanting to interact with anyone more than necessary--.

“She’d love to.” her mom interjects smiling at Delphina, her voice too chirper to be normal. Delphina gifts her with a scathing glare, not enjoying her mom strong-arming her into making friends. “It might be good for you to have some friends your own age.” her mom says in a defensive tone. This elicited an eye roll from Delphina but she didn’t argue and a laugh from Charlie that he quickly covers up with a cough when she looks over at him.

“Yeah, Bella could introduce you to her friends at school, they’re… interesting.” Charlie says. At the end of his sentence, he starts scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. The tension in the room between Delphina and her mom is palpable, so thick you could taste it.

“That’s a great idea! Now, I do believe Bella was kind enough to bake us some brownies, so let’s go eat dinner and devour those,” her mom exclaims, bustling towards the kitchen area.

Internally, Delphina groans as she drags her feet towards the dining room. She would give her left foot away if it meant she could be back at the Compound, locked away in her dad’s lab as she tinkers with anything and everything. Instead she has to endure as her mom plays host, pretending to not notice the wary looks both Bella and Charlie give her, like she’s a ticking bomb seconds away from exploding if either of them say or do the wrong thing.

o0o0o0o

After the most awkward dinner ever, Charlie and Bella leave their house, Bella telling Delphina she’ll be back at 7:30 am to pick her up. After helping her mom clean up, placing dishes in the sink and quickly wiping down the table, Delphina rushes up to her room, ready to go to sleep. She gets undressed and throws on some cotton pajamas, running through her skincare routine before eventually settling in bed, scrolling through her IPad mindlessly, doing anything and everything to avoid any headlines that involve the Avengers. A few moments later, her mom knocks on her doorway, standing in the hallway. She’s out of her clothes and in a sleep shirt and old leggings, wet hair dripping on the carpet with a bare face.

“Goodnight,” she says.

“Night mom,” Delphina says, not looking up from her screen.

“Del, I’m glad you’re here.” her mom says after a moment of silence.

“Yeah, I missed you,” she mutters, briefly meeting her mom’s gaze before her eyes flit back to the bright screen, enraptured by the cat video playing. She sighs and then another moment of silence passes before once again, it’s broken by her mom.

“Look, I understand this must be difficult with everything that’s happened in the past month --” her mom begins. Delphina’s mind snaps to the present upon hearing the words, already where the conversation is heading and not liking it.

“I’m gonna make like Kanye, and cut you off. I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, holding up one perfectly manicured hand.

“I’m serious Delphina, I know you were close with all of them, and now most of them are wanted criminals --” her mom pushes through like a charging boar going headfirst, seemingly unbothered by Delphina’s attempt at shutting down the conversation.

“And I’m serious when I say I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice grows louder, completely smothering the words her mom said. She presses down on the lock button, her IPad turning off with a quiet click. She haphazardly tosses it to the other side of the bed, bouncing a few times before it settles in its spot.

“Ignoring it isn’t going to solve anything,” Anna continues to argue, looking at her daughter with wide, pleading eyes.

“And neither is this conversation,” Delphina says, throwing the plush duvet over herself, cocooning herself in it’s warm embrace, willing her mom and her prying question away.

“I don’t want to start this right now Del. Just know I love you.” and with that, her mom closes the door behind her, her footsteps slowly disappearing.

Delphina lays motionless for hours, staring at the same spot in the wall, her mind a chaotic storm, sweeping away any sense and logic. Eventually sleep overcomes her, lulling her into it’s warm embrace, the memories fading away until all she dreams about is happier times.

o0o0o0o

FORKS HIGH Home of the Spartans.

The wood sign in the grass displaying the high school name, like everything else in this town, is old and worn, the words nearly too faded to read. The school building itself is no exception. The brick building is larger than Delphina anticipated, different than the pictures she painted in her mind. The design is similar to the stereotypical school, the kind in all the kids cartoons. Bella’s orange truck pulls into a parking spot, near a white van with a group of people surrounding it. Her eyes scan over them, watching the three boys rambunctiously talk to each, pushing one another around, feeding into the small town stereotypes Delphina built up. The group turn to face the truck once Bella cuts the engine, the truck spitting loudly before finally shutting down. And Delphina has to force the scowl that’s forming on her face away, unwilling to further the rich girl stereotype, even if she perfectly fits into it most days.

“Hey, Bella! Who’s that with you?” a blonde guy in a letterman jacket and jeans says to Bella as she opens the car door, Delphina following suit.

“Hey Mike, this is Delphina, she’s new here,” Bella replied, gesturing towards Delphina’s general direction with her hand. The group immediately turn their attention to Delphina, watching her like scavenger birds about to feast upon a freshly rotted corpse.

Gross.

“Delphina eh? Interesting name, I’m Mike,” the guy - Mike - says, walking towards her with his hand outstretched.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, effortlessly side stepping him and turning towards Bella. “I’ll see you later, I’ve got to get my schedule.”

“Wait aren’t you Tony Stark’s daughter!?” a girl in the group exclaims, her voice grating against Delphina’s eardrums.

She doesn’t give them a response or any indication she hears the question, quickly walking away from the group. She adjusts her backpack and messes with the bracelet on her wrist, the metal is cold and smooth to the touch, bringing her out of her thoughts momentarily.

Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot.

She wills herself to keep moving forward rather than fleeing like she wanted to, especially since everyone’s gaze is on her. She can see in their faces, the tilt of confusion, eyes alight as they recognize the daughter of Iron Man himself. The closer she gets to the steps that lead up to the school, the more people notice her. And despite the airs of arrogance she puts on, Delphina hates people looking at her, especially when they look at her like a tiny new toy to play with. And for a brief moment, she considers convincing her mom to let her do online school rather than deal with any people. Or maybe she could run off into the woods surrounding the school, never to be seen again as she lives in solitude for the rest of her days.

Eventually she reaches the top of the steps, moving in the school building that brings a much-needed warmth to her chilled body. Her eyes scan the entrance, trying to see past all the people moving around, chatting loudly with one another. More students are inside, near lockers and other spots, seemingly enjoying the cold as much as Delphina did. She darts towards the wooden door to her left, the sign hanging over it reading OFFICE.

Entering the room, it’s relatively small with a few chairs pushed up against the wall. They face towards the counter that the front desk woman is sitting behind. And further behind her is another door that most likely leads to the office of the principal and the assistant principal. The woman behind the desk looks to be in her late 40s, with fine blonde hair, nearly as pale as her skin, that’s cropped short. She wears a pair of stereotypical receptionist glasses set on the bridge of her nose as she eyes Delphina with a look of interest. Thick red lipstick coats her thin, wrinkly lips, some of it smudging onto her face.

“How can I help you today sweetie?” she asks, lowering her gaze slightly to get a better look. Her eyes burned through Delphina for a few moments, trying to determine if she knows her from somewhere. Delphina moves forward until she stands close enough to the counter that she can touch it and smell the strong floral perfume the woman wears.

“Hi, I’m Delphina Stark. I’m here to pick up my schedule,” she says. With those magical words, Delphina watches the woman’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise before she manages to semi collect herself. But she’s sitting up a bit straighter, her lips stretching into a grin that is a hair wider than a few minutes before.

It looks like the notoriety of her last name has reached everyone in little old Forks.

“Oh of course! I’ll get that right for you, Ms. Stark,” the woman says, rolling her chair away and opening a filing cabinet. She rummages around for a few moments, before finding her target. She rolls back to where Delphina is waiting and places the sheet of paper on the counter, her long acrylic nails tapping against the countertop. Bright red, a bold color, yet so stereotypical for a secretary. “Here you go, dear.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, turning to leave the room as soon as possible. Looking down at the paper, she reads her first class of the day, Biology. Glancing down at the map in her hands, Delphina begins following the vague directions, hoping to get there before class starts.

‘God knows I don’t need the attention.’

o0o0o0o

The bell rings loudly in the hall, piercing through any ambient noises and causes any lingering students to rush off. With a slur of curse words, Delphina rushes towards the door, that if the map is correct, should lead to her Biology class. Her footsteps pound against the glossy linoleum floors as she closes the distance between her and the door. She stops in front of the door, smoothing down her sweater and jeans, adjusting her backpack, and smooths her hair. With a final deep breath, Delphina opens the door, entering the classroom.

The chattering that previously filled the room ceases once Delphina enters the room. The teacher, Mr. Molina is standing near his desk and currently faces Delphina, some papers in hand along with a pen. He smiles widely at her, in an attempt to ease her anxiety, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does. Each of her steps in the room is magnified 100x, the students watching her like a hawk.

“Hello, Delphina I assume?” he asks, meeting her halfway, clicking his pen on.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she says, handing him the paper the front desk lady gave her. He quickly scribbles his signature and hands the paper back to Delphina. He turns towards his desk and grabs a book before turning back to her.

“Alright Delphina Stark, welcome to Biology! Here’s this book for you --” he says as he hands her the Biology textbook. “I’ve got a seat for you, right over there,” he continues, pointing to the only empty seat in the room.

“Thanks,” she mutters, making her way down the rows of seats towards her new lab partner.

When her eyes land on him, Delphina nearly forgets how to breathe properly, needing to make an effort to inhale and exhale. He looks perfect, like a sculpture from Ancient Greece with a beauty that could put actual gods to shame. His skin is porcelain pale, nearly glowing in the dingy classroom lighting. His copper hair is messy, like he runs his hands through it a million times a day, framing golden eyes that look like glittering gold. He’s boyish in appearance with a blank expression resting on his perfect face, clearly already bored with the class. An unopened notebook along with a pen is the only possession he seems to have with him.

His gaze moves up to Delphina, gold meeting blue for only a second, but it’s enough to electrify her, as he moves his eyes back to his desk, fist clenching at his sides ever so slightly. And despite Delphina’s best interest, her heart stutters for a moment, her mouth getting drier the longer she looks at him.

Like in a trance, she moved towards the table, her eyes moving from her mysterious lab partner, to the back wall, back to him, then back to the wall. She finally arrives at the table, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. The chair scrapes against the floor, pulling attention back to Delphina, but they quickly lose interest as the Mr. Molino starts to speak, droning on about onions or something.

“Hey,” she says, not expecting a reply, if his sullen expression is anything to go by.

And she doesn’t receive one. The entire class passes by and he manages to not utter a single word to Delphina, doesn’t even breathe in her direction.

As soon as the bell rings, signifying that class is over, the guy shoots out the classroom, disappearing from view before Delphina could even blink, leaving her mildly disgruntled, confusion clouding her thoughts.

“Hey, New York!” the voice of Mike breaks her out of her thoughts. “Why don’t you let me walk you to class?”

And as she grabs her books and bag, she groans, doing everything in her power to dodge Mike while inflicting minimal injuries to him, not wanting to be sent home on her first day of school.

o0o0o0o

Tags:

@stuckupstucky

#Edward Cullen x reader #Edward Cullen imagine #edward cullen #edward cullen fanfic #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight one shot #cullen clan #stark!reader #stark!daughter #stark!oc #Avengers #post civil war #avengers crossover #pre infinity war

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zombriekid · 5 years

Text

Moments in the Fall: Actual Dialogue [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: it’s the very first time the two of you share a dialogue where he doesn’t outwardly threaten your life; it may not be the most enlightening but it seems you’re finally getting somewhere with the vampire in red.

“Are you afraid of death, mister Alucard?” You ask with a quiet voice. “More specifically, of dying?”

The man in question lets your enquiry drift in the space between you two, but there’s no cumbersome tension or boiling anger here aiming to trawl the collective mood down. Rather it seems that His silence is born out of consideration, interest, as if He’s mulling over just exactly how He feels about the prospect of His own passing.

In the meantime you drop yourself into a crouch, your hands pawing at the sides of the bag until you feel the cool plastic of the zipper under your fingertips. A manner of seconds, the white polyester teeth peel back wide enough for you to reach inside, and when your touch meets the desired slab of wood you entrap a corner within your grip and hoist the board out.

“Death is an inevitability for all things organic, it’s not question of ‘if’ but rather ‘when’.” He says.

You glance at His profile haunting the corner of your eye before you gently settle the board down among the blades of the lush, green grass. “So in other words... no?”

“In other words no.”

A short hum bubbles in the back of your throat as an acknowledgment of Alucard’s answer, and no the irony of asking an undead being if He fears dying- while fenced in by a smattering of broken tombstones all wielding the name “Hellsing” on a clear summer night- is not lost on you.

“And what of you, revenant?”

You trace the board’s patchy varnish with your eyes, and the chipped paint of the “hello” and “goodbye” etched into the bottom left and right corners respectively with your nails. You’re fond of this old spirit board, it reminds you of your late grandfather and the numerous Halloweens and sleepovers spent hovering over it. Papa’s passing was your very first encounter with death, but it was a natural, painless event that made it seem like he merely slipped into an afternoon nap. Perhaps that had served as an influence over your perception of mortality.

“Nah, not really,” you pause for a second, “I mean I’m kinda worried about what’ll happen to my soul after I die- ya know, am I gonna have unfinished business and will that trap me somewhere? But I’m not scared of the actual dying part.”

“Most humans are.”

“Yeah, well most humans aren’t actual ghostbusters either.”

There’s a brief lull in the conversation- a fact that will drive away any hope of you snoozing later because holy shit you’re having an actual conversation with Alucard?!- before He pipes up with another remark, and you can practically hear the sneer in His voice. “Are you? Because I don’t recall them using a toy to deal with ghosts.”

“Then you’re just not remembering right. Besides, I’m using this ‘toy’ as a trigger object.” You bite back with a single huff. “That’s medium talk by the way for-”

“-for bullshit.”

Oh if looks could kill, as they say. Alucard is not impressed nor intimidated by the ferocious gutters in the skin of your furrowed brow or the savage downturn of your mouth, He simply maintains that familiar unpleasant grin as you try your damnedest to burn an impression of your glare into the side of His skull.

“You know you can go back inside the manor, right? It’s not as if I asked you to join me!”

“And miss another one of your pathetic attempts at proving that you’re not full of shit? Never.”

Emotionally you resemble a geyser, nearly exploding from the mouth with a choir of colorful expletives vulgar enough to make a sailor blush, and demands to know who raised Him and why they deemed it appropriate to procreate and curse the world with His existence. In fact you manage a single “fuck y-” before a gentle vibration rumbles against the side of your thigh. It’s your phone, and in the business of man-eater monster hunting one has to be ready to heed the call to arms at any moment’s notice, so instead of unleashing your torrent of wrath upon Alucard you swallow it down like a horse-pill, rip your phone out of your pocket, unlock your screen, and read the text that awaits you.

Text from: The Fuzz (Seras)

“Just got an assignment from sir Integra. Wheels up in an hour.”

Back in to the pocket of your shorts does the cellular device go. The spirit board finds a home within your backpack as well, and once the bag’s straps are upon your shoulders you stand at your full height and shake the prickly tingles from your calves.

Once again you level the vampire with a vicious stink-eye, “after I’m done with this assignment-” you jab a pointer finger His way “-we’re gonna have a good ol fashioned seance. You and me. And I’m gonna make you eat your words, you fedora wearin’ asshole.”

It’s now that Alucard gives you His full attention, turning to you with an ever growing grin and a soft- but no less derisive- chuckle rolling from the pit of His large chest; His teeth glimmer in the moonlight, and you don’t ignore this.

“Looking forward to it, Murray.”

_______________________________________________________________________

a/u: don’t necessarily like it but i need to shake the cobwebs now that company is gone, so here you go. i have a series of prompts/themes i’ve created where i cover very specific yet easy to miss hurdles you and the ol count overcome before we get to some heavy shit, and this one’s about the two of you actually managing to have a “decent” conversation. there’s another obstacle that’s been beaten in this but i’ll let y’all figure that one out yourselves. don’t forget to give this a like, leave some feedback, and reblog it if ya liked it! and hey, thanks for taking the time to read it <3

#hellsing #hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #seras victoria #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfic #hellsing fanfiction #writing #hunter murray #i'm taggin seras cause she's briefly mentioned

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 5 years

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Elizabeth Mikealson - What If? (Chapter 2)

Authors Note: Dedicated to my wife and best friend! @evilispretty-deadevilispretty-dead who helped me write this chapter! Love you darling! <3 Check out my other works or continue the story here. Word Count: 3020 Warnings: Implied sex. (Make sure to wrap it before you tap it kiddo’s. Vampires can’t procreate but we lil humans can.)

After the long and passionate kiss Elijah checks me all over for any visible marks but thank god for vampire healing.

"Don't worry I'm fine no need to fuss." I say to him, truth be told I was hurting my chest rose and fell as my breathing intensifies.

"Vervain is dangerous my dear, I apologize that you were hurt." He says to me as his hand caresses my check, I lean into his touch and smile.

"Darling you had a stake impaled in your chest." I tease. Elijah let's out a small chuckle as he picks himself from the floor, his once neat pristine suit was ruined by the gaping hole from the makeshift stake.

He then offers out a hand for me to stand with him, my fingers interlaced with his and we made our way outside. "I don't know about you but I'm parched. A bite to eat, a shower and change of clean clothes should do the trick." I add we made our way towards the car and I headed towards the drivers seat.

"Elizabeth I'm fine to drive us." Elijah starts.

"Elijah Mikelason! You are in no fit position to drive get in the passenger side please." I interrupt him starting firm but my tone changed towards the end. With that he fishes the keys from his pocket and shows them to me.

"Thank you." I tell him and take the keys from him, with that I get seated in the drivers side and Elijah walks round the passenger side and gets in.

"Just please don't crash the car." He says as he looks over at while I'm fiddling around the seat getting it into the right position so I could reach the pedals. I flash Elijah a smile

"No promises." I tease and wink at him. I lean in and kiss his soft lips, nipping at his lower lip.

I started the engine and gave it a few revs and I pulled out and sped off down the road. Smiling at the power of the car as it zipped down the road. I could feel Elijah's hand on my lap, grabbing my inner thigh every time I sped up. "Your tense" I tease him.

"No your driving makes me tense." He mumbled as he grips my leg a little harder.

"I am a perfectly adequate driver thank you very much." I say sarcastically. I speed the car up a little more just to see the reaction from my tense husband, I looked at him in a very flirtatious way and happy with the result I saw.

"Elizabeth eyes on the road." He says to me while gritting his teeth, his tone of voice went right through me and it was a voice that could make me weak at the knees.

"Yes Elijah." I respond to him sweetly. I looked back on the road and started to apply the brake so I could make the bend easy.

"Good girl." He says to me and as soon as I reached the apex I applied pressure to the accelerator once again. His hand relaxed in my lap and he started to draw patterns on my leg making me bite my lower lip.

"So where are we off to?" I ask him nervously.

"There is a B&B just outside Mystic Falls so keep on this road and we will come across it soon." My husband replies with a huff. And with that being said I simply nodded to him and put my foot down to reach our destination.

About an hour of driving we arrived at the B&B, pulling the car into the small car park bringing it to a halt. We both got out of the car Elijah grabbing the large bag that contained some of our spare clothes and made our way inside, to which we see a man behind the reception desk. Elijah approached the man to book a room for a few days. "I would like a room." He says to the man.

"Just for you?" The man replies in a bored tone, the man wasn't really listening to a word Elijah was saying as he was too busy looking me up and down.

"No for two." Elijah replies in a cold and merciless tone. The man is taken back and swallows quickly, his heartbeat starts to quicken.

"O..of c..c..course." The man stutters as he fumbles around to find the keys to the room. By now I could tell that Elijah was extremely angry, due to the fact he almost pulled the poor human over the desk.

"Tell me what you were thinking" Elijah compels the man.

"I would love to show her a good time, I would make sure she couldn't remember her own name by the time I'm finished."

I blushed at Elijah's actions and I was taken back by what the human had said disgusted really, but Elijah was furious with him. In order to soothe the situation I walked over to my husband and placed a hand on his broad should and rubbed it in circles to try and calm him down.

"Easy now." I whispered to him.

I gently took the room key from Elijah and started heading up the room, I knew that my husband wanted to have the final say so I left him to it.

"Well you wont get to." I hear Elijah say to the man and followed closely behind me.

Once we arrived at the room I didn't even get chance to even say a word as Elijah dropped the bag and had pinned me to the door kissing me and looking deep into my eyes, his emotion was anger, lust and hunger all rolled into one.

"That pig won't touch you." He growls as he kisses and nips my neck.

His hands were roaming every inch of my body. He parted my legs with his knee and lifted me up onto his hip. Using every chance he could to grind into me. I was in pure bliss and the actions from Elijah right now were him blowing off steam. The rough and carefree Elijah. The side that excited me to no end.

"You are mine." He growled in my ear. As his lips returned to mine biting them every second possible. As I kissed him back I ran my fingers through his hair tugging on the loose stands to pull him back into a deep and passionate kiss.

"I am yours, always and forever" I whisper in his ear.

The next morning we had set off to Richmond and in all the years me and Elijah have been married we have only been there a handful of times, I really enjoyed coming on the far but few occasions. After the events of what happened the night before, both myself and Elijah were in good spirits, Elijah once again behind the steering wheel of the black Porsche.

"I wish we had time to actually do some sight-seeing for a change, not just be here on business." I say to him.

"Well maybe if it were under different circumstances, in the future I'll bring you back here and we can do all the things you want to do. How does that sound?" I smile at him and gently caress his arm.

"Sounds perfect". "Why not get some sleep? We've still got a hour or so on our journey and well I think you've earned it." Elijah smirks at me.

I look at him and see the smile on his face, I lean over and peck his cheek and snuggled down in the comfy leather seats and nodded of, the steady sounds of Elijah's breathing and the sounds of the engine send me into a peaceful state.

We arrive in Richmond around mid-morning and we walked through the streets of the city hand in hand. My phone in my bag started to vibrate. I come to a halt and started to root around my bag to find my phone.

"Would it be easier if you decided to sort that monstrosity you call your bag out." Elijah mocks me.

"Lijah, I have all of my necessitates it doesn't need sorting." I reply.

After a few short moments I answer the call and put it on speakerphone.

"Penelope your on speakerphone. I trust you have my information?" I ask.

"Is your super hot husband with you?" She asks soundly playful.

"Focus." I warn her.

"I'm going to take that as a big fat yes! But you need to head over that internet cafe, the one with the UV windows seems like Rose and her traveling companion are there now." Penelope tells me.

"Thank you sweet pea." I say to her.

"Later Momma." She replies and ends the call.

"Penelope is a little much isn't she?" Elijah says.

"What can I say? She learned from the best." I tease.

I chucked my phone back into my handbag and we carried on walking towards the cafe outside across the street was a street musician. Elijah reaches into his coat pocket and donates a $100 bill and takes a handful of the silver coins letting the coins fall into one hand and repeating the process while we overheard the conversation.

"Here's what I don't get. Elijah moved around during the day, which means the originals knew the secret of the day ring. Now why would Klaus want to lift the curse of the sun and the moon?"

"To keep the werewolves from lifting it. If a vampire breaks the sun curse then the werewolves are stuck with the curse of the moon forever and vice versa."

"But werewolves are extinct."

"True. I've never seen one but rumor has it..."

"Not such a rumor."

"Mystic Falls? God, I've got to visit this place. It sounds awesome."

"Seems like that their at an impasse" I whisper to him smiling.

Elijah is still fiddling with the coins the sweet sound of the metal falling was a pleasant sound. He nods at me and plants a kiss onto of my head. He is watching and listening for the right opportunity to strike.

"Awesome doesn't even begin to describe it. Can we stop the curse from being broken at all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if we make the moonstone useless, would it stop the curse from being broken?"

"Well, yeah, probably, but why would you want to do that?"

"Tell me how."

"You think I'm gonna help you figure out how to do something that will piss off an original? And keeping them from walking in the sun?"

"You want to walk in the sun? I can make that happen if you help us."

It seemed that Elijah had heard enough and with no effort he threw the coins directly at the windows of the cafe and the satisfying sound of the glass shattering and then hitting the sidewalk was music to my ears. Following the sounds of skin burning vampires and their screams.

Quickly after we left and walked in the opposite direction of the cafe. After walking for about 5 minutes we arrived at another cafe where headed inside and took some seat in a booth towards the back.

"They seem to have no clue what the moonstone is for." I say.

"Well it was a rumor Niklaus had made up." Elijah replies.

A waitress arrived at the table. "Hi, what can I get you?" She asks.

"Two teas please." I say to her. She nodded and walked away.

"We need to track down this 'Slater' he seems to know far too much about you." I tell him.

"Agreed. Would you be able to find his location?" Elijah replies.

"Shouldn't be too hard, I'll send Penelope a message."

Elizabeth: I need you to find the address for Slater.

Penelope: I'll see what I can do. I'll call you when I find something.

While I was texting our drinks had arrived, Elijah had poured into two teacups.

"How long do you think it will take for an address?" Elijah asks.

"Shouldn't be too long, she is a whiz when it comes down to things like this." I say to him with a smile, swirling the liquid gently around my cup.

"I'm curious how did you meet her?" Elijah replies bringing the cup to his lips to take a sip.

"Well do you remember when we had that vacation in Florida? I met her in the spa. We had booked the same treatments one day and we really seemed to hit it off. It wasn't until after I turned her I knew about her connections." I finish dunking the small biscuits into my beverage, I was always a fan of those small coffee shop biscuits and often swiped Elijah's. Elijah almost chokes on his tea.

"I'm sorry but you turned her?" He asks nervously.

"Lijah, relax shes who she is nothing will change that, but shes good at the tasks I send her. Keeps her head down and I only really send her pink fluffy stationary as a token of gratitude if she really does a great job." I tell him.

"I take it that is why I find 'Pink fluffy unicorn pen' in my credit card statements sometimes?" Elijah teases.

I let out a small chuckle. My phone once again starts to vibrate and I answer the phone, not putting it on speaker this time.

"Do you know how many Slater's are in Richmond?" She shouts down the phone. I squint and pull the phone away from my ear.

"I'm guessing there's a few?" I tease.

"Yes! But do you know how on 'Star Trek' when Captain Kirk asked McCoy to do something totally impossible, and McCoy says, Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor not a miracle worker?" Penelope says.

"No? But I have the feeling your going to get to the point? And tell me not to expect miracles?" I reply to her raising my eyebrow.

"No, I'm saying I'm not a Doctor, I've already texted you the address, bye." She says excitedly.

I let out another small chuckle and show Elijah the address. With that we finish up on our drinks and head off to our next port of call.

"Now this is an apartment building complex I could live in." I whisper to my husband as we stand in the elevator full of humans heading up to the top floor.

"It is quite nice, however I am still fond of our home in New Orleans." Elijah mumbles.

His arm is around my waist, and his chest is raising and falling quite quickly seems being pressed up against one another isn't doing either of us any favors.

When it was finally time for us to get out, I stride up to the front door about to knock when Elijah grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me into his chest, he brings his lips towards mine and as we connect it sends sparks throughout my body, instant memories of the night before play into my mind. My free hand starts to make its way into his neatened hair giving me something to hold onto as he plants kisses down my neck. Elijah was never one to show this amount of lust in public so me being pressed up towards him in the elevator really set him off. It was at that moment I felt the graze of his fangs on my neck. I slowly pushed him

"Elijah not here please." I gasp. Elijah suddenly realises this is going a bit too far and breaks away, recomposing himself he brings me in for a hug and kisses me on the forehead.

"Forgive me." He mumbles in my hair.

"Don't worry, even the great Elijah Mikealson is allowed push things too far once in a while. " I reply to him softly.

Recomposed once again were hand in hand as we made our way to the front door for Slater and I knock. A few moments pass and the door opens to reveal Slater looking a bit confused.

"Elijah?" He stutters.

"May we come in?" He asks.

Slater nods and opens the door fully so we can enter, Elijah being the gentleman he is let me walk in first.

"What a lovely home you have here, I was just saying to Elijah how I could live in a place like this." I announce smiling at him.

I left the two men talking and I decided to have a snoop around. Framed certificates hung on the wall. This guy had like twenty-five qualifications I suppose each to their own when they are a vampire.

"Very nicely done." I heard my husband say from the other room.

I returned back towards to the two males.

"Thanks, I have a degree in theater. How can you compel me? A vampire can't compel another vampire." Slater asks.

"You see Elijah is a special vampire." I tell him. I plant a small kiss on his cheek.

"What? Because your an original?" Salter replies.

"Hmm, now I want you take this and drive it through your heart." Elijah compels him.

"But that will kill me forever." Slater says.

"Oh he knows that sweetheart, now be a good boy and do what is asked of you." I tell him. With that Slater takes the stake from Elijah and drives it through his heart. His body collapses to the floor and he starts to turn grey and veins appear on his face.

"Was that really necessary? A new voice entered the room. It was Jonas the male witch in our possession.

"It had to be done. He delivered his message. Won't be long now." Elijah tells him.

The room stayed quite, before I made my way back over to where his desk was. I quickly looked in the drawers to see if I could find the password to unlock the laptop. Surely enough I typed it in and wiped the hard drive clean, now we couldn't have them being one step ahead of us. After that I returned to Elijah's side to which we departed and went our separate ways.

#elijah mikealson #elijah x reader #Wattpad #vampire diaries #the originals #original vampire #star trek reference #criminal minds reference #elijah is a dreamboat #fanfiction

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aahsoka · 2 years

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just had a flashback to when i used to painstakingly do lineart on my phone with my finger on pocket procreate. those were some dark times

#jordan talks #when i didnt have a computer anymore

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houseofvans · 6 years

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ART SCHOOL | Q&A with SARA M. LYONS

Influenced by the works by the likes of designer Lisa Frank and Saturday morning cartoons, artist Sara M. Lyons’s illustrations are colorfully eye-catching, vibrant, and filled with fun! Not only ONE thing, Sara also runs an online shop filled with her awesome creations from patches, pins to an upcoming Tarot card deck she’s creating. We’re stoked to chat with Sara and learn about her process, her favorite artists to follow, and about her local art scene in this week’s Art School w/ Sara M. Lyons. Make the leap!

Photographs courtesy of the artist

Hi Sara!, Could you tell us a little about yourself ? For sure! I’m Sara M. Lyons, and I’m an artist, illustrator, muralist and product designer living and working in Orange County, CA!

When did you first get into drawing? Was it a hobby turned career or something you knew from the start that you’d eventually wanna do for a living? I’ve been drawing since before I can remember, and it’s always been something I did for fun, but I never really considered that it could be a career until I suddenly found myself in the middle of it. I didn’t start leaning into this as a living until I was in my late twenties (I’m 32 now), so I feel like I’m still learning the best ways to navigate everything.

Who were some of your early artistic influences? Art mentors? I was born in ’85, so I was surrounded by Lisa Frank and Saturday morning cartoons, and I think a lot of that spirit is present in my work. I also grew up reading Betty & Veronica obsessively, so Archie comics and the drawing style of Dan DeCarlo in particular was what I started emulating as a kid when I was teaching myself to draw. In high school that developed into an interest in indie comics, and I was really inspired by Los Bros Hernandez. I think you can really still see the influences of both of those comics in my character drawings.

You make some much fun and colorful things, for a lack of a better word, from pins to patches to just about everything? What’s some of the stuff that’s in the works now? I love making small pieces of art that are accessible and affordable, and that’s always been my thought process when designing products like pins and patches. I think I’ll always be doing stuff like that, but this year I hope to try some new things too. I’m working on a deck of Tarot cards right now (I released a Lenormand fortune telling deck in 2016), and it’s really exciting to create a bunch of highly detailed illustrations in that context - knowing that when I’m done with these 78 drawings, they won’t be just one-offs going on a wall somewhere, but that they’ll be accessible to anyone who is interested.

Do you keep a sketchbook or work your ideas as you go along? Organized, Sort of, or Complete Chaos? What’s your process for new ideas like? I’d say I exist in a constant state of Organized Chaos. My ideas, sketches, and concepts are spread all over the place - I’m usually bouncing between my planner, my journal, my phone, my sketchbook, my iPad Pro, and my desktop computer, and that’s probably the approximate order of where ideas get parsed out as well. When I’m working for a client, I move really quick, but with my personal stuff I’m a slow starter - I’m both heavy on self doubt and a perfectionist, so there’s often a LOOOOOOONG stretch of time between conception and completion of any given concept. I’m not one of those artists who can sit down and knock out two or three completed drawings in a day. Sometimes I’ll have a sketch on a Post-It in my office or an idea in a note on my phone for over a year before I even start to develop it. But once I really get going on something that I believe in, I get laser-focused.

What mediums do you love to work with? What are your essential art tools? My favorite medium right now is a huge wall - I’ve been working on murals since late 2016 and it’s so much fun and such a complete departure from my usual artistic process!

But my most comfortable, well-loved mediums are digital and plain old pen and paper. Drawing digitally, I used to work mostly in Photoshop on my desktop using an ancient Wacom tablet, but these days I spend a lot more time drawing in Procreate on my 10.5” iPad Pro (rose gold, obvi!). I know they’re not for everyone, but the iPad and Pencil have been a game changer for me creatively - I love being able to sit on the couch watching trashy reality TV while I work on fully layered digital pieces.

But still, sometimes nothing beats the classics. I pretty much exclusively use Canson Mixed Media XL sketchbooks, any size, because I like the heavy paper, spiral binding, and turquoise blue covers. I’ll draw with any old pencil - I mostly hoard and use ones I take from hotels when I’m in on trips - and Microns are my favorite drawing pens.

Who are some rad artists you think folks should definitely check out and follow? I love Jenee Larson’s super distinct style and sassy digital illustrations of petulant ladies - @bobbypinss Bianca Xunise makes the most poignant, funny, personal, emotional diary comics - @biancaxunise Ayaka Sakuranbo is a Tokyo-based artist and I’m obsessed with her whimsical paintings and incredible color palette - @ayakasakuranbo Ashley Lukashevsy makes powerful illustrations with a focus on intersectional feminism and anti-racism - @ashlukadraws Ms. Wearer based in the UK does amazing rainbow-drenched pop art - @ms_wearer Lilly Friedeberg in Dusseldorf is one of my favorite graphic designers; I love her clean, fun sensibility - @elfriede_s Yoko Honda’s work makes me want to transport myself INSIDE the beautiful world she’s created and live there forever - @yokopium

What’s a common misconception about what you do? There’s a lot more “boring office stuff” to my job than most people think. I wish I was drawing and painting and creating all day every day, but in truth I spend like half my time answering emails, fulfilling orders, taking inventory, going to the post office, keeping the online shop up to date, managing all manner of legal nonsense, staying on top of social media, hustling for new work, and so on.

What do you do to take a break from art life and just the day-to-day hustle of running a shop? Drawing is still a release for me, and my husband (@therealjoshr) is an artist too, so it’s not uncommon for us both to still want to be making stuff in our “off” time. When we’re not doing that, we like to do a lot of really grown up stuff like going to theme parks, arcades, swapmeets, and toy stores. We also like taking weekend trips, and I really love being in the desert, so we try to get out to Palm Springs and Joshua Tree as much as we can too.

What can you tell us about the art community around where you are? What’s the art scene and culture like? Orange County sometimes gets a bad rap, but I think it’s a really cool and diverse place to be a creative person. A lot of iconic art and punk rock and culture has come out of this area (just look at Vans!!)!

As an artist today in OC, I feel like there’s breathing room here - the contemporary and alternative art scenes are still growing and finding themselves here, so it doesn’t feel as high pressure as the larger LA art scene - but you’re close enough to LA to get involved in that scene, and you still have easy access to so many amazing shows and museums and events. There’s just something distinctive about Orange County that is hard to put your finger on unless you’ve kinda grown up here. I went to high school in Newport Beach; I’ve lived in Anaheim now for years - of course there are pockets everywhere where those Real Housewives stereotypes are painfully true, but that hasn’t been my overall experience in OC. I love it here and I really hope I can help the creative community here continue to develop.

What’s something you liked to see more of in art? More women in the spotlight.

What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t an artist? Oh my god, probably working on a cruise ship or something. I didn’t go to school and I don’t really have any other marketable skills, so hopefully this works out!!

What are your FAVORITE Vans? It’s a toss up between two SK8 Hi’s - blush pink suede or baby blue faux fur. Don’t make me choose!!

What advice would you give someone thinking about art as a career? This is a super nebulous job choice, and “art as a career” in general is really subjective. Know yourself well, but don’t pinhole yourself. The scope of this creative industry is constantly shifting and changing, and things come in and out of fashion quickly. Something that’s your livelihood one year might become a nonstarter the next. If you can identify and remain true to the things that make you unique as an artist and the things people respond to in your work, the knowledge of that point of view will carry you from phase to phase.

What’s on the horizon for 2018? I’m still trying to figure that out myself! After some major plans I had for this year fell through at the last minute, I’m at kind of a blank slate phase in my career. I have a ton of different ideas and I’m trying to nurture them all to see what blossoms first! I’d really like to paint more murals this year, travel more for events, and continue to develop my more personal illustration work. Something I’m trying to keep in mind this year is that it’s OK to be small - not chasing the giant clients or the big money projects, and just doing work that fulfills me creatively and resonates with the people who care about what I do.

Follow Sara Lyons | Instagram | Website

#Art #Vans #Vansart #Vansgirls #art school #interview #creative #painter #pins #women

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dipulb3 · 4 years

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Procreate review: A digital artist's treasure trove for just $10

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/procreate-review-a-digital-artists-treasure-trove-for-just-10/

Procreate review: A digital artist's treasure trove for just $10

During the coronavirus pandemic, setting aside time to pursue creative projects has become one of my favorite ways to spend free time and manage stress. I typically enjoy working with physical media — watercolor, oils, acrylics or simple sketching with pen or pencil — and the idea of going digital was intimidating. But while looking for new ways to draw on my iPad, Apple’s Procreate app caught my eye.

Wide range of tools

Useful for everyone from beginners to professionals

Easy to learn new styles like animation

Don’t Like

$10 price tag

Two different apps for iPhone and iPad use

Large number of tools can be overwhelming for beginners

The digital illustration app costs $10 (£10, AU$15) to download (with no in-app purchases), and its suite of art tools and creative features make it well worth the money. Procreate offers an accessible experience whether you’re a design professional, a seasoned digital artist or a beginner to the world of digital drawing. One downside: The app is only available on iPadOS and iOS.

Read more: Best iPad for 2020

I’ve been using Procreate for a few months, and there are still features I’m learning to use that improve my artwork. The app’s tools, such as quick shape, blend mode, layering, alpha locks and clipping masks, add a new level of professionalism to your art. This is why we’ve awarded Procreate a CNET Editors’ Choice award for 2020.

Discover the latest apps: Be the first to know about the hottest new apps with the CNET Apps Today newsletter.

Toto, I don’t think we’re using Microsoft Paint anymore

Procreate is packed with so many tools and features that I’ll barely scratch the surface in this review.

There are countless ways to customize your iPad’s ($239 at Back Market) gesture controls to make the app work best for you. For example, you can set it so that you tap four fingers to immediately populate the copy and paste options. You can also use three fingers to scrub the screen and clear a layer.

A sketch I did on Procreate and a look at a subset of brushes.

Shelby Brown/CNET

One of the biggest perks of Procreate is its massive library of 150 brushes. The range of brushes available in the app fit just about any creation you could possibly have in mind. You can stick with basic sketching, inking, drawing and painting, or you can explore airbrushing, calligraphy, charcoals and spray paints. Under each category of brushes, you’ll find a half a dozen or more choices. For example, if you choose Sketching, you can select from seven different pencils and three different pastel textures. Take it a step further by tapping the brush again and further customizing the properties of the tool.

Read more: 10 Procreate app tips for budding iPad artists

I also love using the app’s layering feature while I’m drawing. It makes editing in the future much easier. You’ll just have to remember to put your work in piece by piece. You can find extra light and color editing features for each layer as well. Just tap the little “N” next to the checkmark that selects the layer.

Here’s what grouping layers looks like with some basic doodles.

Shelby Brown/CNET

To stay organized, or if you want an added level of security to a section of art, you can combine layers into groups. Simply tap a layer and you can select either Merge Down or Combine Down. Merge Down makes two layers into one, for example, if you had Alpha Lock on to protect line boundaries in a layer, it will turn off. Combine Down forms a new group, but still keeps each individual layer’s specifications active.

Procreate also makes it easy to learn new skills by making the technical aspect of digital art less intimidating. When I first opened the Procreate app, I saw that it had animation features, but almost immediately wrote them off as too complicated for a novice like me. But with a few taps in the app, I was able to create a rudimentary animation of a ball bouncing across the screen. It was barely two and a half seconds, but I was really proud of it! Now, I’m really excited to see what else I can make.

A face sketch I started on Procreate.

Shelby Brown/CNET

To ease the digital illustration learning curve, Procreate has a helpful handbook, forums and YouTube videos to help you along the way.

iPad is the new canvas

Procreate is an iPad-only app. There is a version for your iPhone, called Procreate Pocket ($5, £5, AU$8). But the apps are separate, so you can’t swap back and forth between your phone and your tablet.

I use Procreate on a third-gen iPad Air, but you can find the full list of compatible devices on its website.

The Apple Pencil isn’t required hardware for using Procreate. But if you’re planning to pursue digital illustration, your fingers will thank you for picking one up. I can only speak for myself, but without a stylus, I couldn’t get the same level of detail. I use a first-gen Apple Pencil. If your device isn’t compatible with the Apple Pencil, the app supports some third-party stylus models. You can find the complete list on its website.

Read more: The best Apple iPad apps of all time

Should you try Procreate?

There’s a lot going on in Procreate and it can seem overwhelming, but the more you use the app, the easier it gets. Having fun is the most important part.

If you’re even mildly interested in digital art and have $10 to spare, I’d recommend trying Procreate out. Explore the app, doodle, write your name with different brushes. You can also upload blank coloring sheets to a canvas and experiment with the tools that way, so you’re not creating a brand new work on your own.

If you’re more in the market for a digital coloring book, however, you might check out the Lake app (free, with in-app purchases), instead of shelling out $10 for Procreate. And if you want to get an idea of how much you might use Procreate before investing, Autodesk Sketchbook is a free app that has an impressive set of tools, too — not as many as Procreate, but enough to give you a taste.

There are dozens of ways to customize Procreate to help you discover or improve your art style.

For more on drawing, check out five online drawing classes you can take right now and all the best apps for drawing on your iPad.

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galaxy-lilies-main · 7 years

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hey mun whatcha use as your art program???

((I use Procreate Pocket :D. On the phone it costs 2 bucks but on a tablet, six bucks. My friend suggested it to me buuut they had the full version [iPad] so I just left it alone for about a year before doodling on it. It took me a couple of days to get used to it [especially since all I have is my index finger] but here I am. Unfortunately it only has one canvas size, no redo, maximum of 32 layers and limited brushes but those are the only downfalls))

#anon #anonymous #written response #art program

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therealimpala67 · 7 years

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Hung Up

A/N: Hey guys it’s been for freaking ever in a day!!! I’m so sorry about not updating in literally a god damn year as many excuses as I have I can’t using them as an excuses!!! Anywho I’ve been working on this fic for over a year and every chance I got to write, I always had to stuff to do, I was tiree, or I got writer’s block (which is fucking annoying by the way). I dont know why I finally got my groove back tonight of all nights but I had to take advantage of it because I was on a roll and had to stay up to finish it. I really am proud of this 1 and while I miss writing smut (I promise I’ll do a smutty fic next) I just loved the prompt and thought it writing it through Crowley’s pov would be fucking hysterical!!! So here ya go peeps!!! Hope you enjoy and please, please, PLEASE, feel free to give me feedback of any kind because we all know I need it!!! I love you guys so much and am glad to be back!!! :D

Here’s the prompt: Prompt: Crowley calling Dean to talk to him about some business but then hears your voice in the background.

8 hours, 8 fucking hours you’ve been attempting to get in touch with them now and by them you mean, those bloody Winchesters. All of hell knew that you were practically besties, let’s face it. You were constantly working together and while you have your moments: fighting and almost killing each other because of the whole Heaven, Hell, Winchester feud, you’ve definitely grown to hate them a little less, even though you didn’t want to admit it; however, this doesn’t excuse their actions; I mean, honestly, how hard was it to answer the damn phone?! You kind of expected this type of move from Moose, considering his girly haired head was always shoved in a book but not from Squirrel, you have each other on speed dial after Demon Dean days and you were feeling a wee bit fed up by their lack of attentiveness. You could only angrily pace around hell’s premises and take your anger out on your henchmen for so long before waiting for a response. You felt like a bloody school girl waiting for the boy next door to ask you out. You decided to check and see if your daughter Y/N was home in the meantime, you haven’t heard much from her lately and she always knew how to take your mind off of these things. You walked down the corridor to her room, knocking on the door. No answer. Strange. You knocked again a little more impatiently this time. She couldn’t have snuck out, she knows better than to disobey your rules. Finally you decided to force the door open, you’ll replace it later, and realized that your precious angel wasn’t there!

You were steaming at this point now trying to get in touch with her and just like those damn Winchesters, no fucking answer! Why the hell is it so damn hard to answer a bloody phone call?! Do people not know who you are, yet alone what you’re capable of?! Just as you were about to start a manhunt for your little girl, your phone beeped. You immediately swiped left and discovered a text from Y/N:

“Stayed over at Grannie’s. Will be home later tonight for dinner, love you!” You knew you raised her right and while you’re relieved knowing where she’s at, you always questioned why she loves her grandmother so much. Even though you hated your mother for not being the mum you always needed growing up, at least she was able to be for your daughter. When she first found out about Y/N, she was definitely stunned to say the least saying she never expected her little Fergus to successfully procreate and despite knowing your mother abandoned you and her history with the Coven, Y/N made quite the impression and just as you first fell for her, so did your mother, who had a lot of lost time to make up for. While you both had different parenting views over your daughter, Y/N always made it very clear that you were a family and that it was high time you started acting like one so you both put aside your grudges for her, at least while she was there. You left her room walking back to your throne room when your phone started buzzing.

Would you look at that: Dean Winchester, it was about bloody time! You exhaled loudly as you clicked the answer button preparing for the inevitable conversation.

“Only 9 hours late, Squirrel. Were you busy stocking up on nuts for the winter,” you taunted.

“Ya know some of us need this thing called sleep, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it before,” Dean groggily remarked.

“I don’t care if you’re on your bloody death bed, you answer when I damn well call,” you hissed throwing a wine glass shattering it against the brick wall. Your guards awkwardly stared before quickly showing themselves out, smart.

“Yes dear,” Dean sarcastically rebuttled.

“Don’t sass me,” you growled, “That’s Moose’s job and you are well aware that it’s around noon.”

“And,” Dean yawned as he got up and put on his robe leaving his room. “And normal humans like yourself are up around this time doing something somewhat more counter productive than laying around,” you lectured.

“Look I had a late night last night,” Dean sighed as he walked into the kitchen and started making coffee, “So please spare me the lecture.”

“The point is I’ve been calling you and Moose the past 9 hours straight to no avail until now when you suddenly decide to be available to your own liking not mine and if it obviously wasn’t important,” you started.

“God damn it then Crowley, get to the god damn point,” Dean barked slamming his fist roughly on the counter accidentally causing a coffee mug to slide off and shatter on the floor, “Son of a bitch!”

“You know, I don’t like your attitude Winchester,” you stated very matter of factly while Dean was trying to clean up the mess from the shattered coffee cup, “All I’m trying to do is relay some important information that could potentially help you and Moose stop Amara and this is what I get? I’m going to make this very quick and hope that your acorn sized brain can understand everything…”

“Yea yea yea,” Dean ignored before hearing footsteps approaching the kitchen, “Hey give me a sec. Sammy just found a case,” he halted you before you could continue and quickly hit the mute button and put his phone in his robe pocket. You have got to be bloody kidding me. Doesn’t he know by know that nobody puts the King of Hell on hold? You’re not their booty call and the fact that he’s treating you as such infuriates you even more. You sigh in frustration angrily drumming your fingers against the arm of your throne hoping that he makes it quick because you’re a very busy man with a kingdom to rule.

“Hey is everything alright,” a feminine voice asked in concern.

Didn’t he mute you and as much as you joke about Moose’s girlishness that voice sounds way to feminine to be Moose. Very strange indeed but you proceeded to listen in since you had the opportunity.

“Just a broken coffee mug, everything’s fine. Sorry baby I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Dean apologized before the woman wrapped her arms around his neck.

Baby? That’s what he meant by late night, he brought home some hussy and showed her his “family business.” Repulsed by the thought you shook your head in disgust while trying to remain as quiet as possible to continue your eavesdropping.

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled as she started pressing light kisses along his neckline, “I’ve woken up to way worse, trust me and I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you hurt anywhere,” she asked checking up and down to see if there were any cuts on Dean’s body. “Not at all and you know I’m tough,” he chuckled before nibbling gently on your earlobe as she sighed in pleasure, “Although I don’t mind playing doctor again,” he winked as he squeezed your breasts in his hands as she moaned and threw her head back..

You rolled your eyes, he’s like a horny teenage boy trying to get into some girl’s pants with cheesy one liners.

“Just call me Dr. Sexy,” she grinned as she untied his robe, “And based off of that phone call, you sound pretty stressed so I’m ordering you to bed rest for the rest of the day,” you trailed your fingers all the way down his chest stopping right above his package.

There was something familiar about this woman’s voice and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe because it was so muffled and couldn’t hear much of what she was saying but you were kind of curious as to who this mystery woman was that has Squirrel so wrapped around her finger.

Dean bit back a moan and and wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer, “Oh sweetheart, as much as I’d like that Crowley has some news about possibly stopping Amara.”

“Psh yea right,” she scoffed while scratching her nails down his back, “He’s just telling you that in hopes that you could do his dirty work for him and he can take all the credit. Believe me, I know how my dad works.”

“Very true the fact that he still hasn’t caught onto us yet is pretty fucking hysterical if you ask me,” Dean grinned as he squeezed your breasts in his hands as she moaned and threw her head back.

Who hasn’t caught onto what yet? You suddenly had a very bad feeling about eavesdropping onto this conversation.

“I told him I was staying with Grannie Rowena and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” she giggled as Dean slid his hands down her hips resting on her clothed pussy, “Daddy’s overbearingly overprotective but he’s also very gullible. The only way he’d ever find out about us is if he overheard us or saw us which I doubt will ever happen.”

That better not be who you bloody think it is. You’ve never prayed a day in life up until this moment but for the love of Chuck please don’t be…

“Hey Y/N,” Dean smirked wiggling his eyebrows at you while slamming your back against the fridge as you gasped at the roughness, “Who’s your daddy?”

Oh. Hell. No.

Dean was suddenly thrown against the wall and being beat in face repeatedly.

“Y/N,” Dean yelled between each punch, “What the hell is going on?! So my joke went a little far but is it worth trying to fucking kill me?!”

“Are you bloody serious right now,” she yelled in disgust as she kept slamming her fist into his face, “Out of all the people you decide to boink right now you choose my fucking daughter you bloody cocksucker,” her eyes flashed red.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped in realization, “Crowley.”

“Damn right it’s me in here,” you spoke through her vessel.

“Crowley this has gone too fucking far man,” Dean projected.

“This has gone too fucking far,” you scoffed in disbelief, “You’re seriously going to accuse me of going too far when you’ve been sleeping with my god damn daughter?!”

“Look Crowley I can explain,” Dean started before you grabbed him by the throat lifting him up so his feet were dangling.

“Explain what,” you hissed, “That you’re using my little girl for your own sick, twisted pleasure?! I know you Dean Winchester, I know your type, I know your life. You’re just a play boy looking for a new toy until you get tired of it and toss it aside like trash! Your life never allows for settling down, yet alone happy endings, look at your bloody family and the rest of your loved ones you let die!”

“Don’t you dare speak for her,” Dean coughed out his face starting to turn purple, “She’s an adult Crowley and can make her own decisions, including who she wants to be with! Let her out to speak for herself and we’ll talk this out!”

“Like hell we will,” you spat out in rage, “She’s my little girl Dean! If you think for one second I’m going to let you use or hurt her you’ve got another thing coming! I’m not letting you put her in more danger than she’s already in being my daughter and if that means staying in her vessel the rest of time I damn well will!”

“Well I’m not going to let you use her and destroy her fucking life just because I’m in love with her,” Dean professed. A tear slid down her face and her grip slowly loosened as Dean fell onto the floor gasping for breaths. You felt her fighting back for control as you increased your restrains.

“I’m in love with your daughter. I know I’m not worthy of her; hell, I don’t come fucking close but she’s the greatest woman I’ve ever met and the best thing that’s ever happened to me! Look I get it, she’s your little girl and I have no idea what that’s like but I would do absolutely anything for her: die, go back to hell or purgatory, lose my soul, face you, you name it! I just want what’s best for her and for her to be happy whether it’s with or without me and even though I’m scared outta my fucking mind I’ve never wanted something so much in my entire life! So don’t think for one second I’ll ever stop loving her, because I won’t so please just let her out.”

God damn it. He gave a fucking romantic speech and everything and you can feel your daughter coming undone. It was only a matter of seconds before she broke free of your control. You quickly fled her vessel and quickly transferred back to yours and poofed back into the bunker.

“Dean is what all you said true,” she asked still in complete and utter shock over his confession.

“Meant every damn word,” he confessed as she looked over towards you. “Y/N, darling,” you started.

“Don’t,” you stopped him, “I’m talking now. I really should hate your guts your taking advantage of me like that.”

You looked down. This was the moment you were always afraid of: the one where you pushed your one and only daughter away.

“But I won’t,” she sighed, “ Look daddy I know that you’re just looking out for me but I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself now and just because I’m growing up doesn’t mean I’m not your little girl anymore and that I won’t need you anymore. I love him so much daddy. Will you please give him a chance?”

“You’re not little mermaiding me right now. I don’t want you dating a bloody Winchester and that’s final,” you order before she looks up at, “Don’t you dare give me the hell hound eyes.”

“Please daddy, for me,” she begs.

You’ve always been the one to give your little girl any and every thing she’s ever wanted and even though the thought of Squirrel being romantically with your daughter completely and utterly disgusts you…

“Fine,” you admit begrudgingly under your breath.

“What was that,” she grins, “I couldn’t hear you under your complete and utter defeat.”

“Don’t make repeat myself Y/N,” you counter back as you walk over to Dean, “I will be doing routinely visits to see if you’re treating her to my liking. Oh and if you hurt her in anyway shape or form Squirrel I swear Amara and Lucifer will be the least of your worries,” you quietly threatened before looking over at your daughter, “I expect you at dinner tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she smiles as she walks over to you and gives you a hug, “I love you daddy, thank you for everything.” Normally you would show more affection around your daughter but you had to keep your King of Hell persona up.

“See you at home,” you departed and poofed back to your lair.

“So that was a thing,” Dean stated uncomfortably.

“Yep,” she sighed in relief as she walked over to him and gently caressed his face with her hand, “Man he really got you good.”

“Don’t remind me,” he winced, “You have a killer left hook by the way.”

“Like father like daughter,” you grinned as you grabbed him by the hand leading him to his bedroom,

“Come on let’s get these patched up, daddy.”

“Oh I’ll show you who’s your daddy baby girl,”Dean smirked as he shuts the door and pushes you onto the bed.

“Hey guys what did I miss OH SWEET CHUCK!”

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simplemlmsponsoring · 5 years

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New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/email-marketing/best-tech-and-marketing-blogs-roundup-for-december-2018/

Best Tech and Marketing Blogs: Roundup for December 2018

In this month’s roundup of the best of the best in tech and marketing blogs, our researchers found the following helpful articles:

Amit Agarwal, Digital Inspirations, www.labnol.org

In a December 3rd post found on Digital Inspirations, Amit Agarwal discusses the importance of taking advantage of push notifications for Google forms for mobile phones to help keep your business productivity surging forward. Simple to install, these notifications can be customized for smartphones and tablets and enable you to read submitted forms from your device as well as to forward along automated responses to the sender. Mr. Agarwal wisely points out that, “A fast response time is the key to success, especially in areas like customer service and closing sales leads, and mobile notifications will ensure that your important form entries are never lost in the daily deluge of emails.” To read Amit Agarwal’s full article, click here: https://www.labnol.org/internet/google-forms-mobile-notifications/29203/

Amy Porterfield, www.amyporterfield.com

Amy Porterfield shares social media marketing wisdom in her November 22nd podcast titled “Success Secrets to Serving the Smallest Viable Market.” Seth Godin joins Porterfield and also provides his perspectives regarding the most effective means of reaching this elusive group. A critical quotation which stands out from this podcast is this statement by Godin, “Find a corner of the market that can’t wait for your attention. Go to their extremes. Find a position on the map where you and you alone are the perfect answer. Overwhelm this group’s wants and dreams and desires with your care, your attention, and your focus. Make change happen. Change that’s so profound, people can’t help but talk about it.” To learn more about Porterfield and Godin’s recipe for marketing success, check out the podcast at the following link: https://www.amyporterfield.com/2018/11/238/

Ann Handley, www.annhandley.com

December 2018’s blog post from Ann Handley focuses on lack of genuine engagement and “going through the motions” as obstacles to success in B2B marketing. In her presentation and subsequent blog post titled “Slay the Ignosaurus; Change Your Life,” Handley states that, “The way to slay the Ignosaurus is always to be learning. Always be on the lookout to level up in three ways: through actual education of all kinds, through ideas that challenge you and maybe scare you a little, and by surrounding yourself with curious and engaged people.” For more of Handley’s tips on innovative marketing approaches, you can find her blog post at: https://annhandley.com/ignosaurus/

David Walsh, DWB, www.davidwalsh.name

David Walsh’s November 27th, 2018 blog writings centered around simple improvements to enhance the functionality of CodeMirror. With an emphasis in providing a better overall performance of the column feature, Walsh outlines his solution in these words, “CodeMirror does provide easy methods for getting the start and end lines in viewport (lineAtHeight), but there’s not a similar functionality for column. I opted to get the scrollLeft position of CodeMirror’s scroller, then use the default character width and other dimensions to get the approximate column at that position. My user testing found this method to be very reliable, either at the exact character or one character off (likely due to subpixel math).” For a better understanding and visual representation of Walsh’s code improvements, you can read his entire blog post here: https://davidwalsh.name/viewport-lines-columns-codemirror

Ben Thompson, www.stratechery.com

Ben Thompson’s December 4th blog post for Stratechery titled “Aggregators and Jobs-to-be-Done” asserts that the number one priority of successful companies must be to identify who and what they are and to endeavor to strengthen the user experience to build brand loyalty. In a previous article titled “Aggregation Theory” of which a small portion is included in the December 4th post, Thompson says, “By extension, this means that the most important factor determining success is the user experience: the best distributors/aggregators/market-makers win by providing the best experience, which earns them the most consumers/users, which attracts the most suppliers, which enhances the user experience in a virtuous cycle.” To better understand how Thompson’s user experience principles can enrich your business, you can read his entire blog post here: https://stratechery.com

Robert Cringely, I, Cringely, www.cringely.com

With Apple’s plans finally set to unveil 5G on their eagerly awaiting public in 2020, Robert Cringely’s timely article “Apple knows 5G is about infrastructure, NOT mobile phones” sheds some light on whether or not Apple has missed the boat by allowing its competitors to release 5G enabled phones nearly a year before they make the same leap. Cringely states that the move from 5G will not change the mobile phone user’s experience from its current incarnation known as LTE or 4G. Among Cringely’s claim is the belief that not only is Apple not “behind the times,” but the promised Android 2019 5G rollout will not occur during its projected time. Cringely takes his support from this statement: “The current 5G roll-out is by far the most expensive network roll-out in wireless history. That’s because where previous network technologies generally made more efficient use of existing spectrum, 5G requires new spectrum — lots and lots of new spectrum …Whatever amazing 5G mobile apps appear, the very earliest we’ll see them is 2020 or later when the 5G roll-outs are finally complete. And isn’t that when Apple is supposed to be shipping 5G phones? See, they aren’t too late at all.” To learn more about the latest plans for a 5G rollout from Cringely’s perspective, read his entire blog post here: https://www.cringely.com/2018/11/21/apple-knows-5g-is-about-infrastructure-not-mobile-phones/

David Risely, Blog Marketing Academy, www.blogmarketingacademy.com

In David Risely’s latest blog contribution on Blog Marketing Academy, he outlines the relevancy and intricacies of using Twitter to expand the reader base. “10 Best Practices To Actually Make Twitter Work To Boost Your Site Traffic” insists the platform has changed and to maximize this tool in blog marketing, users must also change the way they use it. One of the most effective strategies that Risely recommends is to make use of the “tease.” He states, “Nobody said that a tweet (or a retweet) of one of your blog posts had to be the headline of the post. Why not TEASE them to click? You’re basically opening up a little loop. You’re sparking their curiosity. And, for them to satisfy that curiosity, they have to click to see what you’re talking about.” To read Risely’s full article, click here: https://www.blogmarketingacademy.com/twitter-traffic/

Jeremiah Owyang, http://www.web-strategist.com/blog/

Jeremiah Owyang tackles the topic “Many Industries are Impacted by Modern Wellbeing” in his November article for Web Strategist. This piece explores the role of social technology in helping people to live better and healthier lives. Owyang outlines different social sectors in which technology is simplifying and enriching people’s lifestyles. He relates that, “The Modern Wellbeing market, which enables humans to take healthcare, mental care, physical care, directly into their own hands. They are (for better or for worse) self-analyzing their bodies and minds with consumer technologies and relying on each other, and emerging AI systems to self-prescribe ways to help them be healthier, improve their mood, and beyond.” To better understand how social technology has the power to improve the quality of life, read Owyang’s blog post here: http://www.web-strategist.com/blog/

John Gruber, The Daring Fireball, www.daringfireball.net

December has been filled with excellent informative blog posts by John Gruber. One that particularly stands out is an article entitled “Proof That IOS Still Hasn’t Gotten Undo Right.” After a thorough study of the published record of Apple’s App Store awards for 2018, Gruber came to the conclusion that Apple’s two biggest winners of the year, Procreate Pocket (iPhone) and Pixelmator Pro (Mac) both shine, yet IOS software disappoints when it comes to the Undo process. While the Mac version retains consistency of the Undo function known to users since 1985, IOS has introduced a new and perplexing means to Undo and Redo in Procreate Pocket, and it is not the constant used with other Apps for iPhone and iPad. He expands to say, “But it speaks to how weak this convention is that Procreate Pocket could do something not just different but totally different—multi-finger taps with no on-screen buttons—and not just get away with it but be celebrated by Apple for it.” To learn more about Gruber’s suggestion for an improved IOS Undo process, read the full article here: https://daringfireball.net

Jon Loomer, www.jonloomer.com

Jon Loomer’s December 3rd blog post “Facebook Attribution: View Top Sources for Conversions” gives powerful insights into better understanding the Facebook consumer and how they use the platform to benefit their lives. This approach to marketing encourages the use of what is known as Facebook Attribution to gain an overall perspective as to the effectiveness of your social media outreach efforts. According to Loomer, Facebook Attribution offers the best means to track both paid and what he terms “organic” (free) traffic to your website. It is simple to use and offers powerhouse reporting services with impressive accuracy. Loomer claims that Facebook Attribution opens the door to other outside services which can complement current marketing strategies. He states, “It’s been years since I spent money on Google. My strategy is heavily focused on Facebook ads, my email list, and website content. But, thanks to Facebook Attribution, I’ve decided to give AdWords another shot. That, my friend, is one example of why Facebook Attribution is so powerful. It helps you see things you may otherwise miss — or completely ignore.” To better understand Facebook Attribution and Loomer’s take on its benefits, read the full article here: https://www.jonloomer.com/2018/12/03/facebook-attribution-view-top-sources-for-conversions/

Rebekah Radice, Brand Authority Podcast, https://rebekahradice.com/brand-authority

In her December 3rd podcast, Rebekah Radice, an expert in brand authority, tackles the topic of “How to Set Professional Social Media Boundaries.” Radice pinpoints corporate pressure as a catalyst for many to make poor decisions in an effort to expand influence and build a brand. She encourages company leaders to determine their own boundaries and to stand firmly by them. She proclaims, “In an online world where every temptation is right around the next corner, it’s critical you nail your own boundaries down. It’s where you draw a line in the sand and say, “this is as far as I’m willing to go in this conversation, with this piece of content, with this particular topic.” To listen to Radice’s full podcast or read a partial transcript, click here: https://rebekahradice.com/brand-authority

What are your thoughts on this roundup of our favourite December articles? Let us know in the comments below.

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The post Best Tech and Marketing Blogs: Roundup for December 2018 appeared first on GetResponse Blog – Online Marketing Tips.