#but ive found that if i tell anyone about ''projects'' i have i tend to. not finish them.

[soupsnspoons]

working on something

[astrobydalia]

Spicy astro observations pt. II

This post is for +18 readers only🔞

work by astrobydalia

If you’re new to astrology you should know that Mars is sex drive but Venus rules desire and pleasure. In mythology, Venus was considered the goddess of erotic love and hedonistic desire. Venus in your chart also indicates how and what type of things you enjoy and find pleasure in, so this planet can be very telling of the type of vibe that gets you in the mood

Personally, my take on this is:

Mars = how you like the fucking to be

Venus = how you like the treatment to be

Venus+Mars = how you like sex overall

Pluto/Scorpio in the 12th house often times have shameful sexual experiences and/or sexual affairs that nobody will ever know about

Mutable Mars are the ones that tend to have a rather depraved or perverted sex drive. They're just down for almost anything

I've noticed your moon sign reaaaaally shines through in sex. Like, a lot. For example Aries moons love the "right here right now" kinda sex and tend to be really fond of bold and nonchalant advances. Gemini Moon like to switch. Love to be surprised and loves teasing/mindgames. Capricorn moons will dominate, etc

Not be stereotypical but… Aries Mars will fuck anyone anywhere anytime. Will really go from 0 to 100 literally anytime. They like to fuck around but are loyal in a relationship from what I’ve seen. Every single one I’ve met was the kinda person to be very nonchalant when discussing sex, will be very vocal about being horny, their experiences, etc

Scorpio mars 🤝 lowkey behaving like a sexual predator with the person they’re interested in 😭 I swear their behaviors can get creepy if they’re attracted to you. Someone i know with this placement was asked why she was still single and she jokingly replied “guess I haven’t found a prey yet”

Mercury in the 1st house/Mercury dominant/Gemini placements you guys seriously need to STOP smirking at me like that and making me laugh or else I won’t be responsible for what happens next

>>No but seriously people forget how universally attractive mercurial energy really is. Sexual arousal starts in the brain and these mf know how to charm and enchant and they just naturally have a very endearing energy to them. Many sex symbols and models have gemini placements (Marilyn Monroe, Naomi Campbell, Megan Fox, Jennifer Lopez...)

Taurus Moon/Mars/Venus enjoy slow and possessive sex. With them you can expect hickeys, lip biting, grabbing parts of your body...

Scorpio Venus/Mercury could have a degrading kink 🫢 specially when mixed with Virgo placements. They love filthiness of being treated like/treating their partner like a little hooker

Mars-Neptune people get sexually aroused by pain, but they usually like their partner inflicting pain to them, not necessarily inflict pain to their partner

Ive noticed Virgo Mars don't necessarily wish to dominate but they can tend to end up taking the lead in bed. They want to please and ‘do a good job’ so they often be like “don’t worry babe I got this"

Women with Lilith aspecting ASC/Sun = "the only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife". They felt like everyone wanted to touch them but nobody wanted to love them. Those suitors who did want to "love" them thought of the Lilith person as someone who needs "taming" through marriage or only saw them as a sexual trophy. Kinda like Cassie from Euphoria. This is why I've very commonly seen these women usually take a long time to actually marry or be in a serious relationship

I’ve said this before too but as per my observation Lilith women I’ve seen didn’t really have a dark and sexual look/personality to them at all, quite the opposite they all had very angelic vibe/appearance specially when younger. But underneath all this innocent energy there was always something about them that was blatantly seductive and desirable so people project this Lilith persona onto them. It’s almost like society corrupts them and only sees them as something fuckable

In my experience, when it comes to performance those with domicile or exalted mars tend to overpromise and underdeliver while those with debilitated mars are the opposite (underpromise and overdeliver). Take that as you will.

I'm gonna talk about Pisces for a second cause I'm so sick of all this feet nonsense 😭🤚🏼

Pisces venus,mars,moon are closed off sexually but will literally let you do anything if you make them feel like it’s safe to surrender to you. These natives always remind me of hentai girls and the ahegao face

Also, I've always thought Anastasia from fifty shades of grey is a great depiction of Pisces Venus (both in and out of the bedroom)

I’ve seen a lot of people saying Pisces could like to have sex while drunk or on drugs but they actually don’t need to. Sexual pleasure itself could actually make them feel “drunk” or out of it without being under the influence. They overall enjoy feeling out of control of themselves, drunk with desire

Pisces/Neptune/12th house influence on Mars/Venus/Pluto/5th house/8th house, Mars/Pluto ruling 12th house: they are actually hard to please in bed because they desire to experience otherworldly ecstasy and may go out of their way to find it through different things (drugs, alcohol, emotional intimacy, pain, spirituality, etc.), hence the previous observation. They tend push boundaries and enjoy very odd stuff similar to Aquarius but the difference here is that Pisces is not detached, they have a tendency to romanticize any sort of kink and turn it into a deeply intimate experience, all of this as an attempt to take them closer to ecstasy.

Libra placements need to feel like they look pretty while doing it like those romantic sex scenes in movies that's why they like partners who are conventionally attractive. This doesn't necessarily mean they're vanilla but they like to perform in a way that make both parties look flattering, if they or their partner look or act too crazy/wild/messy it can actually turn them off

Also Libra/Taurus/Cancer Venus, Moon, Mars don’t like to feel disrespected!!! Doesn’t matter what they’re into sexually, they need their partner to be mindful, caring and appreciative of them and their pleasure in and out of the bedroom

Cancer placements are sooooo passionate in bed much like fire signs but only if they have feelings for you. Also, they aren't always submissive?? Yes they might want to be babied and cared for but depending on other placements they can very much dominate and take the role of care-giver and provider

People associate Neptune to porn and I don’t disagree (cause fantasies and stuff), but I’ve noticed it’s actually Mars-Uranus/Aquarius Mars and Uranus/Aquarius in the 8th house the ones who actually wanna have sex like they do in porn. That sort of more kinky, rough and emotionally detached sex

Is it just me or Sagittarius rising women are always involved in some sex scandal and constantly sexualized? I mean Kim K, Paris Hilton, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johanson… I also personally know many Sag rising women who have this “naughty girl” reputation iykwim

Venus-Moon aspects in a man’s chart is the womanizer aspect 100%. Same with men with domicile or exalted Venus and/or Moon. Their sex appeal is very charming, non-intimidating and welcoming so women easily feel soothed by their presence. If underdeveloped they will be very cringe and will tend to make inappropriate advances. I've seen this a lot in men who had a habit of objectifying women. They're horny af and don't hide it, tend to go for conventionally attractive women that can provide satisfaction to all their senses and desires

Saturn influence on Venus/Mars are VERY sensual. They like to keep the pacing very steady without losing momentum

Lilith conjunction to inner placements in synastry will always give that cat and mouse dynamics in a relationship. The Lilith person specially will want to often tease, seduce and even play mind-games to the planet person which causes a lot of sexual intrigue

If, like me, you expected fire in the the 8th house to be the most active in bed then you thought WRONG. It's the exact opposite actually. They demand to be pleased and can actually be the type to just sit back and enjoy

Aries Moon/Venus men are huge bottoms (unless chart says otherwise). They are attracted to a very bold and confident woman that can put him in his place

Earth signs are the freakiest actually. Think about it, earth rules the 3D, the tangible physical world, so it makes sense for these signs to be the most attached to sensuality and exploring physical pleasures in different ways. Honestly people with prominent earth (mars, Venus, moon specially) are always SO hot and sexy, they ooze sensuality and I've noticed they tend to be the most generous in bed, they're all about providing baby

Lilith women can be particularly fond of the cowgirl position

Idk why everyone is so hooked up on 8th house synastry for sexual matters and never talk about 12th house. I've seen this overlay a lot more in couples, specially when Mars/Venus/Moon is here. There is A LOT of unspoken tension and attraction, this house overlay is very haunting in all cases from what I've seen, specially for the house person. This person may wake up desires you didn't even know you had and will randomly loom in your memory forever

Scorpio Mars is sexually overrated I said what I said. No, they're not bad in bed but they're definitely not the sexual gods people make them out to be. What's exciting about being with these natives is the energy, anticipation and passion more than anything (also they last a reeeeaaally long time), but once they get in the act they get completely driven by their lust and desire which makes their performance a bit animalistic and reckless. They tend to be the type to go straight into the crotch area and forget any other kind foreplay and stimulation. Being with them will feel like sleeping with a very horny person that is having sex for the very first time in their lives. They're also not as freaky as people make them out to be, sure they're open to trying stuff but idk there's something about them that is low-key a bit conservative and closed off (which is fine)

Virgo, Pisces and Cancer Lilith are the type to act innocent before/during/after doing the most filthy shit

work by astrobydalia

[devilfic]

girl. the honeymoon series. LIVING FOR IT. this is a really like loose request, but could you do like a charity event night? not really sure what to happen but the thought of having to reallllly sell the whole marriage thing to everyone at the event is just quite interesting. thriving rn

❝honeymoon❞

IV. sugar-coating.

parts: previously / next plot: an ex corners you, bringing up bad memories. bruce offers you super illegal catharsis. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, angst, eventual fluff, reader has a scummy ex, bruce is allowed to be a little bit chaotic as a treat and so are you. words: 2.8k.

"So. Wayne, huh? How's that going for you?"

You laugh behind your glass, feigning innocence with a light and fluttery "What do you mean?"

Coulson is a family friend, as much yours as he is Bruce's, and even though he's the competition, he treats you and Bruce with as much respect as you could hope for in your line of work. Bonds formed in boarding school tended not to break easily, "It's just... gotta wonder what you did to make it up to him. Last I checked, you didn't even exist to him."

You swallow your champagne, just for something better to do than flinching, "Yeah, well, he found it in his heart to hear me out. Love like that doesn't really go away."

Coulson's eyes narrow for a second. He doesn't fully believe you. In an attempt to steer toward calmer waters, he elbows you in the side, "Must've learned some impressive tricks if it got that skirt-chaser to commit." But calmer didn't mean desirable.

You really don't want to discuss what you and Bruce (don't) do in the bedroom right now, so you steer the conversation a different direction, "And how is your new girlfriend, Coulson?"

He has a lot to say about her. A violinist in the Gotham City Orchestra with two degrees and a tour coming up later this year. He tells you he'll send you and Bruce tickets, tells you that one of the tour dates is in Spain and it will line up with your anniversary next year. The mention of your anniversary makes your stomach knot up a bit; the wedding was still weeks away, and you'd only just gotten on decent speaking terms with Bruce.

If anyone here knew how thin your marriage's facade was, it would be more than an embarrassment. Your mother would waterboard you in your own blood and tears.

It helped that most people didn't have a clue. Sure, there was gossip and the occasional rumor, but it was all for "fun". It never went anywhere, and any whisper that got too big for its britches could be easily stamped out with a little effort.

But Coulson? He was a friend. He'd known you a long time. If anyone were to put weight to a rumor about you and Bruce, it would be him. Which is why you couldn't let him figure you out.

"...For a while there, I swore you and Bruce weren't on speaking terms at all." Your ears catch the last bit of Coulson's rambling, right as he settles into a silent, knowing smile. "Care to catch me up on the rekindling?"

Well, you see, there's this little thing called blackmail- "When the board appointed me as acting CEO, I felt it time to reach out and make amends. It'd been years since we'd even talked, and with him so busy with his projects, we never really saw each other either. I was surprised that he even had the time, so we met up and just talked. About everything. About the company, about his work, about... what happened. It was a little while after the flood, so it just sort of lined up at the right time."

Coulson nods, impressed and seemingly unaware you'd just pulled that out of your ass, "Damn. Near-death experiences really do wonders for the heart. And now you have a wedding coming up." He catches it before you do, the micro-expression of discomfort. You swear his smile gets bigger, "What's that? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise already?"

"No, sorry. Not trouble. Just stress. Lots of wedding planning and company business at once. I was kind of hoping to get away from it all here, focus my efforts on alleviating others' stresses." You tip your glass in the direction of the giant banner at the entrance that reads, "Hope For Homes: Housing Gotham's Youth One Helping Hand at a Time".

Coulson doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, "Had I known you were ready to settle down, I wouldn't have let Bruce beat me to it."

“I’m sorry?”

Your friend's smile doesn't waver. You feel a chill settling in your chest, a warning that he’d taken control again. You try to casually scan the crowd for Bruce but you find him in deep discussion with some business partners and your stomach twists. He’s turned, he can’t see you. You can’t call for help.

“Ah, you know,” Coulson steps forward, a friendly distance to anyone else, “saw you and Brucie together and just got to thinking about us. You remember, don’t you?” You keep a solid expression, much to his amusement, “Or was I just a step on the ladder too?”

It’s supposed to be a joke. You ought to laugh it off. You do, stiffly, pressing your sweating glass to your inner wrist to ground yourself, “We were… 17. Weren’t we?”

“The first time, yeah.”

“How could I forget?”

“You did always like Bruce better.” Coulson comes closer. He’s close enough now that anyone would think you were just two childhood friends gossiping, reminiscing on your youth and laughing all about it. Coulson keeps up a pretty smile even as your heartbeat accelerates, “Always worried about him. Always running after him. He didn’t even give you the time of day.”

You keep smiling, “He was angry. I understood-“

“Bullshit,” and he says this so loud that a few people turn and look, but with such a joyful expression that they don’t look long, “you were obsessed with the guy! Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Your blood curdles. You know you should correct him, but your jaw is locked tight.

"That's okay. Bruce is... fickle. One day he's in love with you, the next you're a bug on a windshield. You're no bug now, are you?"

Now he's pushing it. The hand that captures your chin is lightly scented with cardamom, what should smell pleasing and sexy and disabling. It should sweep you into familiar arms, whisk you off into a whirlwind affair that gets the whole party talking. It should spark controversy. It should make you excited to ruin your mother's plans.

Your heart pangs as you remember the look on Bruce's face. Standing in the hall, one hand on the door to the library, yours and your mother's faces illuminated in flickering candlelight. You must've looked like a monster to him the way he fled-

You grab his wrist and tug, peppering a laugh in as if this is all just one big joke, "Let go."

Coulson's eyes spark alight, "I like you the way you are. You know what you want."

"I am not a gold-digger."

"But you are. Even if mommy's pulling the strings, you like being pulled. Only someone with something to gain would play along."

He'd looked at you once like you'd hung the sun in the sky, and now you were the devourer of light. You had consumed it, put out its burning devotion in one fell swoop. And then nothing. As if you were nothing before and would never be anything after. You were nothing as he told you, in no uncertain terms-

"Coulson, let go."

"I wouldn't mind, you know. Brucie is too soft for you. My girlfriend, you know, love her to death, pretends she's not in it for the money. People like that? They come into our world and think that we don't see how it changes them. How they're driven by it just like the rest of us are. She thinks she has to prove to me that she's different. You don't have to. You're committed, I respect that. But it doesn't have to be Bruce."

Your hands tremble at your sides. Almost more than you've ever wanted anything in your life, you want to give him a shiner that would put you out of high society. Your dominant hand curls into a fist, delighted by the idea.

You go to bat off the hand that touches your hip, but when your skin meets theirs, you recognize it isn't Coulson's. You feel the coolness of their ring against your sweating palm and almost sag into it, "I leave you alone for one second, and vultures descend." Bruce places a cool, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips hover there as he turns ever so slightly towards your ex. Coulson releases your chin. "Coulson. How's Lydia?"

You shouldn't delight in the way Coulson tightens up as much as you do, "Bruce! Good to see you. She's fantastic. Tour starts later this year. You lovebirds should come."

"It's a shame she couldn't make it."

"Oh, you know how it is. I'm still in good company. Right?" Coulson turns to you, winks. His smile is rigid.

When others are around, Bruce would snap back into a Wayne: all propriety and good will. You take a look at his expression and it is unreadable. There's a faint smile there, but nothing else he gives away. He is studying Coulson quite intensely though. You don't think he's blinked in a minute.

His eyes flicker down in fake-bashfulness, "I should thank you for that. You know once the board starts talking numbers, they can't stop. Not even for a good cause." Coulson nods politely along, half-listening, "You did good seeking this one out instead. I'm sure you've heard more than enough about numbers after this past month."

It was a simple statement. Most of the people in this room had been spending their days stuffed into board meetings for the end of the fiscal quarter, talking about finance, watching the stock market, money and more money... but it was the bit at the end that did it.

Coulson's eye twitches just so. He hesitates on asking but just can't help himself, "How do you mean?"

Bruce's smile takes on a patronizing color, "Oh, the boys and I were just discussing... sorry, I thought... I assumed it was public knowledge by now, forgive me." He laughs, just a touch awkward enough that it looks like he didn't mean to say anything at all. Now Coulson's smile is falling.

Even you are curious.

Coulson crosses his arms, hugging himself, "It was... a minor error reallocating funds. Nothing more. It isn't public knowledge because it's been handled. Who told you about it?"

"Has it? Been handled, I mean."

You glance between the two of them. For the first time since he'd come over, Bruce looks back at you.

Coulson clears his throat, "It has. Anyone saying otherwise must not have anything better to talk about."

Bruce hums. His mouth falls from your temple to your cheek, placing another kiss there, then another behind your ear. The hand on your hip moves to close around your neck, holding you close so not a word slips out of the space between you and him, "Let's go."

You keep your eyes on Coulson's, watching the gentle flicker between annoyance and politeness. You throw in a giggle for good measure, "Sure thing."

Bruce peels back from you, acknowledging Coulson with little more than a nod, "Good seeing you, Coulson. I'd stick around longer but I think I'm gonna steal them home, if you don't mind."

"Not at all! I envy how much you two are obsessed with each other, truly." Coulson sips his champagne and in a bitter tone, shifts his focus to you, "Think on what I said, hm?"

The nerve.

Bruce is whisking you toward the front doors without giving you a moment to respond. He kisses you more, leans into you with an arm thrown around your shoulders and a giddy smile as he sets his barely-touched champagne on a waiter's tray.

It isn't until you two are outside by the curb that you break your silence, "Thank you."

Bruce doesn't fully acknowledge you with his body, even as his arm remains slung about you, helping keep the chill of the night off you. He sends off a message for your driver, "What for?"

That was right. You'd never actually gotten to talk to Bruce about Coulson, "He... he was questioning the marriage. Questioning if you were the right fit for me. Saying that maybe I'd be better off with someone who understands me," you grit the next part out, "the real me."

"And?"

You look at him. He's watching cars pass as your eyes prick with tears. "I don't think he understands me at all. He never did."

He appraises you out of the corner of his eye, "Could've told you that years ago."

"You wouldn't even give me the time of day four months ago."

You've got him there. You're shocked to find that he isn't annoyed, or defensive, or even ignoring you. He sucks his teeth and shrugs. Presses the bottom of his shoe into an old cigarette on the sidewalk, snuffing out a flame that had died a long time ago. "You were going to hit him. I saw you." You feel heat crawl up your neck as you remember. "I don't know what he said, but he would've deserved it."

"I... couldn't. You know I couldn't."

Bruce turns up his nose as if he's smelled something foul, "It would've felt good, though."

"Yes."

The two of you wait there, just wobbling in the wind, watching cars go by as music and chatter and people flutter out of the ballroom behind you. You don't know what you're waiting for, but you can indulge yourself once in a while. If Bruce wants to stand on the street with his arm around you doing nothing, then maybe you ought to take the time to do nothing.

A few minutes pass before Bruce releases you, nodding for you to follow him up the street. You do, even confused.

He stops right in front of a bright red convertible, a shiny and expensive thing, parked just far enough out of the way that the music is fainter here. "C'mere," Bruce instructs, walking around the front of the sports car, and you follow him, watching your step lest you fall prey to a puddle, "hold this."

He removes the handkerchief from his front suit pocket and lays it over your open palm, much to your bewilderment. Then, reaching into the inside of his jacket, he drops a batarang into your hand.

"Bruce-!" You instinctively close your hand around the thing to hide it, thankful that his handkerchief kept you from slicing your palm open, "what are you-"

"One tire is a spare. Two is a tow."

"Have you been drinking? Like actually?"

You're startled by the grin he gives you, "If we stand here all night, someone'll catch us."

You go to argue when you recognize something hanging from the car's rear view mirror. A pair of dingy, fuzzy dice. Dice you've seen before in older, just as expensive cars. This is Coulson's car.

You grab Bruce by the arm and turn him to you, "Are you insane?"

"It's better than punching him."

The batarang weighing in your hand feels a little lighter at that.

"Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Who Coulson thought you were wouldn't slash the tires of a backup option. They'd be nice, wait it out, play the game for maximum benefit. Jump ship at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn't risk making enemies. They'd let their mother keep pulling their strings.

You sink the batarang into the first tire's sidewall sharp and quick. If Bruce is curious as to how you know how to slash tires, he doesn't ask. He moves beside you and blocks onlookers from seeing what you're doing. When you move onto the next, the entire left side of the car is beginning to sink toward the ground.

Bruce confiscates the batarang from you and quickly tucks it back into his suit pocket, calmly walking you back down the street to where your ride is waiting.

As he is holding the back door open for you, you turn to look up at him and find your breath catching at the still present grin on his face. You haven't seen him this happy to be alone in your presence in a while. It feels... familiar. He meets your eyes and you're reminded of a younger you. A you that could kiss Bruce with all the bubbling adrenaline in your veins. A Bruce that would let you. A Bruce that thought you hung the sun in the sky.

That grin of his softens but doesn't fully go anywhere. You drink it all in. You don't know when you'll see it again.

Bruce touches the small of your back as a taxi whips by, driving cool air up into your faces and breaking the moment. You indulge in the touch for as long as he lets you.

[fivewholeminutes]

Im very new to st and all ive seen today is chaos. Wtf happened if you dont mind answering

Hello there anon! I don't mind at all 💖 but what a time to be new to st, aw man. My condolences. (I am mostly kidding. But also, not really.)

First things first, i promise you, it's not always like this. Generally we're way more chill here on tumblr. I can't vouch for other sites, but if you don't want their identities spoiled and be around very chill people, stay here. Avoid pinterest and google and, for your own mental health, tiktok and twitter. (First two will guarantee an identity reveal and former two will guarantee that + psychic damage.)

Back to the drama!! So, you probably know they're anonymous. And VERY adamant on staying this way. If you check their very first interview or the voice messages from the 2023 US tour, you would see what i mean. Their identities are not important, their art is.

But. Some entitled little shit found their anonymity is a personal insult to them or something. So they decided to publish iii's birth certificate and some other personal info + there was something about them wanting to stalk iii (i really don't know the details, because i got rid of my twitter account a few months prior, but it was definitely vile behaviour). And it's. Not a very legal thing to do. I mean, if you're really curious, you could google them and find their identities in less than 5 minutes, no extremely personal info release needed. What i am trying to say, this is the 21st century, you're not some kind of sherlock to find personal info about anyone, no need to boast. Or, you know. Do illegal things to prove a point, because you feel entitled to someone's identity.

So, as a result, iii deleted and/or made his socials private (the ones related to his st activity, anyway). It is not the first time he did that, because people were getting too straightforward or rude before too, just not on that scale. It all happened a few days ago (2? I have no perception of time passing, sorry). It was understandable, he got doxxed, he did what had to be done to protect himself. Another drama started when the main band account removed all its posts on instagram today and changed the description to "nothing lasts forever". Which is a catchphrase they use from their very beginning, so it is not a worrying thing in itself. However, the circumstances have made people believe the whole band will disband (not dismember, alex, do not write dismembered AGAIN), because of the invasion of iii's privacy.

However, in the end, i believe the consensus is that since they have changed their masks for the Wembley show and had the "new era" captions (+ other bands tend to do that too), the insta post purge is just a PR tactic before the new era's introduction. Which i am prone to believe, really. They are mysterious, sure, but if something is happening (like iii needing to leave the German rituals in December because of personal reasons), the band notifies the fans about it. So if they were to disband, or iii was to leave, they would just communicate this. They didn't, so we're waiting for their next move, whatever is might be.

But i don't think they're going anywhere. They have finished their trilogy with the latest album, so Wembley was the best way to end it all, as a finished project. It didn't happen. They already have 2024 tour dates announced, so we know they're not done. So it's all fine, just unfortunate timing/their legal team telling them to do that/their way of showing they're done with annoying people/just a new era's insta purge. Or something else, which they would soon inform us about, if they want to.

All we can do is wait for more news and keep supporting them in our own ways. And not stress about it 🖤

[plagueislost]

Hii, for the artist ask game: number 4 and 10 is something I'd love to know :3

i wrote A LOT for this ask, sorry! i wanted to do the questions justice, yknow how it is.

4. piece you wish got more love?

Ive found from experience that original art tends to not do very well on social media, which kind of makes me sad. It's not much of a problem for me (because most of the stuff i post is fanart anyways) but i can't help but think that part of the reason i rarely ever draw original pieces or make OCs is because of the lack of feedback i get on social media. I know tumblr is supposed to be the fandom website, and maybe id have a different experience on another site, but it is disappointing when i post something original that I'm very proud of and it barely manages to get more than 20 notes, whereas something i like less easily surpasses 100 just because of the tags i put on it. i think the most recent example of this is this piece, which admittedly did get quite a few notes for an original piece, but definitely would have gotten more had it been fanart of the same caliber. this is also not to blame anyone or make anyone feel bad about not reblogging original art (god knows im guilty of that too, and art piggybacking off the popularity of other works of art are of course gonna get more notes), its just something ive noticed from my time on social media.

10. how do you deal with artblock?

i dont get art block very often, but when i do, its ANNOYING. it mostly manifests in me having a bunch of motivation for a part of my process that i cant get to without doing the stuff i have no desire to do (does that make any sense?). like, ill have a strong urge to render an artwork, but no ongoing WIPs that are at that stage, meaning i would have to sketch and color and shade a whole new piece before i could satiate that urge, or do the steps out of order which could mess up the flow and end look of a project. when i get like this, i find its best to try and translate those desires into different activities and take a step away from art. for example:

if i want to sketch, but nothing comes out right digitally, ill find a scrap piece of paper and a crappy pen and make thumbnails until i cant think of any other iterations of the ideas in my head. if one of them turns out good, ill take a picture and transfer it into my software, but only go over it a day or so later so i can have fresh eyes.

if i want to color, but i have no sketches currently ready for coloring, ill go into my photo editing program, find some random old photos that i never edited, and post-process them until i get something im happy with.

if i want to shade, but have no colored artworks ready for that, ill usually do a study of a photo ive taken, because most of the time me shading is really me wanting to see how light and shadow interact in certain scenarios. i actually did a whole AP portfolio on that because i liked shading and lighting so much!

if i want to render, but ive got no pieces ready for rendering, i find its easiest just to find a tedious activity where i can be a perfectionist but also feel like im the smartest person in the world. this generally turns into me cooking some big meal because its constantly engaging but also not that difficult. i know its probably weird for it to not have anything to do with art but this is just what works best for me, and i get the bonus of a nice meal at the end of it!

if i get the more classic kind of art block where everything sucks and nothing i make is good, i find its best to go back to the media that inspires me to make art, and not worry too much about having made something by the end of it. generally the media that inspires me ends up, well, inspiring me, and i can remind myself that art is a voluntary practice that i do because its fun, not because i want something out of it. if it doesnt manage to inspire me, thats okay, i can just tell myself im taking a break and live life for a bit.

i hope that was helpful, and i really enjoyed answering these questions! if anyone else wants to ask a question, the artist ask game is here.

[mhrtos]

elders of the creek headcanons

i am bored and hyperfixating so lets go

mark

- middle child ; he has that fight for attention greedy vibe about him (this is not middle child slander i swear)

- close to his grandparents (because i say so), watches old bollywood films & plays cards with them (this is me projecting)

- regularly uses reddit (this is reddit user slander)

- atheist (barry and david beat him up ab it)

- not cis ? hes just existing but will tell anyone that his pronouns are nor/mal and call them a slur if they ask because hes a shit (barry apologizes for him and lets them know hes joking and he uses any prns)

- bisexual icon

- adhd

- coffee drinker

- bathes the least out of the elders

- draws quite a bit (something ive found tends to come with being a gm)

- never lets his phone out of his sight ; he’s paranoid because his little sibling tends to steal his stuff

- scared of clowns & birds (or alternatively anything that flies)

- has a giant folder with all his campaign info and whatnot

- the ‘gets on the table and cries when theres a spider’ partner

- animal lover

barry

- oldest cousin ; has no siblings but PLENTY cousins (wooo projecting)

- THAT IS A TRANSGENDER (me projecting again)

- jordanian (me projecting again again)

- muslim

- listens to mitski

- lightens his hair regularly the dirty blonde is not his natural hair colour bc i say so

- this one is niche but he taught the other elders to play basra and after that mark dragged him to his grandparents house to teach them

- raw kibbeh anti (sorry mom)

- my pansexual king loml

- posts on instagram regularly

- bad spice tolerance, cannot handle the stuff his family cooks half the time

- lemon iced tea drinker

- bathes the most out of the elders

- the ‘puts a cup over the spider and takes it ourside’ partner

- scared of cats

- plant haver ; works in a plant shop

david

- eldest sibling ; as an eldest sibling myself i strongly identity with the way he acts like the youngest among his friends and also likes hanging around with children

- plastic chewer ; chews straws till they start falling apart in his mouth, his dice set has teeth marks all over them, he has accidentally swallowed multiple things (“david roll- david where is your d8?” “uhhh…. imayhaveswallowedit” “god not again”)

- autistic

- genderfluid he/they/she moment

- nblm bossman

- hes a hat guy ; collects and frequently wears hats but he is a cap anti, does not like caps, caps are weird, caps suck

- energy drink consumer

- made monster energy bread once (this is based on a post that i cant find about how bread is just yeast and a liquid so you can kinda make bread out of anything and so on so forth)

- bathes the second most out of all the elders because feeling greasy makes his sensory issues go wild (just like me fr)

- loses his phone and other things very regularly (all of them have very banged up old phones but he loses track of things so easily so his is almost never on him)

- the ‘ooo a spider’ partner

- picks up random shit everywhere (ooo shiny)

- scared of dogs

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[bellamygateoldblog]

My opinion is that a good amount of the fandom doesn’t see El as her own person and only sees her as an extension of Mike even when they try to deny it, and that not being together romantically would be a lot healthier for both of their character growth.

oh this. ive found in my short bursts of exploring the stranger things fandom that far too many el stans for my liking erase or twist everything that makes her HER, or seem to get defensive over characteristics that el DOES have and things that el DOES do. not everyone loves characters the same way, sorry that you can't appreciate el's hot-headedness, intellectual struggles and probable post-institutional syndrome, and tendancy to mimic other people around her as she learns the world, but that's a you problem shawty <3

i think a lot of people just don't care to engage with her character on any deeper level other than thinking she's a cute badass who kicks monster ass, and that's okay. i do get the impression with how they talk about el and mileven, and the type of content they make, that a group of fans simply use el as a self-insert because they find finn cute. i tend to think el does have her own distinct personality, but for those who don't necessarily engage with her character, i can see how she'd come across to them as a semi-clean slate they can project onto.

and actually ive decided to go on a tangent because this just reminded me of something lol and im using this anon as an excuse to try to collect and organise my thoughts. in the conflict scene between mike, max and nancy regarding mike's concerns of treating el like a weapon, nancy was literally projecting in that scene...she's personally dealing with sexism in her own plot and thus applies her own feelings about her own situation to el's, growing defensive over mike's genuine worry, batting it away with 'el knows her own limits. el is her own person' and she's misguided because even though el does know a great deal more about her power than anyone else, she's been shown to be extremely brave, protective and sacrificial (which mike helplessly WATCHED the first time) for the people she cares about and would absolutely exhaust herself and push herself past her own capabilities if it meant saving them for a little bit longer. that's ALSO who el is at her core. a girl who loves deeply.

to me it's not that mileven is 'unhealthy' like they're kids tbh, tho mike has been paralleled to hopper in s3 numerous times with his possessiveness, talk of others "corrupting" her, and typical 80s teenage boy behaviour, for me it's that i don't really like where that dynamic puts mike's character and by extention how other characters have to kind of...revolve around mileven when it's romantically A Thing, as they literally did in season 3. mike is a group leader but in season 3 he really wasn't, mike loves his friends so much but in season 3 he was really slacking on the whole 'i would literally DIE for my friend' thing and was so obsessively preoccupied with girlfriends (while the girls, on the other hand, were living their best single lives) that he shoved aside 2 out of 3 friends etc.

el on the other hand isn't that much affected as a character by having a boyfriend/love interest as far as we can tell, which I really love, however I find it...odd...that she's this really traumatised child with actual powers, she's WEIRD she's not normal, she's no particularly well-adjusted, she's still learning language, context and behaviours and such, she doesn't know who she is or what she likes, she's barely seen the world, but right away she's just acting like a normal teenage girl with unconventional speech patterns trying on clothes, eating ice cream, skipping through the mall, oogling boys and dealing with angsty teen drama, which isn't bad, I'm just wondering where the rest went and why they can't co-exist. a quick shot of el feeling watched and uneasy while she's in the mall surrounded by all those people. something. that's not really a gripe i have with mileven, but just how it's been fitted in with the other elements of the show and how it was so in our faces all season 3. with that being said im in agreement with the metas discussing how season 3 is supposed to be superficial and goofy and emphasises how mileven doesn't really work and has been moving quickly, i think we were supposed to be uncomfortable with that makeout scene watching through the crack in the door where hopper is, being told the kissing is constant, having joyce ask hopper to clarify it's ONLY kissing these 14 year olds doing, that awkward one-sided kiss with mike's eyes wide open, everyone teasing them or expressing frustration towards them, etc. i have no hard feelings for mileven, i don't actually mind it (or i didn't until all that i just mentioned in s3 plus some), i think it's very sweet in s1 and s2. really i don't take major issue with the relationship itself when you remove it from everything else and look at it, i simply just prefer byler. LOL.

[tacit-semantics]

ah fuck it im having a bad day and talking about my projects always helps. oc and original writing rambling under the cut for anyone who might be interested, but also mainly for me

So both of the ocs ive got right now are intended as characters in short stories, and honestly exist more as a function of those stories as opposed to the other way around- as in, the stories themselves aren't particularly character driven, and thus these guys suffer a bit for it. all this therefore serves as a means of hashing out those stories too, neither of which is actually written. So it goes.

first off we've got Adam, who tends to refer to himself jokingly in story as madam-I'm-Adam (mentioned him in a different post a few days back), whose defining characteristic is being annoying as FUCK, partially on purpose. He stars as the main character in his story alongside his neighbor's dog god-dog the guard dog, a dog with a head on either end, who is also a very good boy. a really shaky excerpt goes:

"I found that this was much of what I expected. That said, while novelty wears off quick I have always been in it for the long haul; so even as I danced my fingers back and out of reach, I looked at God-Dog and I took him in and I read him for filth right then and there: see, he looked like me, and sounded like me, and moved like me, so I knew him whole and entire in the same way that I knew myself, and so I also knew within the moment that though he had a head on either end, neither was any good for conversation. 

Not that I was much good for conversation either, of course, nor was I all that likable, but at the  very least, and for all our similarities, our one big difference lied in the fact that I was raised right: I knew not to bite the hand that feeds me, and I knew not to bark up the wrong tree, and I knew not to mix my metaphors, because it only takes one bad apple to burn the bunch. "

You'll notice this is phrased weird. That's because Adam's whole thing is tongue-in-cheek pretension, in part because I needed an excuse for copious amounts of wordplay and in part because his core conflict is based in isolation and separation, from both other people and his environment, and somewhere along the line he decided to lean into and attempt to embrace his oddities, to... questionable success, though he's not entirely aware of that. He's also meant to be 15 though, so i cut him SOME slack. Another excerpt, because I like it (warning for bullying):

"“Adam,” [the various indefinite bullies] would tell me, crowded against the wall of my white-hot house while the white-hot sun, the great equalizer, beat down on us all, “We find you disturbing and off-putting, and thus are going to physically harm you as a means of expressing ourselves, which is good and encouraged. This is all simple cause-and-effect, understand, and the cause is that you are annoying as fuck.”

“That’s not believable child dialogue,” I would reply, “And that was exceedingly obnoxious, so I’d very much appreciate it if you got it over with and threw me in the old dried-up river.” 

And then they got it over with, and threw me in the old dried-up river."

The story itself is intended to be surrealist and cyclical; thus the naming conventions. It deals a lot in doubling and mirroring, as well as recognizing and connecting with another living being on the basis of the very thing that makes others reject you. It's difficult at first, but like. He keeps at it, mostly through attempting to feed god-dog in a number of increasingly obnoxious ways. Here's that particular excerpt (warning for emetophobia and mentions of feeding animals things that they should not be fed):

"To this end, I try to feed him: 

Raw meat, cooked meat, meat medium-rare; 

Blatant corporate propaganda; 

Hex nuts, once, after which I was so delighted by my own cruelty that I vomited into the old dead river; 

A particularly juicy bit about modern martyrdom that even I found a little too obnoxiously self-indulgent; 

Dog food, unopened, which made him look at me in such a way so as to imply that were his divinity any less metaphorical, I’d be dead where I stood; "

Yes, this whole thing is a thinly veiled metaphor. Yes, I get excited about it again every time i make the mistake of opening the document. No, i never managed to hash out the details.

Next up, we've got the unnamed protagonist of my thinly veiled ocd allegory story, a woman who upon moving to a new house, discovers a time loop in the attic. This one deals a lot in isolation. She has people in her life- a wife, family, etc- but struggles to connect with them, and generally views the world through a shaky, dreamlike lens. I should mention that the time loop itself is not considered strange by the standards of the world; a good chunk of the story revolves around her wading through various nonsense in an attempt to get it removed. If this sounds familiar, then well. Yeah.

This one was initially intended to be epistolary, though I don't think that would've panned out. if i remember right, i was reading catch 22 around the time i thought of this one, so if i was gonna write it it was going to include a lot of cyclical nonsense as a means of illustrating bureaucracy in a similar way, as well as to parallel the time loop ocd thing. Here's like the one bit of dialogue i actually did:

"“Hello!” I say with my careful, cheerful voice. Not at all put-upon, not at all strange. “There’s a time loop in my attic.”

From the other end of the line there’s an explosion of clacking keys, a flurry of long-nailed, slim-fingered convulsions, and I give the person a name, a face, a beehive hairdo and a manicure at six; it occurs to me, as I’m adding her long, beaded glasses chain, that I might have some internal prejudices that I need to examine. 

“Alright,” the lady on the other end says, and I feel a little twist of guilt. “Can you prove it?”

“There’s a time loop in my attic,” I repeat, somewhat taken aback. 

“Alright,” the lady on the other end says, and I feel a little twist of guilt. “Can you prove it?” 

“There’s a time loop in my attic,” I repeat, somewhat taken aback. 

“Alright,” the lady on the other end says, and I feel a little twist of guilt. “Can you prove it?” 

And on and on we go. "

Anyways, this character was meant to be very spacy, a little unnerving, and somewhat lacking in self-awareness. It's also very important to me that she's established as someone who was like, already sorta struggling. She's very much meant to give the vibe of someone, well. Stuck in time.

As for other original writing projects, I had a satire piece that I actually basically finished, but i don't like how it turned out- it was a cover letter (like the sort you make for a resume) but it specifically leaned into the over the top flowery language they expect of you. It was meant to mimic like, a 19th century love letter, the point being to illustrate how damn ridiculous some of the ways you're expected to interact with people in the corporate world can get. There was a lot of intentionally ambiguous language and the like, and the whole thing was just meant to be. Very over the top. Yes, I was writing an actual cover letter at the time. Yes, I was very bitter.

The issue with this one was that it just wasn't funny enough. Had a fantastic line in there about uhhhh longing for the gentle caress of the invisible hand that guides the free market or some bullshit like that though. Seriously, I loved this one conceptually because it would've functioned very well as satire. clarity of purpose, etc.

Anyways, I also do a lot of prose poetry, but my interest there lies more in the language itself so its mostly nonsense. I also highly doubt any of these will ever amount to anything, because try as i might i cannot figure out how to structure things in a way that makes sense. Then again, that might be due to a misunderstanding on my part in regards to the construction of the story itself, which in turn might be a result of my habit of researching everything to death and b) misunderstanding literally everything always anyways. So it goes. If you wanna hear more about any of these, please ask. I will talk about literally anything.

[nitannichionne]

LUNA IV Chapter 5: Roles  (Henry Cavill Syverson Fan Fic)

Chapter 5

“We need to talk.”

You shake your head as you work on the garden. He gave it to you as a project to do. You liked it instantly because it was something you did for fun before your life changed. There were certain things your father liked to do with you at home when he wasn’t on a mission, and this was one of them. You like the feel of earth in your hands, and how you could pound it and shift it, and make something grow from it. You had great talks in the garden while planting it, watering it, and finally walking it or harvesting it. It was becoming your little world away from the one you got dropped in.

You must stay away from him, no matter how much you want him, you tell yourself everyday while you’re there. The plan is to get away from him, not curl into his arms, not to succumb to his kisses, even if he is compassionate, even if he feels good, even if his voice lulls you in the night when you wake up. It had happened again last night, and you fight the memory:

You awaken with a cry, shaking with tears streaming down your face. The dream-the flashback-had happened again:

Marette was coming at you in your own home, telling you that you were his. You tell him you’re not. He tells you it’s the law. You tell him fuck the law, and your father left you your fortune. He laughs and comes at you, telling you that he is going teach you a lesson that you father didn’t. The fight ensues, and he underestimates your abilities, all your father taught you. The room becomes a war zone, and everything is a weapon as far as you’re concerned. You throw things at him to keep him at bay, and he laughs. He lunges for you and you get out of the way. You pick up a chair and he grabs the other end, but your struggle gets you closer the weapons cabinet. He wrenches it away from you and takes your body to the floor. You feel your clothes rip and you clap his ears. You back away, scrambling for the cabinet. He catches your leg, and you fight, but he’s strong, pulling you to him. You feel him on your back and he squeezes your breast so hard you scream in pain. You roll him over and head butt him, using the moment his grip on you loosens to roll and scramble to your feet. You dive over the couch, away from the weapons cabinet to your father’s desk. You jump over it, and open the drawer. He always had a weapon there. You grab it just as you feel Marette’s body take you to the ground again. You struggle as he tries to disarm you, your fingers fumbling between you for the gun. BANG!

His body is heavy on yours. You push him off, see his expressionless face. You back away from him as if he may spring back to life any moment. You bump into the wall and one of your father’s military jackets fall over you. Your life is over and you know it. You curl yourself in it, still holding the gun, and cry.

In the darkness you awaken from the memory, weeping and trembling. Then you feel a warm embrace, you feel a hand at your back rubbing you. You curl into these arms, and then freeze, realizing this could be no one you know. You look up and see Syverson’s face.

Your mind’s eye closes and you see Syverson standing over you with that same look on his face.

“What?”

“Whatever happened to you, I’m sorry,” Sy ground out. “I feel as if there is so much more to your story—”

Your eyes fly to his. “There is more to everyone’s story, here.”

“There is?”

“Yes, like Gabrielle,” you say her name. “She’s here because she stole food, because she was hungry.”

“I got that feeling when I saw her,” Sy says softly. “I swear to you she is in gentle hands.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” you hiss angrily, and go back to turning the soil with your hands.

“Have I done something to you?”

You say nothing, because he has done nothing. A pattern had been established. You have been trying not to enjoy Sy’s smiles and comments about your cooking and cleaning, which usually surpassed his expectations. And in return--

His fingers and mouth brought you great relief and ecstasy. He knew you intimately, but you hadn't felt his hot hardness inside you since your first night. He comforted you when you had the nightmares, but sometimes you found herself wanting more. He would stroke your limbs every night, and you got used to it, even had trouble sleeping when he had to go if a crime occurred. You were on edge, starving for him, and he knew it, despite the cuffs he had attached to the bed that he adjusted to your size. After that, you’d been keeping conversation to a minimum and even that was killing you. His eyes silently asked you to talk, and so you stopped looking. But your body was a traitor. This morning you awakened with your arm and leg draped over him his muscular frame, your head over his heart. You even sniffed his neck as you awakened. He looked down at you and you got out of bed as fast as you could.

“Why aren’t you at work?” you ask, still tilling the soil.

“I’m working from home today.”

You sigh. So much for time to strengthen your reserve. “I could start lunch early.” You rise and assume an at ease position, deciding that he was not going to let her garden.

His eyes travel you. "I would like to take you to town today," he says quickly. "You should go every week for supplies." He watched you nod in understanding.

You avert your eyes, visibly bracing. "May I finish here?"

"You may not have enough time, it is best to go before the sun is too high." he nods, watching your eyes lower. "I will help you."

Alarms go off within you. "You don't have to—"

"Tend my own garden?" he smiles. "I haven't had time to do it, but I assure you, I know how. We can finish quickly, and still get to town before the sun is high." He is outwardly calm, but you sense tension and don’t know why. You both kneel side by side and get to work, loosening the soil and planting more seeds. "You know a great deal about running a household."

"Yes."

He takes a breath. "I am at a loss. I know why are you are here, but I don't know...why you are here."

You take a deep breath and exhale, "I don't belong here."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

You stab a hole it the shifted earth. "I killed a man—" you make eye contact with him. "In self defense."

"Go on."

"My father was very wealthy, very affluent," you decide to go back to work while you talk. "I was to be married in a year, and had just met my fiancée."

"An arranged marriage."

"He was a nice man," You defend. "I knew no one as kind as Kieran, except my father."

"Kieran?" Sy repeats, frowning. "Kieran Feloni?"

You nod.

His eyes widen with recognition. "Then that would make you—"

"Daughter of General Andari."

He stopped working. "Your father was one of the most admired and decorated warriors in the Luna System." His whole demeanor shows great respect. “I was saddened about his loss, I truly was. Good man.”

"Thank you," you nod, feeling his sincerity. "Don't know much about me, do you?"

"No, not really," he shook his head, feeling guilty. "Your stories were in the society section, I don't read that."

You nod in understanding. "Yes, that is how they did it." You tensed, still concentrating on the work before you. "They took everything."

"Who?"

"Luna III," you nod. "Women can't have anything, remember?"

"They only ask you have a guardian—"

"I don't need one!" your anger flares, eyes sparking at his. "My father raised me to take care of myself. I was fine!"

"I heard that he died in a—"

"They died," Your voice wavers, and you go back to concentrating on the planting. You realize you have finished planting the seedling in front of you, and shift quickly before he can touch you. "They took everything away from me...in trust till I found a new guardian." You pause, starting a new row. "One was picked for me. I didn't want him. He tried to take over—take me—it was me or him."

"And?"

"I am my father's daughter." You smirk darkly at him, vigorously stabbing the earth and dropping seeds in each hole, creating a rhythm. "Female I am, but my father taught me how to fight. Marette was stupid to think I'd let him—I warned him, told him to leave me...alone." You find your vision is blurring, your breath is heaving, and you stop.

"You'd never killed anyone."

You stab the ground so hard the hoe stands straight up in the soil. "I never had to!" She raised her eyes to him, her breath racing.

"Enough gardening today." He rises to his feet.

You stiffen. "Yes, I'm sure you've had enough digging around today." You lift your face to him defiantly as you rise to your feet even though your tears still fell.

"Time for a bath." Before you could say anything, he picks you up. He keeps a gentle but firm grip on you, anticipating resistance, but there was none, though she was stiff in his arms. He sets you down in the bathroom, turns on the water, and undresses you slowly. You say nothing. He undresses and pulls you in against him.

You put your palms on his chest, trying to keep some distance. "I can't wash this way." You don’t want to look at him.

He smiles gently. "It's alright. Let the water do some of the work, wash it away." You go rigid and he starts wetting your hair, smoothing the water over your head. "Close your eyes, relax..." He gently massages your scalp until you relax. He puts your head on his chest. "See?"

Your vision completely blurs as you try to hold in sniffs and sobs. He holds you closer as he takes a sponge from a small wall shelf and strokes your back, saying nothing. You hide your tears in the flow of water. You had not cried since the day law enforcement took you, the last time you held your father’s jacket. You realize he is too quiet and he is caressing more than bathing you. Does he know you’re crying? You hesitantly pull away.

Given access to the front of your body, he rakes your hair back gently, pulling it to tilt your head to his. He lowers his lips to yours, pressing gently. He withdraws, but only to wash your breasts and stomach, then kneels to wash your legs as well.But then, his mouth opens against the apex of your legs, his warm breath providing only a second's notice before his tongue slides between your lovelips, and you exhale in a half cry, half moan. You lean against the shower wall. His strokes are slow and deliberate, coaxing your legs to open more. He guides your hands to his head, and you massage his scalp as you pant under the flow of water, lost again in passion. He moans as drinks from you and then rises to his feet to pin you against the wall and lift you effortlessly onto his hips, his muscles exerting great care as he lowers her onto his erection. Your both moan, the sounds blending with the sound of flowing water as he lifts and lowers you again…and again…

Passion strips away roles as the water rinses you clean. You wrap your legs around him in surrender as he gently thrust into you, the movements becoming more urgent. You flex around him as he draws moans from you, your fingers digging into his shoulders and intensifying his release.

For moments after he holds you to him, he keeps you pinned against the shower wall as he strokes your arms and legs. He kisses your shoulder and you realize you have been rubbing the back of his head almost absently, naturally, your legs still wrapped around him. It was as if you aren't prisoner and warden at all.

"We are going to market?" you ask softly.

He draws back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "Yes. I want the people in town to know you are with me and whatever you buy is on my account." He kisses your nose, and smiles at your confusion. His words do not sound like that of a warden. "Get dressed, alright?" He sets you down on your feet, and you wash quickly and get dressed.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you wish to be tagged, and comments are WELCOME. Please feel free to also check out other stories on my page.

Thanks @fckdeusername​ and @maan24 ! I thought no one was interested in this story!

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Ive never really understood the hype surrounding Taylor Swift - I mean, I like some of her songs, but im not big on modern pop music so generally she just doesn’t really click for me. But I find it interesting that theres quite a few of Beatles/Swift blogs - like, they should have very little in common given that they’re from completely different eras and all, but somehow people seem to find a lot of semblance between the two. << and thats not me shitting on any of these blogs btw! Hope I don’t come off as rude or condescending there <3

Anyway, I was just wondering what got you into Taylor Swift? (I think ive read your post on how you got into the Beatles)

Hi, anon! Don't worry, I don't think you're rude or condescending! I agree they don't have too much in common and I don't really like their music for the same reasons.* I do have a playlist of Paul songs that have similar vibes to Taylor songs but it's mostly lyric-based. (Also the Beatles For Sale songs actually have quite the Taylor-tinge because Paul and John were not immune to Country Music)

I saw @stewy say once that a possible reason there are a good handful of us Swiftie-Beatle People on here is the appeal of a vast discography, which I agree with. If you have an artist/group with 200ish songs, it's just really fun to really dive into their work and explore all the facets. I also think: we're talking about the most popular band of all time and one of the highest-selling artists of the 21st century. They have a lot of fans so there's bound to be overlap, regardless of musical differences.

Moving on to your question: Getting into Taylor was an extremely personal experience for me and so my explanation is probably going to be kind of long so I'll put it under a read more.

It was spring-summer 2014, I was 15. I had heard the more popular songs of hers starting with Love Story and enjoyed pretty much all of them (I always found her hopelessly romantic point of view fascinating) but before I got a Spotify account in 2013 it was difficult in general for me to really get into an artists' entire discography so most of her songs had flown under my radar.

At the time, I was in this very weird sort of codependent online friendship with this girl who was basically my first real best friend and my first more or less crush. She was very depressed and I was very much in an I Could Fix Her™ mood, except that I obviously couldn't fix her and it made me feel like I wasn't enough and she had begun pulling more and more away from me and not replying to my messages and it was simply driving me insane. I consider it the saddest period in my life.

at some point during this period, I started trying to connect with other people (all online, I didn't know how to talk seriously to anyone IRL) and explaining the issues I'd been having, and one of the people who brought me joy and whom I actually felt not drained talking to was a huge swiftie. And IDK the fact that she loved Taylor and the fact that talking to her made my life better (and also the fact that I liked all the Taylor songs I knew at that point) just made me decide to give her a listen. And I think that whole "large discography discovery" phenomenon really helped me at the time (funny, because her discography has doubled since then). It gave me something new to focus on; there were just so many songs to discover, all telling such rich stories. I also have always loved bridges, they are almost always my favourite part of a song. And Taylor, god-bless her, loves them too and always puts her ALL in them. Like pretty much every bridge of hers brings the song to the next level, and even a lot of her songs I don't adore tend to have great bridges (Stay Stay Stay and Paper Rings come to mind). I think one of her most underrated qualities is how good she is at song structure and really building up an entire musical journey with a song. She also almost always adds cool ad-libs in her second and third choruses to keep the songs interesting and dynamic (or at least since she's gone pop). Anyways, back to the story: Then Taylor announced 1989 as her next album and released Shake It Off, and it was just like this great happy thing for me to look forward to, when I had very little keeping me going. The era was promoting a lot of happiness which in hindsight was slightly fabricated and it was just a really great thing for me to latch onto.

At the same time I was coming to realize that I was gonna have to pull away completely from my friend and all those break-up songs just… Hit, y'know? Like, some people seem to think Taylor's a one-trick pony because she likes to write break-up songs but to me, break-ups are just like this moment where you as a human can potentially feel every single emotion, and Taylor's songs have covered every facet of the concept. Here are some songs I remember from that period, that all meant a lot to me at the time because they explained my own pain to me so well:

Haunted, for the absolute terror you feel in the first moments you realize someone is probably gonna leave you. Come on, come on / Don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Something's gone terribly wrong / You're all I wanted.

I Almost Do, for the inner turmoil you feel when you know you have to stay away from someone for your own good but you really, really have to resist just running back to that person. We've made quite a mess, Babe / It's probably better off this way / And I confess, Babe / In my dreams you're touching my face / And asking me if I wanna try again / With you / And I almost do.

Last Kiss, for that absolute sadness that comes simply with remembering everything that was good and not comprehending how it could've possibly ended. I still remember / The look on your face / Lit through the darkness / At 1:58 / Words that you whispered / For just us to know / You told me you loved me / So why did you go / Away?

Forever and Always, for that feeling of desperately wanting to hold on to what you still have but at the same time realizing it probably isn't going to last and having no idea how to fix it, plus feeling like the other person doesn't even care. So here's to everything / Coming down to nothing / Here's to silence / That cuts me to the core / Where is this going? / Thought I knew for a minute / But I don't anymore.

Dear John, my all-time favourite song, for that moment you find clarity and realize that you deserved better and that you were headed in an extremely dark direction because of this other person. [DISCLAIMER: my friend did NOT abuse me nor did we have some inappropriate age difference. But the way she would ignore me and her general moodiness really affected my own mental health and self-worth problems] You paint me a blue sky / And go back and turn it to rain / And I lived in your chess games / But you changed the rules every day / Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone / Tonight / Well I stopped picking up / And this song is to let you know why.

(She's covered more aspects of break-ups in other songs [cheating, divorce, feeling awkward around your ex amongst others], these are just the ones I remember being really important to me when I was first getting into her)

She really helped me feel a lot less alone during one of my loneliest periods and I really can't thank her enough for that. Soon after this, I started crushing on a girl in my class and Taylor's love songs started to take on a new meaning for me as well.

What's crazy to me is, when she went on hiatus for a few years, a part of me thought maybe I'd grown out of her and no longer had much in common with her, but when reputation came out I was pulled right back into my love for her as a person and musician and then when Lover came out I found that she was still explaining feelings to me better than I ever could (specifically with the songs The Archer and Cornelia Street). And now with folklore and evermore she's simply absolutely perfected her story-telling and I find myself deeply moved even by the songs I don't directly relate to. I feel like she has this amazing ability to find the absolute truth in the specific. I've never had a summer romance with someone who already had a girlfriend and mostly wanted to go back to her, and yet the bridge of august feels so real to me, y'know?

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose

It's hard to explain but looking at this, like it's so much more than the story it's telling. It's talking about how when you're young you really need so little to feel satisfied; how sometimes the idea of someone maybe spending time with you is better than actually doing things with other people; and how if someone using you without much thought can make you feel like you're not even entitled to grieve what you lost. Sorry. I'll stop. Don't want to go insane.

So, all of this is very personal and unique to me, but I think really the main thing that draws me to her is how vulnerable and honest she is about emotions, how eloquently she can explain the pain of being alive to me. Some people think she isn't the strongest singer, but I think, much like John actually, one of her greatest assets is how good she is at projecting emotion. The song happiness is a song I think has some lyrically weak moments but her vocal performance on it is so raw and devastating that every single line works even when, looking at it on paper, it feels like it shouldn't.

Hope this rambling made sense to you, lmao?? I love talking about Taylor though so thanks for the ask! Also very open to giving song recs if you do want to check her out more but I won't unless solicited to lmao *Sort of off-topic but I do think there's a relation between my fascination with the Beatles' history and my love for a great break-up song. I like pain I guess :)

[darlingandmreames]

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list all of them). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line, then tag your favourite authors!

Okay so I wasn't actually tagged in this but I saw it and thought it sounded really fun, so I decided to do it anyways 😅 All of these are Arthur/Eames except for one, which is Kalluzeb skjhsd....

Blurring the Lines (So Tell Me What You Want)

“Okay, I’m in place.”

Different Languages (But I Understand You All The Same)

Eames was bad at relationships.

Lassulus

Arthur closed the hotel room door quietly, standing by the door frame for a moment as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Solasta

Arthur was a lot of things.

Worth the Trouble

Kallus glared at the caf maker impatiently, trying to will it to go faster.

Carry Me Like a Secret

There were multiple ways to deal with sub-security, ranging from the subtle to an all-out firefight, but using the dreamer as bait to distract the projections while the other person extracted the target information was by far Arthur’s least favourite.

No Ones Knows (Until Everyone Knows)

Ariadne got a couple of blocks away from the workshop before she reached for her phone and found an empty pocket instead.

Happy Endings

Eames had always loved Bogota.

Louvre

Eames was already up and around by the time Arthur stumbled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, still barely awake.

All the Freedom in the World

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

Small Steps (But We'll Be Okay)

Eames opened the door carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Occupational Hazards

Eames was still in Geneva when he got the call.

Radio Silence

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in."

The Risks of Knowing You

The door slammed loudly behind Ariadne as she left the workshop and Arthur sighed, rolling up the IV.

All My Reckless Dreams and My Restless Hours

“God I missed this.”

So Lost for You (So Tell Me That It's Not Too Late)

Arthur hadn't intended to run into Eames.

A Thousand Ways to Say It

Arthur reloaded his clip and got off four shots before the incoming fire forced him to duck back down behind cover.

Plans

Arthur was a planner.

Crumbling Walls

Eames sighed as another drop of water hit his face.

Looking for Company

“You look like a drowned rat.”

Patterns: I tend to write with very long sentences (commas, semicolons, and dashes are my best friends aksjdsk) but my opening lines tend to be shorter and more to the point. Not all of them lol, but I'd say it's still a pattern

Favourite: Probably "Looking for Company". I feel like it's very in-character and sets up the dynamic nicely. "Carry Me Like a Secret" was a close second though, because I like how it sets up the scene

Tagging: @hazelestelle @oceans-foundfamily and anyone else who wants to do it!

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

I couldnt find it when I checked so I don't know if it's been done before, but the papas/cardinal with an s/o with ADHD?

Wrote this in the direction of the reader is showing different symptoms or behaviors typical of an adult with ADHD- so I hope this is what you were looking for! Also, since no two people experience ADHD exactly the same I wrote for a mix of all types and different symptom focuses. Please enjoy! 

Aaaaaand HUGE shout out to @atricksterproblem, who inspired me a long time ago with her wonderful head canons of Papa III having ADHD himself! I’ve been incorporating that into my works and she was kind enough to give me permission to expand in my own writing! Thanks Trickster! <3 

And here is also a mild trigger warning, since I’m going to be talking about some distressing symptoms! 

Papa Nihil: Admittedly, doesn’t really know a lot about ADHD simply because he grew up in a time where there wasn’t a whole lot of knowledge about the subject. Back in his day, there weren’t a whole lot of labels or even help for people. Far different from the wonders of today’s psychological understanding!  All he knows is sometimes you show VERY similar behaviors and habits to his youngest son. Except, unlike with his son, the Grand Papa has been far more supportive and helpful with you. Nihil took a lot of notice during days you seemed far more restless and easily frustrated with tasks you tried to accomplished. He kept finding unfinished projects littered over your work area and you nearly in tears as you could just not will yourself to sit and focus, even though you desperately wanted to. 

Nihil sat with you and tried to help you work through it little by little until you broke down and admitted that your ADHD was acting up worse than normal. When he gave you a blank look, you almost thought he was judging you.... until he dead panned asked what that meant. It took a little time for him to fully understand what the disorder was as you felt more comfortable to explain. Nihil is honestly a bit ashamed he didn’t know sooner or offer you better support- he tends to be blind to other’s distress or needs. Nihil knows he wasn’t the most patient with his children in the past and now tries to do better by you. He takes the time to do more reading and ask what he can do to help keep you more on focus or even motivated. He’s no doctor but he’s not heartless and loves you. If offering help and support is what you need, he will give it to you!  

Papa I: Knew from the get go you probably had some form of ADHD or were nuerodivergent- which is not at all a bad thing. He, being nuerodivergent himself, knows that there is nothing shameful or ‘broken’ about you (an unfortunate feeling many siblings have felt about themselves and confided to him about.) So it doesn’t even occur to him to give your ADHD any mind unless your symptoms were bothering you. It wasn’t as often, but he always sat with you during small anxiety attacks or days you were feeling down. But the worse was the time where you were feeling extremely upset and couldn’t calm yourself down. When Papa sat with you asked what was wrong you nearly cried when you explained the situation.

 That someone said something hurtful the other day, that it REALLY hurt your feelings to the point where you couldn’t get it out of your head, and how you nearly had a panic attack over how you thought people were thinking poorly of you and judging you for being stuck on something for DAYS that wasn’t EVEN that important! That now you felt like you were a giant baby and no one was going to want to talk to you cause you cried about everything! Papa only tutted and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. There’s nothing wrong with being upset and you aren’t foolish for feeling so strongly about it. Your reaction doesn’t make you ‘overly sensitive’ and it’s ok to slowly get it out of your system. Papa knows that you emotions tend to be way stronger than his are, but he’s always there through the good and bad days! All he wants you to know is that he will never invalidate how you feel and he’d rather you feel strongly than try to bottle everything. 

 Papa II: Despite being a quiet and seemingly emotionless, Papa does pay attention to those around him. Especially you, his significant other. He was very keen and picked up almost immediately when he could tell you seemed to struggle to understand what he was saying. Normally, incompetence bothers him- he’s met many stupid people who couldn’t tell their ass from a hole in the ground. But he was also quick to know that you absolutely were not stupid- not in the slightest. Papa could tell the way your brows crinkled in frustration when you were trying to understand an order from your boss, only to ask them to repeat it several times. Or when you both had a conversation with someone and your eyes seemed to look far away until you were brought back to Earth. 

Papa is not heartless, and has never made an attempt to shame you or put you down for it. He’s a smart man and can tell right away the difference between simply not paying attention and struggling to keep attention. He’s Papa after all- what kind of leader would he be if he didn’t understand all the different types of people in his flock? His suspicions are only confirmed when you feel comfortable telling him that you had ADHD- when you broke down and felt self conscious. You begged him not to think you were incompetent and that you really WERE trying your best to listen. He merely put up a hand to stop you and answered with a gentle, “I know, no need to apologize.” Papa has only asked you be open on days you need support... and he’s none too happy if anyone ever gives you trouble for needing time to listen and ask questions. He never wants you to apologize. 

Papa III: Papa has always been known for many things, both good and bad. Ever since he was a child he’s been hard to make sit still for very long and always seemed to want to get his hands on any and everything. Even as a young priest his mind always seemed to be far away and never at the task at hand. To this day Papa is still the same and was very delighted to know you shared his energy! He always pegged you as someone who would rather be putting their efforts into something FUN or MEANINGFUL, and not the dull boringness of responsibility. That is, until you confided in him that you and your therapist were making plans to help with some cognitive behaviors. You were excited to tell him the ideas you both had since you recently found your lack of concentration worse than normal and were eager to set up a better routine! 

Whatever do you mean, darling? ‘Hyperactivity’? ‘Inattentive Type’? What does that even mean?? You were shocked that he didn’t know that you had ADHD. When you two sat down you were happy to just share some of your experiences with him, as he was incredibly curious. Recently, you felt that you were drifting off into space more than normal and felt like you weren’t processing what people were telling you as easily. Papa was confused and posed the question, isn’t that normal for everyone? When you explained that it wasn’t you both started to compare experiences. How you both couldn’t sit still, or focus when it wasn’t interesting... or focus too hard when you LOVED something. You didn’t think of it at the time, but your conversation is how you both realized maybe HE had the same thing! At the end of the day, it has made you both closer and given you a mutual support system.  

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: Copia is honestly not as phased when you opened up to him about your ADHD the first time. You were used to some people not really understanding what it was like to be an adult with some of these issues, and sometimes being incredibly rude about it. But Copia acted so casually, like you only just told him your shoe size or favorite color. It takes him a minute to understand why you were so confused and he apologizes profusely. He’s quick to explain that being a Cardinal, in his experience, is very hands on with Siblings of Sin. He’s worked with so many abbeys and so many children of sin, that he’s met people from all walks of life. So he’s had a lot of Siblings he’s helped with ADHD and other similar conditions! 

Copia has never one to really see a person’s diagnosis as something to be ‘shocked’ or ‘weary’ about. That doesn’t define you as a person, nor does it make you any less to anyone deemed ‘typical’ or ‘normal.’ The only time these are a problem are when symptoms are keeping you from living your best life. Copia admits that he already knew you had ADHD long before you became a couple- simply because he’s worked with many siblings who have sought comfort and advice from him and noticed a lot of your telling habits. Copia doesn’t like asking about it or making you admit it if you aren’t ready- so he never did. Copia wanted you to be comfortable enough to talk to him about it if and when you needed to. When you feel ready he just wants to let you know he’s always there for support to help on days it feels bad. He knows how it feels to be overwhelmed easily, and wants you to always come to him if you need to! 

[deamstellarus]

In Viata Asta (3)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 6k Warnings: Uhm…none? Maybe injuries and language?

A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? Also yes I know, this gif doesn’t have that much to do with this update but I love how it looks.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed.

“You don’t want to do that, zvezdochka. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat. 

“How long...?” You croaked. 

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… Steve.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said. 

"Sorry, sir,  I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me." 

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.

__________

As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary.  

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.” 

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design. 

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo. 

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that.  

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side. 

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most. 

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded. 

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go. 

"You scared me, zvezdochka," she whispered into your hair. 

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood. 

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?” 

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head. 

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.” 

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least Agent M?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.” 

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, sestrenka.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable. __________

Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a few stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise. 

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone. 

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child. 

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight and a half pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize. 

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are ‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.”  

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye. 

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off. 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago. 

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”

__________

You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl. 

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object. 

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, Agent M?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it. 

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying. 

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong. __________

Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily. 

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash. 

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again. 

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat. 

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic. __________

It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs. 

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.” 

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?” 

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Ingeras?” _________

A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!

zvezdochka (Russian) - little star sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis ingeras (Romanian) - angel

_________

In Viata Asta Taglist:  @rvgrsbrns​ @artsyspacebee​ @thelovelydreamer17​

[someone-always-cares]

[image description: a q&a for the webcomic someone always cares. full desc under the cut because its long and wordy sorry]

post chapter 3 Q&A

first - previous - next

thanks for yalls questions!! it was fun to answer! if anyone still has questions feel free to ask whenever i am always 100% down to ramble. even if i did go slightly off topic in some answers

additional: went off topic with the hair question a bit. their bright hair is all part of the transformations. regular hair dye does exist though. best way to tell is that if the eyebrow matches the hair its probably not dyed. also, quartz’s hair is naturally ginger.

also for more on ages, check out the character bios here

also was gonna keep this in the tags but thought i might as well actually try to answer it: the question i found it hardest to answer was someone the song one. my taste in music is. a mess really. ive been listening to like the same 5 songs on repeat all day. more under the cut because i was rambling again and now its uhhh half 1am

if it helps at the time of answering that specific question i had home by cavetown on repeat, and that song reminds me of both rami and lewis. but that may be because i project onto those two a lot, and as a aro trans dude. who sucks with people skills, yeah of course i love that song.

specifically the vibes of like not knowing how to communicate (rami is fine with his friends but other people are different), the lines “ Turn off your porcelain face, I can't really think right now and this place, Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane” idk what the porcelain face line is supposed to mean but im picturing it as like. a mask. that you need to take off and stop hiding and rami does tend to hide when hes feeling upset, and the next two lines kinda could tie into that, like the feeling of when youre overwhelemed and just want the world to stop so you just hide somewhere. also the colours could go with chapter 3 with the chromatic abberation.

also the bit with “ my eyes went dark, I don't know where, my pupils are, But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here” just kinda sums up ramis whole hero thing with his powers and all. anyway this has turned into less what songs rami would like and why this particular song reminds me of him and lewis (lewis specifically has the hair cutting/chest hiding, [big transmasc mood], and also messy haired trainwreck who doesnt know who he is yet. also the ghosts bit)

i did end up picking upbeat songs because ramis a dude who like to try and be upbeat even if things arent. even if hes not really feeling it he will pretend to.

[full description: Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: “hi ily!!! do characters like quartz who have colored hair have that naturally or did they dye it?”

“its both natural and not! while most supers can do a magical girl ish transformation, including a change in hair colour, there are some exceptions.”

theres two small full body drawings of rami, one in civilian clothes, one fully transformed.

“if a superhero were to have a biological child, the child will inherit the powers of the parent(s). however, the child will not inherit the full transfromation. they do inherit any physical transformations, but not the outfit.”

theres a drawing of a woman in blue, quartz’s mother, fully transformed, holding her mask in her hand, smiling down at a much younger quartz as a child. hes smiling back up at her with the same blue eyes, pointy ears, and blue hair, but hes still in normal clothes.

“in the case of quartz, both of hisparents had superpowers, and he inherited those powers and the physical transformations.he can also pick and mix whatphysical traits to change.“

next is a headshot of adult quartz, his face split down the middle with one side having hair and eye like his mother, the other like his father. theres a list of traits from each parents, blue hair and eyes and pointy ears from his mum, and purple hair and eyes and pointy teeth from their dad.

 “Anonymous said to someone-always-cares:  Are all the characters the same age? If not, how old are they? Are they irl friends or just superhero friends?”

theres some headshots of rami and his team lined up with ages labelled: cam is 15, rami himself is 17, lin, mateo, and dante, are all 18, and cap is 20.

“rami and xandra were somewhat friends before she got superpowers, so when, after the incident with her old team, she found rami had developed powers, xandra stuck close to him. their other teamates started off as superhero friends but soon turned into irl friends too”

theres a headshot of lewis and jade. theyre both 17

“when lewis first decided to start being a vigilante,jade quickly found him and decided to help train himand offered to be a mentor of sorts, as they both have similar powers. that quickly derailed.”

“ cinder5555 said to someone-always-cares: How long does it usually take to make a comic page? I'm curious because they're so freaking good that they must take FOREVER”

theres a drawing of myself, a fluffy hair tired bastard in a hoodie, smiling

“Thanks! Ive been doing this shit since like 2017 and i still have no idea how long it takes me. i can get a page done in a day if i have nothing else to do or if its a simple page, but if i have work then maybe 2-3 days? i spend like, most of my free time doing this.“

another drawing of me, now looking frustrated muttering “how the FUCK does time work”

“but i can never do it all on one sitting.i will inevitably get distracted and zone out daydreaming mid drawing so its very hard to get an accurate read on how long it takes. so however long a piece of string is i guess“

the only qustion not from tumblr is a discord message from RuneStone Cabin:

“Q: Can you talk about the incidence of superpowers in this world? Like many people are supers, which powers are more or less common, how long they've been a thing for, stuff like that. Also does Omen know I'd die for them “

theres a drawing of omen pointing at a date circled on a calender marked “decembuary”, theyre saying “i know. i already wrote your death in my calender.”

then a giant wall of text reading: “Supers have only existed for a relativly short time, since the early 1940s. momento mori was the second person to have ever gained powers.

Only a small number of the population are supers! the chances are higher in more populated cities, but unusally london has oneof the higher percentages of supers. while nobody in universe has any idea of the origins of superpowers, it does seem that powers are more likely to occur in people who would actually use their powers.

as for what powers are most common, after making a badly catagorized spreadsheet of every superpowered character ive made for this world (70% of which will probably never even be seen), turns out that elemental powers are the most common. although not all elemental powers manifest as the straight up 'controling this element' as seen in characters like lin or tsunami. for example, iris's powers would fall under shadow elemntal powers, but theyre a lot more weird that just controlling shadows.there are some abilities that have never been seen before,such as ressurection or full on time travel (aka anything that could bring a character back to life), but powers are certainly allowed to toe the line eg healing, powers involving undeath, immortality, pausing or manipulating time.

aside from that, anything goes. you could get plain old superstrength, but you could also get the ability to create dogs with your mind. other not quite rules, more guidelines are that supers are immune to their own powers hurting them (unless they were pushing themselves too hard), although the way the imminuties occur may be inconvinient to the super.

while some powers may be 'more powerful' than others, powers dont really get to be way underpowered or overpowered in comparision to others. sure being able to talk to animals may feel a bit useless compared to someone who can lift 4 tanks at once, but nobodys going to end up with a power like 'can turn into a goose but only once' or 'can grow toenails twice as fast' or 'if i sneeze i can change my hair colour'. at the same time, youre not going to get someone with the power to snap their fingers and level a city, or instantly blow up the moon or whatever.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: I love rami PLEASE tell me his favorite song(s) and why. I will die for you”

a drawing of rami saying out loud “i dont really have any specific favourite song, really? i just listen to whatever sounds catchy and then listen to that on repeat for hours until i hate it. i guess i do like upbeat songs? ones that make you feel happy even if the lyrics are sad”

“ un1c0rnhh said to someone-always-cares: tell me,,, please,, cam,,, are they a cat person or a dog person?? ily"

theres a drawing of cam a metre away from a cat lying down. she has her arm out and is making ‘psspsspss’ noises at it. end id]

FUCK i am so glad i didnt hand write all of that, it would have been a major pain in the ass to write it all and then have to transcribe all that next. but nope i could directly copy paste the asks and word answers. cheers if anyone made it this far down. if anyone wonders why this is uploaded late, you know now.

[sopwithwhump]

How about some Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. whump?

Just Skye having an infected cut and suffering from sepsis due to hiding it, enjoy! 

“Alright, Director, where do I go from here?” Skye asked through her comm link after dropping out of a ceiling vent.

           “There should be a room down that hall… it contains some critical hard-copy files. They aren’t in the HYDRA computer system, so that’s why you’re out here to get them,” Coulson replied, “stay alert. Coulson out.” Skye quickly made her way to the corridor. This abandoned building was mega-creepy. A sudden screech in her comm startled her, and she stumbled as she reached for her gun, falling on the floor and slicing her forearm open on a rusty nail. She cried out in pain and grabbed her wrist.

           “Sorry about that feedback, Skye. Are you in the file room?” Coulson asked on the comm as she frantically looked around for something she could use to stop the bleeding. She spotted a small, filthy rag draped over a chair next to a workbench, and quickly headed over and pressed it firmly to her wound.

           “Yeah… yeah, I’m in,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she dashed over there, “where is it located?”

           “The project was called Andromeda, so I believe under A?” Coulson suggested, “take your time. I’m unsure if anyone is even guarding this place anymore. But just keep an eye out for traps.”

           “Yeah… yeah… I’ll do that…” Skye replied, opening the drawer of the rusty filing cabinet while pressing the rag to her arm. She tried to focus on going through the files, but she could feel the blood quickly soaking through the fabric as her arm throbbed.

           Why am I always getting hurt? She thought to herself, Simmons is so busy with her science stuff right now. I can’t trouble her with this when I get back.

           It was getting harder for Skye to focus as she lost more blood, causing her to feel quite faint. Eventually, she did find the right files. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took them under her uninjured arm, took a deep breath, and said, “Director, I’ve acquired the files. Returning to HQ.”

           “Good job, Skye. See you there,” Coulson replied.

           She looked at her wound and realized that she would need a jacket if she were to hide it from Simmons. Luckily, she spotted an dusty, cobweb-covered olive drab coat just tossed in the corner, so she quickly slipped it on and made her way out of the building.

           Yeah, that place was definitely abandoned, she thought to herself as she got into the car, right before she was suddenly hit with a dizzy spell from a drop in blood pressure due to her injury. Gripping the steering wheel, she took in a deep breath, knowing that she had to drive and eventually show up at the bus looking absolutely fine. She looked at herself in the car mirror and hoped some colour would return to her face by the time she got back. Her arm throbbed in a dull pain as she started up the vehicle and made her way to the field where the bus was hidden.

           “Here are the plans, Coulson,” Skye said as she handed him the grocery bag she stuffed all the files in. Coulson pulled them out and quickly went through them.

           “Great job, Skye,” he said as he looked up at her, then noticing her pale complexion, asked, “are you feeling okay? Should Simmons look you over?”

           “Oh. I’m fine. Why do you ask?” She replied.

           “You just look a little pale. Maybe I’m just paranoid. Go and rest, Skye, you seem tired,” Coulson sighed, dismissing her from his office. She quickly tiptoed to her quarters, making sure that Simmons wouldn’t see her. She’s so sick of me getting hurt all the time, Skye thought to herself, it’s not like she’s being paid to be the medic. She’s a bio-chemist.

           Sitting on her bed, she took off the coat she found at the base and shuddered when she saw the wound, now sticky with half-coagulated blood. Grabbing a bandana off of the shelf, she tied it around her forearm, and put on a hoodie over top. Now, she won’t notice a thing! Skye thought to herself.

           It was three days later when something went wrong. Skye woke up early in the morning shivering uncontrollably. Her breathing was very fast, making her feel lightheaded, and also felt like she might throw up. “Oh… no…” Skye said to herself in between breaths, “something’s… very… wrong…” She started to panic and run to the lab, almost falling over twice, hoping Simmons was there, even though she always felt guilty when she bothered Jemma like that.

           “Simmons!” She cried as she accidentally knocked over a tower of beakers Fitz built when he was bored, “I don’t know *gasp* what’s going *gasp* on! I feel *gasp* so…” right then, the nausea overcame her and she puked all over the floor, then sunk back into the nearest swivel chair, still shivering, feeling very chilled, and hyperventilating to the point where her vision was closing in.

           “It’s alright, Skye, I’m here,” Jemma said as she ran over, kneeling in front of Skye, “I need you to breathe, you’re going to make yourself pass out. Just follow my counting, Ok?”

           “I *gasp* can’t…” Skye whimpered.

           “Yes you can, Skye. Ready? Breathe in, two, three, four, now out, two, three four,” Jemma steadily instructed as she held Skye’s arm and felt her pulse, which was pounding hard and fast. Eventually, her breathing did return to a normal rate, but Jemma quickly took Skye over to the medical bed.

           “Skye, what’s the matter? Tell me your symptoms,” Jemma asked in a softer voice.

           “I… don’t know. I can’t… explain… I… can’t think straight…” Skye replied, “I’m… really… cold…”

            “Ok. Just lay down. What’s this bandanna around your wrist?” Asked Jemma.

           “Oh… it’s nothing…” Skye replied, but Jemma was already untying it, which caused her to wince. It was very tender compared to yesterday.

           “Oh no… what happened?” Jemma asked as she saw the gash, which was now all infected and swollen, “why didn’t you tell me about this?”

           “I… I didn’t want to bother you. I’m always getting hurt, and I just wanted to give you a break… I thought I could take care of it myself…”

           “Oh, Skye,” sighed Jemma, “if you didn’t want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right! Stay here. I can fix this.”

           “I’m really sorry, Simmons. Can I have another blanket? I’m so cold…” said Skye. Jemma quickly threw another blanket over her, then started rummaging through drawers for some supplies. Skye laid back and took some deep breaths to try and get her nausea under control. Feeling very weak, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and laid there on her side, shivering.

           “Sit up,” said Jemma as she set her medical supplies down, “I need to look at this. How long have you been hiding it?”

           “Three days… I guess. I should have gone to you yesterday. I felt a little unwell and feverish, but I didn’t think much of it,” said Skye as Jemma inspected the wound, “ow, ow, ow… that’s really tender…”

           “I’m sorry, Skye, I have to clean it up,” Jemma apologized as she laid Skye’s forearm over a metal bowl, then proceeded to flush it out with water. As she tended to the wound, she also got Skye to hold a thermometer under her tongue and hooked her up to a heart monitor.

           “Alright, I’ve bandaged that quite good. Is that antibiotic still stinging?” Jemma asked, taking the thermometer out of Skye’s mouth.

           “A little. I’m so cold, Jemma. I can’t stop shivering,” said Skye.

           “You’re hypothermic. Stay under those blankets, I’m very concerned…”

           “About what? What’s wrong?”

           “I suspect mild septicaemia. Sepsis. Blood poisoning…” Jemma said in a worried tone as she wrote some things down, “Oh… dear, dear…”

           “Wait, what? Blood poisoning? What’s happening?” Skye cried. Jemma gently shushed her.

           “Don’t get yourself worked up. Just lay here and rest, I’ll take care of this, okay?” Skye laid her tired, nauseous, shivery self back down and tried not to worry. She heard Jemma rummaging around for things, mumbling to herself out of stress. As Jemma came back over, Skye tried to ask a question but promptly forgot it and slipped out of consciousness.

           What seemed like five seconds later, Skye woke up again. She heard Jemma talking to someone else. “Rapid pulse, high white blood cell count, low blood pressure, and she’s still not getting warm… sepsis is considered a life-threatening illness in many cases. That’s why I’m monitoring her intensively.”

           “But is she in septic shock?” Asked the worried voice of Melinda May.

           “I’ve been doing all I can to make sure it doesn’t progress to that stage,” Jemma replied, “she hasn’t deteriorated, but she’s not improving, either.” As Skye woke up a bit more, she realized that she had an IV and breathing tube as well as EKG electrodes all attached to her.

           “W-what’s going on?” Skye groaned in a weak voice, “Am I gonna be okay?”

           “Oh, you’re awake. You were out for two hours, I couldn’t wake you up. Don’t worry, Skye, I’m going to take care of you. Just rest. How are you feeling?” Jemma said in a motherly voice.

           “Weak and Tired. And I’m still really cold…”

           “Still nauseous?” Simmons asked.

           “No…”

           “I’ll make you some herbal tea. Your body temperature is still low, so we need to use all possible methods of getting warm. Can you breathe alright?” Jemma said. Skye nodded. “Good, good…”

           Skye sat up as Jemma handed her the mug, and carefully sipped the hot drink. After setting the cup down on the side table, she laid on the pillow and fell asleep once again. When she woke up, the lights were dim, and she saw Jemma talking to Fitz, who was sitting in a chair looking very tired.

           “Skye’s going to be alright,” Jemma reassured him, “I need you to go to bed. It’s almost midnight.”

           “How come you’re staying up? Aren’t you exhausted?” Fitz replied.

           “I’m the medic, Fitz. I have to monitor her.” Skye was about to say something to Fitz, but she was so exhausted and fell asleep once again. A rather long period of dreamless sleep followed. When she finally regained consciousness, she felt quite refreshed and ready to go do something. It’s like her sickness was completely gone! She sat up, looked around, and saw Simmons talking to Coulson across the room.

           “Simmons! I feel better!” She called across the room. Coulson and Simmons turned around and came over.

           “Well, aren’t we looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” Simmons giggled, “That three-day sleep really did wonders for you!”

           “I was out for three days? That’s crazy,” said Skye, “it felt like an hour.” Jemma picked up her clipboard and wrote, Patient regained consciousness, claims to be feeling better.

           “Well, I’ll just need to give you one last checkup and have you stay here for a few hours, and then you can get back to work,” said Simmons, “I’m glad the antibiotics worked.” Jemma proceeded to run a series of tests from temperature to a blood analysis, and once the results came back and the observation hours were up, Skye was free to go.

           “I hope you’ve learned your lesson about coming to me for medical treatment,” Simmons called to Skye as she left the lab, “always get it treated right, before you’re half dead.

           “I sure did! I’ll never make that stupid mistake again,” Skye replied. She looked at the bandage around her forearm and smiled at the fact that Simmons was able to save her life. As she saw how compassionate Simmons was in nursing her back to health, she realized that maybe she wasn’t a burden to her after all.