#fast absorption | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qlossytbh · 3 months

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

1K notes · View notes

adaginy · 8 months

Text

The Big Guide to Humans: Language

Most humans use their lungs, mouths, and larynx (a small organ between them colloquially called the "voice box") to produce audible language. There are also "signed" languages, in which the positions and motions of fingers, hands, and arms are used in place of audible language, primarily for communication with those lacking a sense of hearing or ability to use their mouths or larynx, but also in places where silence is required. There are also languages of whistling, a high-pitched noise made with the lips (the mobile edges of their mouths). Terra has thousands of languages, many of them incredibly complex and precise. Despite this, humans rarely use translation docks with each other, preferring to find a language they have in common. Most humans can use at least two Terran languages. They are likely to speak (or sign or whistle) a native language and are expected to speak or sign one or more Terran-Common languages (see human history for how Terran-Common languages spread). They may also be able to use languages of other regions as needed for trade, diplomacy, or curiosity. Human languages additionally have features called "accents" and "dialects." What makes something an accent, a dialect, or a separate language is ostensibly a spectrum of how different they are... but in practice some accents are not mutually intelligible* with each other while some languages are, and what is a "dialect" as opposed to one or the other may be political rather than practical: We asked human language-experts about this and the answer given by several of them** was "A language is a dialect with an army and a navy" (two types of human military). As a matter of practicality, translation docks allow for translation into and out of most dialects if the dialect (or accent) is, functionally, a separate language. This sometimes caused problems in comparatively early human space-history for those political reasons, but Terran politics has become more cooperative over time. Most human languages, particularly spoken ones, also have a written form. There are far fewer writing styles than languages. For example, many languages, including multiple Terran-Common languages, use what is known as the "Roman alphabet," named for a distantly historical military (see human history, again). In an alphabet, sounds are represented by marks or combinations of marks, and by knowing the sounds one knows what the line of marks would read if spoken. There are also syllabaries, in which the marks represent sets of sounds, and logographic systems, in which complex marks represent ideas. Some languages use combinations thereof. While humans generally cannot write as fast as they speak, many can read far faster than a human can speak, allowing for the rapid absorption of information.

Most humans are innately "good at" language, even if they do not believe they are. (This is especially true with human children.) If your language is adequately perceptible to humans, expect that over time they will learn at least a little bit of it. If your language is audible to them (or signed in a way that can be approximated), expect that they will find a way to produce it and use your own language to speak with you. They feel this is polite and friendly, although they understand that most non-Terrans are unlikely to learn and use their languages in return. * Many human languages share a "root" language, and the languages have spread and separated in ways akin to evolution. Similarly to how closely-related species can sometimes hybridize, a speaker of one language may be able to understand, with some difficulty, a speaker of a closely-related language. **see human hive mind debate

#addie writes #humans are space orcs #big guide to humans #language

979 notes · View notes

xxxdreamscapexxx · 10 months

Text

Only for you

Emo!Wanda Maximoff x FemReader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Just the above, but I also added some reader backstory

Warning: Reader backstory including: physical pain, arguing, bullying, mental instability, manipulation, R being held against her will Present time storyline: mutual pining, Unestablished lesbian relationship, slight teasing by the team, jealousy, posessiveness, love confessions, fluff, Happy!Ending <3

Joining the Avengers was a challenge. It wasn’t the constant work outs and strict diet to keep you healthy and strong, it wasn’t even the danger or the threats to your life, even the annoying attempts of the media to follow you and snap pictures of you didn’t bother you that much. They all got buried by the government before they saw the light of day anyway. It was the people. Not that you weren’t grateful to them. They had saved your life after all. Gave you a purpose in life. But… The Avengers were a tough group to get to know and even tougher to live with sometimes. Of course, some preferred having their own homes, like Clint and his family, or the notorious Captain Marvel, that didn’t even live on Earth, and just as expected, those that did live in the tower had their own floors, rooms, offices, so you didn’t even meet them that much, but that just made it even harder to really connect. That’s why Steve insisted on team building activities, training together, even attending Tony’s stupid parties, all in the name of bonding. The man meant well and he really had a big heart, but he just couldn’t see that some of the Avengers had very little in common.

The thing is… You were born a witch. Not from a powerful clan, or with deeply rooted ancestry, and you probably would have stayed that way, had you not made a terrible mistake. Truly, you were just angry at the time. Barely a teenager, who thought she had all the answers. You were arguing with your mother about something, not that you could even remember what for. It was probably so stupid. But you both lost your temper, screaming at each other, until she had sent you to your room. She thought she was de-escalating the situation, giving you both time to calm down. What she didn’t know is that you had been through her collection of spell books and brought them all to your room. So when you slammed the door behind you, stupidly, unthinkingly, you grabbed the books. You weren’t sure what kind of spell you were hoping to find. Just something to make all the emotions inside you stop raging. But you found an absorption spell instead. In your head, you thought that if you just learned this spell and then performed it, you’ll search through the books much faster and then you’d able to do… What? God, you had no idea. Thinking back now, that was such a ridiculous thing to do. But you learned the spell, grabbed the candles you had in your drawer, surrounded yourself with all the books you had taken and just started the chant, hands touching the pages of the books and starting to feel their content seeping into your skin. It stung! That’s what you remember most. The feeling of that black ink seeping into your skin, as if splitting it open to make its way inside, clawing its way in your veins. It hurt so bad, but it wouldn’t stop. You had said the words, and now the spell was doing its work, emptying the pages of the books around you. You tried to pull your hands away, struggled to get it to stop, but it wouldn’t. Every painful second felt like hours. The panic inside you was rising, watching the inky blotches making their way up your arms, crawling like black maggots under your skin, up your shoulders and neck… You were so scared, heart pumping wildly in your chest as you watched it happen, begging for it to finally stop.

But with the end of the spell, you found yourself facing a greater torment. You had taken too much, too fast for your brain to fully comprehend. All the words swirled in your head like a hurricane, making it impossible to distinguish your own thoughts. You tried to calm down, tried to put those racing thoughts in order, trying to meditate, just like your mother had thought you, but it was useless. It wouldn’t stop. In the end, it was your screams that attracted your mother to your room, panicked and scared, just as you were, trying to get you to tell her what you had done, but you couldn’t even put a sentence in order. Your brain was so scrambled, growing more incoherent by the second. Maybe that’s when you passed out? You couldn’t tell. You had very little recollections from that time. The next days were a blur. You don’t remember much. Just your room. Your mother told you that you were consumed by madness. Spewing lines from spells, incoherent and jumbled together. But sometimes you would get one right. She’d had to confine you to your room and bind you with runes, so you wouldn’t start casting without even knowing it. She told you it took you two weeks, before you started to come back to yourself. It was a miracle you even managed it. Some witches never recovered from such a thing. By the time you came back to your school, there were so many rumours about you, people whispering behind your back. You were changed. Thinner, more withdrawn, trying to keep to yourself. But kids were cruel and curious. They teased you, tried to get you to admit why you were missing from school all this time, attacking you, when you tried to ignore them. You should have known it was inevitable that you snapped and did something you’d regret.

It was just before summer break, you thought you had gotten through the worst of it, that you had your emotions under control, practicing every day, just so you could keep all the magic from spilling out. Many people didn’t know, but grimoires weren’t just books full of spells. Each spell, written within the pages was also a tiny bit of magic, leaving its imprint and taking root. You hadn’t just absorbed the knowledge, but the magic too. It was more than you’d ever felt, more than you knew how to control, so you practiced relentlessly. But when pushed, it bubbled to the surface. Fucking Madeleine Dupont, daughter of the Patric Dupont – owner of the biggest, most profitable manufacturing business in town, was obnoxious, spoiled, annoying and with a mean streak wider than her daddy’s newly acquired 23 acres of land for their grand mansion. The girl loved to pick on everyone, but recently, she had set her sights on you and in that fateful day, she and her friends cornered you into an empty classroom, taking drugs out of their pockets and trying to get you to take them. When “gentle” persuasion failed, one of them grabbed you, holding you by the hair and trying to force your face onto a desk, where they had spilled some powder. You didn’t even know what it is. But they started to overpower you, and the tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to tell them that you didn’t want this, that you needed them to stop, only added to their exhilaration.

They eventually pinned you down, laughing menacingly as they tried to get you to breathe it in and you lost control, pushing them back with your magic, a wave of energy blasting through the whole room, making desks and chairs fly to the ground, just like the girls had done. You tried to reign yourself in, to stop the emotions from taking over, but you were mumbling spells already. You remember just a blast. You remember waking up in a cell, body strapped to a small hospital bed, being pumped full of something. And the woman. She was your “handler” and on most days, the only person you saw or spoke with. She told you what happened. You’d killed those girls. Part of the building collapsed because of what you had done and the rubble crushed them. You must have protected yourself on instinct. Survived it somehow. They were giving you medication, making sure you heal properly. And then your training could begin. They were HYDRA. And they had a special interest in people like you. They made it clear that they weren’t just your supposed saviours, but also your captors. They weren’t going to just let you leave their facility. Instead, they aimed to train you. You were one of the lucky ones. You learned that after you were rescued from that HYDRA base. They never tortured you physically. Instead, they decided that they could break your mind, already weakened by what you’d done to yourself. They aimed to convert you. Half your training was spells and magic, endurance, strength… The other part… That was indoctrination. And they used everything they knew about you just to do it. When you refused to say the right things, they withheld food, when you refused to train, they withheld water… When that didn’t work, they would use threats. Your mother. They weren’t above hurting her to make you behave. They weren’t above killing her, if you didn’t do what you’re told.

You often held out hope that she was looking for you. That she’d find you and save you. But she didn’t have half as much power as you did. And you couldn’t escape them. What luck would she have? Eventually, your only hope of escape was to save yourself and after a few failed attempts, you formed a plan. You did as you were told, said what they needed to hear and you trained. You trained every waking moment, making sure your body and mind would be strong enough to take on all the magic you invited into yourself. That absorption spell? You used it more often, although, you limited the amount of information this time. It always hurt, the headaches after each use were monstrous. But it was all worth it. You were going to get yourself out of there one day. Even if you had to take down the whole base to do it. But it was the Avengers who took it down and helped you out of there. They reunited you with your mother, your family, and after some time, they also offered you a job. A calling. To help people. Those who weren’t as fortunate as you. Those in need. And you said yes. That’s how you ended up in the Avengers tower. Despite the people, it was a lonely place. Few understood what you had been though, fewer still cared for what it had done to you. But you couldn’t blame them. They all had their own lives, their own problems to deal with, their own personal pain to wallow in. Natasha understood. She knew what being a prisoner was like, what it felt like to be forced to do things just to survive. Steve empathised. His big heart and his puppy dog eyes were unbelievably charming and he won you over easily. Clint brought normalcy to everyone’s lives. But most of the others were hard to relate to. Tony meant well, but he had a big mouth and he loved putting his foot in it. Bruce was always in his lab. Vision was kind, but he was also marked by the characteristics of his origin and hard to make a connection with. Thor… Where do you even start with Thor? But there was also Wanda.

She had joined before you, her story similar to yours, yet so different, marked by loss and heartache. She was a kindred spirit and easily a friend. She was a little older than you, her eyeliner thick, her black nail polish often chipped, her hair in a tight ponytail as she walked around the compound and she always smiled when she saw you. As the months passed, the two of you were inseparable, spending every waking moment together. You were one of the two people who wasn’t scared that she’d read your mind, who trusted her good intentions and good heart completely. The other was Vision. They had a bond, an understanding that you didn’t know how to share in. But you were happy that she had him in her corner, because the other Avengers always looked at her suspiciously, or avoided her and you never knew why. Wanda was a sweetheart. Her favorite way to watch sitcoms was with her cuddled up into your side, your fingers playing with her silky hair, that she always let down, when it was just the two of you in the room. And sure, she was a little emo, but you found that adorable. Her smile would only widen, when you’d use one of your many pet names for her and she would blush, when you complimented her cooking. And you used those all the time, because, the thing is, you were in love with her. You were desperately in love with Wanda Maximoff and you were ready to do just about anything to have her smile at you or shower you with her affection. Something she did practically all the time anyway. If the woman wasn’t also fiercely protective and an extremely powerful witch, you’d say she’s a puppy. But none of the others ever agreed, when you said so. They would cower, when she stepped into the room, avoid her eyes, when they needed to speak to her, they would step out of training rooms, when she walked in. You found it baffling. And somehow the treatment extended to you as well. The closer you got to her, the more they kept their distance.

Gone were the days when they would tease you playfully, when they would give you pointers on your techniques, when they would approach you for small gatherings that didn’t involve the whole team and you never knew why. Until today. You walked in the common room, only to find most of the team already there and you greeted them, before you made your way to the adjacent kitchen, listening to their banter as you made breakfast for yourself and Wanda. It was the dynamic you were used to and you were ready to join them, holding the bowls of food in your hands, when you noticed that the noise suddenly died down, replaced by tense silence. “Wanda.” Natasha greeted with a nod. “Natasha.” The younger woman acknowledged, stepping further into the room and scanning it for something. Not that she ever told them what she needs. She looked pissed. Her aura was dark and almost menacing, her shoulders squared, like she was ready for a fight, making everyone on edge and you couldn’t figure out why. “Hi, sweetheart!” You decide to finally greet her, showing yourself from behind the wall you had been standing, while you observed all this. “Sweetheart?” Tony lifted an eyebrow, an amused smile creeping up his lips. Wanda only threw him a glare, but she accepted your hug happily, taking you into her arms and when you pulled away, she only let you turn into her hold, facing the group, while her hands stayed firmly around you. “Let’s go have breakfast in my room.” She suggested in your ear, ready to practically drag you out of there. “Why not join all of us for breakfast?” Steve raised his voice, gesturing to the big table he was already sitting at. “That’d be nice.” You nodded, before Wanda had any chance to refuse. “Come on, Wands, I already fixed you a bowl.” You told her. “Yes, Wands, we haven’t seen you in ages.” Tony agrees, emphasising the nickname you had used.

Feeling like she didn’t have much of a choice, Wanda agreed, sitting next to you and pulling your chair practically into her side, so she’d have you as close to her as she could, while she ate quietly. But the team felt like they had stumbled onto something. They had felt the shift in mood within her, as soon as she saw you and they weren’t going to let it go so easily. At first they tried their playful banter on her, asking her about her day, about her interests, about her training, just anything to see a reaction, but none actually came. It was only when you spoke that she would light up. She would smile, when she listened to you, when she forgot that it wasn’t just the two of you in the room. But it was the little blush that showed on her cheeks, when you called her “darling” that first sparked an idea within them. “Hey, Y/N, I hear you tried your hand against Cap here.” Bucky stared off, attracting your attention. “Tried being the key word. Hand to hand I don’t stand a chance, but with a little magic…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Who knows…” “Yeah?” His smile widens. “Well, if you’re looking for a challenge, join me for a spar this afternoon.” He invited. “She’s training with me this afternoon.” Wanda practically growled, looking up from her bowl for just a second, to stare down Bucky. Her glare was murderous. “That’s too bad, I was hoping for a little magic.” The man said, obviously bating Wanda. “Then perhaps you should train with me. I have magic.” Wanda snarled, summoning a ball of energy between her fingers for a moment, just to get her point across and luckily, the man was smart enough to back off. “Well, if you’re busy training, perhaps I can finally take dear Y/N to get a proper costume. The two of you can’t keep borrowing my leather jackets and pretend that it’s a real suit.” Natasha interjected. “What do you say dear?” She asked, her voice dropping an octave. “I already have some ideas in mind. You can try them on for me.” She suggested, noting the way Wanda’s knuckles turned white around her spoon. “And I’m sure Tony can make some improvements.” “Oh yeah.” The man chimed in, happy to take his own turn teasing Wanda. “I’ll have to get your measurements of course. To make sure it fits perfectly.” He says casually, but the idea of it makes Wanda’s blood boil. “She’s busy today.” Wanda retorts, before you even get a chance to open your mouth and you find yourself surprised to see her so tense. “Tomorrow perhaps.” Tony shrugs, taking on Wanda’s glare. “I’ll make time for her.” He adds. “She’s mine.” Wanda snaps, raising from her seat and balling her fists. “What was that?” Tony pretends not to hear her, smirking at the pissed off witch. “I said, she’s mine.” Wanda grits out, turning to you, ready to drag you out of the room.

It’s then that she realizes what she had said. That you were right there next to her, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and hopefulness. The thing is, Wanda was desperately in love with you too. She was also, as the team quickly started to realize, extremely possessive, and she wasn’t going to watch every man and woman in the room flirt with you. The only problem was that she hadn’t told you all that. Scared to ruin your friendship and loose you for good, she opted for hiding her feelings, which only intensified her jealousy. She hadn’t staked her claim on you and it made her scared that someone else might. So every time you weren’t with her, she’d be on edge, lurking in corners, sending people glares whenever they spoke to you, hoping to keep them away until she could finally tell you how she felt. Such behaviour had earned her a reputation in the Tower as grumpy, and since everyone knew how dangerous she could be, they tried to stay away. Now, however, cornered and taken by surprise, she had let it slip. And you were right next to her, so it was impossible that you didn’t hear her earlier words. “Y/N…” She stutters, taken aback. “I didn’t mean… I…” She stumbled over her words. And the audience didn’t help in the slightest. She felt crowded. Tony’s smug smirk seemed to taunt her, Bucky and Steave sharing a knowing giggle between them, Natasha, who somehow looked unphased and simply amused at the whole scene, it was all overwhelming. And then, there was you. Shocked at what you’d heard and looking at her in disbelief. God, she needed to get out of there… Before she had a chance to say much else, before she could think it all through, she stormed out. She didn’t even know how she ended up in the hallway, her legs carrying her on their own, when she heard your voice. “Wanda!” You were calling out her name, jogging slightly to catch up to her. “Wanda, please wait!” You called out again, seemingly not for the first time. “Please, we should talk about this.” You said, watching her stop, so she could wait for you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I had to get out of there.” She tried to say, her voice shaking a little with all the emotions that were raging inside her. “It’s ok. I understand.” You nodded, taking her hand, so you could help her feel more grounded.

The small touch between you, just the feeling of your hand in hers felt electrifying and she easily took the other one as well, pulling you close, until she could have you in her arms, securing you in a tight embrace and making you look up at her. “You don’t understand.” She said, hands shaking. “I’m so in love with you. I have been for months now. And I was so scared to tell you, so scared of loosing you, that I just…” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “And the way they were talking to you, the way they all looked at you… I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you. I want you to be mine. I want you all to myself. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you in my arms, I want to spend every day showing you that I love you. I want… You!” She confessed, her arms tightening around you, as if you’d escape her grasp somehow. “Oh, Wanda…” You whispered, a gentle smile farming on your lips as you watched her eyes sparkle. “I’ve been in love with you too. And I didn’t know how to tell you…” You said, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The moment felt heavy, thick with emotions as you both stood frozen in time, eyes glued to the other, when suddenly a voice, startled you both. “Maximoff, kiss the girl already!” Tony said smugly, followed by cheers from the people around him. Were they watching you on the hallway cameras this whole time? Not that you had time to think about that, when Wanda was leaning closer, her eyes flashing red, before she shortened the distance between you both, until she was only a breath away. Her features were so different now, she was smiling as she held you, biting her lips, eyes full of adoration and longing.

When she finally placed her lips on yours, a gentle caress at first, it felt like you were in heaven. You had wished for this moment for so long, imagined it every night, before you fell asleep, dreamt of it and longed for it and it was finally happening and you just couldn’t get enough. When she felt your eager lips on hers, Wanda didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, tongue darting out, asking for permission to taste you further and mingling with yours, once you allowed her access. It was only when she pushed you against the nearest wall, trapping your body with hers, that you finally paused. “We’re giving everyone a show.” You reminded her, head pointing to the camera in the corner. “Never.” Wanda smirked, her magic flashing once more, to show you that she had disabled the feed, before you even kissed. “Only I’m allowed to see you like this. I would never share you with anyone else.” She said with a note of possessiveness that you were growing to love, the more you saw it. She kissed you again. And then again, greedy hands squeezing your hips. She could never get enough of you. She felt drunk on you and only reluctantly pulled away when you both needed to breathe. “We should get back.” You said reluctantly. “Let’s go to my room instead. We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you all to myself.” She suggested. “I don’t want to share you.” “Wait… Is that why everyone thinks you’re so grumpy?” You suddenly realized, remembering countless times, when Wanda has wanted your undivided attention, skipping events and avoiding people. She didn’t say anything, but at this point you didn’t need her to. “We should show them how wrong they are. You’re amazing and warm and loving and sweet and I want everyone to know that.” You told her honestly. “But we’ll go to my room after?” She held you firmly, refusing to let you go just yet. “Yes, we’ll go to your room after.” You nodded happily. “I’ll even let you pick what we’re watching.” You added teasingly. Wanda smiled, pulling away just enough to let you straighten yourself and she held your hand, letting you guide her back to the common room, watching your hips sway seductively. It was sweet, she thought, that you believed she’d be wasting her time with sitcoms, when she could finally have you the way she’s wanted you for so long… _______________________________________________________ Hi, dear anon. I hope that you are happy with the story you got for your request! <3

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch #fanfiction request

729 notes · View notes

evilminji · 8 months

Text

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Cracked Reality Au

875 notes · View notes

mutant-distraction · 3 months

Text

Some facts about bamboo:

1.Fast Growth: Bamboo is the fastest-growing plant in the world. It has been recorded at growing 47.6 inches in 24 hours. Some species can even grow over a meter per day under optimal conditions. A new bamboo shoot reaches its full height in less than a year.

2. Oxygen Release: A grove of bamboo releases 35% more oxygen than any other tree out there.

3. Carbon Dioxide Absorption: Bamboo absorbs carbon dioxide at a rate of 17 tons per hectare every year. It can act as a valuable carbon sink given how fast the plant grows.

4. No Fertilizer Required: Bamboo doesn’t need fertilizer to grow. It can self-mulch by dropping its leaves and use the nutrients to grow.

5. Drought Resistance: Bamboos are drought-tolerant plants. They can grow in the desert.

6. Wood Replacement: Bamboos can be harvested in 3-5 years compared to the 20-30 years of most softwood trees.

7. Building Material: Bamboo is incredibly strong and sturdy. It has been used as support for concrete as well as scaffolding, bridges, and houses.

8. Soil Stability: Bamboo has a wide network of underground roots and rhizomes that prevent soil erosion.

9. Natural Air Conditioner: Bamboo cools the air surrounding it by up to 8 degrees in the summer.

10. Invasiveness: Some species of bamboo, especially ‘running’ bamboos, can be invasive due to their extensive root systems, which allow them to spread rapidly. However, not all species are invasive, and with proper management, the environmental impact can be minimized.

source: Anomalous club

📸 Organizer Bamboo Nursery

193 notes · View notes

talonabraxas · 2 months

Text

Aura colours and their meaning.

The aura is an extension of a person’s personality and emotional, mental and physical landscape, so it will change from day to day. It can be affected by external factors as well as the general disposition and character of the individual.

There are no hard and fast rules as to what these visual variances ‘mean’, as, with all psychic practices, it depends on the intuition and knowledge of the reader. But there are certainly common themes. For instance, those who practice yoga tend to have a ‘still’ aura or people with serious illness have a fainter aura than someone vital. Moreover, auras tend to have a ‘texture’ to them. They may be sparkly, treacly, in lines, waves or arcs.

Below, I have given a rough guide to how you might interpret auric colours only, but it is no mean a fixed manual:

The Aura Colors Meaning Chart:

Red ~ Pertains to circulation, the heart and the physical body. In its higher aspect, it is an indicator of a healthy ego, stability and being strong-willed. In its lowest aspect, red energy can give way to anger, unforgiving, anxiety or nervousness.

Orange ~ points to the reproductive organs and feelings. It is the colour of vigour, vitality and enthusiasm. In its higher aspect, orange energy shows creativity, confidence and gregariousness. In its lowest aspect, it can give way to stress and addictions.

Yellow ~ represents life energy – qi or prana. The colour of optimism, awakening, inspiration and intelligence. It has no lower aspects.

Green ~ connects to the heart centre and lungs. It is the comfortable and healthy colour of nature, representing growth, balance, healing, and depicting a love for all sentient beings and Mother Earth.

Blue ~ Pertains to the throat and the thyroid and is therefore indicative of communicators. Writers, public speakers and linguists will often have a lot of blue in their auric field. It is also a cool, calm and collected energy.

Indigo ~ Pertains to the third eye and therefore is a colour of deep feelings, intuition and sensitivity.

Violet/Lavender ~ Relating to the crown, pineal gland and the nervous systems. It is the most sensitive colour in the aura. People with a lot of violet in their auras are usually highly artistic, psychic, intuitive, visionary and magical.

“The aura is an extension of a person’s personality and emotional, mental and physical landscape, so it will change from day to day.”

Other Aura Colours:

Turquoise ~ is associated with the immune system and usually found in the auras of healers and therapists. It is a sensitive, compassionate colour.

Silver ~ pertains to spiritual and physical abundance. A lot of bright silver in an aura may indicate a spiritual awakening or financial gain.

Gold ~ typical of divine protection and enlightenment. This colour points towards strong spiritual and universal guidance, intuition, wisdom and inner peace.

Black ~ points towards pulling, capturing and transforming energy. It can indicate unreleased anger, grief or health problems. It also shows an unforgiving nature (to themselves and others) and possible past-life issues that remain unresolved.

White ~ linked to protection and deflecting other energies. Flashes of white within the auric field often signal that angels are nearby. As with most associations with white, it symbolizes purity, truth and a healthy individual.

Earth Tones/Brown ~ Colours of soil, wood, minerals and plants highlights very grounded energy and someone who works with the earth, such as a gardener or farmer. However, a more brownish hue can point to greediness, self-absorption or ignorance in its lowest aspect.

Rainbow ~ auras with stripes of colour emanating as beams of light from the hands, heart, or head indicate someone who is a healer.

Solar Aura Peter Solarz

70 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 3 months

Text

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for an anon behind the cut; the Gotham Kid. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Pete spends at least three more charges in both tasers, and Lou yanks Vito back to his feet while Mike reloads his gun with slightly shaky but very quick hands. Pete keeps grinning grim and vicious, and Kid keeps expecting something else from him.

Definitely batshit, he thinks. Like Batman levels of batshit.

Though the guns are definitely not Batman’s methods.

Pete blows his hair out of his eyes, then laughs. It sounds flat. Fake. Something tweaks in Kid’s head, like he’s missed something he should notice, but then the lumps of Clayface’s body start trying to reform, and that’s kind of–distracting, yeah.

Very distracting.

“Should fucking learn when to give up and die already, Karlo,” Pete says, his grin savage, and snatches something off his belt. It’s a wrapped-up . . . block of . . . something? Kid didn’t really notice it before, next to all the weapons and scars and body armor and other immediate obvious threats Pete was already wearing. It was hidden in a cell phone holster, but from the shape of it he’d just thought it was a whetstone for the knives or something. Now that he’s paying attention, though, it feels like . . .

It feels like . . . clay.

“Jesus,” Lou mutters from the far side of the street, and he and Vito both step back and drag Mike with them. “Hey, kid! Get the fuck back inside!”

It’s plastic explosive, Kid realizes as Pete rips the wrapper off. And this is–Pete’s running the numbers, he thinks. Making a decision. An immediate decision, but an arguably informed one. A calculation.

And he’s going to–if Clayface absorbs plastic explosive while he’s disoriented and trying to pull himself back together, and Pete tases him again after that . . . what would that do, exactly? Would it work like a blasting cap? Would it . . .

It might kill him, Kid realizes.

It also might kill everyone on the fucking block, depending on just what absorbing plastic explosive would do to Clayface’s actual body. Would that–convert, or spread, or . . . how do his powers work, exactly? Superman’s memories tell him that Clayface absorbed some of Wonder Woman’s clay once, and it gave him additional powers; made him stronger and borderline invulnerable. It wasn’t a perfect absorption, though–Troia got the clay back in the end. But until she got it back, he had the additional powers.

Wonder Woman’s powers are magical. Plastic explosive is chemical. But if Clayface absorbs fucking plastic explosive and it affects his clay anything like her clay did, and Pete detonates it . . .

Fuck, Kid thinks, and throws himself back from the hydrant. He runs for the warehouse.

He has to get behind the door, and he has to get it solid. There’s no way to explain about that fast enough right now, when he still doesn't know how much sign Pete even knows or if he could even get his attention in time.

Kid’s already grabbing the doors and ripping the bolt back with his TTK before he realizes he could’ve just–said something. Could’ve shouted a warning, or–

Superman wouldn’t have run. Superman would’ve stopped Pete. Would've saved Clayface from whatever’s about to happen to him.

But Kid isn’t Superman.

He bolts through the doors and slams them shut behind him, and throws himself back against them.

Throws his TTK back against them.

All of his TTK, and all of the doors. The wall. The windows. The fucking building. He puts everything he’s got into all of it; every scrap of fake invulnerability and strength and every single stupid thought and bit of focus in his useless head.

He even throws the stupid fucking bolt again.

“Kid–!” he hears Candi shout in alarm, and he feels her start to run towards him and feels Trish yank her back, thank fuck, and outside the whole street explodes.

It hurts.

Things don’t usually hurt Kid, except for the obvious exceptions of when he lets things hurt him. Like, so people will think he’s just a baseline human or won’t realize he’s doing something or whatever. When he pulls his TTK back deliberately and lets someone land a punch or a kick or something, or just whatever it takes to look human enough to pass for one.

He’s only half of one, but that’s not . . .

This, though. This fucking hurts.

The explosion scorches the bricks and blackens the windows and super-heats the door and the metal burns against Kid’s palms, and he can’t feel temperature through his TTK but he can feel the force. Feel the shockwave of it.

And his TTK isn’t half as good against concussive force and temperature as it is just physical impact.

But the doors hold.

The explosion would’ve blown them in, he notes distantly. Definitely would’ve blown in the windows. Maybe even some parts of the wall. And all of it would’ve gone right into the crowd of people hiding in here. It would’ve . . . it . . .

Kid’s head swims, and his knees give out, and he collapses against the door.

He really isn’t half as good against concussive force and temperature.

He can feel the scattered parked cars that the explosion tossed across the sidewalk and the decimated fire hydrant shooting water straight up into the air now and the crushed phone booth and mailbox on the corner and cracked street and every single brick in the building and seam and hinge in the door and everything’s so much and his ears are fucking ringing and it's too much and the nearest bodies are–

Someone grabs his arm.

“Kid,” a voice says, short and shaky. It’s Trish.

He thinks his nose is bleeding, maybe. And maybe his ear, and . . .

“Fuck. Fuck. Can y’hear me, Kid?” Trish says, shaking his arm, and Candi drops to her knees in front of him and starts patting him down, and he feels–weird, kind of. They don’t usually, like–he knows they worry a little, sometimes, but they don’t usually do it like this. Where it’s obvious, and somebody could see. He’s just useful, and they want to keep him around to be useful, and . . . and just . . . “Y’hurt? Y’get hit?”

“Shut up, Trish,” Candi hisses at her under her breath. She grabs Kid’s face in her hands; pulls it up to make him look at her. She looks . . . weird. Stressed. Worried.

He’s not used to . . .

“Kid,” she says, sharp and short. “Blink twice.”

He can . . . he can do that, he thinks. And then he does it.

It hurts, kind of, but he does it.

Candi’s shoulders slump in relief and she drops her hands to his shoulders instead, squeezing them tight. It feels different than usual, without his TTK between them. It hurts a little too.

Actually, just about everything hurts right now.

But Candi’s hands feel warmer than usual, too.

Usually Kid’s TTK is wrapped around his body, is the thing, skin-tight and atom-thin. So he’s used to feeling things through it being associated with feeling things in his body. So wrapping it around the building instead right before a Clayface's worth of plastic explosive detonated right outside . . . well, it sure as shit didn’t feel good. Stressed him out. Overtaxed and overclocked and overwhelmed him, and he’s pretty sure his nose and ear actually are bleeding, yeah.

And definitely he feels like he just took a Clayface’s worth of plastic explosive straight to the face. Which is a lot of plastic explosive even for somebody who isn’t just human to take.

. . . human.

Human. Outside, the–Pete and his guys couldn’t have expected the explosion to be that bad, Kid thinks. They couldn’t have . . .

Would they have been far enough back, if . . . ? Would they have taken cover behind something actually strong enough, or . . . ?

Fuck.

Kid tries to reach out with his TTK, feel what’s going on outside, but it won’t reach out again. It’s fried. He over-extended it, and it’s a miracle he didn’t pass the fuck out from doing it.

Maybe he did for a bit, he realizes vaguely, wondering how long it actually took Trish and Candi to get to him. It felt like they were there right away after he fell, but before the street blew they were . . . how far away were they before the street blew? They were . . .

Where’s Pete? And Lou and Vito and Mike? And–Clayface, too. Where are . . .

Superman wouldn’t have let this shit happen, Kid thinks bitterly, and tries to push himself up against the door. His head swims, and his knees give out again. Candi and Trish catch him against it and slide him back down to the floor. He feels . . .

It was a lot.

Jesus, like he’s never been blown up before or something.

. . . well. Like Superman’s never been blown up before. But . . . but it’s still not . . .

He needs to get back on his feet. He needs to get back out there. Someone might be hurt. Might need the ER, or at least somebody’s back-alley doctor, and . . . and . . .

And what if they’re all dead? What if they’re all . . . ?

Superman never would’ve let this happen.

Superman would've done it right.

But Kid doesn't even know what the right thing to do would've been, except for just making sure nobody got hurt.

And he definitely didn't do that.

He tries to make his legs work again, but he feels . . . just feels fried, still. Overwhelmed. Overclocked.

Not good enough.

He's never been good enough, though, so it's not like that's news or whatever. He came out half-baked and too early and he didn't understand what being “Superman” really meant, and . . . and he . . .

He didn't even know what was in his own head. Didn't even know how dangerous what was in his own head was. Is. Could be.

He's so stupid, all the time. So . . .

“S’okay, Kid,” Trish mutters, her voice low and clipped as she squeezes his arm. “Y'did good, ‘kay?”

“Shut up, Trish!” Candi hisses at her again. “Just–don't move, Kid. Just–wait a sec.”

Superman wouldn't wait, Kid thinks. Superman would do something.

And he's still not Superman, but . . . but Ma and Pa wouldn't–Martha and Jonathan Kent wouldn't wait either. Wouldn't expect any kid of theirs to wait. Wouldn't–

He's not their kid. They don't even know him. They probably don't even know he exists, except in like a vague by-osmosis way. They definitely don't care he exists, either way.

(they might, maybe. they're the kind of people to keep a baby they found in a spaceship and never even worry about it, never have a second thought or a moment’s doubt about it, never–)

They don't care he exists, he reminds himself sharply. And even if they did, that wouldn't make him anything to them. Wouldn't make him–

It just wouldn't.

No matter what he “remembers”. No matter what he actually . . .

Kid really, really wishes he had . . . wishes he weren't . . .

He needs to get up. Superman would get up. The Kents would too. Any–any real Kent would.

He's not even a real person, though. He's not even . . .

But he needs to get up.

Kid tries to reach out with his TTK again, and it . . . flickers, sort of, but it reaches. He feels Trish and Candi and the door and the floor, and his own clothes and the dirt and gravel, and the contents of their pockets and the lock mechanisms in the doors, and–

And nothing moving in the street.

Fuck, he thinks, and pulls himself upright more with his TTK than any muscle strength. Absolutely literally no muscle strength is involved, in fact, except in the sense of reflexively trying to put up the illusion of actually using them.

He’s definitely not, but yeah. Not the point here.

“Kid,” Trish hisses, gripping his arm. They’re both gripping his arms, actually.

Superman wouldn’t need that.

O-U-T, Kid signs stiltedly, just to make sure they’ll both understand, and Candi’s mouth tightens.

“Yer so stupid,” Trish seethes, and shoves him. His TTK’s barely functioning, so she pushes him into the door in a way she normally couldn’t. It’s not hot anymore, but he feels like maybe it still is. Feels like . . .

He just has to go. He doesn’t expect them to understand, because it’s stupid and he should know better–does know better–but . . .

He just has to.

(a real Kent would.)

Kid swallows roughly. Straightens himself up a little more. Trish glares at him. Candi’s mouth is still tight.

Sorry, he signs, and then he fumbles for the bolt. Candi tries to grab his arm again. He’s not expecting it, but he manages to dodge her grab anyway and slips back out, and shuts the door hard behind him.

He doesn’t know what’s out here, but if anybody’s dead, nobody else needs to see that.

Kid looks at the street, his TTK flickering in and out. There’s toppled cars and burnt and broken street and no sign of Clayface or Pete or anyone else at all. Just–nothing. No one.

Kid immediately feels like that’s his fault.

It is his fault, he’s pretty sure. Just–somehow, it’s his fault.

It’s definitely his fault.

#anonymous #wip: the gotham kid

77 notes · View notes

hush-writes-preg · 10 months

Note

oooooo, could you mix 5 and 9?

Can do!

"you can't give birth here."

"there. that ought to keep that baby in there."

(For the Birth Denial Writing Prompts!)

You're the expectant spouse of a powerful, egotistical king, but you didn't realize the depths of his self-absorption until today.

Today, your kingdom welcomes delegates from all across the continent to an important trade summit. Your spouse has spared no expense in preparing the most lavish, eye-popping display of power and wealth for all his guests-- including you.

You've been dressed in the finest silks and bejeweled clothing to showcase your delicate looks and the massive swell of your pregnant belly for all to see. It doesn't matter to your husband that you've been struggling with contractions since the evening before, nor that you can barely keep upright due to how hard and fast they're now coming. You're meant to be another piece of his display, and that means you'll be at his side, no exceptions. At least until he grows bored of your presence and lets you slip away.

"You're not going to give birth in front of all of those people," he says in response to your increasingly frantic requests to be excused from the preparations, his voice cold. "You can't give birth here either, because I still have need of you. So calm your ridiculous hysterics and act like the aristocrat you're supposed to be."

You plead for mercy, your massive belly visibly quaking beneath the fabric of your fine clothing. But he's never once shown you a scrap of compassion, and he's not about to start now. Sliding his frigid gaze down your quivering form, he finally snaps his fingers to summon a servant. They share a few whispers while you clutch at your laboring belly, instinctively knowing that the growing pressure in your pelvis can't bode well.

When the servant returns, he's carrying a box. Panic rises in your throat as the king orders you to turn around and bend over, knowing that you won't like his 'solution'. You choke back tears as strange hands slide over your body and a thick, chilly plug is shoved unceremoniously inside of you, lubricated but cold as it seals off your birth canal.

"There. That ought to keep that baby in there," the servant says without a hint of concern about what he'd just done. "Anything else, my Lord?"

"You're dismissed," says the king, watching as the other servants haul you upright and start tugging your clothing back into place. Once you're presentable again, he holds out his arm for you to take. "Now, put a smile on your face and stop looking so miserable; you'll be able to whelp my heir when the timing is more convenient. Right now, your place is at my side."

Another contraction shudders through your belly, but with no place for the baby to go, all you can do is waddle after your husband and pray you can make it through the next few hours.

#hush answers #hush writes preg #birth denial #birth kink #labor kink #ftm birth #mtf birth #nb birth #trans birth

209 notes · View notes

theambitiouswoman · 1 year

Text

Women's Health: Daily habits that could be affecting your hormones

Hormones play a central role in the proper functioning of your body and overall health. They affect your menstrual cycle, fertility, bone health, mental and physical health. Your skin, weight, thyroid, energy levels, heart and breast health and much more.

These are some common habits that can influence hormonal balance:

Sleep: Irregular sleep can disturb hormone production, like cortisol, insulin, and growth hormones.

Diet: Eating lots of processed foods, unhealthy fats, and sugars while lacking essential nutrients can lead to hormonal imbalances. Extreme diets can also harm hormones.

Stress: Chronic stress releases cortisol, disrupting other hormones in the body.

Exercise: Too much or too little exercise can impact hormone levels. Overtraining raises cortisol, while being sedentary affects insulin sensitivity.

Caffeine and alcohol: Consuming too much caffeine or alcohol can affect hormone production and the endocrine system.

Plastic usage: Some plastics contain chemicals that disrupt hormones, especially when they leach into food and drinks.

Skincare and household products: Harmful chemicals in skincare and household items can act as hormone disruptors.

Medications and contraceptives: Some medications and birth control methods alter hormone levels.

Smoking: Smoking and secondhand smoke can disrupt hormones.

Environmental toxins: Exposure to pollutants like pesticides, herbicides, and chemicals in the environment act as endocrine disruptors, affecting hormone production and function.

Hydration: Staying hydrated is vital for hormone secretion and function.

Sunlight exposure: Natural sunlight helps regulate circadian rhythm and melatonin production, impacting other hormones.

Social interactions: Loneliness and social isolation affect hormone production and stress hormones.

Water bottles and food containers: Bisphenol A (BPA): Found in plastic bottles and containers, BPA can disrupt hormones when it seeps into food or drinks.

Laundry products: Some laundry products have chemicals that act as EDCs, impacting hormone balance through skin absorption.

Synthetic fabrics: Fabrics like polyester can cause increased sweating and heat retention, potentially affecting hormones.

Personal care products: Certain cosmetics and shampoos may contain harmful chemicals that interfere with hormone levels.

Intermittent fasting: Extreme fasting or calorie restriction may disrupt hormonal balance for some individuals.

Gut health: A healthy gut, supported by a balanced diet and probiotics, positively affects hormone metabolism.

Birth control methods: Hormonal contraceptives, like pills, patches, or IUDs, can influence hormone levels and affect individuals differently.

#healthy living #health and wellness #womens health #women health #healthyhabits #healthy lifestyle #hormones #self care

438 notes · View notes

suethesocks · 4 months

Text

Egyptian Ben 10 AU!!

A long while ago i got the idea of making an au where ben is an Egyptian Orthodox Christian (the idea entirely spawned off a joke my friend made about a hypothetical ben like that having to explain his fasting to rook)

At first the idea was gonna be that his parents are Egyptian immigrants and he was born and raised in Bellwood, but last second before finishing his character bio i decided to flip everything over and make this AU *in* Egypt

The timeline i have in mind for these bios are all at around right after the highbreed arc, but also before season 3 straight up starts. I feel like thats a good jumping-on point

In terms of aliens mostly i just get to explore what the aliens would look like as teenagers since uaf and ov didnt really do much with that (they didnt even bother giving wildmutt a tail) and have fun trying to make his flannel into outfits for the aliens. Hoever if i get any cool ideas for entirely revamping aliens id definitely do it

I tried to make fourarms darker skinned not sure if its showing. Id have done the same with stinkfly but the uniforms colorscheme wouldve crashed. I wanted to try giving wildmutt black fur because this ben has darker hair but nothing really quite worked hsjhds wildmutts obnoxious orange is just too iconic

Prep school is mostly an american thing, here the closest equivalent for the early 2000s would be an international school. Also i changed lawyer to doctor as thats the sort of "go-to" job that makes a lot of money, lawyers in egypt arent usually as fortunate

Here she doesnt wear her uniform this is just how she dresses. I tried to fit the cat motif like OS but i couldnt really think of something that fit. If i were drawing UAF or OV gwen in my own take id have given her cat imagery but i think for Jwanas personality it actually makes more sense for her to be boring and lose the cat

Jwanas also a lot more angsty about her magic (and it is magic) since her parents and basically entire surrounding community both Muslim and Christian are very against magic and consider it sin. Shes also a lot more angsty in general because like the bio says shes under alot of stress and is very jealous of ben, which is conflicting because ben is also her best friend and she doesnt wanna feel this sort of animosity to him. She also doesnt realize how much he looks up to her as someone who is a lot more intelligent and disciplined than he'll ever be (for example the concept of jwana having the spark isnt here, ben just can never learn magic because he doesnt have what it takes)

Kevin much like ben is more or less the same as he is in the show. With jwana i went with my own take but Ben and Kevin are more of, culminations of what i think are their best parts in the series and then just fleshing that out more

I felt like the outfit he has in earth-prime works best with a few touchups. Prime kevin has consistently had that rugged guy-who-lives-in-a-garage look so despite being the most basic outfit it works the best with a few touchups

I did change his anatomy, i wanted to make him look like a mutant freak. I gave him this sort of frankenstine's monster posture (a small reference to him being an amalgamation in os). He also has these stretch marks all over his body since his material absorption doesnt just create a coat around him but also alters his skin itself (so these markings arent there for os-era kevin) He also has a lot of weird bumps over his body

This kevin is 100% mutant no alien shenanigans. If i do aggregor i'll uhhh think of something else for him to be. His transition to the lightside is a lot longer and for the majority of the highbreed arc hes not even there hes more of an occasional ally if he feels like helping

Was his dad a plumber or not im not sure tbh, im leaning towards not though

Next post is gonna be a bunch of villains for funsies

#art #digital art #fanart #ben 10 #ben 10 fanart #ben 10 au

123 notes · View notes

againstme · 8 months

Text

idk man i’m just thinking about against me! and transness, especially cause we’re coming up on ten fucking years of transgender dysphoria blues, on the 21st.

lyrics have been swimming in my head lately.

“what god doesnt give to you, you’ve got to go and get for yourself.”

“if i could’ve chosen, i would’ve been born a woman. my mother once told me she would’ve named me laura. i’d grow up to be strong and beautiful like her.”

“you wouldn’t think something like gender identity would complicate something like asking for some company.”

“she spent the last few years of her life running from the boy she used to be.”

“standing naked in front of that hotel bathroom mirror, in her dysphoria’s reflection, she still saw her mother’s son.”

“agitated states of amazement, never quite the woman that she wanted to be.”

“you want them to see you like they see every other girl, they just see a faggot, they hold their breath not to catch the sick.”

“chipped nail polish and a barbed wire dress. is your mother proud of your eyelashes? silicone chest, and collagen lips. how would you even recognize me?”

“no more troubled sleep, there’s a brave new world that’s raging inside of me.”

“all my life, wishing i was one of them. there will always be a difference between me and you.”

“what’s the best end you can hope for? pity fucks and table scraps?”

“all the young graves filled, don’t the best all burn out so bright and so fast?”

“sometimes at night, i pray to wake a different person in a different place.”

“i don’t want to hang around the graveyard, waiting for something dead to come back. i know you think you’ve got one up on me, that you can see something i can’t.”

“i wanna be so real, you can see the difference.”

“dig up your bones, early graves are not homes.”

“come on, shape shift with me! what’ve you got to lose? fuck it!”

“confessing childhood secrets of dressing up in women’s clothes, compulsions you never knew the reasons to.”

“i’m sick of feeling like i’m losing my mind. sick of doing the same things most nights after night. sick of self loathing and self absorption, self destructive narcissism.”

some of these are directly referencing transness, some just alluding to it. some are just ones that i relate to as i’ve grown up struggling with my gender and sexuality and accepting my own transness and dealing with self harm and self destruction and relying too much on drugs.

finding myself buying baggies of coke and just stuffing them in my wallet while i walked downtown, feeling this immense guilt at the bottom of my stomach for essentially just wasting 25 dollars on a drug that wasn’t doing much for me besides making me feel like i was feeling something different than what my life was. getting scared shitless while in the line at the convenience store after picking up, seeing cops come into the store, and the small tied up bag filled with what was more baby powder than coke in my back pocket felt like the the heaviest and most obvious thing in the world.

and then i’d find myself on calls with my friends, with my camera turned off or pointing at the ceiling, suddenly muting my mic holding a cut up piece of a straw in my teeth as i crushed shit up with my library card from a city i wasn’t planning on living in again. just having them talk while i was racking baby lines, tilting my head back and rubbing it on my gums after. i was sniffling all the time. sometimes my nose would bleed when i would wake up. and i wasn’t even really feeling much; i didn’t know at the time that this would be because of having adhd and just basically spending money on overpriced shit that was just like taking an adderall, but it was a drug in front of me, that gave me the idea or the false hope of running away from my life during the short lived high.

“before you know it, here i am again, fucking 6 o’clock in the morning, rolled up dollar bill in my hand.”

“what the fuck are you cutting this with, anyway?”

“how low can you go before you can’t turn around?”

i don’t think that when i was 14 and getting into against me! that i would ever actually get to a point of fully relating to those lyrics. of running away from such a huge part of yourself or your problems, trying to fill the void with drugs that you’d plow through so quickly, faster than you thought you would every time.

the thing is, was that at this point, i had already started my transition. i was already “passing.” but i never got to the root of it. sure, i’m trans, but who am i? and i didn’t know how to answer that question. so i just pushed it away, pushed it under the rug.

“you can pray all night and day, but you’ll still wake up the same person in the same fucking place.”

against me! has been there for me for ten years. throughout so many transformations of myself, so much shape shifting, so much dysphoria, so many late nights wishing i was a different person in a different place.

i found solace in their lyrics. it gave me some small bit of hope, some realization that i didn’t know that i needed; that trans people always have been and always will be here, that being able to be trans and be alive is possible, and that i don’t have to be digging my own grave, spending late nights staring at the mirror and seeing the girl who i used to be.

against me! gave me the courage to be alive.

#this is ok to rb. u can tag w drugs if u need to.#c.txt #wow after typing this it feels corny and long winded #also like it should be a journal entry. should it? maybe. do i feel like my fellow am! mutuals could relate in some way? yeah #hi if y’all are reading this #just been thinking about against me a lot lately #against me!

82 notes · View notes