#holographic shimmer stick

[tinydefector]

Hi hi hi can I please request shockwave (any ) using a holoform for the first time and he can’t stop kissing his human partner because he loves it so much..?

Holographic

Shockwave x human Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings; none

Shockwave masterlist

____________________

Human eyes linger on Shockwave as he works in reattaching his holomatter device, their head Is tilted as they watch him as he tinkers with the gadget. "whatcha you doing?" They finally ask. They knew Shockwave worked on multiple projects but they didn't know what this one was. Shockwave's optic narrows slightly as he continues his work, focused on the project at hand. He doesn't immediately respond to the human's question, his attention fully absorbed by the task as he re attached it to his arm.

"I am working on a holo-matter projection," Shockwave finally replies, his voice monotone. "I am testing its capabilities and potential applications, as so far I've only been successful with maintaining it for less then a standard human hour." The human takes a step closer, their curiosity evident in their expression, as they linger watching him with full interest. "Holo-matter, That sounds fascinating. What exactly does it do?"

Shockwave briefly looks up from his work, his optic meeting their gaze. "Holo-matter projection involves the creation of three-dimensional objects using a combination of light and matter manipulation. It has various potential applications, such as creating realistic simulations, enhancing visual displays, or even constructing physical structures."

Their eyes widen with excitement as they take in Shockwave's explanation. The move even closer watching him reinstall it into his arm. "So, it's like creating solid objects out of thin air, Can you show me?" Shockwave pauses, considering the request. With a few swift movements, Shockwave activates the holo-matter projection device. This particular application of holo-matter is a deeply personal and significant aspect of his work, one that he has rarely shared with anyone.

"Accessing holo-matter technology for personal use is restricted," Shockwave responds, "However, in the interest of scientific observation, I can provide a limited demonstration." With a series of swift movements, Shockwave activates the holo-matter projection device, and a shimmering, translucent figure materialises before them. 

Their eyes widen in awe as they take in the holoform, their hands come up to cup his face. The human avatar looked nothing like they had expected, they were expecting a mad scientist yet shockwave looked rather normal. One of His eyes was a warm ember and the other was sticking ice blue. He looked rather handsome yet nothing like the real shockwave.

"Holoform is a specialised application of holo-matter technology. It allows me to project a visually and audibly convincing representation of myself, enabling interactions with the physical world. Most times it is used for blending in on organic planets, the only flaw in the device is time, they are limited in what they withstand"

Their gaze lingers on the holoform, their fascination evident. "So, it's like a holographic avatar that can interact with the environment?" Shockwave nods, his optic brightening slightly. "Indeed, the holoform possesses limited physicality, allowing for basic interactions. However, it primarily serves as a means for me to navigate and interact with the physical world while maintaining my primary form in a secure location."

Shockwave's ���eyes’ flickers with surprise as their hands cup his holoform's face. The unexpected touch momentarily breaks through his normally composed demeanour, causing a faint ripple of uncertainty within him. He observes their expression, their eyes filled with genuine shock and curiosity.

"Your holoform... it's not what I expected," the human murmurs, their voice tinged with awe. "You look... different. Handsome." He has never given much thought to his appearance, as aesthetics have always been secondary to his scientific pursuits. The observation of his holoform's attractiveness is a concept that is foreign to him.

"I assure you, my holoform's appearance is designed for functionality rather than aesthetics," Shockwave responds, his voice remaining monotone despite the subtle ripple of uncertainty within him. 

They cup his face this time tracing the outline of the eyebrows, lips and just admiring how different it is. The feeling for Shockwave is strange, delightful. "Well if it means anything I happen to rather like your holoform" they giggle pressing a soft peck to his nose. 

"You... find my holoform appealing?" he repeats, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. The concept of someone finding his appearance appealing is entirely new to him. The touch leaves a faint imprint on his memory banks, triggering fragmented recollections from a time before, fractured memories flicker.

They continue smiling at him. "Anytime Shockwave, you should use this form more often, it's beautiful" they state, fingers continue to dance across his face. The notion of his holoform being beautiful is a foreign concept to him, but the sincerity in the human's voice leaves a lingering impact.

Before Shockwave can fully process their statement, the human's words are followed by a sudden and unexpected action. Shockwave's holoform leans in and presses a kiss upon their lips. As the kiss lingers, Shockwave's processor races, attempting to process the implications of this unexpected and illogical act of his own. 

After a brief, lingering moment, Shockwave slowly pulls away, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. "I... apologise, that was inappropriate," he says, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic hesitance. "I... was testing a hypothesis."

The human's gaze meets his, their expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. "A hypothesis?" Shockwave's optic dims slightly as he gathers his thoughts, attempting to articulate his conflicting emotions. "I have been studying the nature of human emotions and their impact on decision-making. I sought to explore the effects of physical intimacy on the human psyche."

"You're more than welcome to kiss me again Shockwave" they laugh, eyes sparkling as they stand in his arms, they were tempted to tease him but decided against it. Shockwave's optic flickers, his processor turning gears as he thinks over their words and the genuine warmth in their laughter. 

With a subtle shift in his holoform's expression, Shockwave allows himself to lean in once again. His lips meet the human's in a soft yet lingering kiss, a moment of connection that speaks volumes of the emotions he struggles to fully comprehend, it was as if he had been hit with a train of emotions, many that to him were illogical.

As they stand in each other's embrace, the boundaries that once separated them begin to dissolve further. The scientific detachment that once defined Shockwave's existence gives way to a burgeoning desire for a deeper connection,he craves to kiss them more. In that moment, as their lips remain locked and their emotions mingle, Shockwave finds himself willingly forgetting the stance of logic.

They kiss him back eagerly, hand cupping his cheek as their lips move against his. Fingers toying with his hair. As their lips move against his, Shockwave finds himself instinctively responding, his holoform's arm encircling the human's waist. His own hand tentatively reaches up to rest against the back of their neck, his fingers gently tangling in their hair.

The touch and taste of the human consumes his senses, leaving Shockwave with a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty. replaced by a growing desire to understand and embrace the complexities of these newfound emotions, to give what he could to them so willingly.

They nearly squeal as he pulls them closer, more giggles leave them as Shockwave continues kissing them. "Shockwave hahahah, having fun are you?" His optics flickers with a mix of surprise and amusement at the human's playful response. The sound of their laughter fills the air, leaving a lingering warmth within him. As they inquire about his enjoyment, a rare hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"I... find this experience rather... enjoyable," he admits, his voice carrying a faint trace of amusement. "It is a deviation from my usual scientific pursuits, but I appreciate the connection and the emotions it elicits."

However, his momentary amusement is cut short as the holoform begins to fade away, leaving the human pouting in disappointment. Shockwave's features transition back to their usual stoic expression. "I apologise for the abrupt end," he says, his voice returning to its usual monotone. "The holoform has its limitations, and it cannot be sustained indefinitely."

The human's pout softens, their gaze meeting his with a mix of understanding and lingering affection. " could you lean down so I can give you another kiss?” The ask softly, Shockwave gives in almost instantly, letting them pepper small kisses along his helm. 

As Shockwave stands there he debates finally having the empurata reversed. It had never been something that had a logical reason to be done but now, it was only logical if he intended to have more kisses from them. along with finding a way to lengthen the holoforms time limit since they seemed to enjoy it.

"Shockwave you haven't short circuited on me have you?" They ask while looking up at his optics. A smile lingers on their lips. Shockwave's optic flickers as he processes the human's words, his thoughts momentarily interrupted by their playful inquiry. The smile that lingers on their lips tugs at something deep within him, a mixture of fondness and a newfound desire to explore the uncharted territories of emotion.

"I... apologise for the momentary interruption," he replies, his voice regaining its usual stoic tone. "There are matters that require my attention." As he gazes down at the human, his optic flickers with a mix of determination and a newfound vulnerability. The idea of reversing the empurata, of regaining the physical capacity to experience more intimate moments, becomes increasingly appealing. "However," he continues, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation, "I am enjoying this experience and would ask that we continue this arrangement.” They give him one last small kiss before finally pulling away. “I'd be more Than happy with that Shockwave” 

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 18

summary: Char, Nat, and Steve go on a mission to an abandoned HYDRA base and make a harrowing discovery.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: all the feels. all the emotions. all the angst. I know I'm doing the MOST with character development and slow burn and this plot we're building up to, but just stick with me okay! thank you for reading, let me know what you thinkkkk!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

“Your mission briefs are in the folders.” Maria Hill gestured to the small stack of manila envelopes marked ‘classified’ in front of her before clicking a button to begin a three dimensional holographic presentation. “The objective is straightforward and this is not believed to be a combat mission. Your goal is to assess the base and retrieve any potentially valuable information pertaining to HYDRA’s resurgence and future plans. The base has been abandoned for years now, or so we believe.” 

Natasha, Steve, and Charlotte sat around the sleek conference table, their attention focused on the display shimmering before them. The room was dimly lit, the lights turned down to enhance their view of the hologram.

"As you can see, the target location was heavily fortified when it was previously occupied," Maria explained, her voice calm and authoritative as she rotated the display with a wave. "We don’t know how many of those security measures remain in place, or if they’re still monitored at all. Our objective is to gather as much intel as possible without triggering anything that would tip them off that we’re on their trail."

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he surveyed the holographic map. "We'll operate with caution," he remarked, his tone measured. "We won’t draw unnecessary attention to ourselves."

“I appreciate that, Cap, but you’re not the one I want to hear that from.” She raised an eyebrow in Charlotte’s direction. 

Chewing on the end of her pen, Charlotte didn’t notice at first. When she felt the eyes of the other two land on her, she pulled her eyes away from the hauntingly familiar insignia on the outside of the building in front of her. “What? Me? What would I do?”

“Crash a quinjet. Almost blow yourself up. Have a subconsciously triggered psychotic break and try to kill everyone in the vicinity.” Maria shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Hey,” Charlotte held her hands up defensively. “I haven’t given you any reason to think I’d do the last one.” 

“Bucky Barnes might disagree.” She folded her hands across her chest. Her tone was always so even, impossible to detect if her dry sense of humor was showing or just her pragmatic, no-nonsense work tone. 

Leveling a glare at Maria that didn’t phase her one bit, Charlotte sat back in her chair and mock bowed. “You have my word, I will try my absolute darndest not to lose my mind and rain hellfire down on half of Eastern Europe.” 

“Much appreciated.” The smallest smirk tugged at Maria’s mouth before she moved on. 

Charlotte listened intently, her mind already racing with strategic possibilities. Jokes aside, she knew this mission was crucial, not only for gathering vital intelligence but also for proving herself as a capable member of the team. This was her first official mission as an Avenger. She knew the reasoning behind both Steve and Natasha going with her, despite it just being an intelligence mission, was multifaceted. First, there was a possibility that the base was still in undercover operation and they would be walking into a trap. Second, there could be an alarm system in place that would alert any remaining HYDRA forces of their breach and draw them into an ambush. Finally and least pleasantly, Charlotte knew that she was somewhat of a loose cannon. Although she’d proven herself with the attack on the compound, she hadn’t worked in an organized mission format before and she was going to a place with significantly traumatic ties to her past. This wasn’t the facility where she’d been held, but entering any HYDRA territory at all was bound to bring back dark memories. Having two of the most seasoned Avengers with her would be to protect her from everything waiting for them, and to protect everything else from her.

Forty five minutes later when they’d walked through the interior renderings, the terrain map, and the mission plans ad nauseum, Maria concluded the brief and excused herself. 

“You ready for this?” Nat elbowed Charlotte as they stood to head towards the locker room.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte tucked the manila folder under her arm. “How can I not be with Agent Hill’s heartwarming vote of confidence?”

Steve strode up between them as they crossed into the hallway. Putting his arm around each of their shoulders, he joked, “You’ll be just fine. You’re with two veterans here.” 

“Hey, don’t make me sound old, Rogers.” Nat shoved his arm off of her shoulder and pointed a warning at him. “Let’s not forget I’m the youngest one here by many, many decades.” 

“You ever think they put two of the oldest on a mission with you to keep an eye on you?” He grinned. Nat simply flipped him off and pressed the elevator button to bring them back upstairs to the residential floor. 

When they reached the common room, the chaos of dinnertime greeted them. “Perfect timing, grab a plate,” Wanda called out from her position behind the stove, serving herself what looked like lasagna. They jumped in line, grabbing and filling a plate before joining the rest of the team at the table. The aroma of marinara and freshly baked bread filled the air as the team settled into their unofficial assigned seats, like every other night.

"So, Cap, did Maria give you any more gray hairs?" Sam quipped, raising an eyebrow as he shoveled a steaming forkful into his mouth and immediately winced.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "She tried, but I think I've still got a few years left. Charlotte, on the other hand…she took the brunt of it."

Across the table, Wanda turned her attention to Charlotte, a concerned furrow marring her brow. "How are you feeling about the mission, Charlotte? Nervous?"

Charlotte flashed a reassuring smile. "Nervous? Me? Please." She spread the pasta around on her plate, learning from Sam and letting it cool down. “I think you’ll remember that I was born without the ‘self-preservation’ part of my brain. Well,” She held up her wrist, the thin metal bracelet jangling as she wiggled it. “Born, programmed, whatever.”

“Why was Maria giving you a hard time?” Calla frowned. She’d been joining them for dinner almost every night since she and Sam had finally gone public with their relationship. 

“Maria,” Nat answered for her. “Was reminding us all to keep a low profile, Charlotte in particular. She pointed out that Char hasn’t exactly done that, lately.” 

“Then she proceeded to give examples,” Steve added, fighting his grin as Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It was difficult to contest.”

“I’m feeling a little victimized.” Charlotte reached for the basket in the center of the table holding the rolls.

“So did I when you tried to rip my head off.” Bucky deadpanned, tugging the bread basket just out of her reach. “Both times.”

Pausing, Charlotte met his gaze as she stood, leaning over the table towards him. “Cry me a river.” She plucked a roll out of the basket in front of him, returning to her seat. “You better hope I don’t find the HYDRA secret to brainwashing or you’ll be doing my bidding all day, every day, Barnes.” 

Bucky cocked his eyebrow and ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. Steve, knowing all too well that the look on his best friend’s face meant nothing good, chose that moment to chime in. “Charlotte will do just fine. It’ll be an easy intelligence mission and we’ll be right back here in two days. Just try not to miss us too much.” 

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of the usual good-natured jabs, tossed rolls, and laughter that felt too lighthearted for Charlotte, knowing she was walking straight into the belly of the beast she’d so narrowly escaped from in just over twelve hours. When the dishes were done, lights were flicked off, and bedroom doors were closing, Natasha caught Charlotte’s arm before she disappeared into her room.

"Charlotte, you're more than capable of handling this. Just trust your instincts and rely on your training." She gave a warm smile and a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get at least a little sleep tonight, okay?”

“Deal. Thanks, Nat.” Charlotte did her best to return Natasha’s warm smile, knowing all too well she wouldn’t be sleeping a single minute that night. 

________

The locker room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the overhead lights as Charlotte meticulously checked her gear. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of her suit, double-checking the straps and fastenings to ensure everything was secure. The night had been agonizingly long as sleep continued to evade her. Part of it was her nerves, the way her stomach writhed and twisted just thinking of stepping foot into a HYDRA base again. Part of it was fear of actually falling asleep and finding herself in the midst of an all too familiar nightmare, waking her in a cold sweat. Some of them got so bad she didn’t know if she’d have the balls to step onto the Quinjet if she had one. 

So she just didn’t sleep.

When her alarm had finally gone off, it somehow felt like a mercy from her own thoughts in the dark doom. She was up and out the door in less than a minute. By the time Steve and Natasha joined her in the locker room, she was almost fully suited up.

As she worked, her mind raced with the same thoughts that had kept her up all night. Thoughts warning her that this was a mistake. That she’d narrowly escaped with her life and freedom and to go back into enemy territory was to make a gamble with both. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte forced herself to push aside her doubts and fears. She knew she couldn't afford to let her emotions get the best of her, not when so much was at stake. Although this was a relatively low octane mission, the implications were heavy. Gathering information on HYDRA could prevent future attacks, stall their plans for growth. Today’s mission could be the catalyst to prevent everything she’d lost sleep fearing. 

With a final glance in the mirror, Charlotte straightened her posture, meeting her own somewhat bloodshot green eyes in the reflection. They looked more confident than she felt. Good. I can play a part with the best of them. Her hands absently patted down her body, feeling for the guns holstered on her hips and thighs, the belt fully stocked with tech. 

“Takeoff in ten, Char.” Nat called over her shoulder before leaving her alone in the room. 

Giving her a half-hearted two finger salute, Charlotte watched her disappear fully before bowing her head. She wasn’t sure quite where she stood on religion, but in that moment, she prayed to anyone who would listen to just let her make it out again. Whatever awaited them, she could handle it so long as she made it back to this place with these people. So long as she made it back home. 

“Hey.” A low voice snapped her out of her stupor. She opened her eyes to see Bucky, hair tousled and messy, eyes looking as sleepless as hers, standing in the doorway. He wasn’t dressed for an early morning workout, instead wearing dark sweats and a hoodie. 

“Hey,” She took a step towards him. “You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He scowled. “I’d ask if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but something tells me you didn’t sleep at all.” 

“What tipped you off?” Charlotte grit her teeth. 

“I didn’t hear you wake up in a panic.” Bucky didn’t break her gaze. 

Pausing, she shifted her weight, folding her arms across her chest. “You can’t have a nightmare if you don’t sleep.” 

“You need sleep to be at your best today. If you’re foggy, if you miss something today ––” 

Charlotte cut him off, holding a hand up as she moved to push past him. “Look, if you’re just here to lecture me, I’m really not in the mood for  ––”

“I’m not.” Vibranium fingers gripped her waist just above her belt. Setting his jaw, he met her eyes again. “I just wanted to say…just be careful.” A moment of quiet passed between them. “You will be okay. You’re out, and you’re never going to be trapped again.”

From the ever-so-slight break in his voice, Charlotte knew he was talking to himself just as much as he was to her. She also knew it couldn’t have been easy to drag himself out of bed at the ass crack of done to come get touchy feely. It wasn’t lost on her. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” Her words came out breathless. Seeming to realize his hand was still on her waist, Bucky let go. Charlotte caught his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze as she offered a faint smile. “I’ll see you in two days.” 

“See you in two days.” 

________

As the Quinjet sliced through the dark skies en route to Eastern Europe, the atmosphere among the trio was surprisingly light. The hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop to their low conversations, the cabin dimly lit. The sun had finally come up, driving away some of the ominous thoughts of the night along with it. Charlotte was again absently checking her gear when Natasha, sitting across from her, leaned back in her chair with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So, Char, are we gonna talk about when you and Barnes disappeared in New York?” Natasha’s voice was teasing, her smile knowing.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so first you want to cockblock, and then you want to gossip.”

Steve, looking over his shoulder from where he was maneuvering the jet, raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, was there a need for a cockblock?”

“I guess we’ll never know.” Charlotte shrugged.

“Oh, come on!” Nat nudged her chair with a boot. “First it gets all tense and awkward during the game, then you disappear to ‘get another drink’,” She made air quotes with her fingers. “After which, Barnes mysteriously also needs a refill. You’re gone a few minutes, you both come back flushed with a disappointing lack of messy hair or undone buttons.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, if we’re calling out cockblockers, Sam was the one who interrupted in the first place.”.

Steve, now so invested he’d switched the Quinjet to autopilot, turned around in his seat.. "Sam interrupted what, exactly?"

"I mean," Charlotte flushed with a laugh. "I don’t know. Bucky was about to kiss me, I guess—"

Natasha interrupted, her voice triumphant. "Ha! I told you, Rogers! Pay up. Fifty bucks."

Steve chuckled, holding his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. You win."

Curiosity gleamed in Natasha's eyes as she turned her attention back to Charlotte. "So, that’s a far cry from your usual interactions. How do you feel about it?"

Charlotte shrugged nonchalantly, waving them off. "I don’t know, we were both pretty drunk."

Natasha and Steve exchanged a knowing glance before Natasha spoke up again, her tone more serious. "Come on, Charlotte. We know there's something between you and Barnes. You two wouldn't be at each other's throats as much as you are if there wasn't something deeper there."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Nat's right. No one can deny the tension whenever you're in the same room. Have you ever noticed how there’s always someone ready to jump between you two?”

“Yeah, we thought it was to keep you two from tearing each other apart, but maybe it’s actually to keep from tearing each others’ clothes off.” Nat winked, causing Steve to shake his head. 

“Fuck…off…” Charlotte laughed, swatting at Nat’s feet, propped up on her arm rest. 

“Ladies, please.” Steve waved a hand between them, mock breaking up the spat. “Listen, for what it’s worth, and don’t tell him I said this…Bucky wasn’t that drunk last weekend.”

Charlotte sighed, her playful demeanor fading as she grew more introspective. "It's just... confusing, you know? I don't even know where to begin."

Natasha leaned forward. "Well, for starters, Barnes is not the easiest to read." 

“That’s for damn sure.”

Steve nodded in agreement. "But don't underestimate him. Bucky's a good man, Char. He just needs someone who's willing to get past the walls he's built around himself."

Looking down at her hands, Charlotte shook her head before meeting Natasha’s gaze. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on with him. Us.  It’s like... one moment, we’re just roommates, teammates –– whatever. Then, we’re talking at two in the morning because we both had nightmares and we’re bonding over this shared trauma bullshit. Then he’s jumping my ass like he hates me. Then we’re almost crossing a line we’ve never even approached, and the next, it’s like we’re right back to being roommates.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “It’s tough with Bucky. He’s been through a lot, and sometimes, he struggles with letting people in. Even those he cares about deeply. Trust me, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t get so…aggressive.”

Steve nodded, his face serious now. “Nat’s right. Bucky does care about you, Charlotte. Maybe he’s just trying to protect you — and himself — from potential pain. I mean, if he doesn’t know where you stand then he’s not likely to put himself out there at all.”

Charlotte listened, her brow furrowing. “I get that, I really do. But it���s just so frustrating feeling like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. How am I supposed to even figure out how I feel when it’s like we have four different relationships happening at once?”

“Well,” Steve shrugged. “Which relationship do you want to stick?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Rogers.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you ask your bestie and report back to me, hm?”

“Buck and I don’t really talk about things like this.” He chuckled. 

“What do you talk about? Medicare? Viagra?” 

“Not viagra.” Nat pretended to check her nails, this time sending Steve’s face into a full blush as he turned back around to take the controls. When his back was fully turned, she held her hands up, miming a significant length between them as she winked. 

“Oh, gag me,” Charlotte stood up from her chair and stalked towards the back of the jet. 

“Don’t ask me, ask Barnes!” Nat called after her disappearing figure. 

Flipping her off over her shoulder, Charlotte was thankful Nat couldn’t see her grin.

________

The icy winds howled outside the decrepit structure that once served as a HYDRA base, nestled deep in the forests of some country Charlotte had never even heard of. Its walls, blanketed by a thick layer of snow, muffled the sounds of the harsh environment outside. The Quinjet was stashed just outside the treeline, cloaked in stealth mode. 

Steve, Natasha, and Charlotte approached the entrance with practiced silence, their movements precise. They were thankful for the quickly falling snow covering their tracks as they walked, finally reaching the entrance. The door was ajar, hanging crooked on the lower two hinges, swinging gently in the frigid breeze. Aside from the whistling wind, the creaking of the door was the only sound across the eerily silent clearing. Nat shot Charlotte a sidelong look, one final check to make sure she was okay before they crossed the threshold. Nodding, Charlotte fell into line behind Steve as they stepped out of the elements and into the dark building. A thick layer of dust swirled up from the ground as their boots disturbed it.

“Looks like no one’s been here for years,” Steve whispered, his shield ready as he peeked inside the shadowed hallway. “But stay sharp. We don’t know what’s left behind.”

Natasha nodded, pulling out her compact field device. “Charlotte, you’re with me. We need to find the main server room. There’s a good chance they left data behind, not expecting anyone to come back to this hellhole.”

Charlotte nodded, ignoring the way her stomach turned as she followed Natasha, her hands hovering above the pistols holstered on her hips. This building was hundreds of miles from where she’d been kept, but the interior similarities were uncanny. From the smell of gunpowder and antiseptic to the haunting emblem stamped on every door, the only difference was the lack of lowlife psychopaths crawling the place. The hallway was lined with old propaganda posters, the edges curled and the faces faded. Every step they took kicked up a new symphony of dust, dancing in the beams of their flashlights. She fought to stay present, stay in the headspace of an Avenger on a mission rather than a terrified girl in way over her head. Pretend. Play a part. Be like Natasha. Her breathing evened out as she forced herself to observe Nat, to catalog her every move. The slight bend to her knees as she crept forward, the way her head swiveled from side to side as she cleared each room, even her heart rate, faintly perceptible through her armor. As Charlotte tailored her own movements to those of Natasha, she felt her own heart rate slow. Mimic. Emulate. That’s what she was good at. That’s what would get her through this.

Reaching the server room, the door creaked as they pushed it open. Charlotte tried not to cringe at the loud noise, the fear that it would awaken some long dormant evil in this place. Inside the room, rows of ancient computers and servers hummed with a surprising flicker of life, the green lights blinking in the semi-darkness.

“Looks like we’re in luck, electricity hasn’t been cut off here,” Natasha murmured, setting up her device to interface with the HYDRA technology. “Char, keep an eye on the door. I need a few minutes here.”

Charlotte positioned herself by the doorway, her senses heightened. The silence was oppressive, filled only by the distant whir of outdated machinery and Natasha’s steady breathing as she worked.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Charlotte’s thoughts drifted to Bucky, to both of their sleepless nights. She wondered if he’d been on missions that took him back into the belly of the beast, if he’d been as terrified as she was. 

A soft beep from Natasha’s device cut through the silence. “Got something,” Natasha announced, her voice a mix of relief and urgency. “There are references to a new base of operations, coordinates embedded in an encrypted file. I’m downloading it now.”

“Good work, Nat,” Steve’s voice crackled over the comms, ever vigilant. “Wrap it up. I don’t like how exposed we are here.”

As Natasha hurriedly collected the last pieces of data, Charlotte felt a shiver that wasn’t from the cold. It was the realization that this mission, seemingly quiet, was just the precursor to something much larger. They were on the brink of uncovering a resurgence that could threaten their fragile peace. She’d told herself she just had to get through this mission, to quell her fears for today, and then she could breathe. This data…the trail to a new base, the source of the attack…this was far from over. A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine and she prayed Natasha didn’t notice. 

With the data secured, they retraced their steps, making their way back towards where Steve was positioned at the entrance. As they emerged into the final hallway, the biting cold seeped through the broken door, washing over them with a sobering chill.

“Let’s head back,” Steve said, his voice resolute. “Good work you two. We need to get this to SHIELD.”

With the data secured and the team poised to leave, a sudden, inexplicable intuition halted Charlotte. "Wait," she said abruptly, her voice echoing slightly in the now silent corridor.

Steve turned, his brow furrowed in concern. "Charlotte, we need to move. It's risky to linger."

"I know, but... I remember something," she insisted, her voice threaded with uncertainty. Her mind was flickering with disjointed memories, not her own but somehow familiar—whispers of conversations overheard from her past.

Natasha looked concerned. "What is it?"

"There’s... a basement. Hidden. I'm sure of it. They mentioned it once, back when I was being briefed on potential locations to track Buck––the Winter Soldier to. They thought he might try to target the smaller bases when he got free. They were especially concerned with beefing up security for this one…this place was important, not just a random outpost."

Steve's tactical mind battled with his protective instincts. "We don’t have much time," he warned, but his gaze softened. "Make it quick."

Nodding, Charlotte led them down a forgotten hallway, her eyes scanning for any sign of a concealed entrance. Her hand brushed against the wall, and she felt a subtle, almost imperceptible seam. Pressing against it, a portion of the wall gave way, revealing a narrow stairwell spiraling down into darkness. Both of them covered their mouth with their arms, avoiding the cloud of dust and debris that flooded the air.

"Good call," Natasha murmured, lighting the path with her flashlight as they descended.

The air grew colder as they reached the basement, a small, shadow-filled room that reeked of secrets long buried. Along one wall, files and documents were preserved in sealed cabinets. Natasha quickly began sifting through them, her hands skilled and efficient. Charlotte did the same across the room, making quick work of the folders there.

Charlotte’s heart thudded painfully as she pulled out a dust-covered file marked with a stark, black HYDRA stamp and the words "Winter Soldier Projekt." 

Breath catching in her throat, Charlotte opened the dusty file with trembling fingers. She skimmed for only a few seconds before slamming it closed, heart pounding. The contents––the little she saw–– were chilling. On the first page alone, there was a detailed log of the original experiments conducted on Bucky during World War II, complete with photographs and medical reports. Considering the folder was at least two fingers thick, the thought of what else was contained in those pages made her want to vomit. She turned her attention back to the cabinet and found another two folders marked with the same project name. 

“Find anything?” Nat crossed the room before her eyes landed on the folders in Charlotte’s hand. "Oh, shit…this...this could be the parts of his past he's still trying to piece together."

Charlotte’s expression was grim. "He deserves to see this. Whether or not he reads it is up to him.”

Silently nodding, Natasha grabbed a stack of files she’d deemed important enough to take and turned for the door, Charlotte right on her heels. With the additional files secured, the gravity of their discovery pressing down on them, they ascended back to the ground level. The mission had been a success, but had unearthed more than they had bargained for, casting a shadow that would follow them back home. 

"Let's get out of here." Steve said again, his voice firmer this time, an edge underlying his calm as he read the expressions on both women’s faces.

As they emerged into the gray, sunless day, the German landscape bleak and unwelcoming around them, Charlotte felt a mix of triumph and trepidation. They had retrieved crucial information, hadn’t been intercepted or ambushed, and yet…this felt like they’d taken a massive blow. The emotional implications, especially for Bucky, loomed large—her heart ached for him and the pain he’d face when they got back. 

They quickly and quietly ascended the ramp into the Quinjet, taking their seats as Steve took them out of enemy territory. When they were safely soaring above the clouds, Natasha motioned for him to let her take over. “Take a look at what Charlotte found.” Her grim voice caught his attention.

​​Steve shifted in his seat, the low hum of the Quinjet the only noise as he turned and faced where Charlotte was seated. He noticed the tight set of Natasha’s jaw, the unusual tension in her shoulders. Charlotte sat looking equally somber, eyes glassy,  a thick file clasped tightly in her hands. The atmosphere was thick with a kind of urgency that made his stomach tighten.

"Steve, it’s about Buckyt," Charlotte said quietly as she handed him the file. Her eyes were shadowed, suggesting she’d already seen the horrors it contained.

Taking the file, Steve felt the weight of it, not just in physical terms but in what it represented. He opened it slowly, almost hesitantly, the pages filled with dense text and black-and-white photographs that made his stomach convulse. As his eyes scanned the documents, detailing operations and experiments carried out during the war, his expression darkened.

He paused on a photograph, a stark, haunting image of Bucky strapped to a chair, machinery and wires surrounding him, protruding from everywhere imaginable. Bucky hadn’t even liked the doctor when they were kids, so this…Steve’s hands trembled slightly, the image hitting far too close to home, a vivid reminder of his failure to protect his friend when he needed him the most.

Natasha watched him closely out of the corner of her eyes, her voice softening. “We had no idea about some of these details. The depth of what they did—”

“It’s monstrous,” Steve interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. He continued flipping through the file, each page turn revealing another layer of the nightmare Bucky had endured. Reports of prolonged exposure to mind-altering techniques, physical endurance tests, and surgical manipulations filled the pages.

Closing the file abruptly, Steve looked up, his eyes clouded with pain and anger. “We shouldn’t be reading this. Not before he does…I mean, fuck,” His uncharacteristic swear jarred Nat and Charlotte. “I mean, do we even show him this? Or does this just set him back? He’s worked so hard, he’s finally been getting past some of the nightmares…I just––”

Charlotte reached out, her hand briefly touching his arm in a gesture of support. “It will be hard. Really fucking hard. I…I would want to know, though.”

Steve nodded slowly, the resolve setting into his features. “We’ll leave it up to him, give him a choice. We owe him that much.” He let out a slow breath as he put the files into an empty seat next to Charlotte.

As the Quinjet cut through the clouds, the cabin was filled with a tense silence, broken occasionally by the soft clacking of buttons and the murmur of the aircraft's systems. Charlotte sat near the communications array, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the metal surface, her mind racing with the weight of the files just a foot away from her. The atmosphere of the ride home was a far cry from the ride there, laughter and jokes felt impossible at the moment. They hadn’t even called back for the mission report, putting it off as long as possible as they debated whether or not to submit the files to SHIELD’s official records, where they’d be available to everyone in the organization. When they could ignore the comm requests no longer, Steve finally gave in.

"Patch through to Maria Hill," Steve instructed Charlotte, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

Charlotte nodded and quickly set the frequencies. A moment later, Maria's voice filled the cabin, clear and commanding. "Report, team. How did the mission go?"

"We secured the intel we were after," Natasha replied, glancing at Charlotte with a hint of concern. "But there's something else, Maria. It's about Bucky—files from his time with HYDRA during the war. They were hidden in a basement, in a concealed wing of the base. Charlotte located it. These files are…we’d like these to be handled with the utmost discretion."

There was a brief pause. "Understood," Maria responded, her tone turning somber. "Standard protocol dictates a full briefing with all operatives. However, I'm aware of the sensitivity of this information regarding Sergeant Barnes."

Charlotte’s voice was quiet but firm as she joined in. "Maria, I think it might be best if I briefed him privately first. This is personal and could be quite a shock. He trusts me, and it might be easier for him to process this with someone he's close to. Of all of us…" She glanced at Steve, praying she wasn’t stepping on his toes. “I understand this. What this will be like. I would want to be able to process it privately, maintain some dignity.”

There was another pause, longer this time. "I understand the delicacy of the situation," Maria finally said. "You have the go-ahead, Rossi. Brief Barnes privately. Depending on his reaction and the relevance of the information, we can decide how to proceed with the rest of the team. You have official clearance to classify the information until then."

A collective breath was let out across the cabin.

"Thank you, Maria," Charlotte said, her relief palpable even through the static of the comms. 

“Stay in stealth mode, we’ll see you when you get back. Good work, team.” Maria signed off, all business as usual.

Steve sat back, concern etched on his face. "You okay with this, Charlotte? It’s a heavy burden and Bucky doesn’t have a history of reacting…well to difficult information.”

She took a deep breath, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her knees. "It needs to be me. There’s a level of…shame that comes with finding out what was done to you. What you couldn’t stop. As much as he loves you, both of you, it will be harder to hear from you. Me? I’m already a walking reminder of his past. I understand it better than anyone. If he gets mad, I can take it, but…it needs to be me.”

Steve nodded, giving her a faintly reassuring smile as he turned back to the control panel.

For the remaining hours of the flight, the Quinjet soared through the sky, carrying its crew and their heavy cargo of secrets back home, each member lost in their own thoughts about the implications of their findings.

________

It was early evening by the time they touched back down at the compound.

Steve and Natasha had given Charlotte reassuring nods as they left her alone in the locker room, holding the files and steeling herself for the hardest conversation of her life. Deciding that waiting would only make it worse, she set off to find Bucky without even changing out of her uniform.

The final rays of sun streamed through the windows of the training room cast long shadows as Charlotte entered. The sound of punching and the rhythmic thud of a heavy bag swinging greeted her, slightly echoing in the large space. Bucky, his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, was relentlessly driving his fists into the bag. He paused, breathing heavily, as he noticed Charlotte standing in the doorway.

"Hey, you’re back,” he greeted, a small smile fleeting across his lips. “Glad to see you made it out and didn’t shit the bed,” Noticing the seriousness of her expression and the file clutched in her hands, he grabbed a towel, wiping his face as he walked over to her. "What’s wrong?"

“Hey, Buck.” Charlotte shifted, the file almost feeling heavier in her grasp. "It’s something we found at the base. It’s about... It’s about you. From during the war." She offered it out but he only stared at it.

Bucky's demeanor shifted as he read the label, the lines of his face hardening. "Who else has seen it?"

"Nobody, Bucky. I found it, and I’ve kept it safe. Only glanced through it enough to know it’s important, and personal." She met his gaze firmly, conveying her sincerity. "Even Steve didn’t feel right reading it. It’s been with me since I found it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the file then back to her. "And if I decide I don’t want to know?"

"That’s completely up to you," Charlotte reassured him softly. "We’ve classified it from SHIELD. This is yours, Bucky. Only yours. You don’t ever have to read it if you don’t want to."

Bucky took a deep breath, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. After a long moment, he reached out and took the file from her. "Will you... stay?"

"Of course," she replied without hesitation, her voice gentle, albeit a little breathless from her own nerves.

They moved to a corner of the room where a small bench sat. Bucky took a seat, Charlotte settling beside him, close enough for support, yet giving him space to breathe. He opened the file slowly, his eyes scanning the first page, the photos paperclipped in. As he flipped through, his body tensed with each page turned, the horrors of his past laid bare in black and white. She knew in her bones that the glassy look in his eye meant he was reliving hell right in front of her.

Charlotte watched him, her heart aching with each crease that formed on his brow, each slight twitch of his jaw. It wasn’t difficult to avert her eyes from the file, knowing that the information contained there was not only deeply personal to Bucky, but highly likely to fuel her own nightmares. When he finally closed the file somewhere around the halfway mark, his eyes were glassy, his face pale. His body was rigid, as if bracing against a storm. Abruptly, he stood up, the file slipping from his hands and fluttering to the floor, papers scattering across the floor. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and then he crumpled in front of a trash can in the corner, his body convulsing as he vomited violently.

Instantly, Charlotte dropped to her knees by his side, her hands tenderly holding back his hair, rubbing absently up his back. She stayed close, unafraid, as he shuddered with the force of his reaction.

When the waves of nausea finally subsided, Bucky shifted, leaning his back against the cool metal of the wall. Charlotte turned beside him, her hands trailing across his shoulders, tugging him towards her. Bucky leaned in, his body trembling as silent tears began to stream down his face. With a gentle but firm touch, she pulled him closer, letting his head rest against her chest. His arms wrapped around her waist as his shaking intensified.

Charlotte held him tightly, her hand soothingly stroking his back, creating a small sanctuary against the rest of the world. They remained there on the floor, the only sounds in the room being Bucky’s soft cries and the muffled sounds of the outside world going on as usual, unaware of the pain only a wall away. She didn’t even feel the tightness in her muscles from sitting in one place for so long, didn’t feel the hard floor beneath her. All Charlotte felt was the warmth from Bucky, the damp tears soaking into her skin beneath her suit, the shaking of his body against her. 

She lost track of how long they sat there. Lost track of her hunger and time and the rest of the world. As far as she was concerned, her world was contained within the four walls of this room. There wasn’t a force on Earth that could take her out of it.

[creative-core]

Khushi Doshi

Kajal: The Future of Eyes and Beyond (Year 2104)

Eighty years from now, I am no longer just a humble stroke of black lining the eyes of millions. Once a symbol of beauty, mystery, and protection, I have evolved into something far greater. I am now a force—a blend of tradition and cutting-edge science that not only enhances but heals. I have the power to conceal, to repair, to transform.

No longer contained in tiny, ornate jars or sticks, I am housed in sleek, futuristic cartridges made from biodegradable smart materials that recognize your unique skin needs the moment you touch me. With a light swipe, I analyze your skin’s texture, temperature, and underlying imperfections. I am not just here to enhance your gaze, but to erase the marks of the past—the scars, the blemishes, the signs of a life lived in all its complexities.

Once applied, I do more than line your eyes with the deepest shades of black, sapphire, or emerald. My nano-pigments begin their work beneath the surface, gently stimulating cellular regeneration. That scar you’ve carried for years? It starts to fade, gradually erased not by a scalpel, but by the very kajal that once only served to adorn.

I adapt to you. You might have used me to intensify your beauty, but now, I am your skin’s secret keeper. I know where to conceal and where to highlight. Need a protective layer against the harsh UV rays? I create an invisible shield. Want a touch of shimmer for the evening? I deliver that too, effortlessly adjusting to the setting around you, from soft matte for the day to a radiant glow for the night.

I am infused with micro-botanical extracts that calm, hydrate, and nurture the skin, working in harmony with the latest biotech. As you glide me on, I sense your emotions, adapting not just to your skin but to your soul. A tough day? My pigments deepen, creating a bold, confident look. A light-hearted evening? I soften, adding a gentle shimmer that catches the light just so.

But I am more than appearance. My power lies in the subtle healing I offer. I treat wounds beneath the skin, fading both the physical and emotional scars that time has left behind. My ancient lineage, once tied to protection against the evil eye, has merged with futuristic technology that protects you from the world’s modern threats—pollution, stress, and aging.

You no longer apply me in front of a mirror but in front of a holographic display that shows you not only your face but your journey. As you line your eyes, you watch the scars vanish, your skin glow, and your expression sharpen with a confidence only I can bring. I am the future of kajal, born from centuries of tradition but crafted for the digital age.

I am beauty and healing, concealment and revelation. I carry with me the wisdom of the past and the innovations of tomorrow. I am kajal, but now, I am so much more.

Thankyou

[pearlyslopes]

exe. 1. draft 1 The Fragrance of the Future.

The city hums outside my window—drones zipping through the morning sky, holographic advertisements flickering above old streets. Somewhere down the road, the Ganga flows, though it’s quieter now, the riverbanks reshaped into seamless terraces of glass and stone. Varanasi has changed, but not as much as you’d think. The prayers still rise every morning—only now, they float on mist instead of smoke.

I kneel by the small home altar in the corner of my solar-paneled apartment. It’s a minimalist setup: brass idols resting on transparent shelves, surrounded by floating lamps that glow with soft amber light. At the center sits Agarra, its smooth metallic surface catching the morning light.

"Activate Sandalwood," I say softly, and with a quiet whirr, the device awakens. A holographic flame flickers to life above the altar as Agarra exhales a fine mist into the room. The scent spreads gently, like a whispered prayer—so familiar it tugs at my heart, even though the world that once burned sandalwood sticks is long gone.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. As I breathe in, the fragrance shifts—floral notes weaving through the sandalwood, subtle but precise, as if the device senses the tension coiled inside me. I find myself wondering: Is it faith that brings comfort, or just my voice?

The app on my tablet pings with today’s suggested combination: jasmine for joy, sandalwood for focus. Each cartridge is biodegradable, infused with what they call "temple-blessed nanomaterials". I like to think that somehow, the prayers are carried in the mist now, filling the same air that drifts through this apartment and the streets beyond.

When I visit the temple downtown, the rituals are as mesmerizing as I imagine they were in the past. The walls are lined with Agarra stations, each releasing gentle waves of mist timed perfectly with the hymns. The chants float above the crowd, shimmering light and sound blending with the fragrance to create a synesthetic prayer.

The worshippers move slowly, hands folded, heads bowed, just like they always have. Some embrace this fusion of tradition and tech; others say the sacred has been reduced to circuits and algorithms. I don’t think it’s better or worse. It’s just... different. We’ve traded matches for voice commands, smoke for mist. But the soul of the ritual? That’s still the same.

The sandalwood lingers in the air, and for a moment, everything feels... still. Whole. Faith finds a way—whether carried by smoke, or mist, or something we haven’t imagined yet.

[junkydrawr]

Snively fic. Some shit I wrote today/yesterday. Dunno if it'll be in the fic or not. Lol I really need an outline for this heap of shit story.

"Bunnie...what is that look about?"

"You ever wonder what an Overlander looks like...under all that?"

Sally's mouth was a prim line. "Not particularly."

"You ain't foolin' me, Miss Knowledge is Power." Bunnie giggled and poked Sally's arm. "Admit it."

Sally grinned. "OK. Yeah...I thought about it before."

"We could always hold 'im down, strip that stuff off him."

"Bunnie!" Sally let out a helpless laugh. "I don't think that's going to get you on his good side. Oh, what am I saying? He has no good side."

"Mmm. But if you did it - oh my, you'd definitely make a friend."

"Yuck. Don't encourage...whatever it is he thinks about me." Sally reached down and unclipped NICOLE. "Anyway, we don't need to do anything drastic. NICOLE... Can you display..." Her ears flushed. "um...anatomy of an Overlander?"

"Overlander man," Bunnie amended, her voice purring at the last word.

"Displaying, Sally."

A holograph shimmered in the air. The two girls stared at it for a long moment.

"Ah. Well, that's different," said Bunnie.

Sally let out a nervous laugh. "I understand why he wears pants now."

"And them under-thangs." Bunnie cheekily poked at the holograph's crotch. "It really ain't that much different other than like...just hanging out."

"I wouldn't know," said Sally, with a prude sniff. Bunnie poked her again.

"Don't be fibbin' me...you know all about hedgehog -"

The door creaked open.

"NICOLE, end display," Sally said quickly.

(What is with me and stripping Snively? Haha.)

-------

Quack therapy stuff, after Sniv's first visit

"Welcome back, Justin. Ready to begin?"

"My name isn't Justin. Or Connor," Snively hissed.

"Colin! That's what it was." Quack grinned.

"No. Not Colin. Snively."

"Hmm. But that's the name you gave at trial."

"I don't use that name. Maybe I should call you Squawk? Would you like that?"

"It's not bad. I've heard worse. Why don't you use your given name?"

"None of your business." Snively laid down on the couch and slung his arm over his face. "I don't like it. Sounds like colon. Intestines."

"I wouldn't have thought of that." The Doctor chuckled. "I would imagine it's more to do with being named after your dad."

Boom. Shots fired. Snively closed his eyes under his arm and tried to douse the wildfire that arose every time he thought of his wretched father.

"Snively isn't much of an improvement." Another chuckle. "Seems rather...demeaning?"

Not when you wrested it from your father's mouth and made it your own. Not when you turned his weapon against him.

"No. I like it. Now that you've insulted my name, how about we move on to my nose? Maybe my voice?" Snively didn't move his arm, kept his tone deadpan.

"No insult intended, lad." He heard scribbling on the pad. "I'll tell you, I've heard my share of taunts. Avian Mobians often get the short end of the stick in school. Our feathers are patchy and dull as kids. Then when we get our annual molt? Oh my."

"Yet Overlanders are the bigoted ones. While the Mobians claim to be gaily hand-in-hand, united in peace and nature." A dark laugh came from under the slung arm. "What a bloody joke."

"My kind are far from perfect. But...we try." A pause. "So, tell me, why don't you use your given name?"

"I've already told you. It sounds stupid and I like Snively. This isn't fucking poetry class. There isn't a deeper meaning to everything."

-----

And more Quack therapy stuff. It started out goofy but then got a lil mental. Lol. I'm sure my therapy stuff is very unrealistic. My excuse is that Quack's expertise is physical injuries not mental ones. He's trying XD

"Tell me about your typical dream."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Tell me yours."

"I usually dream about medical things. Or about my family. But this is about you."

"I sometimes dream of burning Knothole down. The village engulfed in flames. Shooting the stragglers from my hovercraft." Snively smiled, a small evil thing.

"And how do those dreams make you feel?"

"Good, of course. Until I wake up."

"Do you still have those dreams?"

Snively shrugged. Last night he'd dreamt - hazy and red-tinged. Being strapped down in Robotropolis' interrogation while Julian stood over him with a scalpel. Naugus behind him. The scalpel made of magic, glowing with black light. He'd woken, awash in sweat, right as the blade touched his skin.

"Ever have any nice dreams?"

"I just told you one. Your little village burning down."

"Mmm. Your little village now, as well."

Snively grunted at that. "My little prison," he mumbled.

"Any nice dreams not involving violence?"

He kept his face blank, but felt damnable warmth tinge his cheeks and ears. More than once, he'd had another hazy sort of dream. Ones with he and Bunnie, where they were both stripped of clothing and entangled in various ways. Now that was truly a delusion - there wasn't one joke about his 'bizarre' Overlander anatomy.

He woke up pretty sweaty after those too.

"No. Can't recall any."

The doctor gave one of his knowing smiles.

"I have a lot of dreams about Robotnik torturing me," he said, just to shake that smile off.

Quack scribbled on his pad. "Well, it's rather common to dream about abuse or your abuser."

Fuck. Why did I go there? Snively slouched into the couch cushions. He wondered if Bunnie would be flattered. She'd usurped the majority of his dirty dreams away from Sally.

"And how do you feel when you wake up from those dreams?"

"Fine. Why wouldn't I? It's just a dream."

No, he never awoken with body shakes, with nausea making him freeze in place for fear he'd vomit on his bedsheets, with his eyes wide looking for a place to hide.

Doctor Quack gave him a long look.

"They don't bother me. I know the difference between fantasy and reality. Unlike you animals, living in your silly little fairytales."

"You know it's not your fault that your uncle abused you, right?"

Snively locked his mind down tight. Not a crack. Not a fucking inch for Julian's voice to slither through, with all his accusations and endless debasing. He forced his mouth into a condescending smile. "Where do you get all this trite from, Doctor? Do you do pop quizzes on NICOLE before I walk in the door? Maybe you should stick to your specialties of ear mite and flea removal."

"Do you need flea removal?"

I might, if those dreams with Bunnie come true. Despite himself, a stupid chuckle dropped from his mouth. Quack smiled, thinking he was so funny.

"No, but I think I caught worms from one of you."

"Explains your bad mood."

"Do your children laugh at your dumb jokes?"

"Usually. But...they're pretty young." A rueful smile curved the duck's bill. "Snively, discussing your trauma is the first step to healing it."

He slouched into the cushions again. "And here we are, back to the clichéd bullshit again."

Quack flipped his pen around. Waiting. Like always.

Snively cocked his head to the side. "I'm curious. How much of my trauma have you sat discussing with your patients?" The duck frowned. "I mean - how many people who were traumatized by me, Doctor? Did the poor little fleabags cry and blubber about the torments they endured? But then you gave them an inspiring quote and a lolli and all was well with the world."

Melinda's face flashed through his mind. Maybe she had been here. Who knew?

Quack flipped through his notes and then wrote on his pad for a long while. Long enough for Snively to become disappointed. He wanted anger. He wanted to be thrown out of here.

"What are you writing?" Snively tried to look.

"Mmm. Just noting how you typically respond to uncomfortable questions."

"What uncomfortable questions? They've been boring at the most."

Quack smiled. Then he pushed the notepad towards Snively.

Snively leaned forward, scanning the crooked but mostly legible script.

Patient frequently tries to shift conversation when uncomfortable question is asked. Typical tactics are insults or comments about his past actions (cruel). Patient is trying to insitigate the questioner to either A: attack verbally or physically B: shut down and end questions.

Snively's muscles went stiff - despite him demanding they stay lax. With effort, he forced himself to slouch back into the couch. "I'm afraid I can't read your chickenscratch. Or is it duckscratch..?"

The doctor picked up his pen and wrote, while speaking aloud: "Patient would rather endure the familiar - verbal or physical abuse... Or rejection - than to have to self reflect."

The small man curled his lip. "Just more horseshit. Bullshit. Feces of every animal on this blasted planet."

"Is it?"

"Why would I want you to physically attack me?" Snively sneered. "Oh yes, please break my fingers, Doc. Here they are." He placed his hand on the desk.

"It's a distraction. I attack you - the questions end. Do you actually want to be beaten up? Probably not. Though deep inside you may feel you deserve it."

"Do you think I deserve it?" Snively locked his eyes on the doctor, watched him close.

"I wouldn't think harming you really changes anything, Snively."

"That's not what I asked. Do you think I deserve it?"

He focused on the beak. The eyes. Every wrinkle. Every micro-motion. Quack flipped his pen, stared off at the wall for a while. "No. I don't."

"Fucking bullshit!" Snively stood up, his fists clenching at his sides, his frame trembling with the onslaught of adrenaline. "I'm supposed to answer your uncomfortable questions, supposed to bare myself - and yet you can lie right to my bloody face?!"

"We aren't here for what I feel, lad."

"I'm not here for anything!" His voice rose to a shout. "I'm here because Miss Priss is forcing me to be! Because as I said before - she thinks it's a torment for me! And she's right! I can't stand this fucking swill, this garbage, this stupid...this nonsense!" He snatched Quack's notebook and hurled it. The duck quickly grabbed NICOLE before Snively could lay his hand on her.

He pushed his cup of pens towards Snively. "You can throw this."

Snively grabbed it and hurtled it into the wall. The ceramic smashed, writing utensils went flying.

"This too!" Quack pushed a stack of books across, the Overlander medical guide on top. Snively gripped that too, his breath coming in pants, and then he froze. Because Quack's eyes were sparkling. Because the feathered freak was...was chuckling?

"Why are you laughing?" He screamed.

"Nevermind!" Quack said. "Throw it!"

Snively grabbed the medical guide. Flung it directly at the potted plant in the corner. Soil and clay pottery imploded - the hapless plant collapsed into the wreckage. The next book went into the wall. He screamed. The next into the door. The next he whipped to the floor, a shrill shriek whistling from him and then he was out of things to throw.

He kicked the book across the room. Staggered over to the wall and punched the painting of the flower bouquet. The glass spiderwebbed under his knuckles as he punched, again and again, blood smearing across his skin. Another long scream, dying out in a moan.

He swore he heard the Head Medibot. Its passionless voice. Sir, you are having a panic attack.

Bloody hell. Get control. Get control!

He couldn't breathe.

He bent over, clawing his nails into his scalp, while wrath and rage pinpricked his entire body. Stabbing him full of holes and then wafting away to leave him empty. He tried to clutch it.

Please. Don't leave me.

Trembling and weak, he fell back to the couch while sucking air in frantic gasps. Up like a stampede of ants came a line of choked sobs. He put his fist to his mouth and bit down hard, hard enough to taste the tang of copper.

Please, when you leave - all I have left-

He couldn't stop them. Terrible nosies - dying noises - filtered around his assaulting teeth and his chest quivered like an earthquake. Rain down his cheeks the tempest.

- is this.

-

Gradually, he came back to himself. No cold Medibots surrounding, offering cherry gelatin and beautiful silver needles, tips beaded with the surrender of sweet sedative. Painkiller as potent as the kiss of Morpheus.

No, instead, he got a duck in a lab coat, twiddling a pen between his yellow fingers.

Humiliation drowned him. He put his head back into his hands, eyes scratchy and raw. He wanted to stand up and creep out of the office just like that. Never come back.

He heard a faint clatter as Quack fumbled the pen.

"Need a tissue, lad?"

"No," Snively mumbled. Even though he could feel the snot running over his lips. He lifted a portion of his vest and wiped his nose with it.

His knuckles stung. Speaking irritated his throat and he muffled a coughing fit into the vest. They hadn't been as frequent here as they used to be in the city, he thought, trying to redirect his mind to something banal.

"Come on, lad," the doctor said. "Come with me."

Snively watched him stand and exit the office. For several minutes, he numbly eyed the doorway. He was alone here. But all around was evidence of his embarrassing weakness. Broken glass, scattered pens, dirt.

And the doctor would come back for him if he didn't move.

The glass twinkled. A wink, a promise. Pick me up and use me, and never feel a thing again.

He turned a hand, knuckles beaded with blood, to examine his wrist. Blue veins clear and tempting just below the surface.

He dismissed the sparkling shards. I'm in a clinic. I would never have time to bleed out.

He stood and crunched over the glass, heading out into the medical ward. The doctor stood at one of the curtained partitions. Nurse Bessie swiveled in her chair and stared with raised eyebrows. No doubt she'd heard him pitching a fit. He averted his eyes, fleeing for the privacy of the curtain.

Quack gestured towards a chair. "Sit. Let's take care of those hands."

The human examined the wall as Quack tweezed a few bits of glass away, then dabbed at the slices with antiseptic. He sucked in a breath at the sting. A few bandages later and the duck sat back with a smile.

"There. Do you feel better?"

A shrug.

"I suppose we'll call it quits for today...?"

A nod. Snively flitted his eyes up, lip bitten. "What...what about the...mess?"

"Oh, I got it. You go on now, lad."

[effortless23]

Top Nail Polish Trends for 2024: Colors and Styles You Need to Try

As 2024 unfolds, exciting new nail polish trends are emerging, offering endless possibilities for nail art lovers and those who want to elevate their manicure game. Whether you're into bold colors, minimalistic designs, or innovative textures, there’s something for everyone this year. Let’s explore the top nail polish trends for 2024 that you need to try.

1. Bold Metallics

Metallic shades are making a major comeback in 2024. From rich golds to shimmering silvers, metallic nail polish is perfect for those who want to make a statement. These colors are great for evening events or when you want your nails to be the center of attention.

Pro Tip: Pair metallic polish with accent nail art, such as stripes or geometric shapes, for a high-fashion look.

2. Earthy Neutrals

While bold colors often dominate, earthy neutrals are gaining popularity for their understated elegance. Shades like terracotta, taupe, and olive green offer a sophisticated look that’s perfect for everyday wear. These hues are versatile and can be paired with both casual and professional outfits.

Pro Tip: Add a matte topcoat to your neutral nails for a sleek, modern finish.

3. Milky Pastels

Soft, milky pastel colors are a must-try in 2024. These shades, including pale pink, mint green, and light lavender, give a subtle pop of color without being too overwhelming. Perfect for spring and summer, milky pastels offer a delicate and feminine vibe.

Pro Tip: Try layering a sheer, glossy topcoat over your pastel nails to achieve that "milky" effect.

4. Velvet Textures

Textured nail polish is rising in popularity, and velvet-textured nails are leading the trend. These polishes have a soft, plush finish that mimics the look of real velvet fabric, adding a unique, tactile dimension to your nails.

Pro Tip: Opt for deep shades like maroon or navy blue for a luxurious velvet look that stands out.

5. Gradient Ombré Nails

Ombré nails have been trending for a few seasons now, and they’re not going anywhere in 2024. Whether you choose a subtle fade between similar tones or go bold with contrasting colors, ombré nails offer a chic, modern look that works year-round.

Pro Tip: Create a vertical ombré effect to elongate the appearance of your nails.

6. Pearlescent Shine

Pearlescent nails, also known as "mother-of-pearl" nails, are having a moment in 2024. These nails have a soft, iridescent glow that catches the light beautifully. Available in a variety of hues, this trend adds a subtle shimmer for those who prefer a more delicate look.

Pro Tip: Layer pearlescent polish over pastel shades for a multidimensional effect.

7. Classic Red Reinvented

Red nails are timeless, but in 2024, we’re seeing fresh takes on this classic color. Deep cherry reds and bright, fiery shades are dominating nail trends. Whether you prefer a glossy or matte finish, red nails continue to be a go-to for those who want a confident, bold look.

Pro Tip: Use a high-gloss topcoat on your red nails for a super shiny finish.

8. Minimalist Nail Art

For those who prefer subtlety, minimalist nail art is a trend worth trying. Simple designs like single stripes, dots, or geometric shapes can add just the right amount of interest to an otherwise plain manicure. Pair this trend with neutral or pastel colors for a clean, sophisticated aesthetic.

Pro Tip: Stick to one or two nails per hand for minimalist designs to keep the look clean and modern.

9. Holographic Nails

Holographic nails are taking over in 2024. These polishes reflect light and show off different colors depending on the angle, creating a dazzling effect that’s perfect for parties or special occasions. Holo nails are an easy way to add a futuristic twist to your manicure.

Pro Tip: Pair holographic nails with simple outfits to let your nails be the star of the show.

10. French Tips with a Twist

The classic French manicure is being reinvented with colorful and bold tips. Instead of the traditional white, experiment with metallic, neon, or pastel tips to give the French manicure a modern twist. This updated look is great for adding a pop of color while keeping the overall style polished and elegant.

Pro Tip: Try different shapes for your tips, such as V-shaped or diagonal lines, to elevate your French manicure.

Final Thoughts

Nail polish trends for 2024 offer something for everyone, whether you’re into bold metallics, soft pastels, or playful textures. From pearlescent finishes to minimal nail art, this year’s trends are all about personal expression and creativity.

And if you ever encounter thick nail polish, don’t worry—there are easy Ways To Fix Your Thick Nail Polish so that you can keep your favorite shades in top condition.

Embrace these exciting trends and get ready to showcase your nails in style throughout 2024!

[seblenails]

Hologram Nails

Hologram nails, also known as holographic nails, are the latest trend taking the beauty world by storm. These nails offer a dazzling, multidimensional effect that changes color and light as you move your hands. Perfect for those who love to make a bold statement, hologram nails bring a futuristic and glamorous touch to any look. Here’s everything you need to know about this stunning nail trend.

Holographic Nail Polish

The easiest way to achieve hologram nails is by using holographic nail polish. These polishes are readily available in various shades and offer an all-in-one solution for a quick and dazzling manicure. Simply apply a base coat, followed by two layers of holographic polish, and finish with a top coat to seal in the shine.

Holographic Powder

For a more intense and professional look, holographic powder can be used. This method involves applying a base coat and a base color (usually black or a dark shade to make the holographic effect pop), then using a sponge or brush to buff the holographic powder onto the nails. Finish with a top coat for a smooth and glossy finish.

Holographic Nail Stickers

If you’re looking for a quick and easy way to achieve hologram nails without the mess of polish or powder, holographic nail stickers are a great option. These stickers come in various designs and can be applied directly to your nails. Simply peel, stick, and seal with a top coat.

Hologram nails are more than just a trend; they’re a way to express your individuality and add a touch of futuristic glamour to your everyday look. Whether you’re new to nail art or a seasoned pro, holographic nails offer endless possibilities for creating stunning and unique manicures. So, go ahead and embrace the shimmer and shine of hologram nails – your fingertips will thank you!

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Rituals and Red Tape: Chapter 8

As I sat in a stupor, my injuries closing and stitching themselves back together, there came a gentle knock on my office door. I could barely manage a groan in response. As the door creaks open a comforting sweet scent assaults my sense of smell. Cherry blossom petals dance through the crack and land upon the desk in a heart shape. 

Leaning on the door frame and brushing hair back with a hand “Hey bud, everything okay? How did the assignment go?” HR saunters up to my desk and leans forward, a hand supporting his weight. His eyes were endless pools of blue delight. 

“Can we not with the pheromones?” Covering my face with a sleeve I waft away the comforting air.

“Sure thing pal.” A summer breeze tickles past my cheeks.

Removing the shield, the perfectly outlined form of HR no longer stood looming over my desk. Sitting now in his place was a mass of protoplasmic mush. Eyes of every sort glancing this way and that. Mouths chittering and chattering away secrets and rumors. What could be considered the main face held the same blue eyes as before, but the mouth was a drooling horizontal slit of sharp teeth. In an attempt to perhaps seem more approachable when not inducing compliance, HR had also taken to adorning his body with shimmering stickers and crude child-like drawings of smiling faces. His form ebbed and flowed with ameboid locomotion before coming to rest squarely in the center of my desk. A clammy tendril stroked my cheek.

“Oh I like this one, who did you get it from?” I pointed at a holographic illustration of a rainbow between two clouds.

A cluster of HR’s eyes swirled around the sticker, rotating at a slow pace. “Becky down in Orientation. I didn’t even have to give her anything, she did it out of the kindness of her own heart. Oh my goodness, speaking of Becky,” he slid forward and hung precariously over the edge “you will not believe what she had to say about Tori!” Several eyes locked onto my face.

With some hesitation I slid HR back a couple of inches “If I let you spill some secrets will you get out of my office sooner?”

“Oh Alex,” a shudder danced across my shoulders as he slimily slithered across them “you really are no fun sometimes. When will you stop being such a stick in the mud?” One of the smaller mouths whispered something incoherent as it moved past the left side of my head. “You used to be my favorite receptacle, what happened Alex, don’t you find joy in knowledge anymore?” He purred while wrapping around the top of my head, two eye stalks dangling down in front of my face.

“Well to be honest,” I reached up and batted at the left eye, the two knocking back and forth until HR held them with a pseudopod, “not really. I’ve got bigger concerns now, plus, you never have anything good.”

“It’s not my fault! Honest.” With a dejected slurp HR wiggled down once more to the desk and splayed out in a dramatic fashion. “You Dreamers just have these petty squabbles. I can only embellish the truth so much before it just becomes an outright lie. Now come come Alex, tell little ol’ HR how your assignment went, and spare us none of the details.” His mass shuddered and coiled together in a tight spiral, sparkling eyes fixated on me.

“Fine.” I leaned back in the chair “But, I have to inform you this is a matter that was specifically requested by Archives. Frank will have…a word…if he catches wind I let anything important slip.”

“You are such a good employee, now, spill it.” HR purred loudly.

“Well, we went to classified to inspect classified, when we got to classified, we classified classified classified. When classified and I found classified instead of classified, he classified while I classified the classified and classified.” I couldn’t help but crack a smug smile after finishing my engrossing tale.

HR stared blankly at me.

I shrugged, “Like you said, I’m a good employee.”

“That you are.” He flatly said while sliding off my desk at last. “Such a good employee; a real stick in the mud. Maybe it’s time you took a vacation, loosen up a little.” An overly pungent fragrance burned my nose as he regained his humanoid form. “If you decide to be more fun,” he lingered at the open door, “you know where to find me.” The office shudders as he slams the door.

Returned once more to a quiet solitude I pondered.

I tapped the effigy of Dave. “I think I’ve earned a little reprieve.”

The effigy hummed faintly before the bottom opened and a small scroll was ejected, sealed with a green bow.

“Thanks.” I pocketed the scroll and pushed back from the desk.

Strolling amongst the cubicles I left the approval scroll on Andrea’s desk and made my way to the large doors of the floor. I stopped to make some idle chit-chat with the other employees. It was much more pleasant when stiff corporate exchanges melted away to more informal dialects, I couldn’t blame them, interactions with management dictated a certain script. My very being fluttered when I grasped the handles. Electric tingles propagated up my arm as the latch bolt clicked out of place. I swung the door wide and stepped into the white marble room past the threshold. 

Everything seemed just that much more bright, what with the time off ahead of me. The potted plants swayed along their personal breeze and with their fronds whispered their own stories. My foot falls echoed back at me as I closed the distance to the obsidian square in the center. Could I have just used a portal to go somewhere instantly? Yes. However, I wanted to really savor this moment; besides I needed to pick someone up and cross department travel was frowned on, and against regulation 3B7.4.

Stepping onto the altar I peeled away between the layers of this reality. My own essence coming undone and transplanted with an ethereal ripping. I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear as I arrived in the faded wood panel and beige coated room. 

Stepping off the dias I politely nodded to the teller on the wall.

She beamed with exhausted delight “Well how do you do! If it isn’t our good pal [Alex] from the [Auditing Department], what can I do ya for? Are we looking to [Rent] or [Purchase] or [Leave a comment or review]? Or do you need [Something else]?” She leaned forward onto the counter of the booth, eyes unblinking and hollow.

“Vivian? Wow, congratulations on the promotion. Something else please.” Standing behind the yellow dotted line I rocked back and forth on my heels.

“Aww [Alex] you are too [Kind]. Please, [Tell me how I can help.]” With stilted movement she leaned back to wave at the air before returning to her previous state.

“I was wondering if I could borrow Greg for a while.”

“Certainly! Now is this for [Business] or [Pleasure] or [Something else]?”

I pondered for a moment “I would have to say, something else.”

“Wonderful! Please [Wait right there].” she slid back into the enveloping darkness.

Quick whispers. Meaty sloshing. The buzz of countless insect wings are thrumming as one unit. 

Then a comforting DING.

To the right of the booth the wall divided and split open. Behind the faux-oak was a writhing mound of formless biomass. Beige and gentle in coloration and temperament. A hand emerged slowly, being formed from this biomass. Soon came the rest of the long and slender figure, clad in olive green business attire. His body was limp and lifeless before a sharp intake of air and he rose.

“Well well well, now to what do I owe this great honor my best of chums?” We firmly shook hands, the burn of her seal bearable this time.

“I got my vacation approved, and so I thought ‘who better to spend some of it with’? Besides, I thought you’d enjoy a chance to stretch, get away from her for a little.”

He clapped me on the shoulder “Pal of mine,” his grin widened “I must inform you, [for the duration of the withdrawal this unit may record experiences for training and quality assurance purposes. Do you accept?]”

Pushing his hand off “Yeah yeah, I accept, now c’mon, let’s get a couple drinks and maybe mess around in the woods? I’ve been having the damndest luck with this new summon.”

“Oh? Well color me interested, master summoner Alex needs my help.” He teased as we headed towards the black square.

“You flatter me, but I know when I need to ask the teacher for help. Besides, you owe me for sticking me with the tab last time!”

“I would never! It was payment for my counseling services.” 

We shared a laugh and headed out.

“My my, you both certainly had your hands full didnt you?” Greg leaned over the table, resting his boney elbows on the aged wood.

I stirred the multicolored fog in the ivory bowl “That wasn’t even half of it. Kid came back even after I told him to beat it.” Inhaling a thick plume the concoction burned the back of my nose. It stung more coming out as an iridescent smog than it did going down.

Greg offered me a napkin, which I graciously used to block the roiling cloud “Mmmm, I may be out of line on this one, so forgive chum, but I don’t think pushing someone away without a single word,” he downed his large glass “is the same as explaining some danger.”

Through the coughs “Wh-what else should i-it mean?”

He just looked at me with a sly smile.

“F-fine.” The burning reduced to smoldering annoyance “ Could you at least not look so damn smug when you make a good point?”

“What can I say? I’m just pleased as punch to help out. As a matter of fact,” he turned to the bar “Terrance my good sir, the bill when you can!” The brick wall of a man nodded and Greg placed his coin purse on the counter. The thing shuddered and sunk into itself slightly before it was placed back into his pocket. 

“Aw, now what if I had wanted something more?” My head spun and the colors of the room shifted before my eyes.

He placed the tips of his finger along the top of my head and held it in place “I think you’ve had enough, besides chum, didn’t you check me out for some other help?”

Batting him away I leaned back “Yeah, once the room is not blue shifted.” 

I leaned on Greg pretty heavily as we left the establishment. His boney figure wasn’t the most comforting thing to put your entire weight on, but it was better than running into each building or tree in my path. We strolled along the cobblestone walkways idly chatting; he chatted to me and I think I was responding in my own way. Soon enough I found my footing again and became independent. Slowing his stride he hung back just on the off chance I were to fall. Soon the directed paths gave way to grassy suggestions and the sun was shepherded behind the limbs of the towering oaks and pines.

The wood with its sun-dappled moss exuded an earthy fragrance. Which was carried along the ever-summer breeze. Creatures in the shadows chirped and cooed to one another, pausing briefly to observe their new peers. While my feet were found, my head was still drifting between the now and then. It was like seeing the forest for the first time all over. The homogenous palette was broken by pin pricks and explosions of vibrant colors of new blooms. Scarlet Witch-hats swayed from low hanging vines, Indigo Stars stood at attention amongst the long blades of ground cover, and the translucent white of the Lingering Spirit cast a haze over the whole. Stepping from the shaded passage we stood in an expansive clearing. Large boulders of dazzling white flanked the summoning circle at the heart of the glade; a pulsating orange circle that hummed with rhythmic life. Standing humble at the crown, the donation box. Embellished with Uvin’th the Sacromorph, mascot of Community Services. Standing side by side we each deposited a modest amount through the little slot. With a whistle and chime the circle shone with much more intensity, so we took our place amongst the rocks.

Greg sat atop the largest with hand casting shadows along his face. I however struggled to even rise to the summit of a knee high mountain. I could hear him stifle a laugh. Without grace I overcame the challenge and sat in the same configuration as he. Shimmering into focus, tomes of weathered leather came to rest along our laps. Pages wrinkled and misshapen from uncountable dog-earing. Thumbing through I motioned to him.

“Hey, this one looks my speed.” I tapped my open passage.

“Hmm?” He loomed over me. “Which page is that chum? I think our books may have a touch of difference.” His eyes glanced back and forth.

“Oh, uh,” I strained to decipher the worn page number “Thirty-Eight? Or is that thirty-three? Um, hold on. It should say something about ‘Crossing the Illuminated Core’ or something like that.”

“Right, right. Hmmm.” The soft fall of soft parchment “Ah-ha, you were close friendo, page thirty-six. Are you sure my confident companion? Last I heard you had passed your class with flying commendations.”

Pouring over the page “I mean yeah, but we did just go out and I indulged a touch too much. Besides, never a bad idea to warm up is it?”

“I suppose you are correct.” He stood with his arms crossed watching me like a predator. “Well then bucko, show old Greg what they’ve been teaching you.” 

Rising to my own feet I held the tome aloft. Deep inside I felt the pit of what was taken from this contract. Feelings not of my own poured out from the void and through my fingers. Dark light congealed at my fingertips, burning and singing the essence of my being. My vision was dark before the smallest speck of light pierced my eyes, in this I saw the universe; pages of an infinite story book. Now the void had grown to encompass more than myself, it devoured the chapters and volumes of stories never yet told but yet recorded. Then the world shattered. In the falling pieces I saw the red blood of who I am boil away to the black smoke of what I was to become. I snatched a jagged puzzle piece and plunged it deep into that festering and rotting hole. A thunderous cry? The beating of war drums? My vision returned. 

In the center of the summoning circle was a small mass of black tendrils. Writhing and swaying. Squid like eyes of shimmering pools stared blankly into the distance. A voidling.

“Oh my goodness, he is cuuuute!” Greg clapped and hopped down from his perch. “And look at that stability, you really have the basics down to a T.” He scooped the little creature up, it was only about a foot tall after all. 

The hood of my robe turned a soft red “Thanks.” I joined him and stroked the creature behind his right pseudopod “This is Joshua.”

“Joshua? What a fantastic name!” Joshua gurgled playfully as Greg lifted him into the air and spun around “I do have to say I am surprised, I always took you for a Shimmer kind of summoner.” He handed Joshua to my open arms.

“You know how it goes through.” Joshua wrapped his tendrils around my fingers, pushing and pulling them in exploration “But you really think I did alright? C’mon Greg give me some pointers or something.”

“Alex my best of friends, enough of that. You did just fine…well-”

“Well what? Oh man don’t tell me, it was my stance wasn’t it? I knew it! My right foot felt like it was too far to the right, and my arms weren’t raised at enough of an angle, and I-”

Greg placed a finger on my lips “Shh, I was just going to say that you need to watch your posture. Poor posture gives poor results.”

About to say something I was cut off by the ground under us rumbling and a deep bellow buffeting our ears. With my concentration broken the circle faded in luster and Joshua was sent back to the empty reality. The trees shook and twisted as a blur was jettisoned from between the branches right towards us. With slow and deliberate motions Greg lifted an arm and caught the blur with a meaty thwack. Once the dust had settled a bronze man dangled in his skeletal grip, long flowing hair, pungent with the scent of sun black.

“Holy crap, thanks dude!” Ishmael grinned widely and tapped Greg on the arm. “Wicked reflexes.”

“And a fine howdy-do to you too Ishmael.” Setting the man down on his feet. “Say friend, what are you doing all the way out here and just what exactly have you gotten into?”

“Ah dude, so here’s the thing about all that-” A resonant and shaking call cut his words short. 

Beyond the tree line a thick and fleshy tail flicked above the tallest tops. A thick cloud of steam flooded around us and obscured our sight as the ground thundered with heavy footfalls. The fabrics of our garments clung tightly as they became saturated with a sulfurous liquid. As the steam cleared the originator loomed at the edge of the glade. Long tucks wrapped around the ears and gleamed in the light of the sun. White fur, standing and needle shaped, outlined the hulking torso and ran along the spine. A throat sac rippled with each tense breath as the eyes swiveled and locked onto their target.

“So, like, that’s the dude.” Ishmael grinned and pointed.

“Golly, you’ve gotten into a tussle with a Yarlmog?”

“Naaaah…yea. HQ got a ringy-ring about this big boy. Said he was all stompin’ around causin’ a ruckus. Big man’s lost and scared is all. But, he’s gettin’ up there so we’ve got to put ‘im down for a nice nap.” Ishmael rotated an arm in a stretch while cracking his neck.

“Would you like some assistance with that?” Greg motioned to he and I.

Holding my hands up and backing away “Actually I’m good, I’m on vacation and I’m not about to work off the clock. Tell you what, you two have fun and I’ll just be on my merry way.”

“Sure thing dude! Heard about your little scrap, take a load off. Bean-Pole and I’ll get this one.” Ishmael fished around in one of the pockets of his cargo shorts and pulled out a silver whistle.

“It’s been a grand time Alex, I’m going to assume you’re finished with your rental?” Greg rolled up his sleeves.

“Yeah. Thanks again Greg. Just have them leave the bill on my desk alright?” I had already turned and was wandering away. Ducking into the shaded woods I felt the ground shake as a sharp C cut through the bassey thunder. 

Far from the noise I lazily strolled amongst the moss and low growing greenery once more. Despite common sense I stopped and held still with my eyes shut. In the shadow of the branches the heat of the sun was little more than a soft suggestion on my robes. In this momentary pause once more I let the sounds of the forest be the symphony of relaxation. Though as I listened, a noise unfamiliar nagged at my mind. It was high pitched chittering. Perhaps a new breed of creature? I blocked it out, until back it came. More mechanical than organic? Eyes opening and belligerent to the light, this obstruction had to be dealt with. So through the green carpet I trudged. Under the heavy branches I ducked and swayed. This damn noise was growing louder, more shrill, more intrusive. Almost in a frenzy I tore through the underbrush. This maddening whine must be silenced, how else would I be able to enjoy my vacation!? 

Louder and louder.

It was clawing into the back of my mind.

Screaming.

Ringing.

Ringing.

Ringing!

Until at last I came upon a shrub, plump with leaves and life. I tore it from the ground, soil falling down atop me as blood from a severed limb.

My robes faded to white.

[crownroll]

Shimmering and Stunning: Elevate Your Brand with Holographic Laminates Packaging Solutions

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What Materials Can the Cricut Maker Cut? [2023 Edition]

Many crafters who own a Cricut machine are confused about which materials are compatible with their machine. Most crafters stick to the three basic materials- paper, vinyl, and HTV or Iron-on-vinyl. But by sticking to these basic materials, you won’t be able to unlock the true potential of your Cricut machine. Whether you have a Cricut Maker, Explore, or Joy, it’s important to know what your machine is capable of to get the best crafting results. This blog will review various materials you can use with Cricut Maker. We will also discuss the type of Blade and cutting mat you’ll need to cut and craft each material. Visit at- cricut.com/setup.

Paper and Cardstock

It is one of the most commonly used materials used by Crafters. You can make various projects using paper and cardstock, such as gift tags, bookmarks, party decorations, home decor, gift tags, 3D boxes, paper flowers, and more. Cricut also has a line of cardstock and paper that you can use. Cut paper and cardstock using a blue LightGrip mat and a fine-point blade.

Set the cut settings according to the type of paper and cardstock and its weight. You will find many paper choices in the cut settings, so finding the right setting may take some time. Remember to run a test before you start the actual project. Blue LightGrip mat works best with paper and cardstock projects since they are delicate materials, and the blue mat is best at releasing these materials. After cutting, do not try to pull the paper project by the corner from the mat. The paper can tear if you are not careful with it. Bend the mat slightly, so the adhesive gets loose, and then pull the mat away from the paper.

Fabric

With Cricut Maker 3, you can cut regular, non-bonded fabric using the Rotary Blade and pink FabricGrip mat. Aside from fabric pens and accessories, Cricut doesn’t make fabric materials. But you can purchase the fabrics at the local hobby craft store.

To cut the fabric, place it right-side down on the Cricut mat; this is how the patterns are imprinted. It also makes identifying more complex patterns and washable pen marks on darker fabrics easier. The machine will cut the fabric, then remove it carefully from the mat using a pair of tweezers with broad-tip so that you won’t stretch the fabric while pulling it out. If a few threads of fabric get stuck on the mat, place the next piece on top of it. The rotary Blade will cut through it. If the mat is new, lightly press the fabric onto the mat with your fingers. In case you are using an old mat, use a brayer to stick the fabric to the mat.

Bonded Fabric

It’s a fabric with a stabilizer ironed onto its back, but with Cricut Maker, you won’t need a stabilizer to cut fabric. Because instead of using the fine-tip Blade that can pull the fabric and mess up the cuts, the Maker uses the Rotary Blade. You must use a pink LightGrip Mat and Bonded Fabric Blade to cut the bonded fabric.

Place the bonded side of the fabric onto the mat, and use a brayer to secure the fabric onto the mat. When the Cricut is done with cutting the fabric, use a pair of broad-tipped tweezers to remove the fabric from the mat.

Visit at- Cricut Mini Setup

Vinyl

Adhesive vinyl is a type of material that has a sticky adhesive on its back. It can be applied to non-porous materials such as plastic, metal, painted wood, and glass. These are some of the popular types of vinyl.

Permanent vinyl

Removable vinyl

Dry erase vinyl

Chalkboard vinyl

Shimmer Vinyl

Holographic Vinyl

Mosaic Vinyl

You will need a fine point blade and a green StandardGrip Mat to cut such adhesive vinyl. Place the color side up of the vinyl on the mat. Cut the design and weed out the extra or residual material using a weeding tool. When you finish that, use transfer tape to adhere the vinyl to the blank.

Heat Transfer Vinyl/Iron-On Vinyl

HTV is a type of vinyl with a heat-sensitive adhesive that is applied to fabric and other materials such as paper, metal, or wood using heat and pressure. These are some of the popular types of HTV or Iron-On vinyl.

Everyday Iron On

Express Iron On

Mesh Iron On

Mosaic Iron On

Patterned Iron On

Smart Iron On

SportFlex

Holographic Iron On

Mesh Iron On

For HTV projects, you will need a heat press to apply the iron-on vinyl design to the material. Although other heat presses will work, the EasyPress 3 is the best. You will also need a fine point blade and a green StandardGrip Mat. Before cutting the image:

Mirror it to ensure that it is transferred onto the blank correctly.

Place the HTV face-down on the mat.

Cut the design, and weed the extra or residual materials using the weeding tool.

Genuine Leather

If you look forward to creating something deluxe or durable projects, genuine leather is an excellent option. If you have a hard time finding genuine leather, then worry not. Fortunately, Cricut offers sheets of genuine leather. These sheets are thin enough to be cut with a Deep Cut Blade of the Cricut Maker. That deep-cut Blade can cut the leather with the utmost precision. Use a purple StrongGrip Mat and a deep-cut blade for leather projects. Place the leather face down on the mat. You can use a brayer or your hands to adhere the leather to the mat so that the leather won’t shift around.

FAQs

Can Cricut Maker thicker materials such as balsawood and basswood?

Yes, among Cricut’s lineup, the models of the maker series are the most powerful. They have a cutting force of 400 gm. You must use a knife blade and a purple StrongGrip Mat to cut much thicker materials. Cricut does not own its balsa wood, and they are very hard to find.

For wood projects which are better, balsa or basswood?

The opinions may vary, but most people prefer basswood over balsa. Because the sheets of balsawood are tough to find, and they also tend to crack. When you search online for balsawood, google will show you other results like chipboard, basswood, and plywood. But it is a great option for lighter wood projects.

Can Cricut Maker cut smart materials?

Yes, Cricut Maker can smart materials without using a cutting mat. It’s similar to regular adhesive vinyl but a great choice for larger projects. Cricut offers the following types of Smart Vinyl.

Permanent Smart Vinyl

Removable Smart Vinyl

Writable Smart Vinyl

Shimmer Smart Vinyl

Metallic Smart Vinyl

Holographic Smart Vinyl.

source url- what materials can the Cricut maker cut

[starsvein]

The skies don't bother him—he's seen stranger, so Veoc assumes this is part of the normal landscape here. He is more surprised by the man who touches him, though. Most people preferred to keep a wide berth from the empire's soldiers.

"My thanks to you, citizen," he nods while cradling the fruit. "but flavor is a secondary consideration next to nutritional value." It was a shame that he'd been forced offline. If he could analyze the components of this specimen—

Veoc blinked.

A delicate trail of tiny, shimmering silver cubes had emerged from his palm to engulf the half-bitten lemon in his hands. A few seconds later, they projected a holographic screen in front of the officer as Syren's familiar voice read out the results:

〘 INGREDIENTS: POLYSTYRENE FOAM. MANUFACTURED FROM THE LIQUID STYRENE. IT IS SAFE FOR FOOD USE WHILE IN A SOLID STATE. 〙

He can clearly feel the beads of styrofoam sticking between his teeth.

〘 INITIAL ANALYSIS SHOWS NO NUTRITIONAL VALUE DETECTED IN CURRENT SAMPLE. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM FURTHER CONSUMPTION, CAPTAIN. 〙

Cough! Dropping the lemon into his bag, Veoc turns away to deal with the rest of his mouthful instead of swallowing.

"Excuse me for a moment."

Something's up with the sky, in fact right now it's looking like someone's throwing the world's biggest rave and wants everyone involved. (.... is that music's he's hearing inside his head?)

It can't be helped though, he's got some pencils and paints to replace. His own portion of the Itadori household is a playfield for literal form of 'floor is lava' which might make leaving a touch more difficult but it also works as an incentive. He doesn't know if the liquid would actually melt his feet but he's not about to leave it up to luck.

With all that happening he doesn't even find the strength to be surprised finding a hot guy chewing styrofoam - lemonshaped or not.

Sigh. Guess he'll have to postpone the artsupply trip for later. He reaches for attention with a light tap on the side of the guy's arm.

" Dude, I can take you to the grillstand. I promise it'll be tastier... "

[meaninginmakeup]

Eyeshadow- Block Party Eyeshadow in Teal Me More by Dose of Color on top of Moondust in Gamma Ray by Urban Decay Cosmetics.

Mascara- Lash Warrior in Brown by Flower Cosmetics on top of the Photo Finish Lash Primer by Smashbox.

Upper Eyeliner- 24/7 Eye Pencil in Abyss by Urban Decay.

Lower Eyeliner- Buzo from The Magic Palette by Juvias Place.

Primer (under concealer)- Studio Perfect Photo Loving Primer by Nyx Cosmetics.

Setting Spray- Oil Control by Skindinavia.

Highlighter- Kween from the Blacklight Palette by Bh Cosmetics with Holographic Halo Shimmer Stick in Arctic Crush by Nyx.

Concealer- Studio Finish in NW15 by Mac.

Powder- HD Pressed Powder in Translucent by Nyx.

Lipstick- Liquid Poison in Shiver by Sugarpill on top of Suede Matte Lip Liner in Jet Set by Nyx.

Bonus pic where I’m smirking bc I saw Zorro behind me looking out the window. He loves going ‘bye bye’ so much. He fussed and wines, and jumps up on the kitchen chair to jump into your arms. 😍

And yes, sometimes you have to combine glitter shadows from multiple brands for ultimate glitter aesthetic.

[batmurdock]

The Man Who Fell to Bajor

Heyyyooo. For those of you who enjoy @cineshemp ‘s delightful Vorta OC, Kieran - we have a treat for you! Behold the first few chapters of adventures between Kieran and his budding Bajoran pal [””], Kivak Fey. Below the cut are a couple chapters of original fic based off our concepts. Enjoy!

Chapter I:  It's a God-Awful Small Affair...

“Huh.”

There was a puddle of holographic material sprawled out in the center of the desert, and inside that puddle were streaks of incandescent gold, and beyond all that, crumpled up, was the most delicate-looking person Kivak Fey had ever seen. 

Shoving his goggles up to the top of his head, the Bajoran crouched down, all lanky limbs and wiry muscle under his layers of coverings, to better inspect the unexpected visitor. 

It wasn’t every day on Bajor that people came flying out of the clear bronze yonder. In the midst of a solar storm meeting a sandstorm head-on to create shards of glass in the desert, there weren’t a lot of people, period — especially people like this — who tumbled down from on high. 

At least you hoped not, otherwise, they were most likely quite dead.

A more spiritual person might’ve blamed — or praised — the prophets, but all Fey felt like doing was poking said person with a stick.

Not cruelly, mind - but he had learned long ago to keep most unknowns outside of artistic expression and exploration at arm’s length. Fey had absolutely no desire to get mixed up in things that might run the risk of him getting involved. With the Bajoran government or any other, with religious hypocrisy or - well, he could wander those thoughts all day, just like these dunes. Or he could actually set about to find a stick and try his hand [and improvised weapon] at defending his own curiosities.

He settled for a hand, softly nudging the shimmering shoulder till the being rolled over slightly with a groan. Fey froze, but nothing else followed. By all accounts, on their side in the little divot he’d made in the hushin grains, the little beast was very still. 

They were alien, Fey decided — not from any part of Bajor, that much was for certain; not even the unpredictable and unruly Outback. Not Cardassia, nor other neighboring worlds - nothing and no one so colorful came from those places. Not that he knew for certain, of course. 

But in wracking his mind for anything or anyone even vaguely-resembling his newfound friend-to-be [so Fey had, as he often did, idly decided], nothing came up. Never in his life had the artist seen anything along the lines of dainty purple ridges on the ears, nor ears of that shape, for that matter…not to mention a gently-lashing tail, the tufty end of which was nearly as purple as his ears — no. Darker, actually. 

Actually, in one ear, an earring glittered, which gave Fey brief pause - but the make was far from Bajoran, the design much less elegantly-flowing. It was layered gold, the very brightest Fey had ever seen, much less worked with - and positively glowed in the low light of the shifting sand. 

In scooting closer, Fey softened his touch as he moved away from the other’s shoulder, moving toward a pale throat — then hesitating. He didn’t even know what he’d be looking for. What if this traveler didn’t, y’know — have a pulse in their neck, or breathe through what Fey assumed was — 

“You’re overthinking it,” Fey chided himself, scrunching his ridged nose before the rest of his face followed, screwed up in concentration. All he had to do was look for some sign of life — actually, not even that. 

He didn’t have to do this.

His hand, still spattered with pigment, went still as he approached the other’s face. 

He could walk away from this, actually. Whatever it was. Sign of the so-called Prophets. Discarded space rubbish. Lost soul, sans soul. No — that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Fey’s problem, was the thing. Could’ve not been a problem at all. Not his responsibility, either. 

But he hadn’t wound up here by accident, Prophets or no. When he’d lost everything during the occupation - at the tender age of eight or so - he’d wound up in this seemingly-barren wasteland, the Outback, after a labor camp escape went [mostly] not at all to plan. 

The artist-in-residence prior to him, Tivor Fareil, had passed him off as an apprentice before making good on his word. He knew places ‘round here that no solar, dust, or Cardassian storm could reach. 

Down below them by hundreds of leagues lay the secrets of a race of survivors, after all - massive caverns that stretched for leagues, long-abandoned for the sake of mining ore elsewhere. Where there was no ore, there was no point, so believed many a Cardassian. And thus life survived, culture survived - the only way it knew how.

By hiding in the darkness, gathering dust.

But Tivor showed Fey a world wherein he had stored priceless relics - art dating back several decades; centuries, even, all from a once-proud community of artists that had since either been taken by the elements, returned to the Prophets, or…worse things by far.

Against his will, somehow, sympathy twisted and twanged beneath Fey’s breastbone.

It wasn’t that they had anything in common, he and this strange little being - in clothes so garishly mismatched, upon closer look, that Fey wondered if they hadn’t hit every laundry line on his way down from the stars. 

It wasn’t that he was particularly young, either - small; yes, young, ish. He seemed - ageless in a way, Fey pondered, a finger slipping up and under bunched black curls. Tugging on one, almost on a whim, the Bajoran noted - speaking of stars, he supposed - just how littered with little marks the other was, all vaguely glimmery in the returning light that came as the Sister Storms departed.

In the settling dust, the sharp, curved wing of some wicked ship loomed in the distance. Its dorsal cut through the sandy grains, an elongated, obsidian thing that shone with steely indifference against Bajoran sunlight. The reddish hue of the sky had begun to dissipate somewhat, dulling back down from a burn mark to something much balmier and more welcoming.

In its peachy hues, the figure on the ground looked smaller than ever - spread against the sand, splayed away from a trail the dust had already dragged over, no doubt. 

“‘And so from the shipwreck came a sailor,’” murmured Fey idly, tilting his head and crouching back down to inspect the figure for - he was losing count of how many times it was, actually. Maybe that was why he related to the stranger. They were two people dislodged by circumstance, shaken out to find their way despite all odds. It would end, no doubt, when the visitor awoke and demanded swift exit from a planet still in recovery from its war-torn ransacking.

Till then, however - Fey supposed they had both come this far.

Delicate fingers tugged back his lapels to look for more answers, careful not to jostle him - who knew if he’d been flung, now that he’d found this ship, or - perhaps he’d been a flying thing, shot down in his prime before taking his enemies with him…

Fey’s impatient humming stopped as his fingers struck something cold.

It wasn’t much, really. Just a pin on his jacket, some symbol that rang a vague bell in the back of the Bajoran’s mind. It was something powerful - rigid, ritualistic, and controlled. A direct contrast, Fey thought, to the person it’d been attached to. Fey, after a beat further of deliberation, finally plucked the thing free to hold it up to the light better, sniffing through the settling grit on his skin. 

Up against the fading sunlight, the insignia turned out to be - 

“Romulan,” he realized aloud, squinting a little. What in the name of Akorem Laan would anyone from Romulus be doing out here? Another huh nearly escaped him again, before he realized two things at once, shortly followed by a third.

One, the person - who very much wasn’t Romulan, despite his shiny badge - had in fact been breathing, though it’d been shallow and softly raspy enough Fey had initially lost it to the hissing of the reshaped dunes. Two, their eyes were as bright and ultraviolet as the ridges of their ears and the faint flush the sun had left against their skin and their ten-million-odd freckles littering their features.

The third thing Fey realized was that he probably should’ve moved away just a bit faster - 

Before, with a snarl, the brightly-dressed trespasser whipped around, shook off a fine layer of Outback sand, and sank his teeth - sharp little teeth oozing with profuse amounts of slime - directly into his forearm.

Yeah, Fey decided in that instant, I definitely should’ve left well enough alone.

--

Chapter II: I’m the Space Invader...

There was a face above his face, and it was just a face to him. 

Two eyes, two nostrils under a crinkled bridge, and a mouth set in a grimace. Comely, the Vorta supposed, in the way that most bipedal faces could be - no doubt appealing to the person’s own species, much like the Vorta were meant to appeal to everyone.

At least, that was what Kieran had been taught, as his fellow Vorta in the cloning center adorned him with garments and spoke to him with the sweetness of deliberate genetic modification - machinery of any kind never ran so smoothly as when it did by means of Vorta “magic” - they wove a symphony on silver tongues that never once carried a tune, but did so by design.

And it was all meant to go so well, until they sent him to the coldest, grayest, and most unforgiving world Kieran could’ve imagined, had he been defective enough to dream of such things. Therein he was assigned a charge - a Romulan of the Tal Shiar variety; an unparalleled and ruthless intelligence agency meant to partner with the Dominion for - 

Things Kieran couldn’t have fathomed anyway. It was above his…pay grade, as one of the Terran visitors had put it - with a snide smile on his face and a little look of knowing in his cold blue eyes that had made the fur running down Kieran’s back bristle with unease.

But he only reported on what he had to report, which wasn’t much of anything. The Tal Shiar did this, the Senate did that, the days were slate-gray and structured to the point of teary boredom, but he didn’t know, exactly, what else he could’ve been searching for.

Service to the Founders had been written into his genes, after all - born to worship, made to serve, that alone should’ve been fulfilling. None of his other brothers and sisters seemed to struggle with it. They would detonate their implants at a moment’s notice if they had to, succumb to the mercy of their own brief tenancy of whatever planet they occupied, and protect the Founders. Uphold the Dominion. They would close their eyes, open their arms, and embrace the relentless phaser-fire of Jem’Hadar if they deemed them unworthy.

But Kieran couldn’t settle. He could do his job, sure, but he couldn’t [and perhaps…wouldn’t] settle for something so mundane and empty. 

That was what it was, it was empty. 

His Tal Shiar host – whose name he must’ve suppressed, or he was more rattled by his descent to an enemy planet than he’d previously considered – had been…bemused, Kieran thought, by his seemingly endless list of demands that he knew had to make no sense whatsoever to a being of such order, organization, and deliberate construct. 

He had a series of Klingon operas downloaded to his padd. He’d had every type of cushion available within the compound that served as his…associate’s house sent to his quarters. He’d had jumbo mollusks to gnash his teeth on, finding the shells more satisfying to whittle down with his mandibles than their slimy insides. 

And by night, when the debriefing was done and the screens black and glossy as places the stars couldn’t reach, Kieran, [redacted] of his Line, sat and stared out the window, fuming.

Fuming, because he felt like he still couldn’t get it quite right. 

And then, one day - a day both long before he met the face hanging over him in the desert, and indeed, a day like any other, as far as he could tell when he roused himself in a trashed room full of half-bitten mugs, shells, and other discarded ornamentation - 

Weyoun 6 defected.

It was chaos after that. Unpredictable, unbridled chaos the likes of which none of them had ever seen. Trusted allies began to shoot sideways glances at the Vorta who had been innocently attached at the hip to leaders all over the Alpha Quadrant. The window through to the other side of the galaxy was closed; well-sealed, even so, without so much as a shadow of negotiable entry in the foreseeable future.

Maybe by some inane, long-buried instinct, Kieran could feel the walls closing in. He refused to be cornered. He refused to be the first to fall, but similarly, he refused to be someone the Tal Shiar turned on and, in turn, tortured.

He had, after all, seen what they could do.

Which was why and how he’d wound up here, with his mouth wrapped ‘round so many filthy, leathery layers of fabric that he felt as though he might’ve bitten into nothing more than garbage - garbage adorning a man so tall he seemed to blot out the sun of the world he was on, all golden-rimmed and glistening. Sandy grit clung to him like crystallization, and for a moment, due to the hue and how the harsh glow still burned his sensitive eyes, the Vorta had wildly thought a Founder had, well.

Found him.

No Founder would’ve worn such rags, however - nor been half as solid when sunken into like this. He hadn’t managed to pierce skin, and hauled off to make an effort to do so again before the giant staggered back and made some kind of sound.

And then another, and a few more, and that was when Kieran realized more than just the name of his former accomplice had been knocked loose in his less-than-gentle emergency landing. 

On the contrary, it seemed his translator had - malfunctioned.

Fucking perfect.

“Boryhas?” The man asked, in a voice warm and low - only a little annoyed, apparently, as he inspected his now-slobbered-on sleeve. Kieran narrowed his eyes - the blazing sky hurt - and grit his teeth, back bristling. I will not be cornered.

“I can’t understand you,” he replied, annoyed - raspy voice made that much grittier thanks to the fiery descent he’d had, no doubt. How much of the fuel cell’s ejected and burned centers had he actually inhaled? “And if I have to take a wild guess, you can’t understand me.” One hand reached up, wiping the dust from his face as the planet’s occupant surveyed him. Kieran struggled upright, legs shaking profusely, and forced himself to remain so, tail lashing impatiently behind him.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, inhaling, “understand me or not, I must be on my way.” He took a single step, however, and sank in up to his hip with a squeak. There was a snort behind him, and with an indignant burn of lavender cheeks, the Vorta realized the crusty bastard was laughing at him.

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped, seething as he rounded once more on the taller man, “it hurts out here.” The laughter died away instantly, and Kieran had the wildest hope that perhaps he’d finally been understood.

“...Tas’veir?” The man asked, and Kieran’s shoulders sagged, lower lip protruding with a thrust of frustration. Pointy eyeteeth sucked the anatomy back into place, and, drawing in a breath, the Vorta raised clawed hands to stave off any further attempts. He didn’t need any other complications, frankly. He was tired enough as it was. 

“Veir Kivak Fey,” the man said - and placed both hands to his own chest. “Kivak Fey,” he said again, in that voice like a flickering flame. After a cold world of uneasy humming and steely indifference, it was a strange thing. Fire in a desert should’ve been far more unforgiving. Kieran shivered in spite of himself, shielding his face with both hands. The man was still backlit - and coming closer.

“Stay back,” he hissed warningly, one finger upraised, “the Dominion won’t be happy if–” the finger curled.

The old lie felt sour in his mouth, now. 

They hadn’t cared. They didn’t care. That was why Weyoun 6 had - left, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that he was defective. It was…it was…

Veering dangerously close to the truth, all Kieran could do was stand there in a daze - feeling the coolest little breeze rustle over him as, with a flinch, he jarred back to the present in time to find the stranger who’d discovered him unsheathe some sort of contraption from his belt - producing handheld shade in the form of an intricate bronze webbing which deflected the sun. 

In their pocket of darkness, under what most closely-resembled a parasol plant from a planet Kieran remembered only from distant readings - he peered up at the other with suspicion, teeth still slightly-bared. 

The man, he realized, up close and in the serenity of shadows, was a Bajoran. Bajor, one of their greatest threats, the jewel in the crown the Cardassians lost, and continued losing. Especially with Weyoun 6 performing what could only be considered a cardinal sin, perhaps as his clone’s direct reflection of the leadership he served - 

Speculation wasn’t Kieran’s forte. Anger was. Anger got things done. Deliberate, focused, driven anger which, with nowhere to go on Romulus, led to destructive tendencies.

Perhaps the golden Warbird smoking underneath the sand back there was his piece de resistance. Something he’d heard well before everything in his life had seemingly gone haywire, at any rate.

A gentle hand found his shoulder. Kieran shrugged it away immediately, a warning glare in one amethyst eye. The taller man sighed, then shifted around him, passing him the long-sticked parasol, pointing instead in the direction of a few tall dunes, in which - if he squinted; painfully so - Kieran could make out something of a geometrical structure. A hovel, perhaps.

A home.

“Bas’ra?” The man motioned with his head toward the house in the distance. “U balik?” A thumb jutting over his shoulder suggested they’d part ways.

Not liking either option particularly much, Kieran debated simply flopping over in the sand again. Self-destructively. 

But he was tired. He was wrecked. He had nowhere to go, no one to understand, and certainly not a species left in this quadrant he could trust.

“Fine,” he said under his breath, and felt the other man heft him out of the sand with a gentle nudge of his leg against the Vorta’s trapped own, “but don’t think this means I owe you anything.”

Though the man surely didn’t understand him, and though his eyes were bad, Kieran swore he caught him smiling.