#sorry this was sooo long

[w1ngedv01d]

i’d like to know more about the gods in ur wildlife AU….

no pressure ofc!! also i love the premise i think that it’s great and neat and ya

Hello! Thank You for the ask! Hi!

So, obviously, we don't have all of the wild cards revealed yet, but that's Okay! I have room in the pantheon for more as things develop ^-^ I'm not revealing the real names of each god juuust yet, but I will list what wildcard they're connected to, and some titles if I've decided on those.

(Also tldr on the plot for newbies: The Wild Life Plot, mostly, except it's a set of trials where each wild card is connected to a God from a pantheon running the trials. And the participants are champions chosen by said gods)

The Wild Card/The Summoner - Grian! Not a God yet. He's currently just a (mostly) human person. He's in charge of drawing from the deck and allowing the deity of the week to affect the realm they're stuck in. When he pulls the cards from his deck, he immediately knows Which god is affecting the realm that week, and what the effects will be.

Growing/Shrinking Wildcard - The Gemini Twins! They're a set of, well, twin siblings, who are connected to being giant and being small, respectively. The older twin is a man, and a Giant, while his androgynous younger sibling is the tiny one in charge of the smallfolk. In myth, they were the ones who created Giants and smallfolk like pixies and such, waaaay back in the day. It's even said that the older twin, the Giant, helped build the Nether Fortresses with his own hands. They are inseparable and also STICKLERS for theme and aesthetic. So naturally, they chose Gem as their champion based on name alone. XD

Hunger Wildcard - The Zombie. They were a Giant, once, in the Time Before, and resurrected as a god with an unending hunger that normal food wouldn't satisfy. Myth says that they refused to harm their friends and townfolk, so resorted to eating anything around them, just to stave off the hunger. Rocks, plants, trees, anything they could find. They influence the realm by afflicting the participants with their own curse. The first Champion they chose was, of course, Cleo.

The Immortal Snail - The Zookeeper. This God is very similar to Scar in a lot of ways, to the point that -while there are certainly differences- people who know both would find the similarities eerie. He has a deep love of living creature, from cows to snails to mushrooms, and -as a notorious prankster- uses his armies of beloved creatures to cause mischief and pranks to the people around him. He wants a friendly rivalry with Scar so bad, and doesn't process that him being A Whole God and Scar being Just A Guy means there really isn't a power equality to even warrant a rivalry. He's a fun loving, life-loving, guy who tries to make friends with pranks! He had a wife, who was known for her connection to fungi and fungal growth, but she has not been seen in many decades, and is not seen as a current part of the pantheon. He never speaks of her whereabouts, but it is clear that he still has fondness for her. He has a unique fondness for Grian, and of course Scar was chosen as one of his champions.

Time Dilation - The Observer. This God is one of the newer ones, and little is known about her. When she takes over the realm, time starts out very slow, but the call from Grian to "Do Something Cool!" is very important, because as soon as the time effects kick in, cameras appear to take pictures of each Champion. Cameras and screens manifest everywhere, Watching. Tracking. This God is silent, and reaches out little to mortals, or even the other Gods. No one knows what she is thinking, the connection between her theme and powers, or even which one/s of the participants were her chosen Champion/s... or Why. It is said she takes rigorous notes on how the time acceleration affects each participant, but no one has ever found such notes, nor do they know why she would be taking them.

Trivia Bots - The Engineer. This God has been working with Mumbo's family for many, many years, and is the reason why Mumbo knows about the Trials- and how Mumbo and Grian even met. He has gone by many names in the past, many faces, many identities, as it suits him. Always an engineer, always an entertainer. But whether he be man, woman, neither, both, or some other option, it changes based on the generation and mood that takes him. This era, he takes the form of an older, heavy-set man with a large brown mustache and beer belly, who works in an old Tech Superstore that is now far more out-of-date and behind-the-times than it was when it first opened. That doesn't bother him too much, though. He doesn't care about being the best, or the first, as long as he's doing what he loves. Because of his connection to Mumbo's family, and often manifesting in the human world in some way, this God is one of the few to take on human names from the culture in which he is inhabiting. He has done so in this form, just as he has done all the others. While he can do other redstone type things, this guy loves robots, and has been fascinated by mortal trivia shows, which has led to the beloved Trivia Bots from his time affecting the realm.

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo learns something about himself 🏳️‍⚧️

Based roughly on this old post.

Bonus:

[Leo is taking the fact that he was born biologically female simultaneously very well and also not so well but overall he’s mostly coping with the fact that it was Draxum that just essentially gave him the turtle equivalent of ‘The Talk’.]

[wwillywonka]

SPOCK | STAR TREK: THE ORIGINAL SERIES - 1.27 Errand of Mercy

[cherrydistrict]

🕸 you won’t remember a thing except me. 

[anastacialy]

guys, i think the hermits are going to accidentally start a prank war again. because just like last time, a game of telephone has begun. first, false made iskall's build into ''false beans,'' her shop from the previous season. however, to give herself plausible deniability, she signs it with "love, Joel. x" due to his username, smallishbeans.

next, iskall sees this, and completely believes it. he thinks it was joel who pranked him, and as he says to pearl while showing off the sign, which he kept even after tearing the prank down, "joel gave me a kiss." in his most recent video, he pranks joel by sending him loads of anonymous messages in order to completely spam and fill his inbox, preventing him from getting any more mail, with notes such as "thinking about you. x"

of course, joel is going to have absolutely no context for this, because he didn't make the initial prank. so who is joel going to assume sent him all those messages while he was away on holiday? well, i have a guess.

etho.

[nikoco11]

wavin at you. so question: how’d you get so good at drawing bodies? i’m pretty decent at them but you can draw bodies from just so many angles and in so many perspectives and that’s always hard from me. do you use references? how do you break the body down to be able to do those perspectives so well?

waving back at u hello!! tagging in ur other questions here so i can knock out as much as i can at once ^_^

i use lots of references! i used to use them by drawing over the silhouettes of poses i found on pinterest.

i don’t have any easy tricks or shortcuts to proportions unfortunately :’D i picked it up from observation just by doing this for so long.

it’s a fun way to learn, but can be restraining in terms of stiffness and also making u really dependent on seeing a reference before u can think of how to draw a certain pose.

now, i focus on what lines a body follows rather than the silhouette. i try to keep every section of the body to no more than 1-3 lines when first sketching.

doesn’t matter if the lines are accurate, just be bold w them!!!!!

this is a lot easier to me than breaking the body down into shapes, and it keeps everything more fluid.

it’s on these lines where i choose to exaggerate as well!!!

my fav exaggerations to do are flipping between curve/straight/curve/straight.

for example: on the left leg, i made the curve of the calf more pronounced while stiffening the straight line of the shin.

or on the skirt, i simplified the edges to single straight lines and the hem to one long curve :D

this comes back to my 1-3 lines habit, where i try to simplify everything as much as i can, but also it comes down simply to observation and practice…..which is unfortunately the worst answer ever but it’s true LOL my sketchbooks are packed right now, but i have many many pages of completely fucking up and drawing a leg one thousand times too long. the best thing to do is to draw quickly and boldly, even if it’s wrong 100 times, than to sit down and take forever trying to get it correct on the first try.

pen and marker sketching will force u to do this LOL. it helps to find pens and markers that are fun to use, especially for scribbling, bc then u will look forward to drawing more even if it turns out bad!!!

[answermywearyquery]

great 😳 + dr. tyme's large equipment 😏

[linktoo-doodles]

i cant believe akis afraid of thunderstorms………….

EDIT: oh my gosh I didnt realize this I feel sick

[cobaltfluff]

suuuuper late pocky day akeshus ;w;

[qweenofurheart]

more timkon ft. height difference

[bjorngr]

Heey🔊

[xiaosorbet]

your lips on mine (sunday hsr x reader)

is there sanctity in a first kiss? sunday was not naive enough to think so. there is nothing righteous in the simple act of touching one’s lips to another’s, nor is it a virtuous endeavor whose grace and meaning are elevated by the mere fact that one has never done it before. kissing is no baptism, for what is there to gain from it? he thought the idea was dramatized to a bitter extent, to the point that he considered disappointment to be intrinsic to the experience for anyone foolish enough to hope for something more. when lips collide, what really happens? he asks himself. nothing.

which was why he had purged all romantic expectation from his mind. any kiss will be nothing more than mechanical in nature. he’d come to accept that. he had taken off the veritable rose-colored glasses and squashed them under the heel of his cynicism, though he might’ve labeled it as the honest truth rather than a bitter conclusion he arrived at with no real basis– for he had never kissed anyone himself. all he knew was what he saw, and all he saw was no more than two faces coming close to touch together the soft pink tissue and muscle above the chin.

even when he started seeing you, this unromantic notion that he had of the first kiss – or any kiss – was something he could never quite let go of. it was almost painful hearing him describe such a beautiful thing so unfeelingly. there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it would not be incorrect to say that your first kiss with him was fueled just as much by your immense desire to kiss him as it was by a playful spite.

doubt swirled in his mind right until the moment your breath hit his face. he felt that first: the warmth of it. and suddenly the air entering and leaving your lungs was more than just mechanical: it was the indication of your closeness. your proximity slowly whittled away at his dubiety, and it all but vanished when your lips touched his.

and all at once it was more than just that.

he felt what he couldn’t see. all thought vanished from his mind, he felt lightheaded enough that perhaps the wings sprouting from behind his ears could carry him away with ease. his halo flickered, his eyes closed, those little wings fluttered and he had no control over any response. he didn’t feel the simple touch of your mouth, he sensed the tenderness in your closeness.

when you pulled back, he pushed forth. it was funny, he thought, how he felt like he was floating from the touch of your lips but at the same time was anchored to it as if by gravity.

it was this duality of feeling that your kiss had introduced him to. in a way, your kiss had indeed baptized him into a whole new dimension of intimacy and closeness, and that indeed, he mused as he looked at you with a reverent smile, held its own kind of sacredness.

[sammyofold]

Here are those fic recs I promised you @incesthemes ! I hope there's some in there that you'll really enjoy <3 I split up the recs into overarching tropes to group some together, but I'll start with those that don't fit into any of the groups.

The list got a bit long, so I decided to split it up into two parts.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Courting Death by theproblematique.

Summary: Sam Winchester lived the first six months of his life in a happy family; the next twelve years as John Winchester's only son, and the last decade as an orphan. He's supposed to die at twenty-two trying to save the woman he loves from a fire, because he doesn't have a brother to pull him back. But the night Sam meets his Reaper he discovers that Death is overly fond of pop-culture references, too beautiful to be real, and reluctant to kill him.

Servant of Servants 'verse by klove0511.

This is a two-part series (though I think it might've been intended to have more fics, its ending doesn't leave you feeling snubbed), posing the question: "what if it had been Sam who'd been mortally wounded at the end of Season 1?"

love potion no. 9 by according2thelore.

Summary: Dean drinks a love potion. Sam is falling apart at the seams because he's been in love with his brother for more than a decade.

keep me in a daydream by according2thelore.

Summary: After an accidental kiss makes a hunt go suspiciously well, Sam and Dean decide to try it again. And again. And again. It's no different from wearing lucky socks, right? A 5 + 1.

for you and me (i got no alibi) by remy.

Summary: There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants.

Ben Has Two Dads by regala_electra.

Summary: When Ben turns thirteen and learns that Dean Winchester is his father, he runs away to join his father (and uncle). A tale where boys are boys, Vikings are Vikings, unicorns go to Candy Mountains, Dean and Sam are in big gay love, and Ben becomes a Winchester.

Last Temptation by merle_p.

Summary: Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

Five Times Dean Forgot and One Time He Remembered by elsi.

Summary: Rowena warned him the obliviate curse might have “aftershocks.” That Dean could relapse to his amnesiac state without warning—though only temporarily, she assured. But this? This goes beyond calling a lamp a “light stick.”

Whatever It Is by theproblematique.

Summary: Both Sam and Dean get sent to the year 2014.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too) by TeacupUnicorn.

Summary: Sam and Dean get handcuffed together during a hunt. With a werewolf on their tail and a proximity to each other they haven’t had since they were kids, their unstable relationship is put to the test and their trust in each other is pushed to the limit. Set sometime after 5x16 and before 5x20.

Not Her Sam by Yuval25.

Summary: Future Dean goes back in time to change the future and saves Jess. Future Sam tags along unexpectedly. And Jess is okay. No, seriously. She's fine.

Mistaken For a Couple

101 - mythology by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: As Sam, Dean, and Kali flee Lucifer's slaughter, Kali makes an assumption. The boys try to clear up any misconceptions. They don't do a very good job.

I need you so much closer by cherryvanilla.

Summary: five times they're mistaken for a couple plus one time they actually are.

Domesticity

Paisley by samsexualdeancurious.

Summary: After his mind wall was broken and was healed, Sam knows he can’t be a hunter anymore, so he and Dean retire, and Sam ends up finding a homeless dog who was abused and together they heal.

The Chicago Verse by compo67.

This is a series spanning a whopping 169 fics. I've read only a few of them and I enjoyed Sam and Dean retiring in this town together. It's still updating, looks like, since the latest fic added was in May of this year.

a few things worth saying by hathfrozen.

Summary: “So this morning,” Dean ventures as they blast down the highway in pitch black night toward a probable werewolf case. Sam looks over at him, thin eyebrows raised, eyes clear and calm. He’s not even difficult about it, doesn’t ask what Dean is after, doesn’t deny what had happened. Instead he says, very simply, “I just figure, why lie?” Alright then.

All The Way In by hunters_retreat.

Summary: Sam never did know how exactly it happened. One day, he and Dean were run ragged, exhausted from yet another disaster of a hunt, no money and no gas, no prospects and no allies left alive to give them a hand. The next, they owned a store with a shooting range and Sam was a professor of religious studies at a local community college.

Pre-Series & Season 1

To Blow Against the Wind by dreamlittleyo.

Summary: After Oasis Plains, Sam and Dean can't. Stop. Touching each other.

Star-Crossed by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Before Sam departs for Stanford, he writes a letter to Dean, begging him to come to Palo Alto with him.

Birthday Suit by wincestation.

Summary: On the morning of Dean’s eighteenth birthday, Dad takes him to buy a suit. Sam is… interested.

house song by according2thelore.

Summary: “The werewolf.” Sam says, quick. Hushed. Scared. “I don’t know how. I was—He was standing above you and then he wasn’t. And I think I did that.” Dean keeps whispering stuff to Sam, banal reassurances that Sam soaks up like a sponge, but he feels sick. Sammy did something impossible. Sammy’s been doing impossible things. For years. Or: Pre-Canon/Teen!chesters AU in which Sam develops powers at age eleven, Dean will do anything to protect him, and they have to live with the consequences

Outsider POV

What I've Done by Amoreanonyname.

Summary: He wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He could tell, Dean was happy to see him, but wasn’t going to humor this topic. Dean, young Dean would jump to obey John, to answer John’s questions, but this was an older Dean who was more loyal to someone else now. More loyal to his brother. John wasn’t the priority here, and he realized with another guilty jump in his stomach that he never should have been.

something you love and understand by monsterq.

Summary: In heaven, Mary makes an unwelcome discovery about her sons’ relationship.

a skeleton terribly restless by remy.

Summary: Mary knows she doesn't fit right in this strange new world she's woken up in, with these grown men masquerading as her sons, but she tries her best. She really does. She closes her eyes to all the things she does not want to see, and she lies to herself until she's convinced. Until she can't.

Flowers on the Window Sill by orphan_account.

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester's relationship as observed by the good people of Star's Hollow.

Soulmates

Fix You by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: After their encounter with Famine, the boys are in dire straits. With Dean left shaken by the horseman's taunts - which rang truer than he'd like to admit - and Sam juiced up on demon blood again, Dean is at a loss. He has no idea how to move forward, or where they're meant to go from here. Then again, they’ve always had each other - perhaps their salvation isn't as far away as it seems.

All Too Familiar by sammichgirl.

Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

What We Do by BleedingInk.

Summary: Castiel catches Sam and Dean in a compromising position.

since feeling is first by queenklu.

Summary: That he wants to think this is Dean yanking a leash should make his blood run cold, not aching hot. It should make him sick, angry, it should get his fucking hackles up and make him fight. He does want to fight. But there’s a skin-thin line between primal things, and fighting isn’t all he wants to do.

if the dam breaks open many years too soon by deirde_c.

Summary: Sam’s soul springs a leak, and Dean’s the one who can repair it.

In the beached margin of the sea by rivers_bend.

Summary: Sam and Dean black out on a hunt, and when they wake up, Dean's having visions and Sam can't get new, strange feelings out of his head. When John finds out about the side effects, he'll do anything to get rid of the "curse". But Sam and Dean don't want to go back to the way things were before.

I Don't Need A Symbol by amoreanonyname.

Summary: It hadn’t meant that much to Sam at first. A warm glow at being able to do something nice for Dean, to give him something for once, to make him as happy as he seemed when he put it on immediately. It was what it meant to Dean that made it mean something else to Sam.

[grey-viridian]

I cannot express to you how much I love your art!!!!!! It’s got like a certain crisp-cleanness that is literally everything what I want my style to be.

Quick question; how long does it take you to make a piece of art? Do you just go for it or do you sketch it out first?

Thank you so much!!!💜💜💜 Hearing this means everything to me!

Thank you for your question! Sorry the answer wasn't so quick.

It usually takes me from a few hours to a few days, depending on the art I'm making. If it's just a detailed sketch, it normally takes an evening (I'm more productive near the end of the day). Full-colored art with background takes at least two days, but I also like to just leave the almost finished drawing be for some time so I can return and finish it later. That helps me see my mistakes that I previously missed and generally take a fresh look at it. As for the process… I always start with a sketch. I might not always have a clear idea of what I wanna do, but it's much easier for me to figure it out as I go.

Also, I was making this art specifically for this ask and intended it to be just a colored sketch, but something went wrong, oops!

So I made this:

[hyperballart]

something something premature ejaculation something something art donaldson

seeing this as best friend art. you’ve been attached to the hip since childhood, his grandma is very fond of you and you practically live at their house based on how much you’re over. it’s the summer before college and you’re hanging out with art in his attic. he sits with his legs crossed in front of you sipping on a can of sprite. you joke and banter until it leads to a playful wrestling match.

this isn’t abnormal, you both tussle on the floor until he’s got you pinned down digging his fingers into your sides. you squeal and try to push him off while he mocks your cries. your pleas aren’t taken seriously as loud laughs escape you with tears running down your eyes. in an attempt to make him stop, you weakly kick under him until one of your thighs accidentally brushes upwards between his own. he groans and hunches over you panting and letting out a quiet, oh fuck.

you quickly regain composure and ask him if you hurt him to which he replies with a curt, no m’fine. things get quiet for a beat but you find your chance to build up strength and flip you both over once again, this time his back thumps against the floor and you’re straddling him. you pin his hands above his head and for a moment he’s got a drunk look in his eye until he swallows, “heyyy, that’s not fair.”

your grip on his hands tighten and you smile breathlessly, “c’mon artie, don’t be a sore loser.”

he breaks out of that grip and starts his tickling again, this time with you on top of him beginning to squirm around and accidentally swiveling down on his lap. this snaps him out of it and makes him let out a whine, “oh my god, what—“

you feel he has grown hard under his shorts and stop. the air feels a bit awkward now, which is an unusual occurrence with you two. you know neither of you have much sexual experience, maybe a kiss or two at a school dance but not much beyond that. you suppose it’s normal for him to grow aroused at contact from a girl, you don’t want him to be embarrassed. and in all honesty, you’re curious about how good he can make you feel.

“hey it’s okay, it’s normal,” his eyes are glossy and his cheeks burn pink. he mumbles out a sorry and is about to push you off until you sit fully on his lap again. “what are you—hnngh,” you give a slow grind of your hips and feel him slide through your folds through your tiny shorts.

he falls back on the floor, his eyes close and he’s whining out chopped sentences while you start humping him in a frenzy pace. “artie, oh my god, it feels good,” he nods dumbly up at you and you watch as he’s shoving a hand down his boxers to fix his cock to lay straight. you notice that he did this so you’re able to glide yourself up and down easier and moan out.

you’re going at it for about five minutes, art’s hands rub shakily in a trail from your waist to your thighs. he sounds like he’s crying, you’d be more worried if it weren’t for the occasional twitches of his dick underneath you. “let’s take pants off, feels good but i need more,” and art bites down on his lip hard before doing so. you’re amazed at how natural this feels, this was here for you all these years to take and that thought alone is enough to gush out more in your panties.

the sounds of slick are loud paired with hard breathing and soft mewls, you only get to about two more minutes of humping each other in your underwear before art groans, “wait—fuck please wait, i’m sorry—feels too good,” his back arches from the ground and he looks down to where youre connected, “you’re so wet baby, oh please—“

in a bold decision, you slide your panties to the side just to show how much. his eyes go cross and you press your bare pussy on his clothed head a milisecond before he bursts. he’s shaking and soaking his boxers fully, tons of cum bleeding through the fabric and darkening it. all throughout his orgasm he apologized i’m sorry, i’m sorry i can’t help it it’s so good and you helped him come down while his body fell limp. if ten minutes was what it took to have him like this, you’d keep getting more.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter II

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ￗ﹏ￗ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!

tags: @asvtrials

wc: 3.3k

Masterlist Next Chapter

You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.

It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.

Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.

But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.

You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.

It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.

However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”

The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.

“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”

A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.

You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.

“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.

Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.

“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.

Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”

“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.

Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.

With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.

Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.

“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.

You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.

A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”

“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.

It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.

Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.

The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.

Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.

The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.

“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”

“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”

She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.

“Are you sure?”

Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”

It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.

Except—you do.

Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.

Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.

You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.

It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.

Except—it does.

Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.

You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.

Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.

Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.

You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.

You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.

However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.

She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.

Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”

“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”

Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”

“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.

“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”

“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.

“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.

“That’s probably not true.”

“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”

“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.

Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”

“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”

If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.

You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.

You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.

“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.

One turns into three.

You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.

Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.

“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”

You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”

“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”

Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.

You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.

“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.

You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.

“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”

“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.

So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.

It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.

It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.

“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”

That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.

“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.

“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.

Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.

He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”

“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”

“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”

“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”

You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.

“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.

“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.

“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”

Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.

“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.

“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.

“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.

You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy