#this got a lot longer than i was anticipating

[mommyslittlebird]

The Desire to Nurture

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: While settling into to your new living situation, you come upon an opportunity to be the one to taking care of Natasha, instead of the other way around.

CW: Mentions of injuries, white coat syndrome

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I apologize this one is still pretty short. I’m really struggling with platonic fluff and pacing things correctly, but the chapters will hopefully get longer as I get into things I’m more familiar with writing (i.e. romance and smut).

A/N: I got a little emotional at the end of this one.

Chapter 4 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

Settling into the house came easier than you anticipated. The days flowed in an easy rhythm of classes and time spent with Wanda and Natasha. You grew close to them rather quickly, perhaps by necessity or perhaps by some other worldly force pushing you together. 

It was almost like a “love at first sight” type of situation. Granted, this wasn’t quite love, but there was certainly something. There was a sort of immediate familiarity, a magnetism that you couldn’t explain. It just seemed like you were meant to be around them. 

Getting to know them wasn’t like getting to know two strangers you had only met a few weeks ago. It was like reintroducing yourself to a friend after years apart. There just seemed to be a pre-established baseline. 

You surprised even yourself with how much comfort you were finding in physical affection. You had always been an affectionate person, but most people never saw that in you. You came off as standoffish to most, and they just assumed you didn’t like to be touched. You, being a little nervous about initiating physical contact, just accepted that people didn’t want to touch you. Sure it wasn’t something you were proud of, but you had sort of come to expect it. It didn’t necessarily make you sad; it was simply a fact of your life. 

That is, until Wanda and Natasha came along. 

Wanda’s touch was always gentle. She kept short acrylic nails that she would use to massage your scalp or run down your spine. She had found a spot on the back of head and neck that would put you in a boardline hypnotic trance when she scratched it. She couldn’t help but chuckle every time she felt your body relax and watched your eyes glaze over. 

Your favorite spot on the massive couch in the living room became the leftmost armrest because Wanda's favorite spot was the leftmost cushion. You would sit slightly in front of her so she would idly rub your back while she watched tv or read her books. 

Natasha always teased you. The L shaped couch was easily large enough to accommodate 8 people and yet you insisted on sitting on the armrest like all the other seats were taken. You didn’t mind the teasing though. It was no secret you were growing fond of Wanda and loved it when she gave you attention. 

Natasha’s affection was always a lot more playful. She was certainly the less physically affectionate of the two. Sometimes it was just a little too much for her to be cuddled, and she needed a bit of space. But that didn’t stop her from giving you affection in her own little ways. 

The woman was like a walking space heater, so she was always warming up your cold hands letting you stick your feet underneath her while she sat on the couch. Not to mention, always being hot usually meant she found relief in your cold extremities. She liked to grab your wrist and put your hands on her cheeks or the back of her neck.  

You weren’t exactly sure how it started, but the two of you had a bit where one of you would fill their cheeks with air, and the other one would squeeze their face until the air came out in a funny, raspberry-like noise. 

When she was feeling particularly impish, you and Natasha would play wrestle. Mostly, it just consisted of Natasha wrapping her arms around you and picking you up while you pretended to try to get away. Sometimes she would flip you upside down and throw your feet over her shoulder, which always earned her a chiding from Wanda. 

You had adjusted your schedule to only have in-person classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You were going into healthcare, so with your general education classes out of the way, you were mostly just doing clinicals and labs anyway. You spent the other days with Wanda in her home office, silently working in the reading nook. The nook–previously pristine and untouched, flanked by two small, neatly organized–was now completely overtaken by you and your things. The decorative throw pillows were replaced with large, comfortable body pillows, and where there had been an ornamental, scratchy, wool blanket, there was now a fluffy grey throw covered in little sharks. Wanda did, at least, insist on keeping the blanket folded when you weren’t using it. 

More and more of your things were starting to find their way out of your room in general. Wanda even hung up a picture of the three of you in the stairwell. It was from a time you’d gone out for ice cream and both you and Natasha had gotten chocolate all over your mouths. Wanda had chastised both of you, resulting in her getting a sloppy chocolate kiss from Natasha, and a kiss on the cheek from you, covering her face in chocolate as well.

You started to feel less like a guest and more like a roommate and a friend.

You still weren’t exactly clear on what Wanda and Natasha did for a living. You knew they both worked for Stark Industries, though they had very different positions there. From what you had gathered, they’d actually met there when they were assigned to the same unit. Wanda had since retired to a much more cushy position that she could do from home. Natasha no longer did field work, but rather switched to training new recruits. They had talked minimally about their jobs before saying they retired because they were getting older and didn’t want to spend their time getting shipped across the world on long ‘missions.’ What these ‘missions’ entailed was still unclear, but you got the sneaking suspicion you weren’t really supposed to know. 

On one of these easy, slow afternoons, you sat in the living room with Wanda. The two of you were sitting side by side, reading, when you heard Natasha come in the garage door. 

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite ladies,” she smiled, stopping to kiss Wanda on her way in. “How’s your day been, my love?” She slung her duffle bag off her shoulder and threw it in the corner. She grabbed her shoulder, wincing and sucking her teeth as a jolt of pain shot up her arm. 

“Did you hurt your arm?” you asked, closing your book and turning your attention to them. 

“Yeah,” Natasha groans, rolling her shoulder to relieve the pain. “I’m not sure what I did to it.”

“Do you think maybe it’s ‘cause you're almost 40 and you spend your days wrestling with 20 year olds?” you teased. Wanda laughed. 

“First of all, almost 40 is brutal. I’m 38,” Natasha started, mouth wide like she was offended. “And second of all, I’m gonna wrestle your 20 year old ass into the ground.” She pounced on you, wrapping her arm around your thighs and picking you up upside down. You squealed and giggled, kicking your feet in a faux attempt to get away. After a few seconds though, Natasha gently laid you on the floor, grabbing at her shoulder again. 

You stood up and reached out to touch her. “Are you okay?” you asked, quickly switching from silly and fun to serious and concerned. 

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I probably just need to rest it for a little while.”

“Can I look at it? That’s what I go to school for, you know,” you asked, gently grabbing her bicep. 

“I thought you were going for philosophy or some shit,” she said, taking her hand away and allowing you to move her arm freely.  

You gently moved her bicep, testing her range of movement. First and foremost, you needed to make sure she didn’t tear her rotator cuff. “I do that too, as a minor. I have an English minor as well, but those are more just hobbies.” 

You poked around at her arm for a few more minutes, assessing as much as you could. “Nothing is dislocated and it doesn’t feel like anything is torn, but you should probably get an MRI just in case-”

“No!” Natasha interrupted harshly, tearing her arm from your hand. “It’s fine. I just need to rest it, like I said earlier.” She quickly moved away from you, fiddling nervously with the zipper of her bag. 

You looked at her, confused, then to Wanda. Her lips tightened, as if she was trying to silently apologize for Natasha’s harshness. But in looking back to Natasha, you saw all you needed to know. She was afraid. Of all the horrifying things she’d faced in her life, Natasha Romanoff was scared of doctor’s offices. 

You gently approach her from behind, saying her name in almost a whisper. “Natasha…”

She turned around to tell you off, but the look she received from both you and Wanda made her decide otherwise. You weren’t angry or stubborn. You weren’t even confused. You understood. She let out a breath she had been holding and visibly relaxed. 

You both stared at each other in silence for a long moment before you spoke up. “We don’t need to talk about it. I understand,” you said in almost a whisper. “I have some things… here that might help, but we don’t have to do anything right now. I’m not gonna try to make you do anything right now.” 

Natasha looked at her feet, anxious and embarrassed. “Yeah…” she finally said. “Yeah, just… let me take a shower really quick and we can talk after.”

You both headed upstairs, her to the shower and you to your school bag. Given your field of study, you had started carrying around a small bag of medical supplies: just full of basic things you were good and familiar with. 

Natasha was out of the shower in under ten minutes and you met both her and Wanda in their room. Immediately, you could tell Natasha had calmed down quite a bit. Wanda was helping her wring out her hair while she tried not to move her shoulder. “Alright doc, what have you got for me?”

“Well, I have some menthol and methylsalicylate cream,” you said in an overly pretentious tone. “So, IcyHot, basically. And I have some kinesiology tape in…” you looked down into your pack, drawing out three rolls of tape, “blue for boys, pink for girls, and camo for… hunting expeditions? Take your pick.”

“Well, we all know I love a good hunting expedition. Give me the camo,” she chuckled. 

“Alright,” you said, dropping the other two rolls back in your bag, “take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

“Woah,” Natasha teased, “at least take me to dinner first.”

Wanda chuckled, peeling the shirt off over her wife’s head and smacking her in the torso with it. “I don’t recall you being the type that needed to be wined and dined,” she retorted, playfully shoving Natasha face down on the mattress. 

You crawled up on the bed, first kneeling next to Natasha, but then deciding it would be better to straddle her waist. You started in on her shoulder, gently massaging the sore muscles. She groaned with a mix of pain and relief. “Do you usually get this up close and personal with all of your clients?”

You shook your head, continuing to press the base of your palm into her back. “I don’t usually do this on a king size mattress.” As you started to rub the cream onto her shoulder, you couldn’t help but admire her back. She was so strong, toned with muscles from the base of her spine up to her broad shoulders. Her skin was so smooth and warm, surprisingly mostly unblemished despite her choice of career. Without thinking, you gently traced your hand down the side of her spine, taking in the soft expanse of her ribcage and shoulder blade. 

You were torn from your drifting thoughts when Natasha said, “damn, while you're up there you should just do my whole back.”

“I will if you want me too,” you replied, not quite able to tell whether or not she was joking.

“You’re very good at this,” she groaned again as you circled a particularly tight muscle. “Even when you’re pushing on it like that, you’re very… gentle.”

You smiled and blushed a little at the compliment, wiping the excess cream from your hands with a cloth. You worked your way down her spine, diligently kneading the rest of her back. She started to make little noises as you made your way to her lower back. “Mmm… fuck that feels good.”

You turned your head to find Wanda, leaning in the bathroom doorway, smiling impishly. “Careful. You might make me jealous,” she quipped, but the look on her face told a different story. She looked to be enjoying this as much as Natasha was.

The look gave you a renewed sense of confidence. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were now kneeling on Natasha completely. “I don’t normally do this with my patients, but since you’re so well behaved….” You leaned forward, pressing the full weight of your knee into the muscle just above her pelvis bone. 

She hummed with delight. “Mmm, you might just be my favorite… physical therapist? Kinesologist? Is that what they call you?”

You chuckle. “I’m technically a ‘non-surgical orthopedist’, but right now I’m just your roommate kneeling on your back. This would be… frowned upon in my practice.” You shifted again, rolling off her back. “Alright, you can sit up. I’ll tape you up.”

Gently, you helped Natasha sit up. You carefully avoided looking down, fearing one glance at her bare chest might cause you to melt into the mattress. You grabbed a strip of the tape and stretched it carefully over her injured shoulder. “There. You can shower with it and everything. I’ll reapply it when it starts to come off. But you’ll have to limit physical activity and try not to lift anything too heavy. Including me, so don’t even think about trying to tackle me.”

You and Wanda helped her get her shirt back on over her head, giggling as she tried repeatedly to put her arm through the head hole. You sat back on your feet with a giddy, pleased smile on your face. It felt good to be the one helping them. You’d spent the past weeks trying to come to terms with being cared for by the two women. They had assured you as many times as you needed to hear it that they were doing this because they wanted to, because it made them happy too, but you had never truly believed them until right now. 

Sure, maybe a massage wasn’t the same as completely opening your home to and caring for a person, but this feeling, this pride, of knowing you had been able to help and bring relief was elating. You spent so much time thinking of yourself as a thing that had to be dealt with, but maybe there was some inherent pleasure to nurturing as well. You felt good. You felt useful. You felt appreciated. 

You’d read once about inmates in prison adopting pet roaches or toads because “... we all, in some form or another, have the desire to nurture.” Maybe that's what you did for them. Not in giving massages, or doing the dishes, or helping bring in the groceries, but in just existing here, for them to nurture and love. 

The weight of your burden on them suddenly felt no heavier than that of a little bug in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. You were wanted here. You always were. But you could see it now. Not in the relief on Natasha’s face, but in the smile on your own.

[sunnysidesevenup]

Happy Birthday, Iso <3

I, of course, had to do something for @theolivetree123's Isosceles' birthday. My confidence writing Iso was a bit low, but I'm pretty happy with how the fic turned out <3

Also, it turned out to be eight pages in my doc, which is a lot longer than I intended at first lmao. These two are just really fun to write together.

fic under the cut!

“Tills, what’re ya’ doing?” 

Tilly blinks, glancing up from the suspicious book in his hands. The words had been swimming weirdly again, doing an odd little dance around his head, not that he would’ve been able to understand it anyways. 

Isosceles is standing near the open door, a confused expression on his face although it fades quickly as he takes in the situation. Cute, Tilly thinks, followed by the urge to say it out loud–he was asked a question though, wasn’t he? 

“Summoning circle.” He says. It’s pretty obvious. 

Iso’s face twitches, as if he wants to smile–and although the smirk he settles on is probably not the first expression he was going to make, Tilly still decides to appreciate it anyways. “You can’t read.” He chastises, a bit mean. “What’d ya’ think was going to happen?” 

“Hmm…” Tilly hums, tapping a finger to his lips. “Getting killed, maybe? Hopefully by a successfully summoned demon.” The smile that forms on his lips is an innocent one, tone light and teasing. 

“With this circle? Yeah, definitely gettin’ killed.” 

He just answers Iso with a giggle, jumping up from his sitting position and nearly knocking over the lit candles and probably lighting things on fire. Isoceles watches with amusement as he seems to realize in real time that candles lit everywhere on the floor is probably not a good idea, and proceeds to blow them out. Once done, he bounds straight up to the taller man, feeling a burst of energy. 

He grins up at him. “Hi. You’re late.” 

“Wasn’t aware I could be late when we didn’t set a time.” 

Tilly’s grin turns mischievous. “You’re late because I missed you.” 

Iso raises his eyebrow, and Tilly is glad he got closer. “That so?” He asks. “Maybe you’re just borin’.” 

Ouch, that one hurt. He is not boring, thank you very much. 

He spins on his heels, hands on his hips and a pout on his face. “You just can’t handle my amazin’ presence.” He retorts, back to the other man. “And here I am, tryin’ to give you a birthday gift, and you say that…” 

Iso makes a noise behind him, slightly unamused. “I don’t celebrate my birthday.” 

Tilly spins back to him, poking his chest with a glove clad hand. “It’s an excuse for a celebration. Fun. Are you going to deny me a chance to have fun, Isosceles?” 

The man grins back at him, sharp teeth on display, and Tilly kind of wants to pinch his cheeks to see if he’ll get bitten. Ah, that might not be the best idea… “Since when do ya’ need an excuse?” He’s saying, and Tilly zones back into the conversation. 

He pouts at him. “It’s always good to have an excuse. Gets me out of a lot of trouble.” 

Iso laughs, “Ya’ anticipating getting in trouble with me?” 

Tilly nods back seriously. “All the time, yes.” 

“Ha! At least you’re aware.” His eyes scan the room again, poorly drawn summoning circle and all. Tilly would say he did an okay job, but he’s definitely not an artist, and drawing circles was deceptively hard. Isosceles is clearly judging his shaky chalk lines as well, from the way his expression does that slight twitch of amusement again. “Seriously, what were ya’ thinking?” 

The shorter man shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Thought you would like it. You like it, right? Tell me you do.” He moves a little closer, and yep, there’s the personal space limit, right on time. Tilly decides not to push it any further, pausing with a few inches between them. He doesn’t really want to get kicked out, at least not when he’s trying to do something for Iso’s birthday. 

Iso gives him another grin, his eyes not entirely meeting his own. “Would like it better if ya’ were any good at it.” He says. 

Tilly makes sure his expression is as sad as can be, “Aww…” He begins, and then his tone morphs into something more triumphant and smug. “But you would have liked it, right? So I do know you pretty well.” 

Isosceles shoves him away slightly, making his way further into the room. “That’s a pretty low bar of a gift.” He says dismissively. 

Oops, a bad choice of a tease, then. 

Tilly keeps his forlorn sighing to himself (not that that’s what he’s doing, of course not) and follows the other man into the room. “My bad~” He apologizes. “How could I ever hope to know the oh-so-mysterious Isosceles?” 

The man shoots him an annoyed glance, and Tilly raises his hands in surrender. The smirk doesn’t help, though. 

…For someone who doesn’t want to get kicked out, he’s definitely pushing it. 

Well, he’ll just run distraction, then. 

“So… How was your day?” Tilly asks, tone innocent. 

Iso gives him another glance, knowing what he’s doing. “Are we makin’ small talk now? Damn Tills, maybe you are getting boring.” He says, sitting down at the desk chair. Tilly decides to sit across from him on the bed, legs crossing as soon as he hops up onto it. 

“That’s very offensive to me.” He responds seriously. “I’m the least boring person you know.” 

“Dunno about that.” 

Tilly gives him a huffy pout, Iso just grinning meanly at him still. 

“Whoever you’re thinking of, I’m definitely hotter and more entertaining than them.” He tells him firmly. “By many points. It’s not even a competition, really. I have won by a lot.” 

The grin turns meaner. “You’re not that–”

“If you say I’m not that hot I’m going to do something questionable.” He threatens immediately. 

Iso laughs, a bit startled. “I was goin’ to say entertaining.” 

Tilly feigns a thinking face, “Hmmm….” He then shakes his head, “No, that’s not acceptable either.” 

His companion chuckles again, so that’s definitely a win. 

However. 

“Hey, Iso.” 

He raises his eyebrow again, no doubt suspicious of Tilly’s new tone of voice. 

“Come sit on the bed instead.” He says, patting the spot next to him. He makes sure not to be flirty about it, just a simple motion, but Isosceles still narrows his eyes and glances away dismissively. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He answers, and yeah, that’s not happening. 

Tilly stands up, running a hand through his hair, and sighs. Iso glances back at him, eyes narrowed at his answering, far too innocent expression, and watches as he then walks up to stand right in front of him. The shorter takes a second to consider the odds of getting kicked out, or beat up, or killed, and then dismisses all of that and leans down to be eye level with the higher being himself. 

He doesn’t really feel like a higher being, though, not when Tilly gently grabs his face in his hands and tilts it up. The wide eye and slowly creeping blush don’t really feel particularly eldritch or scary, either. 

“Hey, Iso.” He echoes, voice now softer and a bit coaxing. “Let’s sit on the bed instead.” 

“Umm.” Is his companions answer, eye attempting to settle on anything else, although Tilly’s made sure to block his view. He doesn’t follow the word up with anything, either, so the shorter just drops his hands from his face and slides them to his arms instead, pulling him up. He drags him over to the bed, and then they’re both sitting across from each other. 

He smiles smugly. That’s much better. 

“So! I got us a game to play.” 

Iso recovers quickly, much to his disappointment, although the blush still staining his skin has yet to fade. “Oh?” 

Tilly nods seriously, reaching under the pillow and pulling out a box. He sets it between them with a flourish, although Iso looks unimpressed. 

“You stole Monopoly?” 

“Is that what it says?” He eyes the box with newfound interest, but the title starts swimming again and he gives up. He shakes his head, getting back on track. “Ta-da!” He announces, opening the box, where an assortment of game pieces are strewn about. 

Iso blinks, and then grins. “That’s not Monopoly.” 

“I should hope not. I just poured a ton of other games into this box, it’s just so boring to stick to one… I even asked one of the workers for recommendations!” He picks up one of the game pieces, a little army man that the worker had explained was part of a game called Risk. He’d liked the sound of that, so he’d swept the little armies into his pockets when the underpaid worker had turned away. It’s not like the partimer would mind, but better if they weren't aware of it so they’d get in less trouble!

Chess pieces, cards, a variety of dice, various little game pieces cover the box, and the numerous game boards nestled inside. Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he managed to fit all of it into one box, but Tilly is very efficient, thank you very much. 

“So, what are the rules?” Iso asks, unceremoniously dumping all of the items onto the bed. Looks like he’s on board, then. 

Tilly laughs, settling into a more comfortable position on the bed. “We both already know the rules, don’t we?” He asks, laying out the very game boards in a seemingly completely random order. 

If he’s not mistaken, Iso’s eye seems to brighten, and he grins right back as he also sets the pieces up in an equally nonsensical order. “Right, we do.” 

-

Thirty minutes in and the game has fives boards (one of which is a piece of paper with badly drawn squiggles, one in a bright, near invisible yellow and another in a glittery purple), at least two decks of regular playing cards, two separate armies of little plastic soldiers, a strange, precarious tower of dice, and stacks of fake cash. There’s a little scoreboard off to the side, and somehow, despite the nonsensical game, the two are tied. 

With bated breath, Tilly reaches over to take another card from one of the piles, Iso smirking at him as he does so. There’s a moment where he believes he’s successfully managed to grab it, when suddenly the carefully stacked tower of dice collapses, falling straight across his lap. 

He blinks for a moment, and then turns accusing eyes onto Isosceles, who looks like he’s about to laugh. “That’s not fair.” He accuses. 

“Eh? You sucking at this?” 

The shorter’s mouth twists into a pout once again. “Cheater.” 

His companion blinks (or is it a wink when it’s only one eye? Hmm, Tilly should ask him some other time) innocently at him. “What did I do? I was nowhere near it.” 

Tilly just groans, swiping the dice off of him and back onto the bed. For good measure, he tosses one straight at Iso’s head, but the man just dodges with barely a twitch to the side. Stupid, annoying, godly reflexes. Just get hit with the dice for his wounded pride, okay? He’s sensitive! 

He forks over a stack of his fake money to Iso, the man neatly adding it to his growing bank with a smug look. Once he’s done paying his horrible, no good, offending taxes, he rolls one of the dice. Hitting a six, he then carefully moves his little piece (a coin, of course, he has a brand) around the board, and begins stacking six dice on top of each other. 

“Hmm, don’t forget I attacked you last turn.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He mutters, surveying the board. “Stop attacking me, I’m weak and fragile and I’ll cry.” 

“Weren’t your words five minutes ago, “Oh, Iso, I hope you cry when I destroy you in the next five moves?” The man taunts, putting on a high pitched and annoying voice. 

Tilly gapes at him in astonishment. “I don’t sound like that.” 

Iso remains silent, amusement speaking louder than his words ever could, and Tilly throws a pillow at him. “I don’t! I don’t! Take it back!” 

He dodges, of course, because Isosceles can never let Tilly do anything. Ugh. 

Now lacking a pillow, and significantly more annoyed, he raises his hands and does a grabbing motion. “Give me your pillow. As tribute.” 

“Deal with the consequences of your own actions, Tills~” Iso singsongs, taking his own turn on the game. He flips a card over, reads it, and then scowls. “How’d you sneak this card into my deck? You can’t even read.” 

“Gimme your pillow and I’ll tell you.” He grins at him, fluttering pleading eyes. 

Ever immune, he laughs, shaking his head. “Your secrets aren’t that important. I’ll figure it out anyways.” He then pats the pillow beside him, mean expression just rubbing it in. 

And yeah, logically, Tilly could just get off the bed and retrieve the one he threw. But that would mean probably losing, because then Iso could change the pieces around, and then he’d have to start over his own process of changing the pieces around. He doesn’t want Iso to win. It might be his birthday, but he’s not a loser. 

Looking at the board now though, it’s looking like that might be the outcome anyways. 

So, of course, he has a solution for both problems. 

“Iso…. you sure ya’ won’t hand over your pillow? Please? For me?” He asks again. 

He’s met with the same amused smile. “Nope.” He says, and then narrows his eyes suspiciously as he registers Tilly’s smug expression. “Hey, don’t–” 

Tilly interrupts him by launching himself across the game board, knocking everything out of the way and colliding straight with the other man. He knocks him back onto the bed, and immediately just lays straight down on top of him. 

Isosceles lays there for a moment, and then responds with an accusing and smug: “This is because I was going to win, wasn’t it.” 

He lays his head down against Iso’s chest, ear right next to his heart. “Hmm, who could say~?” He says, and then just pauses. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. 

It’s not like Tilly has never done this before, anyways, and even though the taller still gets flustered, it’s not as shocking as it once was. 

…He doesn’t say anything about Iso’s heart beating, though. He’d done that before, and he knows now it’ll just cause a protest. 

Instead, what he says is a simple “Happy birthday.” 

“...I don’t celebrate it. I told you.” 

Tilly sits up, grinning down at him. Iso’s face is a bit red, but he looks decently composed (and very cute, but he thinks saying that right now will get him shoved onto the floor). “Does this seem like a celebration? No, no, this is very un-celebration. A non birthday–unbirthday? No, that sounds stupid–Ugh, point is, no celebrations here!” His grin softens, turning into more of a smile.

“So, in a very not celebratory way, happy birthday, Isoceles.” 

[otterandterrierwrites]

wordless ways to say "i love you": 27. leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

for @hanleiahothwars

It was past 2200 when Leia finally got off her shift and headed for the Falcon, hoping she was still on time to catch Han, Chewie and Luke after dinner—and in time for some leftovers, so she wouldn’t have to circle back to the mess hall on her way to bed. She’d told them she might be a little late, but they’d finally received an update on a group of missing operatives, and it’d been over an hour before a rescue mission could be put together for the following day and Leia was finally relieved of duty.

The Falcon’s ramp was down, but inside everything was dim and quiet. Leia still wandered into the main hold, only to have her suspicions confirmed: she was a lot late to dinner. Luke had clearly left, but somebody on the freighter had to be up and about if they hadn’t yet closed the ramp. She was halfway down the corridor to the cockpit when she felt movement behind her—for a fleeting second, she was convinced she could tell it was Han, and her heart skipped a beat.

When she turned around, she found Chewie waving at her. She wasn’t disappointed to see Chewie. She liked Chewie. She was only mildly let down to find out her guess hadn’t been accurate.

‘Hey Chewie,’ she said, tamping down those ridiculous thoughts as she walked back into the main hold. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make dinner. Looks like I missed everyone.’

‘[We were going to wait for you, but Han was summoned to fix a problem with one of the X-Wings going out tomorrow, and Luke has an early shift],’ Chewie explained. ‘[Han asked me to wait a little longer for you.]’

‘I see… Well, I’m glad to have caught you at least,’ Leia said, giving him a smile and touching his arm briefly. ‘But I don’t want to keep you up—it was really kind of you to wait, but texting me would have been fine—it’s on me for being so late.’

Mess hall leftovers it was, then.

‘I’ll see you guys soon, all right?’ she said, starting to walk past him. It had been a long night, and loath as she was to admit it, she’d been looking forward to a couple of hours among friends, sharing in a meal that had been prepared with more than nutritional value in mind.

‘[Princess, wait!]’ Chewie roared behind her. ‘[That’s not all I had to say to you. Have you eaten yet?]’

‘No, but don’t worry about it—I’ll grab something from the kitchens.’

Sometimes there were sandwiches made with the leftovers available for people on the night shifts, although, since they went by an honour code, their availability tended to vary. If she didn’t have such luck, she could always grab a ration pack. Nobody was greedy about those.

Chewie shook his head. ‘[You don’t have to. Han saved you a plate from dinner and left it in the microwave. That’s why I stayed up.]’

‘Oh, really?’ She immediately brightened at the prospect of getting to enjoy Han’s cooking after all; a vast step up from even the least disgusting ration pack and the mess hall sandwiches. Chewie was already crossing over to the corner of the main hold that served as an unofficial galley, and turning on the microwave (on top of which rested the thermapad somewhat precariously—that was the way things were at the Falcon).

‘That’s very thoughtful,’ Leia said. ‘Thank you, Chewie.’

‘[It’s really Han you should thank],’ the Wookiee mentioned, bringing the hot plate to the dejarik table after a couple of minutes. ‘[He made sure we did not eat all of it. Of course Luke and I wanted you to have the leftovers… it’s just that it was hard to remember because it was nerf stew night.]’

‘Of course,’ Leia said, sitting down at the table and breathing in the flavourful steam of the dish, stomach growling in anticipation. She grabbed the fork Chewie had set down for her, but paused for a moment, as her throat grew tight. Yes; she was glad she got to enjoy Han’s food after all. He didn’t always do it in the most obvious ways, and he’d be quick to deny it if told so, but inviting her and Luke for dinner was one way in which he went against script and showed that he cared. And right now, sitting with a plate of steaming homemade food he’d made sure to save for her even though he didn't have to, that was exactly what she felt: cared for.

[skydigiblogs]

Digimon and Disability

Realizing I can't think of any Digidestined characters from any anime that are implied or stated to be physically disabled. Might just be me not remembering right, but idk? I know the series explores a lot of psychological topics, but I just can't really think of a character who deals with a chronic physical condition while the screen is on them.

The reason I'm thinking about this is because I want to design a cane you could imagine seeing in the Digital World (as a person who uses mobility aids, I kind of want to draw my sona with a cane sometimes), and, like... the closest I can think of in terms of a main character with disabilities is Hikari/Kari.

I haven't gotten to the Dark Master arc yet, but I know her getting severely ill was a huge plot point, and it's also heavily implied that she missed out on the first trip to the Digital World because of a cold (which is reasonable, even if you aren't disabled and deal with difficult periods of illness). At the same time, though I know that she gets used as a mouthpiece for the light when she's ill in Machinedramon's city, so??? I'm not sure what to think of that.

I also can't really say if that's backed up in 02 or other sequels because I just don't remember them that well at the moment.

The only other anime character coming to mind with a confirmed disabling condition is Thoma/Thomas's sister in Savers, but what I do remember doesn't instill me with confidence in the treatment of her character as a person with a disability. I'm sure I'll have more to think about in terms of her when I get to that part of Savers.

And the only example of Digimon I can think of are, like, Jijimon and Babamon, and that's only because they have walking sticks they use to whack shit with. Which like... ehhhhh. We'd really be putting the bar on the floor if we counted those two as disability rep, I think.

I also guess that Erika in Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth: Hacker's Memory counts but... I also don't know how to feel about that one as disability rep. Between her, Thoma's sister, and even Kari, their respective illnesses (regardless of how chronic they are) always seem to end up with emotionally constipated older brothers who feel obligated to "protect" their "weaker" sibling.

I at least like Erika as a character, and I do think CS:HM does a little bit more to interrogate what that means for her, but I still have no way of naming what Erika was even sick with in the first place. Wikimon doesn't even have a summary of her symptoms, and from what I recall the jist of her disability was "if I get too stressed, I pass out." Which. I know people who experience that due to things like seizures, but I still can't help feeling a little bit miffed that Ericka really is the closest to disability rep I can think of in the series.

I'd like to see more of us in the series, if only because it would make me feel a bit more welcome in my favorite series.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

binggeyuan modern!AU based on this prompt where shen yuan and luo binghe live in the same apartment building, but have never met each other. SY is more-or-less his regular shut-in self, and keeps very odd hours, which means that he happens to be wide awake the first time LBH gets back to the apartment building at 3 a.m. after some manner of illicit activity and realizes he doesn't have his fucking entrance key. LBH hits one apartment number after another into the intercom, fully prepared to dazzle his way into getting one of them to open the door for him, but the intercom is old, and people come and go from this building often enough that most people don't bother getting it set up, and he's having no luck.

finally, just as he's about to give up and bully his way onto mobei-jun or sha hualing's couch for the night, someone picks up. he doesn't even remember which specific apartment number it was, he was just entering them mechanically. immediately, LBH pulls on his smoothest affect (sure the intercom has no video, only shitty, garbled audio, but that's no reason to let the universe catch you slipping) and prepares to give the sob story performance of his life. before he can even get a single word out, however, there's a crackly, almost indiscernible "Open!" and he hears the click of the entrance door unlocking before the intercom call is ended. he stares at the intercom for a minute, somewhat wrong-footed, but then shakes himself out of it in time to catch the door before it locks again.

SY, for his part, was broken out of a binge-reading spiral by the intercom call, and fully did not realize how late it had gotten. he assumed he had ordered something that was arriving earlier than expected, and kept an ear out for a knock on his front door from the delivery person for a few minutes, but then got sucked back into the target of his current literary criticism.

the next time LBH gets locked out, he starts in the general number range he remembers striking on the last time, and pays closer attention to the numbers this time. he's curious if his little philanthropist will be so accommodating again. SY orders a lot of packages, okay! the one time he didn't pick up the intercom he had to wait an extra three days for his ultra-rare, limited edition merch, which he will not be going through again. this time, though, when the intercom picks up, LBH is prepared. he starts talking immediately, playing up his stress at being locked out, how sorry he is to be a bother, and how much he really, really appreciates it. SY fully blue screens at this unanticipated display of emotions, blurts something out about how it's not problem and of course he's happy to help out a neighbor in need, then hangs up (after unlocking the entrance, of course). it is perhaps fortunate that the intercom has no video, and thus he can not see the look on LBH's face.

LBH gets more and more consistent pushy with his calls, curious how far this little philanthropist will go for him. he knows his apartment number, of course, he could just knock and introduce himself, but he'd rather let him come to him. LBH starts interjecting little questions here and there, trying to glean any information about his mysterious benefactor. SY, meanwhile, is lighting a daily candle for this poor little bun somewhere in his building, who has truly the worst luck in the entire world! who ever heard of a gang of pickpockets stealing someone's keys not once, but twice in the same week!

LBH gets comfortable with the state of things — as ever, too comfortable. nothing good can last forever. one night, after a long and utterly shitty day, for the first time in ages, he loses his key for real. he's tried to avoid reaching out to SY at any time when he's not 100% in control of himself, but there's nothing for it. he punches in the numbers for the unit he knows by heart at this point, and when it picks up, he sighs tiredly, and waits for SY to speak first. after a moment of silence, the call drops, and the door remains locked. LBH is almost shaken entirely out of his malaise. not even a word? he puts SY's apartment number in again, but this time it doesn't even pick up. he stares at the intercom in unpleasant shock for a few minutes, then punches the wall next to it and leaves. he spends the night on mobei-jun's uncomfortably small couch, staring unseeing at the ceiling above him. at least the other man doesn't ask him any questions.

their easy rapport broken, SY starts to worry when he hasn't heard from his unfortunate little neighbor — maybe he's moved out? hopefully to a place with a more accommodating security system... after a full week, his worry ramps up even higher. he wants to believe his neighbor just found a system to keep track of his keys that works for him, but statistically, it seems unlikely. feeling like the most awkward, overstepping idiot on the planet, he scribbles off a few short notes, and sticks one by the the intercom, one by the mailboxes, and one in the laundry room. his neighbor will have to go at least one of those places, certainly?

to my keyless neighbor - hope you're well! i was worried- if you ever need me, you know where to reach me. you weren't a bother- - XX4

the next time LBH stops by the apartment (he's been avoiding it by couch-hopping as much as possible, to the great aggravation of his friends) he carefully avoids looking at the intercom. as such, it's actually sha hualing who spots the note first. (she bullied her way into an invite to make LBH actually go home.) she crows out a harsh laugh, snatching the note off the wall and holding it up dramatically, cackling about "rom-com shit". LBH isn't really paying attention, until he catches a glimpse of the apartment number at the bottom. eyes flashing, he snatches the note out of her hand, and reads it over once, and then again. after a moment, he turns to sha hualing, and tells her to go home, that he's got plans, actually. she gapes at him for a moment, then scoffs and turns on her heel, flipping him off as she goes. whatever! she didn't want to babysit his mopey ass any longer anyway!

LBH spends a few frozen moments running over his options, torn between calling right now just to see if his philanthropist will pick up this time, and giving himself a chance to freshen up, and maybe make a good enough showing for himself that whatever it was that caused him to be ignored before will never happen again. ultimately, he decides on the latter, but rushes through all his preparations as much as he can while maintaining sufficient attention to detail. he wishes he had the materials to make something truly spectacular, but his apartment is showing his absence over the past week. he settles on a meal that just barely feels sufficient, and finds himself more anxious than he can remember being in years at this point, staring at his philanthropist's apartment door, two levels below his.

he raises his fist to knock, tentatively at first, too quiet to hear, and then once more, louder. a muffled voice comes through the door, and a few moments later, it cracks open to reveal a man just a bit shorter than him, with a rumpled shirt that looks like it has just been haphazardly thrown on and hair that might not have been brushed in days. he's... really cute.

LBH and SY just kind of stare at each other, frozen, for a bit, until LBH proffers the food he's brought, and SY's archaic etiquette subroutines kick in, and he invites LBH in before he can even think about. his immediate wince makes it clear he had not meant to do that, but LBH is not above making a situation work to his advantage, and graciously accepts, stepping into the somewhat cluttered apartment before SY can recover from his slip-up. they still have not exchanged names.

ultimately, they get themselves figured out. LBH introduces himself, and SY follows suit. there's a beat of silence as they both realize that this does not actually clear up anything about how they know each other. LBH finds the words to explain his own part in this are slow to come, so he finally just hands the note, neatly folded, to SY. SY's face colors, but he overcomes it to fussily poke at LBH about how worried he was, when the other just disappeared! LBH stops for a second, hearing that, then slowly responds that it was SY who cut him off first. SY gapes at him, then demands to know when he did a thing like that! he set his intercom call sound to caramelldansen and max volume so he'd be sure not to miss it!

LBH gives him the date, and SY flushes again, then looks away, muttering something unflattering about a "qingge". LBH feels a wash of jealousy, that he's misread the situation and SY is already spoken for, but SY goes on to explain that he had been stuck overnight at the hospital - for nothing major! pretty routine actually! - and the friend that was staying with him must have picked up, then hung up when he couldn't figure out who was calling.

LBH sits back, somewhat at a loss. so it... wasn't because SY was tired of him? SY sputters, waving his hands about. absolutely not! he might be slightly forgetful, but binghe is clearly a wonderful young man and it's not like SY has much else going on in his life!

LBH determines to himself then and there that the only way to ensure such a thing does not happen again is to make sure that he is the one staying with SY the next time he's in the hospital.

[little-red-fool]

Can you draw some doodles of true form haarlep? Maybe first meeting Raphael or smth if u want. XD

The real reason Raphael asks Haarlep to take his form.

[deoidesign]

I've been... Busy 👀

Trying to get all 4 arcs from season 1 into books!

(not available for sale, these are print proofs. I'm planning a Kickstarter early next year!)

[doctorwhoarchive]

as someone who absolutely adored Sam/Melissa in Scream 5 while most everyone else was hating on her and her acting, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and can honestly write a whole dissertation on this SO

Melissa was never a bad actress in 5. I’d argue it all comes down to how Sam was written and that she was intentionally a little more stoic. And then, as soon as Melissa had more input on the character and fought to give Sam more complexity in 6, suddenly everyone loved her and was praising her for “getting acing lessons”. Someone doesn’t just improve their acting that much in the few months timespan between when 5 came out and 6 was filmed, she was always that good!

The real reason I’m writing this though is because there’s a certain subtle aspect of Melissa’s acting that I’ve never seen anyone talk about before, but it might just be my favorite thing about her portrayal of Sam. MELISSA’S BODY LANGUAGE ACTING IS INCREDIBLE AND IT’S TIME WE SPEAK ABOUT IT!!

Maybe it’s just the mental illness in me that sees the same things I do in her, but a lot of little things she does/the way she carries herself stick out to me and I love it so much. The way she crosses her arms like she’s closed off whenever something particularly bad or uncomfortable is happening (she does this in shrine scene when Tara catches her talking to Billy, at the police station after Gale is attacked, and in 5 when she begins to tell Tara about finding the diary), the way her leg bounces when she’s nervous/anxious (like when she’s talking to Danny after the ladder scene), the way she fiddles with her hands (like in the scene right after she’s attacked in the hospital in 5), it all really catches my attention and it’s so subtle but perfect.

Melissa’s crushing it as Sam, and was way before everyone finally started appreciating her performance in 6. When I see her do those things I’m like!! I do those exact things too! It may not be a big deal to anybody else and they may not even notice it, but I notice it and absolutely love it and feel seen by it. It just feels like Melissa really put the time, effort, and thought into Sam and her mannerisms to make her a more well-rounded character, and I just think we all need to talk about it more.

[pikkish]

idk if this is a good prompt but put doomguy in myhouse.wad I think he would find it enriching

Right, so I've been mulling on this one for a little bit now, n I'm not opposed to writing something for you, I'm just not... entirely sure what to write? Because the thing is, myhouse.wad doesn't actually really have anything to do with Doom as a story. Sure, Doom is important in that it's the vessel through which the story is told and one of the connections between the narrator and his dead companion. But as far as Doom itself goes, and the story about a man who was too angry/stupid to die, fighting demons and saving earth, none of that is at all relevant to myhouse.wad and its story. For all intents and purposes, Doomguy isn't actually a character in myhouse.wad. So I'm not really sure how exactly to fit him in there.

[ceramicbeetle]

'Changeling,' she thinks about texting, wishing against all reason that it was here for her now. 'I went on a walk and got hit by a car. I came all this way, and did not even get to look through the stupid card packs. How is that fair?'

words: 12,865

[dylan-westwick]

character: James Reed @jamesxreed

location: Weekend Art Market

Having told Theo she was talking with James again, she did feel like he respected the decision for her to tell her ex-boyfriend what had happened at the hospital. Especially since Ida had basically told him already without giving all the details. It made it sound much scarier that way, obviously Dylan wanted to play it down as much as possible even if there had been a moment of fear of the unknown for a brief time. It wasn't like she wanted to fixate it nor did she want James to fixate on it.

Theo was with the twins now though and she felt like this was good practice of her being away knowing she'd be starting back at work sooner now than she'd like to think about. Having invited James to the cute art market, she hadn't realize it would bring up some glimpses of memories of things that they used to do together. She hoped that she hadn't made things ten times more awkward. But Dylan finally found a spot between one row of vendors and a little area where there were some food trucks. She cleared her throat a bit as she looked over towards him. "So, how's work been? Good? Anything exciting happenin'? Hopefully that could top meetin' my mom?" It felt weird to ask him if he had a good Valentine's Day or if he'd even been seeing anyone, so she felt like this was safe territory as far as questions go.

[orkowhereheshouldntbe]

[ID in ALT!]

Orko on a Junior Park Ranger badge. His prize for going to all the national parks!

[zukkaoru]

i dont want to pry but i rly liked your trans yuki headcanons and im rly interested on what other stuff u have to say abt her character/backstory/anything really. im rly a big fan of your fics n i like your hcs n ideas in general and this is one thats sort of stuck with me because of the possibilities it has. anyways have a nice day x) (pls ramble as much as u want im all ears 😭😭)

ahhh thank you so much!! and yes i will galdly talk about my headcanons!!

okay so to me, yuki holds personal choice and her own free will in very high regard. this goes along with the fact that she was supposed to merge with tengen as a spv but ultimately didn't go through with it. as far as i know, it's unclear in canon why she didn't go through with the merger, but i think her own choice to walk away played a major role in it and the higher ups let her do it bc of her technique (and because they're cowards who fear special grade sorcerers but that's another conversation)

in terms of appearance and presentation, i think yuki likes to play around with that sort of stuff. this is why yuki w dark roots/bleached hair is so special to me. i think she gets piercings, and then lets them close up once she's tired of them. i think she gets tattoos, and then maybe gets a few covered up. i think she should get to dye her hair purple and blue and pink and whatever other colors she wants. i think she enjoys buying new clothes and putting outfits together and making herself look how she feels, and her being trans just fits in with that so well. and i think she knew she was trans from a young age, and that solid aspect of her identity was something she could hold onto even as a star plasma vessel who isn't supposed to have a sense of identity, and that was how she knew she wanted to continue living as herself instead of merging with tengen. and along with the clear choices yuki has made concerning her appearance, i also think she doesn't cover up any of the things that are proof she's lived. she doesn't cover up her scars or freckles or moles with makeup. she doesn't shave her arms or legs. because she wasn't supposed to live as long as she has - she was supposed to merge with tengen and lose herself in the process - so everything that is evidence of the life she's lived is a reminder of how far she's come. they're a reminder that she chose to live, and it's a choice she wakes up and makes every day.

i don't think yuki was ever very close to her parents, and she never really had friends at school either. she learned to rely on herself when she was young, so by the time she ended up at jujutsu high, she was already independent. i do, however, think she got along fine with her classmates. but she clashed with the higher ups and most of her teachers quite a bit, and was always labelled as a troublemaker. i also think she had to fight hard to get full acknowledgement as a special grade - a lot harder than gojo and geto, who were basically just given their rankings. i think she had to prove herself several times over before the higher ups finally promoted her to special grade. i also think she was probably the sort of student who would not hesitate to call out the teachers if they were wrong about something, or ask questions that no one else wants to think about the answers to (hence, her going off and doing research on her own after she graduated)

i also think, at some point, she told the higher ups' her intention to study cursed energy and curses and figure out a way to cut off the problem at its source, and they all laughed in her face. i think the higher ups have basically ridiculed/taunted/looked down upon her from the moment she rejected her merger, and there are a lot of rumors spread about her that paint her in a negative light because of it. sometimes, she plays into them just because it gets people to leave her alone. in reality, she can be kind when she wants, but she's also tough and mean and and blunt and doesn't care if she hurts your feelings. she prefers to work alone, but she has a soft spot for people she can see her younger self in - people who are trying to figure out who they are and what their purpose in the world is. i think this is probably why she took in todo and trained him; she saw something in him that reminded her of herself, back when she was desperate for even one other person who understood, and she took on that role of being todo's one person who could understand

anyway this is long already so i'll stop here but. to me, the best yuki is one who shamelessly alive. someone who nearly had her soul taken away from her and now knows how precious it is to be in your own body and make your own choices. she doesn't have time for regret or guilt. she's determined and stubborn. she's powerful, and she isn't afraid to prove it. she's smart, she's strong, she's flawed, and she is herself

[peridots-pixiwolf]

hey guess who is actually and without exaggeration crying over ultrakill

[ourceliumnetwork]

feeling a lot more stable about everything, i decided to forego keeping a bandaid on because my fucking skin cannot take the adhesives for that long omg itches so bad around them

I have a plan in place to replace the bandaids should i require not needing to see my elbow again about it, but i also wanted to see for myself how bad it was.

BOY HOWDY do I bruise purty. That shit is dark where it's not already going greenyellow. looks like I put a sharpie in a chokehold and barely managed to wrangle it into submission like damn.

[survivesqz]

[ varada sethu ] – have you heard about [ ria kahn ]? [ she/her] lives at the qz. i think they’ve lived there for [ three years ]. they’re [ twenty-nine ] yrs old and seem very [ independent ]. i’ve also heard they can be a [ perfectionist ] as well. they’ve been assigned as an [ engineer ]. they often daydream about [ a fresh chai latte ]. i’m curious to know more.

BASICS - 

name: ria kahn  age: twenty-nine birthday: september 15th zodiac sign: virgo (sun) birthplace: chicago, illinois age at outbreak: six years old qz job: engineer parents: priya & amir kahn (both deceased) siblings: three younger siblings positive: independent, intelligent, logical, observant negative: workaholic, perfectionist, headstrong, analytical children: none( yet ?? )

BIO - tw- death, murder, the usual apocalyptic pain and suffering

ria was born first generation american-indian to her immigrant parents in 1994. her parents had immigrated to chicago, illinois in search for 'the american dream', her mother attended college for english literature and her father opened his own restaurant as his way of supporting her mother and three younger siblings

at an early age ria developed a deep interest in science, she was fascinated by space and chemistry specifically and as a young child her parents heavily encouraged this interest of hers.

bonus hc: ria is spiritual and it's incredibly important to ria that her culture is kept alive. this is her main way she has to feel close to her family that she's since lost. though she was young when the outbreak happened her, her best memories are those shared with her family practicing her culture.

outbreak day: it started like any other, but ended in terror and pain. like most people, ria's family weren't prepared for this kind of cataclysmic, world ending event and she'd been too young to have any real control in what happened to her or her family. the city of chicago went down quick, and the surrounding appartments in the city were being evacuated before the bombs went off.

in the commotion of the evac and the implementation of martial law, fedra agents were cruel and ruthless, ria's father had intervened on an altercation between a fedra officer and another family from their apartment building. ria watched the fedra officer execute her father, along with the other family.

fedra's evacuation to st louis qz in missouri had been otherwise successful. her mother and three younger siblings made it to the qz with her.

ria watched from a safe distance in the truck as the city of chicago was destroyed.

ria spent most of her life in the st louis qz, she took on the role of caregiver, it became her responsibility to keep everyone in her family safe.

throughout 'high school' she studied science and engineering

she was always unsatisfied that there was no real way to build skills in combat or gunmanship in the qz and that fedra disempowered people by keeping them reliant on them for safety.

ria started sneaking out of the qz with a few of her friends, they trained together but this also gave ria the chance to work on crafting bombs and putting her science skills to good use. it was dangerous, but worth it. she knew how to protect herself.

st louis qz went down sixteen years after the outbreak. a resistance group took fedra down.

by this time her mother was sick, an unidentified illness which kept her malnourished and weak meant that there was nothing ria could do when the fighting started. she had to leave her mother behind and two of her siblings were missing.

in the years following the disabandonment of the st louis qz, she was travelling and surviving with her sibling and a few friends in a small group. (she was separated from her group before ending up in pittsburgh)

ria has since been at the pittsburgh qz now for three years, where given her experience in the field of science she's been assigned as an engineer.

she's incredibly cautious and suspicious of fedra, but for now living in a qz is safer than the 'outside' world right now.

ria's favourite weapon are her own bombs that she crafts from supplies, she uses her vast knowledge of chemistry to work on creating deadly and efficient bombs to work on both infected (and people). if she had to pick any other kind of weapon, she prefers a revolver.

ria spends a lot of time in the alley, trading the smugglers for chemicals and explosives

wanted connections:

past group members any of her siblings gimme anything preestablished!!