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mangomonk · 1 year ago

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if you could see me in the mirror

↳ summary: astarion loves riling up tav to see all her expressions, but to his mingled relief and chagrin, she never quite seems to notice his. (alternatively, astarion helps tav in a roundabout way, for the sake of his entertainment, he says.) ↳ content: mentions of blood, astarion is a little mean and very emotionally repressed ↳ a/n: surprise i'm also writing for bg3 now! i've given in to the BG3 brain rot, here is a scene of astarion and my tav that's been floating around in my mind. i haven't finished my playthrough yet and i'm lowkey making up monk lore as i go along because i can't find much online, but in this oneshot, monks wear robes and have the runes of their temple's values as body art (inspired by the tattoo options in the game) when they go to fancy schmancy events.

Astarion had an idea of what to expect as he hovered outside her door, seeking his next target for entertainment. He had first attempted Wyll and Karlach, but the heart eyes they were making at each other had been a disgusting enough signal for him to leave. Gale, expectedly, had gone off about his plans for Sorcerous Sundries for a tedious stretch of time and Shadowheart had been no fun until she had mentioned that Xuan had asked her for help getting ready for the coronation.

And that was how he had ended up outside the door to her room in the inn. He could nearly imagine her now. He had seen ceremonial robes before to know that they were boringly cut and modest to a fault — likely even more boringly cut and modest, in his opinion, given that they would be monk robes — but somehow he felt a twinge of anticipation linger in his stomach as he raised his hand to knock on her door. Maybe she’d have her hair freed from that dreadful braid — the thought made his anticipation heighten. And then it made him pause, half-bewildered, half-mortified by his excitement. Gods, I’m starting to lose it. Perhaps he would need to do some serious self reflecting after this. No, he was just bored, he reasoned, frowning, just as the door swung open.

“Shadowheart! Can you—” Xuan stopped abruptly, expression more frantic than he’s ever seen before scrunching in confusion at the sight of him. “Astarion?”

He was half correct in his expectations — her hair was freed from that dreadful braid. Only it hung in wild and uneven inky waves down her shoulders, half-curls sticking out at unruly angles. Some of them looked like right angles, he observed dimly in shock, likely an artifact of being in a braid for too long. That wasn’t the most shocking part, though it rendered him speechless enough.

Smeared across the left side of her cheek and neck were smudges of red. For a moment, panic flitted in him from its likeness to blood. Was she injured? And then another thought — had another vampire fed on her? He didn’t know which thought it was that made his stomach twist. But then upon second glance, he could see that it was too dull to be blood — paint.

“Gods, what happened to you?”

Despite the flicker of embarrassment that flashed across her face — and her entire appearance — Xuan did an admirable job at straightening indignantly, though he could see she was holding on tightly to any remaining scraps of dignity as she puffed her chest out like a proud bird.

“I’m getting ready,” she said simply.

“I would never have been able to tell, darling,” he observed, gloating to himself as he watched her bristle. This could be fun, he thought, his gaze falling to another smudge of paint that had smeared towards her jawline. Before she could protest, he stepped past her into her room.

“If you’re here just to make fun of me, let’s save both of us the energy.”

“I’m not here just to make fun of you. I’m here to make fun of you and help,” he said, taking a glance around her room. It was sparsely decorated, just as he had expected. Boring.

“Help,” she echoed, in clear disbelief.

Astarion cleared his throat, throwing her a glance over his shoulder as he stepped up to the table where she had laid out a small tub of red paint. “Less of help you, and more of help me,” he corrected easily. “What would the others think of me if our sweet little leader looks as though she’s just come from battle to the coronation?”

Through the mirror, he could see her scowl at him. “Perhaps they would think twice to cross us,” she said mulishly.

“Yes, I imagine they’ll frighten at the sight of your hair. Maybe take some psychic damage,” Astarion waved her off dismissively, biting back a grin at her clear displeasure. “Sit,” he said, arching a brow at her challengingly. For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but to his surprise, her scowl faltered and she trudged over dutifully to the chair, her demeanor not unlike one of a prisoner being led to the gallows. He bit back another grin, before it slackened into incredulity at the sight of her red-stained fingers. “Did you try to do this with your hands ? I know you prefer unarmed strikes, but darling, that doesn't have to apply for makeup.”

To her credit, Xuan looked embarrassed, her expression turned as meek as he thought he’d ever see it. “I�� You know—” she started, her golden gaze flitting away from him. A part of him reveled a little in her sheepish expression — it wasn’t often he had ever seen the stoic-faced monk abashed.

During their travels he had seen her face pale close to death, her tired triumphant grin while covered in the blood of others, the grimly determined set to her brow as she set foot in the goblin camp, her unimpressed and irritated scowl when he crossed the line, her faint laugh lines with Wyll and Karlach by the campfire. Though most of his attempts at propositioning her or irritating her mostly rolled off her shoulders, the occasional glare from her always stirred up a sense of satisfaction and something else within him. He liked to think that her general lack of reaction to his seduction and flirtation was her monk discipline, rather than a signal to her level of attraction to him because he could always feel her shuddering in his hands before he's about to feed, her eyes blown wide and dark. And because Astarion was too proud — and he would never admit it, but insecure — that to think otherwise would be nearly unbearable.

Astarion had discovered during their travels that for a stolid monk, she had a wide and entertaining range of expressions. But this meek expression was new. He tucked the image carefully into the back of his mind as he watched her fumble for a moment longer before admitting quietly, “I thought it would be easier than a brush.”

Ah , he thought dumbly. That was right, she still wasn’t comfortable with the brush. He ignored the twinge of guilt — what did he have to feel guilty for? He was already lending a hand more than he normally would have. And if anything, it should have been the wizard trying to teach her how to read and write that should feel guilty. He had seen the small sessions the two held in Gale’s tent in the later hours of the evening after dinner. Astarion was sure Gale was going at a rate too fast for the illiterate monk to keep up with. He could almost bet his newfound freedom that Gale launched right into trying to have her read some ancient spell scripture. If it had been him teaching her, he surely would’ve started with getting familiar with holding a brush properly. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Right, well, if you tell me the runes, I’ll paint them for you,” he said finally after a moment, unable to think of any worthy gibe.

“May I?” She put her hand out. Without really thinking, he nodded. His first mistake. Or maybe his first mistake had been seeking her out in the first place. Though he would never have been able to pinpoint it directly, there had been a reason he had sought out the entertainment of the others first.

“Vitality, sincerity, and compassion,” she recited automatically, straightening. Before he could even sneer at her words, his contempt faltered as she grabbed his wrist gently to flip his hand over. “They look like this,” she said, with enough earnest pride that would have made his sneer deepen had he not been so caught off guard by her fingers around his wrist and hand as she began to trace out the rune along his palm. The ghost of her finger against his palm made his skin itch. Very suddenly, Astarion was swept with the overwhelming urge to flee.

“I know what they look like,” he blurted harshly, resisting the urge to snatch back his hand. Or to wrap it around hers.

“Oh, right of course,” she said, looking embarrassed again as she withdrew her hand. “I wasn’t sure if there might be ancient runes and modern ones or…”

It very well might have been in ancient runes, he realized, inwardly wishing he had actually paid attention to the character she had been tracing. No matter, he told himself as he turned away from her gaze. Knowing monks and their ridiculous fixation on tradition and discipline, they were probably in ancient runes. Astarion picked up the damp cloth on the table and re-wet it into the small tub of water. The water was already stained pink, and her cheek looked as though she had just begun to rub vigorously at it.

“Right, well, I’ll get to it,” he announced to the air as he brought the damp cloth across her cheek, focusing his attention on the droplet that began to slide towards her jaw rather than the unabashed way she was watching him. There was no reason for him to be flustered, but he could feel an unwanted bundle of nerves growing in his stomach. Irritably, he slipped his hand below her chin to tilt her head back, half to get a better angle, half to see her reaction. He was sure it wasn’t the leftover paint that made her cheeks redden. Feeling right-footed again, he smirked down at her, before using the dry end of the cloth to absorb any remaining droplets against her skin.

He lifted the brush and began on the first rune. At the feeling of the brush against her skin — or perhaps, she realized staring at him openly was awkward at best — her eyes fluttered shut as she sat still in the chair.

Despite the warning bells in his mind, Astarion took the moment to study her face carefully. Her brows were strong, perhaps too strong for her face, but relaxed, rather than furrowed as he normally saw them, they gave her a younger expression. Her lashes were long, but devastatingly straight, a stark contrast to the curl that had fallen against her temple. It’s the damn braid , he thought, not for the first time that day. Her nose was also boringly unassuming, neither fit for her face nor not fit her face. A scar from their battle at the goblin camp had healed to be a thin, white line atop the bridge of her nose, faint against the tan of her skin. His gaze dropped lower. Her lower lip was fuller than her top, a soft pink that mirrored a familiar hue that he couldn’t quite place. He stared at them for a moment longer — in an attempt to try to remember where he had seen the color before.

All in all, her features separately were rather unremarkable, he decided. Nondescript, even. So why was it, that when her disastrously boring features were put together, she looked so—

“Astarion?”

Her uncertain voice snapped him out of his musings as he tore his gaze away from her lips — he had still been trying to place the color — only to see that her eyes were open now, her too-strong brows furrowing slightly.

“Did you forget the rune?”

He blinked at her, and then the half-finished rune on her cheek. Right. He was painting it on her cheek.

He swallowed the unsettling feeling that he had never properly looked at her before. “No,” he sniffed indignantly. “I was just considering the placement. To add some life to your rather dull face.” He added, rather unnecessarily.

Perhaps because the bite was only half there, the insult seemed to roll off of her effortlessly. “Traditionally, it’s supposed to stretch down to my collar,” she said, pulling back the ink of her hair and twisting it across her other shoulder to reveal her neck.

Astarion stared at the nape of her neck blankly for a moment before recovering, drawing himself into a carefully neutral expression. It must have been because he was a vampire spawn that something in him stirred at the sight of the long column of her neck. Yes, that was why. Though his fangs didn’t even ache with hunger, and rather, the ache seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Ah, my favorite part of your body. Or one of my many favorites, beautiful,” he drawled, though his voice came out more forced than seductive.

“You just said my face was dull,” she grumbled under her breath. If he didn't know better, he would have said she looked miffed. But Astarion knew that his words never had any effect on her.

“Yes, but your body? Riveting,” he said easily. “Whatever training the temples had you doing was good .” He drew out the last word, giving her a cursory once over.

Xuan snorted good-naturedly, but maybe it was because of their proximity, that he could see the way her face crumple briefly, the corners of her lips twitching into the slightest of frowns, before her gaze darted away from his. Astarion suddenly felt the ridiculous urge to take back his words. Maybe even apologize. Instead, he ran his tongue over the point of his fang. “Sincerity, was it?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded and he dipped the brush back into the red paint. He stepped closer, half in the bracket of her legs and bent at the waist so that they were eye to eye. To get a better view of where he was going to be painting, of course. He slipped his free hand into her disastrous waves to cradle the back of her head, tilting it back to allow better access to her neck. At the familiar motion, a flash of an image of him biting her neck one of those many nights flickered distractingly across his mind. She must have had the same thought, because she stiffened in his hands briefly, before relaxing wonderfully.

Silly girl, he wanted to shout. Didn't she now it was dumb and naive for letting your guard down around a vampire? He wanted to take her by the shoulders and give her a good shake and scold to put some sense into her. But he didn’t. Because this was exactly what he had wanted — a shield for himself with her guard down so that he could easily manipulate. Somehow though, he didn’t quite feel the triumph he thought he would.

Astarion swallowed thickly and carefully painted the next ruin right below her jaw, ignoring how the strokes on this ruin came out shakier than the previous. “Compassion is next?” The question came out somewhat strained.

She hummed in confirmation. His vision narrowed to the slope of her neck as he watched her throat bob. This one was to go at the nape of her neck. At the touch of the brush, she shivered a little in his hands. Normally, Astarion would have felt a sense of smug satisfaction at the sight, but this time he nearly dropped the brush. He took a shuddering breath he didn’t need and quickly, hastily, finished painting the ruin.

“Done,” he said, taking a quick step back. “That’ll be 200 gold for my artwork.”

She laughed, which did little to still the trembling feeling he still had in his hands. She turned to the mirror to inspect his work, her expression softening. “I haven’t had these ruins on me in ages. It reminds me of home,” she sighed, her voice tinged with awe and warmth. Her eyes were bright and pleased as a flicker of nostalgia flashed across her face. “Thank you, Astarion.” Though the fondness was clearly for the sight of the ruins, he felt a little cracked open. Flayed raw.

Astarion was, perhaps for the first time in two centuries, suddenly very glad that he had no reflection in the mirror that she could see as he watched her fond expression — he was very sure that his would give him away. It was always to his mingled relief and chagrin that she never seemed to notice his expression when he looked at her.

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x original female character #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 oc

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yagirlreach · 6 days ago

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So... I am not an artist. I don't draw. My strength has always been in painting through words and telling stories on a page. This is my first genuine, serious attempt at drawn/digital art. I have nothing but a mouse and keyboard and MS Paint. I'm actually quite proud of this.

He's a HECCIN' CHONKY BOI

#pokemon #pokemon art #pokemon fanart #bulbasaur

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claypigeonpottery · 1 year ago

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Heyyyyy~ I'm just... So in love with all the work you do, they're all so precious and beautiful I'm in tears. Thank you so for what you do, can't wait to buy something you made soon :D

If it's okei, can you please tell the story of how you got into this and how did you progress from being babie artist to now growing artist and how long you've been doing this for? What's your top 3 fav works you've done? Did you eat good food today, if not please dooo. Thenks

thank you! that's very sweet x3 I'm excited to get more stuff fired and up on Etsy, hopefully before the end of June

choose three favourites of my work? oh, that is a difficult question.

one thing I really didn't like about my art when I was younger was that it was all very static. it was people sitting or standing, it was still life paintings. one of the things I'm really proud of in my work now is the sense of capturing a moment instead of someone posing, and/or giving a sense of movement

these two are just the opposite of static and I love them for that

and then there's this mug. the design is great, the details are great and I had so much fun carving it. it was honestly just delightful and I wish I'd kept it. I don't say that very often.

all sold

I'm putting the rest of this under a cut because I'm going to ramble

I started drawing because I was making silly comics about me and my friends in grade school and through high school (I assigned them all fursonas because I was a really cool 15 year old lol)

I got a little more serious about art in high school, but I never thought it'd be something I'd make money at.

when I was... in my early twenties? maybe 19 still? ah, memory issues, I went through a nine month art program, the 'Urban Canvas' project run by SCYAP (saskatoon community youth arts programming). the program is meant to support young artists, especially those with mental health or addiction issues. and it meant I got paid to draw and paint and create weird shit for 40 hours a week, for nine months. and then some (seven? eight?) years later I got to go through the program again which... honestly I'm so grateful I got to do that. (and SCYAP still supports me, they give me a table at their craft show every year and helped me with my first solo gallery show)

these are some of the pieces I made during my time at SCYAP:

and two very rare pictures of me, posing with two of my master studies. the left from when I was 20ish, and the right when I was... 27ish? (man I'm still proud of that Gentileschi copy)

it was after SCYAP when I started thinking that I could actually make money as an artist. so I painted more than a dozen murals, drew a 20-some page full colour comic, painted pet portraits, and sold my own paintings. commissions were more reliable than selling my own work for a long time lol

as for how I got into pottery, my mental health uh... haha. it took a nosedive about six years ago and during some of the worst of it, I was severely agoraphobic. my mom, who has always supported my art, offered to take me to pottery classes with her, in an attempt to get me leaving the house at least once a week. it did help (along with a lot of other things) and once I started exploring the surface decoration side of pottery, things really clicked for me

tangent: one of the things that really drove me to progress as an artist was having something driving my work. whether it was preparing for a gallery show or making a bunch of holiday cards or making piles of fan art because I was obsessed. every time I made something, anything, I improved. so when I had a goal that made me create more, I improved faster.

my unsolicited advice: make that weird fan art. it's good for your art. (I was really into tf2 lol)

I've tried tons of different mediums and I think it was a great way to help my style evolve.

when you're making art with a new medium, it might take awhile before you're making your own personal work. I, at least, find that I usually have to do some studies of other peoples' art and just try some basic creations before I do anything more personal. but once I'm ready to do MY stuff, I have a new repertoire to pull from. I wouldn't be the potter I am if I didn't have the experiences I got from other mediums

like acrylics (I did a lot of self portraits >.>)

paper flower making

watercolour

collage

cake decorating

(also oil paints, pastels, 3D wire art, crochet, linocut, stone carving, sewing, set painting and quilting. also my spouse and I like to make crafts together, like cutting-construction-paper, gluing-pompoms-and-googly-eyes crafts, because it's just fun to make stuff together)

I'm sure pottery isn't the last medium I'm gonna try. I'll probably get obsessed with carving tiny wooden figurines or making wax sculptures at some point. who knows!

and now I'm in my mid-thirties, making art pretty much every day. I've been doing this since I was a teenager, so almost twenty years now.

I never imagined I'd be satisfied with my own art, that I could look at most of my pieces and not see how I could have done it better, but hey, here I am.

wow that was rambly. the ADHD really comes out when I'm writing lol. and I did eat real food today! before having some freezies

thanks so much for your ask, hopefully I satisfied your curiosity

#art #ask #asks

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historicalpixelpeople · 1 month ago

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Fall 1894

Author's Note: TW - mention of colonialism, boarding schools.

Fall 1894- Edmund Stallings

At first, Edmund struggled to get along with Nivi Kipp. Making friends was always difficult Where Kellan was warm and affectionate, Nivi had a sharp wit and intense personality that caught him off guard. She was confident when she spoke and she spoke often, sometimes competing with him. Edmund often fumbled with his attempts to bond with her. One night, feeling emboldened by the amount of alcohol he had drank, he decided to try and ask a question he had always wondered.

"What was your school like growing up?" He asked. "My sister and I went to school together and I hated it, which is weird because now - "

"I was forced to go to a boarding school," Nivi cut him off, her tone suddenly serious. "It was not the same experience you had but school was difficult for other reasons. I was told to forget my home and who I was. I was only a good person if I looked and acted like you. I learned your history, not mine. It is hard to want to be a good student when it means forgetting yourself."

Edmund couldn't think of words big enough to fix everything. "I'm sorry," Edmund said.

Nivi nodded, took a few deep breaths, and ordered another drink for herself. She frowned as he sat there awkwardly across from her, waiting for her to speak.

“I know you didn’t personally do it, sometimes I forget that not everyone that looks like you thinks the same way. ” She held up her hand as Edmund began apologizing again. She continued, “Sometimes I find myself wishing that everyone was as kind as you or Kellan. I wish that I didn't have to go to boarding school and that I could be as proud of my ancestors and practices my traditions. I wish that others would treat me with respect. I know I deserve it but I know that no one will give it to me here. I am at college because I am "civilized" enough, which just means that I look more like you. However, I am not treated that way no matter how I act or dress. It is not fair."

Edmund could not find the words to express his sorrows or how to make her feel better, so they finished the night in silence.

After their evening ended and Edmund went home, he stayed up all night doing hours of research in his newspapers and books about the schools Nivi attended. He read about current policies and old treaties with different nations, making notes about what to ask Nivi about.

The next week, Edmund felt more comfortable addressing the topic again but hopefully with more tact.

asking more specific questions for Nivi to answer. Without questioning his intentions, she explained all she could to him and he listened to the stories and traditions she knew. Each word painted a vivid picture, a world he had never truly known but wanted desperately to understand more about.

"Why the sudden interest, Stallings?" She asked him after a few nights of him asking.

"You know how I am. Always eager to learn," he said as he ordered another drink for her.

Nivi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced at his words.

"Okay, that's not the only reason. Recently, I have felt...lost in the world of politics and while it sounds selfish, learning more about these treaties and policies makes me more determined to do some good in the world. It has given me a purpose, something to stand for. Not that I'm using you or anything, just...you inspire me?" Edmund said, passing her the drink.

Nivi glared at him. "Stallings, I appreciate the sentiment, but-"

"God, no! I mean, uh, you're a very nice person, Nivi but you're not...someone I'm interested in. I see you as a sister.," Edmund said, cutting her off. His face felt like it had been burnt by a hundred suns.

Nivi nodded, seeming relieved.

"You are more interested in Kellan," Nivi teased, causing Edmund to choke on his drink. She did not bother to help him as he coughed for a few minutes, trying to regain the ability to breathe.

After he had finished coughing, he stared at her, flabbergasted.

"Kellan, I mean, uh..."

"You are not as subtle as you think you are. That and Kellan told me," Nivi said. She smirked at him as he felt more and more uncomfortable.

Now he felt like he was being burnt by 1,000 suns as he took another sip. Edmund desperately hoped he was able to mask his panic from anyone nearby.

Edmund coughed again, this time from a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "Kellan talks too much," he mumbled, trying to regain his composure while avoiding her gaze.

"You are simply not good at hiding it, Stallings."

"Well, I'll take your advice on that later, but that wasn't the point. You have given me a new purpose and I want to help in any way that I can. But I need your help, I am limited in knowledge and I am sure that without any guidance I will offend more people. You could help me bridge that gap and in that way, you guys can use me as an ally. I won't do anything the people do not want or say anything without it coming from you."

Nivi considered his words, her face scrunching. "I guess that could work..."

"Think about it. Nivi, you are more intelligent than me, you can argue circles around me. But, I can legally access these spaces. We need both to make this work so working together is the best option," Edmund said. His excitement was hard to contain as he imagined finally being able to offer something good to the world.

"This is a big responsibility, Stallings. You need to be genuinely committed to this," Nivi said.

"I am! I want to learn and understand everything. I want to be an advocate for you and others. Nivi, I can't....I can't advocate for myself, the world isn't ready for that, however I can for you. There are other people trying to do something like this, I promise you I will try everything I can," Edmund said.

"And if I feel like you are overstepping or being a bad representative?"

"I give you full permission to yell at me and fire me from the role. Please, Nivi."

Nivi stared him down. "I’ve seen too many people come in claiming to help, only to cause more harm than good."

"I understand that...just give me a chance. I know you want change and I do too. We can start small," Edmund begged. He felt desperate, almost seconds away from getting on his hands and knees and pleading with her.

"Since you are so determined, I will agree to starting small. If you handle it well enough, I will consider re-evaluating this agreement," Nivi said.

Edmund expressed his gratitude for the remainder of their time at the bar. He covered the cost of her drinks, a gesture of appreciation. As he settled back in his bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, a wave of relief washed over him. For the first time in a while, the future felt bright and filled with possibilities, a stark contrast to the loneliness and aimlessness he had been feeling for a while.

#the stallings #the stallings family #sims 4 decades challenge #edmund stallings #ts4 1890s #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades #Nivi Kipp

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lcs69 · 1 year ago

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Finished drawing Kevin, RK800-65 from Kink Garden AU. The one when post pieceful revolution ended with a bunch of spare 8 bodies and 51 decided to make them all into real android bois. My first serious attempt at color painting, that took a lot of attempts and grayscale studies. I'm proud of myself.

#lcs_draws #rk800 #detroit become human #dbh oc #dbh #dbh connor #kink garden au #you can ignore everything and think of this as a straight Connor fanart

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Foreigner's God | m.m

Previous Chapter ° Series Masterlist

Chapter Forty-Six: Human

Summary: The court of public opinion is a cruel thing. The press would rather paint her as the villain than the villain itself, but there is no going back now that the Hydra files are out there. She thinks the plea and preliminary hearing are going to be the hardest challenge, but someone comes the way that proves to her that the worst is far from over and Viktor Volkov is the least of her worries.

Warnings: ANGST, SMUT (oral f!receiving, fingering), Multiverse, Doctor Strange Spoilers, bad lawyer talk

A/n: I'm so sorry for the long hiatus, my life is a huge mess right now. This has been sitting in my drafts for two weeks, but I didn't get around to posting it until now. I'm trying my best to finish all my requests, but I'm lacking time and inspiration, so it's gonna take a couple more days until those are finished! As I said, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while because it's been done for a while. I was actually excited about this chapter because I've had the idea of this introduction for quite a bit, and the character that appears here will play a crucial part in how I portray Season 2. I mean, we're already in it, might as well roll with it. Timeline and canon be fucked, I'm gonna do this my way.

Breaking news:

The FBI just announced in an official press conference that they arrested a man named Viktor Volkov who is suspected of leading a sub-group of the terrorist organization Hydra. They first made headlines again in 2014 when it was revealed that Hydra infiltrated SHIELD and burned the organization from the inside out. It was reported that Hydra fell with the destruction of SHIELD. All parties responsible were arrested. He is facing serious murder, espionage, and illegal human experiment charges, among other things.

“Are you sure about this?”

The night was cold and dark, the lights of the city hidden behind the brick wall as they stood over the empty barrel on the roof of Matt Murdock’s apartment.

She grabbed the cardboard box off the ground and flipped it over the barrel, emptying the contents into the abyss. It thudded against the metal. Following the cardboard was a pile of leather clothing. The face mask stayed behind, but the suit and the matching gloves landed with the rest of her belongings on the floor of the barrel.

“Yeah,” she said, taking the bottle of gasoline from his hand, “I’m sure.”

Eliza poured the fluid over everything she had once owned in another life and dropped the lit match into the barrel. Her belongings caught fire, lighting up the night with bright orange flames and a ghastly smell of burned leather and paper.

Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she stared into the flames and he felt the heat on his cold face. “I’m proud of you,” he said.

She ignored his words, leaning into his shoulder in an attempt to escape. Her body filled with dread; it caused her pain. Setting her life on fire had been easy, but she knew that the new life she had was in danger of burning alive, too.

“Things are only going to get worse from here on,” she voiced her horrible thoughts, and it still wasn’t enough.

He squeezed her hip. “I know, but we’re going to stand through it together.”

“You and me against the world?”

“You and me against the world,” he said, pairing his words with a gentle kiss to her temple.

The explosion at the apartment complex of the infamous Avenger Eliza Bennett who long went by the alias The Red Angel was Hydra’s doing, as we have just been told, and all of the crimes she was accused of a couple of weeks ago were actually executed by the men answering to the suspect Viktor Volkov.

In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet. She watched the news and everything around her went dead silent. The storm was heading straight for her, but there was no sound, only the faint beating of her heart reminding her that she was still alive.

The phone on Karen’s desk was put on speaker and the voice that sounded from the other end was welcome, but it didn’t break the silence. It didn’t break the silence in her head, the emptiness in her chest, or the looming fear that came in the form of a hurricane.

“I’m trying my best to control the damage the publication of that file caused,” Tony spoke from the other end of the line. “I usually cause the damage myself and then find a way to pay myself out of it, but fuck, Nick Fury, that asshole, made it ten times harder for me.”

“I made that choice,” Eliza said, and she was surprised at how stable her own voice sounded.

“I know, kid, and I understand why you did it, but I can’t fix this with money.”

“I know you can’t. I never asked you to.”

“Let me do this for you. I’m going to try my hardest to somehow get the press to shut up. Public court of opinion can fuck with this whole case. Am I right, lawyer brigade? The front line not looking so peachy there, huh?”

We just got word that a huge pile of legal files has been published, laying the crimes of Hydra open and accessible to the public. The base also known as the White Room has been destroyed and the leader Viktor Volkov has been officially charged by the District Attorney.

Matt stood with his hands on his hips, Foggy leaning against the door to his office with the file, and Karen, sympathetic as she was, stood next to the phone with her eyes on Eliza. She was the only one who looked at her. She felt her gaze burning through her skin and she wanted the pity to stop. The world already knew what happened, who she was, and what Viktor had done; Karen wasn’t supposed to treat her differently just because she was a victim, but humans can’t help but show pity when another person has suffered. It is a natural response and she had a whole collection of those.

Adding to Tony’s voice, Happy appeared and it made her nauseous. “It’s bad enough she has to testify,” he prompted.

“The press is doing everything to get details on this case, and most of them are more than willing to destroy Eliza in the process,” said Karen, “because they want to be right about mutants. They want to be right in labeling you as a monster.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Matt said, his voice determined and his hand reached out as he gestured, “Stark will continue doing damage control while we focus on the legal aspects, but no one is giving up.”

Tony hummed, “I like him.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” He pressed the hang-up button.

Foggy glared at him. “Dude!”

“He was pissing me off,” he said.

“He didn’t do anything,” he retorted.

“He was breathing, that’s enough.”

The stakes were high, they were all on edge, but they still somehow managed to work together, even with their differences in mind. However, Eliza was nowhere near mentally present for any of it. She went along, but she only felt numb no matter what she did, and Matt’s gentle loving didn’t manage to pull her out of the dark hole she had fallen into, not this time.

Just in: Hydra files reveal not only the crimes of the newly apprehended Russian spy Viktor Volkov, but they also reveal the many crimes the Avenger Eliza Bennett committed in the name of the said terrorist organization. They go beyond what the former Hydra operative was pardoned for seven years ago. Though reports from the DA’s office state that she has been granted immunity in exchange for her testimony to put Viktor Volkov behind bars. So far, only the FBI and NYPD have gotten involved, but the Department of Damage Control will soon follow.

She needed to forget. The reports only got worse the closer the court date came. The plea hearing didn’t include her, but she would be there, she wanted to be there. Her testimony would only first come important at the preliminary hearing if Viktor truly plead not guilty, and then it was on the prosecution to prove that a trial was absolutely necessary. And after that, the decision, if he went to prison, was on the jury and the jury alone.

Her mind was so full all the time, full of information, full of tasks, full of demands, and she started to lose the air in her lungs. The weight was pushing her underwater and slowly suffocating her from the inside out. Her legs were flapping and she tried to swim to the surface, but the weight kept on dragging her down.

They were laying next to each other in bed. His lips ghosted gentle kisses over her neck and collarbone, a way to distract her from the noise only he could hear, but she could feel it. She could feel everything deep in her bones and it was too much to handle.

His nose brushed over the sensitive spot behind her ear. “You’re not okay, are you?” he asked.

There was no use denying it. She shook her head, tilting her head to find his lips. Her hand tangled in his hair, and she did something she had never done before. She was afraid of asking what she wanted, but this was a necessity. She needed to forget.

She pushed his head, hoping he would get the hint. His lips slipped from hers and toward her breasts. Nope, he didn’t get that. And he knew better than to tease her. Sometimes, he needed a second to understand, especially so late at night.

She pushed a little harder. “Can you just-” she swallowed.

“Eat you out?”

She nodded again. “Like after our date, please.”

It had rendered her mindless then, it would surely work now.

She guided his head down until he reached the hem of her panties. She was wearing nothing but his t-shirt. He didn’t waste time peeling her underwear off. Instead, he shoved it aside and flattened his tongue over her folds.

“Guide me,” he said, “show me how you want it and I’ll give it to you.”

On command, she started rocking her hips against his face. He greedily lapped at her folds, pushing his tongue into her hole and relishing in the way she tasted. With every thrust of her hips, his nose bumped against her clit, and he could smell her now, too. She sent his senses into overdrive and his eyes rolled back as he moaned; she was using him and it was delicious in more ways than one.

Her back arched, letting out the tiniest of whimpers as her hands fisted the sheets. She forced his mouth closer, a little higher until his lips hovered over her clit and he took it as a sign to suck the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

Through a strangled moan, she reached for his arm that lazily rested over her lower stomach, stroking his hand over the skin at the same time he licked and sucked at her slick core.

He hummed in confusion when she practically shoved his hand away. “Fingers,” she stated.

“As you wish,” he purred against her cunt. He covered his middle and index finger in her arousal and shoved them in slowly. She took him almost greedily, grinding on his mouth and forcing him deeper. He only had to curl up ever so slightly to hit the spongy spot inside of her that felt just right.

“Shit,” it was the first curse that came out of her mouth that night and he felt the rough tone of her voice creeping up his spine and into his reddened ears.

The hand that had fisted the sheets moved to the pillow above her head, her back arching dangerously high as the pleasure inside of her abdomen did the same, climbing higher and higher and higher until she stumbled toward the edge of the cliff of absolute euphoria.

Not a single thought was left in her mind, only Matt and his mouth and the orgasm that chased after her. She chose not to run, she chose to submit. She chose to let herself stumble, tumble and then fall.

She came crying out for him, holding onto his hair and the pillow for dear life as the pleasure wrecked her entire body. The white-hot pleasure tore right through her, turning red and her vision black. Her eyes rolled back, thighs shaking next to his head and keeping him locked against her, and he licked up all the cum she gave him. He was starving and she was what he needed to eat.

Her entire body quivered. If it was her state of mind or his mouth that made the orgasm so much more intense, she wasn’t sure, but the relief and the now missing weight on her shoulders allowed her to break the surface and breathe fresh air.

Matt gently pried her thighs from his head. Her knuckles cracked. She was still holding onto the pillow, her eyes screwed shut. He chuckled, making his way up the length of her.

“You okay?” he asked.

She whimpered.

“Not quite there yet, huh?”

She managed to shake her head a little. The aftershocks were nothing like what she usually experienced and only after a few minutes did she manage to loosen her grip on the silk. Her legs shut and she curled into a ball on her side.

His hand gently guided her head to his chest and she latched onto him like a koala. “You’ve never been this spaced out before. You okay?”

“I’ve never-” she shivered. “So intense.”

“It’s okay, you were wound up. Orgasms can feel like explosions when you’ve been stressed for a while.”

“Did I soak the sheets again?”

“Small price to pay,” he said.

She took his hand and intertwined their fingers over his heart. “Stay with me?” she said.

He kissed the top of her head, “Where else would I stay?”

Eliza Bennett has blood on her hands! As we found out earlier, it isn’t even her real name. She is Russian and always will be. She killed in the name of a terrorist organization, stole government secrets, and killed innocent people. Her mutant powers may stem from human experimentation, but that only makes her so much more dangerous. We saw what she could do in the video clip released four weeks ago, and we saw it during the Battle of New York. Her violation of the Sokovia Accords was stricken from the record. Are the District Attorney’s office and the government trying to cover up their involvement, or is she really just that good at manipulating law officials into giving her a second pardon?

Foggy watched the man on the screen with narrowed eyes. “The Daily Bugle really has no shame or respect, huh?” he said.

“He has nothing left over for heroes,” said Karen. “He is a horrible, judgmental man. And his mustache is a fashion disgrace.”

“Hey, do you think I should call them? Just to check in on her.”

She took one of the files from her desk and handed it over to her. “You better prepare to prepare her for the preliminary hearing. They need their privacy.”

“What do you me- oh!”

“Sex is an amazing stress relief.”

“Thank you,” he blinked wildly, turning toward his office, “That is not a picture I needed in my head today.”

Karen’s tired yet amused laugh rang out and filled the otherwise empty office space with some lightness instead of the harsh, painful reality that lay ahead of them.

District Attorney Reyes went on the air again that day, answering a crowd of reporters about what her office revealed. “We strive for justice for the families of the children that were tortured at the command of Viktor Volkov and his organization. We are going to fight for the families of the murder victims that also died at his hand. And we are going to fight for those names to finally be heard, and to bring Hydra’s terrible acts to light,” she said, and it was sorted as her official statement to the accusations against Viktor Volkov. “We need to protect the nation and the people and in the process avenge the lives that were lost. We’re not doing this for publicity, we’re doing this for justice. A man as dangerous as Viktor Volkov needs to be put into special containment, and we are working closely with the DODC to form a viable case.”

Rumor has it that Eliza Bennett is considered a key witness since she is one of Viktor Volkov’s many victims. So far, no more information has been released, but it is said that she might just be the key to getting him behind bars.

“At least they called me a victim this time,” Eliza murmured as she read over the article in the Bulletin.

Matt appeared behind her with a cup of coffee, replacing the paper with the mug. “Stop reading the news,” he berated her.

She poked her tongue out. “I need to know what’s going on. Reyes won’t tell me anything.”

“That’s because we need to protect you from the court of public opinion.”

“There is no protecting me from that,” she said, “and you know that.”

He sighed. He left it uncommented because he couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t have been a lie. She already stated the truth. He couldn’t protect her, not from this.

Instead, he said, “I love you.”

She smiled back at him, tired but it was a smile. “I love you more,” she said.

“Impossible.”

Volkov’s attorneys stated in an official report that the accusations are outrageous and they are going to fight to keep their client out of jail. It is said that the evidence of the defense will cancel out all the prosecution has. They are certain that the case is not viable and they have information that a judge is going to be more than interested in. Information surrounding his arrest and the contents of the file. What it is, they refuse to say, but we are going to see soon.

The date for the plea hearing in the case of the Hydra operative Viktor Volkov has been set and it is as soon as tomorrow. The DA rushed the date due to the case’s urgency, and she told Fox News that she is going to do anything in her power to make sure he stays behind bars. A deal has not been made, and Volkov’s attorneys refused, so it is up to the court now to decide whether or not this case will go to trial.

The big day was closer than ever. They already knew he was going to plead not guilty, but there was still hope for a change of mind on Viktor’s end or at least the possibility that he might change the plea after they turned down the DA’s deal offer. Now that they refused, Reyes was ready to destroy the defense completely, but for that she needed Eliza. Without her, the case was a bust. The media didn’t need a full report of the events to figure that out. Her immunity depended on it.

“I’m curious - Eliza Bennett is an Avenger, she broke the Sokovia Accords, she is a mutant and she still got pardoned? The information she has must be fatal if the DA was so willing to grant her immunity.”

“A person like that poses a danger to society. We should get her off the streets.”

“Eliza Bennett is and will always be a hero. She doesn’t deserve all of this backlash and she should be praised for what she is willing to do to put this criminal behind bars. Her story should be told and people should view her as a human being who suffered a large trauma instead of a dangerous mutant that is out of control. It is simply not true.”

“An Avenger as a key witness. Can we even trust them anymore? Stark has not spoken up and neither has his company. I doubt he is going to play a part in this. He’s always had a way of getting himself out of trouble and letting others do the work for him.”

“Whether or not Eliza Bennett is a danger to society, the DA is positive she will blow this case wide open, and Volkov’s attorneys are scrambling to find a reason to get her testimony thrown out. This is going to be one of the most public court proceedings since OJ Simpson, and we are going to be there to report life on the direction this case is going. Back to you, Janet!”

Eliza slammed the laptop shut. One more day until the plea hearing. One fucking day and she couldn’t even escape the talk about her when she tried to watch something else for a change. Her search always led her to the news, or in this case, a whole collection of News channels that were set out to ruin her.

She was used to being criticized by the public, but the backlash she received was a death sentence to any mutant out there if they lost the case.

She decided to go through the mail to kill time. Matt would be home sometime later, having told her to take the day off, but she was dying of boredom. Her thoughts weren’t any better.

The mail consisted of a pile of bills and advertisements, including the daily paper, and when she saw her name on the front page she groaned in frustration. She shoved it away. She was done reading about herself as an evil spawn. Think what you need to think, she decided. She wasn’t put on this earth to please anyone but herself. And by speaking her truth she had done a good thing, the right thing.

From the pile she was holding, a small contact card soared out and landed on the floor. She bent down, picked it up, and took a look at it.

221 Bleeker Street.

As far as she could remember, the address on the card was in Brooklyn, where Bleeker and Sullivan crossed. It was a long way from Hell’s Kitchen - that was an overstatement. It wasn’t that far.

There was no name on the card, only the address. Suspicious didn’t even cut it close. Eliza should have thrown it away. It could have been the address of a serial killer, for all she knew, but there was a reason it landed in her mail. She felt compelled to check it out, even if it was just to check if a serial killer was after she or the press decided to play a cruel joke on her. She was curious and curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

Matt would once again kill her, but it didn’t matter if a serial killer did it or her boyfriend for being a reckless idiot. She was done pleasing other people for the sake of being liked. She owed them nothing.

Viktor didn’t get to destroy the person she was, and if the media couldn’t see that, at least she could hold onto it.

The hood of her jacket hung low into her face. Curious eyes stared after her, but they weren’t sure if it was truly her. The whispers haunted her and fingers pointed at her. She was an animal in a zoo and everyone was watching her. They didn’t see her as a person, she was more of a spectacle than a human, and they made sure to treat her that way.

Bleeker Street was quiet, thank God, and there were hardly any people who cared about someone with a hoodie walking the street. She crossed, approaching the gigantic doors to what appeared like a fancy brownstone, but she couldn’t quite believe it. The window at the top of the building seemed a little far-fetched, too. Old architecture made it look like someone utterly special was living there. So perhaps this was a trap constructed by the media, after all.

Eliza wouldn’t have been Eliza though if she didn’t go ahead anyway. She lost all of her fucks a couple of days ago. She might as well have some reckless fun if her life was about to be over and her reputation completely destroyed.

As Taylor Swift once said, ‘They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one’, so she might as well fuck around and have some fun. Her reputation was ruined, anyway.

She knocked on the door, but instead of waiting for someone to answer, they opened at her touch. “Creepy,” she muttered to herself.

The corridor was gigantic. She expected a lot, but this wasn’t it. A huge staircase led to the second floor, parting in the middle to allow you to walk on either side. The walls were high and decorated sparsely. The walls themselves looked ancient, made out of wood and stone and the paintings were something to get used to. There was a fireplace, for whatever reason, set into the wall. Why would an entrance hall need a fireplace? The entire building reminded her of an old mansion or an old art museum. The statue next to the stair looked like a pot - whoever lived there was certainly not an interior designer.

She felt the presence of someone behind her and the knife she had already slipped from her sleeve turned out to have been a good choice. Eliza took a deep breath, then turned around and went after whoever snuck up on her with her backhand. The knife cut through thin air. It took her too long to notice what was happening. Fabric reached for her and she flipped her weapon over the invisible arm, trying to injure whoever was hiding behind whatever was attacking her, but she hit the air again. Instead, the red fabric wrapped around her wrist and the other end hit her in the nose. She stumbled with a surprised yelp and hit the ground, her knife sliding to the other end of the room.

Holding her nose, she dared to look up. Did she just—

“Well, now that was just sad to watch,” a male voice sounded from the top of the staircase. Her attacker disappeared and she stared after it, face wiped clean of the anger she had displayed, she was simply confused now.

Her head turned to the stranger descending, the red fabric wrapping around his shoulders as it had never in the first place. His get-up reminded her of a children’s costume, but a cool one.

“Did your cape just attack me?” Eliza asked.

“He’s a cloak, not a cape, and yes, he did attack you.”

“He?”

“Are you going to lecture me for gendering my cloak? ‘Cause I heard that’s what your generation does.”

“This raises so many questions.” She rose back to her feet with a grunt. “Do I need to get my knife back or are you not planning to kill me?”

The knife in question disappeared suddenly, floating toward the man. He shoved it into his back pocket. “No need for sharp weapons,” he said.

“Says the one with the floating cloak that just happens to have serious anger issues.”

She never thought a piece of fabric could look offended until the one on the man’s shoulders lowered its edges.

“No offense,” she added. “No, actually, full offense.”

“I suppose you got my card?”

“Yes, that is why I’m here. Why else would I come?”

“I don’t know, we’ve been having a little trouble with posting lately. Mail that doesn’t reach the person it should go to and vice versa. I’m still waiting for my Amazon package,” he said.

She frowned even deeper. “What?”

“Oh, right, I totally forgot. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange and I asked you here because you have something very valuable in your blood that you don’t seem to understand.”

It sounded as if a beat dropped in the distance. Silence settled in between them, her eyes roaming his face and costume. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m not following.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” He made a distinctive move with his fingers and the necklace he wore around his neck, the one that looked like an eye, opened up. She stared at it. As soon as the metal parted with a rattle, the sharp pain in her frontal cortex reappeared. Her fingers tingled, her eyes glowed, and her veins seemed to burst with power. But most of all did she see the green shards she had dreamed about floating around her head and disappearing into the galaxy.

Her arms shot out, “Woah!”

The green stone was glowing at the same time her hands did. It was subconscious and yet felt so neutral, as if she had been in control all along. The whispers in her ear grew louder, once again speaking a language she didn’t understand. Her forehead screamed and burned and it pulled her toward it, but she refused.

“Where did you get that?” she asked. In her mind, she told herself to calm down and make the glow go away, and it somehow did because when she glanced at her reflection in the stone, the point on her forehead was gone.

Stephen descended the last two steps. “It was given to me by someone who understood the power and importance of the infinity stones, and it is my job to protect it,” he said.

“Okay, I know your outfit makes you seem like some magical wizard who does balloon animals for children’s birthdays, but can you try to be a little less ominous and just flat-out tell me what the fuck is going on?”

She had a problem with authority.

“Ah, you’re everything I thought you’d be.”

“What’s that?”

“Annoying and reckless.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said. “How exactly do you know about me and where I live? Are you planning to kill me? If so, can I have my knife back to even the stakes?”

He chuckled. “I’m not trying to kill you. If I wanted that, I would have shown up at your apartment instead of sending you my card. No,” he said and stepped forward, to which she took a step back, “I asked you here to talk about what’s in your blood, Eliza.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Everyone does. With your face all over the media, it’s really no surprise.”

She pouted, “Touché.”

“Let me introduce myself again so that even your childish brain can understand, I am Doctor Stephen Strange and I am a master of the mystic arts, which, in your simple words, means magic of a higher order. I am the protector of this Sanctum and your reality.”

“Right, right,” she didn’t buy it, “So you’re not just a wizard without a hat, is that what you’re trying to tell me? You’re actually just very schizophrenic and think you’re some sort of superman?”

“I think you understand, you just don’t want to see it,” he said, and at this point, he was getting rougher with his words. “You know better than anyone the concept of reality and how fragile it is, so you must take my words to heart.”

“Do I?” she retorted.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I always have a choice, and this is not it.”

“Eliza, we need to talk!”

“Talk to your cape,” she said and turned around to head back through the door she came through, but the cape she mentioned wrapped around the handle before she could leave. “I said talk to it not make it stop me from leaving!”

“I can’t let you leave, not before you hear me out.”

She narrowed her eyes at the cape—cloak. “You are a loyal piece of outerwear, aren’t you?” She couldn’t believe she was talking to it.

Perhaps she had completely lost her mind, after all.

Turning around again, Eliza looked Stephen up and down again. Her nostrils flared and she huffed. “What do you want to talk about?”

Stephen nodded in satisfaction. “As I said, I’m in charge of protecting our reality. Part of that is unlimited knowledge. I know you, Eliza. Or should I say, Alina?” he said. “I heard about Hydra, I followed what you did, I knew you almost died. I’m impressed, but I’m also concerned. You need to understand who you are. That’s why I asked you here. You want answers, I’m here to provide them.”

When was he before she talked to Viktor? She could have spared herself quite a lot of pain. Then again, she confronted him and it felt good. She asserted her dominance. She needed that.

If this stranger could give her answers, whoever he was and however important he might be, who was she to turn it down? The cloak wasn’t human, and what the man himself could do wasn’t either. The stone in his necklace called for her. He knew more about the infinity stones than she did. She had to listen to him, he was right, because she was slowly losing herself and if her head continued splitting, she would soon drop dead.

She hesitated, and he noticed.

“You pose a potential threat to the universe. Your powers are raging freely and you have no means of controlling the true extent of them,” he stated. “If you know what’s good for you, you stop arguing and allow me to explain it to you. You don’t have a choice, kid.”

“I’m a risk?” Eliza sneered. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You long for answers, I know it. Someone like you isn’t easily satisfied with half of the truth. You have two options: Follow me and let me talk to you, or I will have to restrain you. I really don’t want to have to do this the hard way. You’re not the only one who’s tired.”

“You’re an asshole. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. I try my best.”

“Clearly. Well, I really don’t have the power to argue, so ten minutes,” she said, “That’s all you got. As long as you tell your loyal piece of outerwear to let go of my hand before I burn it to ashes–“ it turned to her, then let his edges fall again, pointing toward the floor. “Oh, don’t look so offended. You’re fabric. You shouldn’t be able to have feelings.” She rolled her eyes when it started to hang even lower. “I’m sorry,” she couldn’t believe she said, “You’re a nice cape– cloak, I mean cloak.”

It finally let go of her hand, flying back to the shoulders of its owner.

“This entire thing is so fucking weird.”

“Then you’re going to absolutely hate this part. Watch out!” He circled his hands on the hair, bringing them together in the middle. The energy sizzled and when she opened her eyes from blinking, they were standing in what seemed to be a library. The window she saw from the outside was right in front of her, overlooking the skyline.

Eliza wobbled. She caught herself on the bookshelf to her right.

“Woah!” she gasped. “What the- how did you just do that?”

“Magic,” Stephen stated. “Want some tea?”

“I-“

They moved to a table, again with the flick of his wrist, and a tea kettle appeared on the table. Their cups were brewing with the hot liquid, creamer, and honey already stirred inside.

Her mind exploded. She wasn’t sure what she watched, but it was nowhere near natural. She wasn’t either. There was a world beyond hers, one she didn’t have the willpower to understand, but he somehow seemed to believe she did. He acted almost as if this was natural — it wasn’t.

“Sit down,” he pointed to the chair across from him, the one she stood behind, “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“You’re not the type of guy to spare my feelings, are you?” she said.

“No. I prefer the radical approach because I don’t really care what you think.”

“Fair.“ She sipped her tea. It wasn’t poisoned, so that was a start. “So, Doctor Strange, what is it that you have to say about my existence? Make it quick because I have someone waiting for me at home who’s going to raise absolute hell if he’s unable to find me.”

“Yes, Daredevil. I’ve heard about him too.”

She somehow expected this to happen. He didn’t lie when he said he was a sorcerer, magic of the highest order. After an alien attack, a sorcerer wasn’t so far off. Magic wasn’t so far off. The infinity stones supplied her with enough energy to manipulate reality and that was not natural, either. Her mind exploded but her curiosity multiplied.

“I should be offended, but I think someone like you knows how to hide a secret. You’re honest, I feel it. So yes, Daredevil. He almost lost me once, he’s not gonna let that happen again,” she said.

“Lucky for you, I have no intention of keeping you here forever. But the reason you’re here is serious and I need your undivided attention.”

She clinked the spoon against the mug. “You’ve got me tea. I don’t have a choice.”

“Great. The reason I asked you here is that the reality stone has been acting up and therefore has caused your powers to gain a strength that a person should not possess, but it somehow chose you, so it is a part of you now. What’s dangerous is the fact that you can’t control it.”

“No one taught me how to.”

“History calls it the Aether. You might know it as the reality stone. A friend of yours, Thor Odison, mentioned it before.”

“He did.”

“The Dark Elves managed to turn the reality stone into liquid – somehow, after it got trapped in stone, parts of it landed on earth. I don’t know how, but your parents found it. An object this powerful is in a million event,” said Stephen. He sat leaned back in his chair, legs crossed and his elbow propped up on the armrest as if it was the most natural thing.

“They’re energy sources. I suppose that’s how they found it – they were scientists, and analyzing the atmosphere was part of their job description. Eliza, your mother bore the entire force of an infinity stone,” he said, “No human being has ever survived a blast like that. The reality stone makes people sick because it’s too strong for humans to handle. We’re the weaker species. Your mother was bound to die the second she touched that rock. You’re the only human being who ever survived being subjected to the power of an infinity stone. With the reality stone, it’s a slow disease that inevitably kills you. You stayed alive. Your mother got sick, but you didn’t. The stone killed her, not you. You were just a fetus and you survived. It’s not supposed to be possible but it happened.”

She grew more confused by the second. “Just tell me what it means,” she begged.

He put his finger to his lips. Patience, he silently told her. It’s a virtue.

“The reality stone carries the ability to protect itself against potential threats. If you anger it, it tends to hit back. The Aether became one with your blood. That’s why it’s no longer trying to protect itself; it’s trying to protect its keeper, and that’s you. You’re one with the infinity stone and that makes you one of the most powerful beings in the universe.”

“Hold up,” she sat down her tea, “I am what now? No, no,” Eliza said, chuckling, “You’ve got it wrong. I’m nowhere near as strong as you say. I mean, what have I done that could be considered all-powerful? Right, nothing. This is stupid.”

A strange force pulled her back into the chair, trapping her there.

“I’m not done,” Stephen said in his most demanding voice. “You saw what you can do. You didn’t know the power was inside of you at first because the stone was trying to protect you, and that’s exactly why you haven’t been able to control it. Hydra messed your head up good. The experiments on your Amygdala gave you the ability to manipulate emotions, but the Aether inside of you keeps you alive. It is partly responsible for the way your powers manifested. Without it, none of this would’ve worked. But then you almost died and your brain recovered, leaving you with the reality stone.”

She slowly started to piece the puzzle together. “Emotions are basically part of reality. That’s why I could see the story behind their emotions and manipulate it. I changed reality over and over again,” she said.

“Yes. Reality as we know it works a certain way, but there’s a subjective reality, it’s what we see and think of the world. Hydra only made you stronger.”

“God.”

“Now that the reality stone is no longer trying to protect itself but rather you, it doesn’t react as harshly. It reacts when your body reacts. You now know what’s inside of you and what you can do, now all you have to do is learn how to fully control it. You’re messing with powers you don’t understand yet. The Aether may protect you, but it’s still too powerful for any human to handle. So if you don’t learn how to control it and use the powers it’s granting you, you can cause more damage than good. And it’s an infinity stone, the power belongs to the universe – the universe was never meant to cause any harm. The stones were made to protect said universe not destroy it. Although they have the power to do so if they happen to fall into the wrong hands.”

He opened the cage of the green gem again. The shrill frequency went straight to her head and she hissed, holding her throbbing forehead.

“It’s like it’s—“ she searched for the right words, “calling for me. Talking to me,” she said. “Why?”

Stephen was quick to explain, “You’re alike. The stone inside of you communicates with the time stone. It’s normal. While the reality stone is still out there, you’ve become a version of it that’s just as powerful. The time stone knows that it feels drawn to you the way you feel drawn to it. I’m here to protect this stone with my life, I learned how to use it, and you have to do the same. You have to learn how to handle yourself.”

“God, I didn’t sign up for this! Why is it always me? I just wanted a normal life.”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he said.

“Bullshit!”

“Hear me out. You can’t do it on your own and since I’ve sworn to do everything in my power to prevent threats such as yourself to mess with the universe, I’m here to help you control the power of the stone. Because if you learn to use it the right way, you’re gonna be unstoppable. Your fate could change millions of lives. It’s a good thing, but all good things have a dark side. That’s why you’re here, to make sure that dark side stays in the dark and doesn’t come around to bite you in the ass. If it comes down to it, I won’t hesitate to put the universe before you. And I don’t want to have to do that.”

At least he was honest, but she didn’t like what his honesty entailed. She had to get out. He was messing with her head and the time stone was messing with her bloodstream. Her brain told her to flee and she considered it. If she stood a chance, she wasn’t sure, but the power was astronomical. If she was who he said she was, she stood more than a chance against him.

She swallowed the last sip of tea. “No thank you,” she said then, as civilized as she could. “I’d rather not be shaped into something I am not again.”

He sighed wearily. “Honestly, if you weren’t threatening actual lives, you’d be more of a nuisance, really. But your existence is threatening the universe, your dreams are starting to warn you about what could happen, and you don’t really have a choice but to let me help you,” he told her, “because as the sorcerer supreme, it’s my duty to make sure no one threatens the universe.”

“I’m not a threat. I don’t hurt people, not anymore.”

“You don’t have to do it consciously. You know how fragile you are, don’t play it down.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m getting under your skin. Good, are you starting to see the full picture now or do you need me to portal you to the North Pole?”

“I’m leaving,” she decided. “Thanks for the tea though.”

“She has manners. But manners don’t buy me anything,” Stephen said.

As she got up, he flicked his wrist again and sent her hurdling forward into the library. She landed on her ass.

Eliza groaned, rising back to her feet. The whole portal-ing made her dizzy and nauseous. “Why won’t you just let me leave? I heard you out, but I don’t like what you’re insinuating because it’s simply not true!”

“Your head is splitting.”

“It is, but there has to be another explanation,” she said, already sounding desperate. “There has to be an explanation that doesn’t portray me as a monster.”

“Strength doesn’t make you a monster,” he said.

“You’re making it sound like the universe is gonna die if I don’t let you turn me into whatever it is you want to turn me into.”

“I want to teach you how to control it.” He stood before her now, arms crossed and sighing like a disappointed father. “Would you just let me?” he said.

She ground her teeth. “Why are the stones warning me?” she asked. “And why do I keep seeing broken pictures as I fall through what appears to be a multiverse, which is so far-fetched that I’m starting to think you’ve manipulated me so I’d listen to you.”

His posture stiffened. He didn’t seem to have known that. “Multiverse?” he questioned.

“Or it’s something else, I don’t know. Does it matter?”

His voice dropped, “What did you see?”

“Blue and purple, space and time, memories that weren’t mine but somehow are, things that could happen but never did, and then there was this mirror I fell through—“

“The mirror dimension,” he murmured. His head lifted and he asked, louder this time, “What else did you see?”

“The stones,” she said.

“What else?” Stephen bared his teeth. He seemed more on edge than he had before and she realized that this wasn’t just about her anymore, this was about her dreams that could easily turn into visions.

He was confusing her. If her dreams were as dangerous as he made it out to be and her powers posed a threat, she had to let him teach her, but then again she hadn’t seriously hurt anyone and lately it seemed as if she was in control of the darker parts of her, so he could just have been exaggerating.

With her head already split in two, she wasn’t sure what to believe and her mind instantly categorized Stephen Strange as someone who wanted to trap her like Rapunzel in a tower and make her dance to his beat because he was apparently so much more special than her. She didn’t want to fall for the games of a man like that ever again, not after she was so close to putting Viktor behind bars.

She was her own person and she would find a way to do this with Matt or on her own.

“There was this purple guy, but I only saw him briefly and I couldn’t make out his face,” she told him.

He began to mutter something under his breath. “Now it’s even more important you let me analyze your powers and teach you how to use them in a way that could protect the universe from potential threats,” he said then.

She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Eliza, you don’t have a choice, and I mean that.”

“I mean it too when I say that I won’t be anyone’s toy anymore. No matter what you say or do, I won’t believe you.”

“These visions you’ve been having… There is a multiverse but it is supposed to be safe, not breaking. The mirror dimension is not supposed to be breaking. I can’t believe I haven’t seen it before—“

“Yeah, right. You know, I’m starting to think your entire magic thing is just a fancy trick. There is only one God so there is only one universe, which makes you a liar and me a little more fucked up than I am, but then again I have an infinity stone inside of me, so perhaps I gotta trust where it leads me. Just because you can manipulate time doesn’t make you any more special or better than I am. So if you know what’s good for you, you let me leave, Doctor Stephen Strange.”

Her hands started to glow, but he was the last person to get scared of that. His fists knocked together before he brought them back out, now holding two plate-sized red circles that held runes she had never seen before.

He sighed, “Do you really want to fight me on this?”

She stared at him through her red eyes. Threat, her body screamed. He backed her into a corner, she felt like a bird in a cage all over again, and it terrified her. Her fight-or-flight response was activated, and as soon as that happened, whatever was in her blood was ready to defend her.

“You don’t want to make me angry,” she bellowed.

“You do realize that your powers could either annihilate the universe or yourself, right? This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some childish game that I want to play with you just because it gives me a kick. I asked you here because you not knowing who or what you are, at least not to the full extent you are eventually going to grow to, poses a danger both to the reality I’m trying to protect and to you and everyone you love! Think about your boyfriend–“

Her teeth bared and the color in the palm of her hand grew. “Keep his name out of your mouth,” she said, and while she stayed calm with her voice, the threat in her red eyes became clearer at the mention of him.

“You can twist and turn reality however you choose,” Stephen continued, taking another step toward her. He looked so confident, not at all scared like everyone else, and that made her even angrier.

Her body screamed to run. Her mind reeled and her veins were on fire.

“You can do that and so much more,” he said, “which is precisely what you should beware of. Because a power like that is nothing to be played with, and I am trying to be reasonable with this because I don’t want to hurt or restrain you, but I will if you don’t choose to let me help you out of your own damn will.”

“I don’t answer to you.”

“You see, that is not your choice to make. Not anymore. Not after what you told me and what I’m seeing in your terrified little eyes right now. There is something so strong inside of you, it’s twisting your mind and that is going to be the death of you.“

“Fuck you! You don’t get to decide who I am. I make that decision. I won’t be your prisoner and I am not your test rabbit.”

“Eliza, think this through,” he said. “Only one of us is in full control of their powers, and it sure as hell isn’t you!”

“Oh, Stephen,” Eliza brought her hands up, “I have never been more in control.”

“Okay, let’s do this another way.”

The world around her changed suddenly, it split in two and grew in glass around her. She stood amid endless mirrors, the world outside unreachable.

Threat.

She looked around in panic, the pictures of her dreams returning in her head. She saw herself in the mirrors, her red eyes and hands, and she multiplied wherever she looked. There was no way out. Stephen stepped through the glass and in front of her, that much was real, but the mirrors seemed surreal, like a nightmare come true and she would wake up any second.

Upon the move of his hands, the bookshelf split apart and started spiraling down. That was enough for her to act. She wasn’t sure what compelled her, but she did the same thing that she did when she fell – she broke through the mirrors, her hand pushed out at her side and the red hitting the glass with such a force, it splintered.

Stephen seemed taken aback. Whatever had been done to the bookshelves stopped and the glass soared through the floor. The first set of books flew toward him.

“How is that possible?” he growled, dodging the attack.

Eliza panted when she told him, “Let me go!”

“No can do-”

“Fine!”

At the same time he conjured up the glowing red strings, she channeled her anger into her hands and pushed forward. Both of their powers met in the middle, the same way the alien tech had clashed against hers, but she was stronger than him this time and it only sent him flying back, and Stephen crashed into one of the displays.

She stared at her hands, shocked and partly impressed. He was still breathing, his groans told her as much, but she didn’t have the time to stick around. She needed to get out. She had made him angry and he would trap her if she didn’t run, she was sure of that. The panic drove her down the stairs and toward the exit.

From behind her, his faint voice rang out, “You can’t run from who you really are!”

He obviously had never met her.

How long had she been in the Sanctum? New York had gotten dark outside, the lights of the city offering some guidance on her way toward the more crowded street. Her phone started to vibrate and she pulled it out. Somehow Stephen must have intercepted her service because she had several calls and text messages on her screen, most of them from Matt, but there were also some worried questions coming from Foggy’s end.

She sighed heavily, her hand reaching out to flag down a cab while she deleted the notifications and pulled out her credit card instead. “Hell’s Kitchen,” she told the driver.

His eyes got stuck on her. “Oh, my God, you are-”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she said, already having expected that reaction, but the more they waited the closer Stephen would get, “Now drive!”

He hit the gas.

During the thirty-minute drive, Eliza typed in Foggy’s number and waited for him to pick up with a bouncing leg. “C’mon,” she murmured.

Finally, after what felt like forever, his voice rang out, “Liz, where the fuck have you been?”

“Is Matt still at the office?” she asked.

“No, he left about two hours ago. Seriously, we couldn’t reach you for hours. Where are you?”

“I did a very stupid thing,” her breath hitched, “and he is gonna be so mad at me. Did he say he was, y’know, going out to find me?”

“He didn’t say anything, he just said he needed to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. What do you mean you did a very stupid thing? And don’t ignore my question now.”

“Oh, fuck me! This is not gonna end well. I’m in a cab right now. I can’t answer your question, not right now, so just— I need to get home and talk to Matt. He’s probably gonna kill me, but right now, I don’t really care. Thanks, Foggy. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Liz, wait—“

He was cut off by the line clicking and going dead silent. She hung up on him.

The cab dropped her off a couple of blocks from the apartment. She paid and made her way to what she suspected was her certain death.

She quickly unlocked the door, storming through and locking it back behind her. She closed all possible deadbolts and even then it didn’t seem enough. The light in the apartment was on, to her surprise, but she couldn’t care less about that right now.

Matt jumped from the couch. “Where the fuck have you been?” he asked, the worry clearly written on his face. But most of all, he was angry.

She ignored him, quickly moving onto the windows and pulling all the curtains shut.

“Eliza,” he urged.

“Just hold on a second,” she said. She jumped up the stairs to the rooftop access door and locked that one too. In the bedroom, she closed the window and the curtains. She made sure all entrance points were locked before he forcefully pulled her in front of him and glared at her.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I did a very bad thing.”

“Oh, what did you do?”

She bit her lip. “Can you let me go?” His fingers dug into her upper arms. “You’re hurting me.”

Matt blinked out of it, instantly letting her go. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“Would you believe me if I told you that a wizard without a hat but a floating cape is after me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, I reacted the same when I first saw him, but then he continued talking about how he knew me and he knew a lot of things that the media didn’t state, so he seems to really have unlimited knowledge, and he told me that magic is very much real. And he has the time stone, which is– they’re all calling for me, but seeing one in person was, like, so intense,” she said. “And then he continued talking about how the reality stone came to be, how it got into me, and how I should not have survived, which kind of makes me special because the universe chose me, but I also pose a threat to said universe because my powers are so strong and I need to be controlled because he’s supposed to protect the universe and he’d put it before my life if I ever became a threat, so yeah, a wizard just threatened to kill me if I don’t learn how to control this power raging through me and he wanted to keep me there to shape me into whatever he wants me to be, and I said no.”

“Eliza, slow down–“

She wasn’t planning on it; her body was burning brightly with adrenaline.

“And then he kept talking about how my dreams were some sort of vision and that there is a multiverse, which I told him is ridiculous because you said there is only one God and I believed that, so I blamed it on him, which also seems plausible because he sent me a card that led me there and he knew who I was, so I suspect he gave me those visions to make me feel like I’m going crazy and he can use me for whatever perverted purpose he has for my powers or something like that because he is a wizard after all. After aliens, that’s not so far off and that’s not what struck me. I mean, look at me, I’m not human either, so he could have given me visions, definitely. I refused to let him persuade me to follow him because I am done following men the way they want me to, and then we fought, I kind of broke some sort of mirror dimension, which also should not be possible, and then I fought a wizard and his cape and then I ran, so now I’m here. Don’t be mad at me, please, I am very terrified right now and I don’t know how to place my emotions so I am about to break down and I fear that if you don’t hug me, I might fall apart.”

He opened his arms. “C’mere.” Her arms wrapped around him and squeezed tightly, her eyes crowding with tears and then she was crying again, and he held her because he wasn’t sure what else to do.

She sobbed, “I’m scared, Matty.” She never admitted she was scared.

He rubbed her back, lips pressed to her hair. “I know, baby,” he said.

“Don’t let him take me, please.”

“I would never, you’re safe here. I’ve got you. He won’t touch you.”

“I’m so sorry I left.”

“Don’t worry about it. What matters is that you’re safe. I just need— I’m confused too, I need a moment to process what you said, but I got you.”

He held her face and she whimpered. Kissing her tears, Matt tried not to panic. Her words made sense to her, but not to him. He was confused and he was scared that he couldn’t understand. He wasn’t made for this kind of life, and she had told him that once. It had been an emotional reaction, something she didn’t mean because she had endless faith in him, but he started to lose faith in himself and God because this world completely wrecked his brain. It drove a bulldozer over his belief system.

He tried to be strong for her, but it was only getting harder. She was crying and she needed him to hold her, to be strong and make the fear go away, protect her from the ghosts and demons of her past and present, but how could he help her if he didn’t even know what he was helping her with?

Matt set her down on the sofa. She was still shaking violently. He took the comforter from the backrest and wrapped the plaid around her shoulders.

He kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna grab you some water. Sit tight.”

Her eyes focused blankly on the wall before her, the painting that hung there, and the cracks in the stone. She pulled her legs up to her chest. Her head was splitting and she felt the hole in her chest. She felt the power and it ran her dry. She needed more while at the same time, she needed nothing at all. She wanted the spiral to stop.

And she began to think, as she thought back to what she had done to Stephen and what he showed her, perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was something about his true words and she needed help. She knew she needed help, but the kind he had offered was. Or did she?

He handed her the water bottle. “Can you explain it to me again?” he asked. “Slower this time so I can understand.”

“I don’t–“ she swallowed, admitting honestly then, “I don’t understand.”

“Take a deep breath and then tell me exactly what happened. We can go from there.”

Eliza took a deep breath. She could remember what happened, she remembered everything and so she recalled everything that happened at the Sanctum and what Stephen said and did and told Matt every detail. She still didn’t understand what she was talking about, but the story met his ears and he started thinking about it. The more she said, the more the hairs on his arms stood up. Goosebumps covered his skin. His heartbeat was up to his throat.

In the end, she was wracked with sobs again. “I’m so sorry,” she cried, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Viktor’s gonna plead not guilty, which means I have to testify and I have to face him and I really thought that was it. I thought I would never have to worry about being wanted for what’s inside of me ever again. I’m so scared, Matt, and I don’t like being scared because it messes with my head.”

“He called you a threat, but he doesn’t know you as I do,” he said.

“But he’s a wizard, he has the time stone. What if–“ Eliza took a sip of the water, “What if he’s right and I pose a threat to the universe? I can’t possibly understand what I’m facing, what he’s facing, what we’re all facing. He does. So either he’s a master manipulator or he’s right.”

“Baby, I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn’t understand a thing of what you said. All of this– it’s new to me and I’m scared, too. I’m scared that I can’t help you and it’s killing me inside, but I do know one thing, you are not a threat and you are not a monster. He had no right pressuring you like that and you did the right thing running because he doesn’t get to have power over you. No one does. It’s your choice and you said no, which is exactly what you should have done.”

She took in a shaky breath. “Okay,” she nodded slowly. “So I’m just gonna have to sit it out and hope he doesn’t come after me?”

Matt smiled softly. “Yes.”

“How? I mean, he could come back any second. He could haunt me in my dreams. He’s a wizard,” Eliza said. “He can do the weirdest shit, I saw him do it, so coming to get me and chaining me to his little palace for all eternity wouldn’t be so hard.”

“He’s not going to get you. He can come, but he has to go through me and I am going to put up one hell of a fight. I’d rather die than let him get to you,” he said.

She sniffled. “You’re gonna be here to protect me?”

“Always.”

He settled down next to her and pulled her into his chest. His heartbeat calmed her, she focused on that and she focused on his steady breathing. She allowed her heartbeat to align with his, finally relaxing enough to breathe.

Her eyes fluttered close eventually. It was a small nap, probably only fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the door. She shot up, eyes wide. “He’s here,” she breathed.

When she jumped from the couch, Matt reached his arms out in a soothing motion. “No, you’re okay, it’s just Foggy,” he said. He could hear his friend’s familiar heartbeat on the other side.

“Are you sure? Maybe he’s just pretending to be Foggy to fool you into letting him in.”

“No, baby, I’m sure. His heart sounds a certain way and he smells… well, I can’t explain it, but you can’t fool me. In that regard, my heightened senses are foolproof. Just breathe, alright? You’re okay, you’re safe.“

She remained standing, eyes narrowed at the door. He unlocked it, allowing Foggy inside, then locked all the deadbolts as she had before.

Eliza reached for the fruit ball on the dinner table. He opened his mouth to greet her, but instead Foggy was met with an apple straight to his chest. The fruit pearled off of him and he followed the trail, clearly confused. He didn’t fight, he didn’t change forms, he simply stood there, lost and confused.

“Did you just throw an apple at me?” he asked eventually, regaining some of his composure.

Her defensive stance slacked. “Tell me something only you would know,” she said.

Foggy exchanged a confused look with Matt who only nodded, a silent plea for him to indulge her because she was scared, she was sweating and her heartbeat sounded through the roof. He needed her to calm down and if this was what it would take, he had to play along.

He took a second to collect himself. “Matt likes to stuff his sweatpants into his socks because he hates it when the temperature of his ankles and the rest of him are different. It triggers his, uh, super senses? I don’t know what they’re called,” he said. “But he does it every time he wears sweatpants, which doesn’t happen often, he’s always liked to walk around with as little clothing as possible. Now please–“ Foggy pointed at her hand, “would you put the banana down?”

Eliza relaxed, she put the fruit back in the bowl and straightened up. “It’s really you,” she said, sighing a breath of relief. “I thought you were– I’m sorry. I had to make sure you were real.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My bad decision is coming to bite me in the ass.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.”

“Try me.”

For the second time that night, she gave a recap of what she went through with Stephen Strange, the Doctor who also happened to be a sorcerer.

Foggy looked just as distraught as Matt, and the latter was even more confused upon hearing it a second time. His fist tightened around the tea he had brewed for them. He handed one mug to Foggy, the other to his girlfriend and he held the other to his chest.

Foggy blinked the fog in his eyes away. “So basically you just met a wizard who wanted to force you to stay with him so he could train you because of that stupid infinity stone that’s in your blood?” he said.

She nodded, “Pretty much.”

“Cool. That’s cool. Cool, cool, cool–“

“Something tells me it’s not cool,” she said.

“Because it is not!” He threw his hands up. “A multiverse, are you kidding me? What is this? Scooby Do? The Matrix? Fucking Avatar? What the fuck, Eliza?!”

“Dude, I don’t know!” Eliza retorted. She shrugged so high, her shoulders hurt. “I’m just as confused as you are, except all of this isn’t all that new to me. But I am freaking out and telling you everything doesn’t just make me gain infinite knowledge. I am scared, Foggy! I’m scared and I hate my life. So whether or not we understand doesn’t matter, I just don’t want Stephen Strange to come in here and get me so that he can trap me like he told me he would. I wanted answers, what I got was much worse and now I’m even more confused than I was before!”

She broke down again, head in her hands as she sobbed. Matt instantly wrapped his arms around her, shooting a warning glare in Foggy’s direction.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, you’re right. This wasn’t– I didn’t mean to react like that.”

She waved him off.

“Hey,” said Foggy, “You had every right to get out of there. He’s an asshole. He doesn’t get to tell you who you are. Bad enough Viktor already fucked with your head. No,” he took her hand, “You did the right thing. Fuck him and fuck his floating cape!”

Her chuckle sounded broken but somehow Foggy always managed to lighten the mood. “Thank you,” she said.

“You have more important things to worry about.”

“The hearing.”

Eliza gnawed at the inside of her cheek. She completely pushed it away. “I hate that I have to see him,” she admitted quietly.

Matt sat back down beside her, Foggy settling on the other side. She leaned her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, her best friend holding her other hand.

Lips pressed to the crown of her head. “We’ve got you,” he murmured. “And once that is done, we focus on the wizard.”

“You think he’ll come after me?”

“I’d like to see him try,” Foggy said.

“If he hasn’t come to get you yet, he’s not going to tomorrow,” Matt told her. “And even if he does, I’ll protect you with my life.”

She was satisfied with that answer. She could worry about him once Viktor was locked away. She could worry about herself once she put the man who ruined her life behind bars.

You pose a threat to the universe.

She scoffed. Stephen Strange could fuck himself.

At 221 Bleeker Street, the mood was lower than usual, but it wasn’t ill intent that laid in the air. Hurt pride cut it the closest.

Stephen Strange got to his feet, snapping his fingers to put the glass cage back together. He had barely brushed the shards off when Wong came sprinting up the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Eliza Bennett happened,” Stephen answered through gritted teeth.

“You got her here? Where is she?” Wong looked around, but his friend merely sneered.

“She left.”

He took a moment to eye him closer. “Why do you look like you’ve just been thrown into a wall?”

“She wouldn’t listen, so she left. That’s all you need to know.”

“So, a kid beat you?” he said.

Stephen lifted his finger, his eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. “She did not beat me!” he said. “And she’s not a kid, she’s an adult.”

Wong laughed. “She did beat you.”

“That’s a lie. I let her go.”

“If you actually did that, you’re dumber than I thought.”

He sighed in exasperation. “I underestimated her,” he admitted. “Seems like her mind knows what to do. The stone is communicating with her, keeping her in check and in control. And the dreams she’s been having… Wong, if this keeps happening, we might have a bigger problem at our hands than that girl.”

“Then we should get her back,” said Wong. “Right now, we’ll get her and force her to help us.”

Stephen shook his head. He stood at the top of the stairs, turning to his friend before he said while descending, “She’s gonna come back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she was simply scared. As soon as she realizes she can’t do this alone, which she will, she’s gonna come back, begging at my feet.”

“Oh, even though she didn’t hesitate to beat you?”

Halfway down, he twirled around. “She did not beat me!” His voice echoed off the high walls, but Wong’s laugh only filled the room once again as he disappeared.

“She totally beat you.”

"Wong!"

#matt murdock #daredevil #foreigner's god #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x female!oc #daredevil fic #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock imagines #human disaster matt murdock #doctor strange #mcu multiverse #mcu spoilers ahead #marvel #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff

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jedusaur · 2 years ago

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good things this week:

my BOY my GUY my MAN Joey Daccord had to step up and play two games for the Kraken this week and he did SO GOOD Y'ALL! it was unexpected on two levels, first that it would be him getting the callup instead of Driedger and second that he would actually get the start over Jones, and he made the absolute most of the opportunity—one of the postgame talking heads was a bit of an ass about the first one because he let in four, but Hakstol understood the circumstances (one extremely weird double bounce no goalie could have done anything about, two 6-on-5 situations our guys were not defending well) and sang his praises, and we won anyway. then the second one we lost in a shootout, but the only one he let in during regulation was a rebound off a killer initial save and then he went absolute beast mode in OT, just unbelievable. there's always gonna be a Mike Smith-shaped hole in my soul, but Daccord obviously idolized the guy when he was at Arizona State and plays so much like him that watching him really feels a little like coming home <3

really enjoyed this week's Ted Lasso ep, especially (spoiler warning) the part where Jamie sees Roy and Keeley leaving in two different directions and it's set up to make you think he's gonna go after Keeley to hit on her now that she's single again but instead HE GOES AFTER ROY to ineptly attempt empathy and hugs <333

listened to Debby Friday's debut album four times yesterday and three times so far today, I am so so so so into it

after some disappointing incidents with NHL pride nights, something cool happened with my local junior league team, the Thunderbirds—they didn't have an official pride night planned this season, so the fans just... made one happen themselves! the T-Birds have the only out gay player in the WHL, Luke Prokop, and EVERY SINGLE PLAYER used rainbow stick tape during warmups for this UNOFFICIAL pride night in support of their teammate, AND some of them kept the tape during the game. which, listen, I use Pride tape myself, but only on parts of the stick I don't have to handle the puck with, because real talk it is some crappy-ass tape, and any serious hockey player would know that just from touching it, so these guys were basically saying that supporting their teammate was more important to them than being good at hockey, and I just have a whole lot of feelings okay

Dallas has a goalie named Jake Oettinger whose nickname is Otter and he has lil cartoon otters painted on his goalie mask, which delighted both rocket bae and my mom (both big otter fans)

I started explaining what was going on during a Kraken game to Steph and she was like "I understood the goalie interference part" I'm so proud <3

I cut my hair and it feels very nice to not have all that shagginess on my neck

got two of the other Lammy-nominated anthologies from the library and they're both so impressive! (also both extremely different from each other and from Xenocultivars, doesn't really seem fair to compare us all tbh, but I guess that's just how it goes with awards)

rearranged my room to bring in a comfy chair and in the process found the fucking laptop I was 100% convinced must have gotten stuck in with rocket bae's stuff in storage because I had looked absolutely everywhere, including the place it actually was at least 3 times *eyeroll* but it has been found, hallelujah

made salted millionaire's shortbread and I'm gonna go bring some to a few local friends sometime this weekend, love sharing food with my people :)

#good things #life #hockey #joey daccord #mike smith #kraken #ted lasso #fandom #debby friday #t-birds #luke prokop #queer #jake oettinger #rocket bae #steph #speculatively queer #lambda literary awards #books #food

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hippolotamus · 2 years ago

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5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Tagged by @rmd-writes @blackandwhiteandrose & darling wife @lizzie-bennetdarcy 🥰

5 works (in no particular order)

Warm Hellos and Our Last Goodnights This one is definitely a pride and joy of mine, despite it's more serious content. Well, really because of the more serious content. Up until I published this I felt I was an author readers could count on for fluff and light-hearted feels. But the idea shouted at me and begged to be written. I'm truly glad I listened. [David/Patrick, T, CW: MCD]

What's Next? My first crack at writing Rachel, during a period when there was some fandom upheaval over her purpose in the show. By far one of my least popular offerings. It was satisfying to dig into her side of the breakup and what she may or may not have noticed before Patrick left for Schitt's Creek. [Patrick/Rachel, G]

Whatever may come (your heart I will choose) This one is... my baby, love of my life, I'll snarl if you look at it wrong. LOL (sort of). In all seriousness I have a very strong attachment to this work. There are many pieces of my own complicated coming out journey littered in every corner of it. Mapping out Eddie's journey from high school to adulthood was... let's just say I'm getting choked up thinking about it. It's safe to say I'm very proud of my Marshmallow. [Buck/Eddie, M]

My Favorite Color is You I both love this one and am quite proud of it. It's a level of E I hadn't really explored before and, while some of it could probably use some tweaks and fine tuning, I love the shit out of it. Artist!Buck being adored by one Eddie Diaz, with a side of painting each other, lives in my head rent free. Always. [Buck/Eddie, E]

The Sound of My Heart My first attempt at fake dating. It was... a wild ride from a plot planning perspective. (I use the word planning incredibly loosely here). However, I'm rather impressed at Past Me's ability to research a city I hadn't been to since my senior year of high school [redacted] years ago. Researching train schedules and the New York Botanical Gardens was probably my favorite part of the whole experience. [David/Patrick, T]

4 wips

4... really??? Okay, so the ones most likely to get published that I'm excited about:

Completing If you like Fashion & Baseball

A yet to be named Twylexis oneshot with some worry/comfort over a health scare.

For the Record [working title]: a fluffy little Buddie first kiss/getting together fic for @shortsighted-owl

Continuing to add to the Secrets & Lies universe

3 biggest improvements

Punctuation around dialog tags. Still a struggle but better than before.

Taking direction from my betas and applying those notes more consistently

Varying my word usage by eliminating duplicates and making more trips to the thesaurus.

2 resolutions

Writing multi-chapter works fully before publishing. I am terrible about this and often write myself into a corner.

Consistently adding more eyeballs to a doc for feedback.

Number 1 Favorite Line

This was insanely difficult to choose just one. I'm cheating and picking something from both fandoms:

I know all your secrets: “Never better. Should we exchange the usual my country wants you dead pleasantries first or is foreplay off the menu tonight?”

Whatever May Come: Technically only one line used multiple times, but I absolutely adore the repetition of I love you, I love you, I love you in chapter 23. There's just so much yearning packed into it.

I don't know who has been there, done that with this but I'll tag @shortsighted-owl @vanillahigh00 @alysiswriting @sarahlevys

#54321 #ugh this was hard #hippo writes #hippo reflects

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judemabon · 1 year ago

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Creating an Online Presence

How do I make an online presence?

What might seem like a simple question has been asked, and answered by thousands, probably millions of would be influencers, marketing experts and "E-Celebrities" and still no one has came up with a foolproof answer. It all depends on what sort of online presence you are looking for, as an aspiring Game Developer I will be trying to get my name "out there" to as many would-be Employers, Coworkers and (hopefully one day) Investors as possible. For some of my Hobbies, such as painting Miniatures, Building Lego and Making music, I've posted my progress, things I'm proud of, and things i know i need to work on, to a community of likeminded social media users to give me feedback, criticisms and just to enjoy. I plan on doing the same thing with my Video Game journey, Posting all my Progress from my first "Proper" try at a video game in 1st year of Uni, the hundreds of VERY amateur sketches I've made while coming up with game concepts, to the Games I'm actually proud of.

(Pictured above, some of my aforementioned Warhammer models)

Why would I make an online presence?

Like I mentioned in my last paragraph, mostly just to get my name out there. To show everyone I can what makes me special, what makes me so different to all these other Developers, and (most importantly) why they should hire ME. I've never been the most outspoken person in the world, so making a blog, showing people what I can do without even having to meet them (and risk making a fool of myself) first seems like a no brainer.

(A very low-res first attempt at pixel art for my first attempt at a video game)

What Platforms Should I Use?

Another good question (Thanks Gavin) and a controversial one too. Most Social Media sites that people still use (RIP MySpace) have certain connotations that come with them, most of them negative, and that influences the type, and amount, of Industry members that use each website. From the stereotype that Facebook is for the older generations, and Instagram is for the younger generations, Tumblr is for the Artsy types, LinkedIn is for the Serious types, YouTube is somehow home to everyone, and god knows whats happening to X (formerly twitter) It seems if you want to reach the most people possible, you need to be open to posting to multiple sites. Before starting this blog, id never even opened the Tumblr website, and had only really heard about it from a couple old memes and YouTube videos (DashCon 2014?? too deep a cut??) Only to find out that its nothing like the picture id been painted, so I've learned already that I need to keep a very open mind. So far i have been posting on Instagram and Twitter since starting Secondary school, Facebook since i got invited to play Farmville by my Granny, LinkedIn since starting my part-time job hunt in 1st year of Uni, and YouTube since I got my first PC and thought I was fit to be the next member of FaZe, so I have my fair share of social media experience.

(another, strangely low-res, Pixel art attempt, this time for a game me and a few classmates brainstormed concepts in summer 2022)

What Sets Me Apart From the Competition?

I think what sets me apart from the countless talented people in my industry is my passion for the things that i set my heart to, When i start a project, its all i can do, its all i think of, in my free time i'll be thinking of different ways to improve on my ideas, new concepts and ideas. When I was at work over the summer, i spent all my free time (and any time the place was empty enough) sketching out weapons, armour, locations, enemies and pretty much anything else that came to mind for the game i was working on over summer. It becomes almost an obsession, to the point where i was dreaming about medieval armour because i was so invested in the concept of the game. By the time Uni started back up again id filled up a sketchbook with ideas (and probably filled half my recycling bin with sub-par sketches.)

(a tiny error in the code of my first game)

-Jude Mabon

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helloalycia · 4 years ago

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The Wrong Lifetime – Six // Wanda Maximoff

chapter five | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter seven

author’s note: i’m glad you all seemed to like the last chapter! i’m all for slow burn but i didn’t want to leave you hanging too long aha. Now onto dating territory!

Since going to Blackpool with Wanda, we hadn't actually gotten another moment to ourselves. Wedding plans were picking up which kept her busy, and if not that, then I'd only see her in passing in which we'd exchange smiles before moving on.

So, I though it would be good to take her out on a date. A proper one, even if it was to be disguised as a simple outing between soon-to-be sister-in-laws. The plan was to 'bump' into her in town, which we did, then I asked her if she wanted to go to the art gallery. She'd been before, but they'd put in a new exhibition which I thought she might like.

We couldn't exactly hold hands when there, but I made the most of her presence and stood a little too close to her than a friend might. Since she'd kissed me at the beach, I wasn't able to think about anything else. And when shot me a knowing smile, I knew she felt the same.

"I like this one," I told her, pointing to a piece hung on the wall, before squinting to read the plaque. "Jedburgh Abbey from the River by Thomas Girtin."

"And why's that?" she asked, watching me with humoured eyes.

I pursed my lips, glancing between her and the painting sheepishly. "I'm not gonna lie, I just like the way the guy painted the clouds in the sky."

She stifled laughter, not wanting to draw attention from passers-by, and nudged me in the shoulder. "You're unbelievable, milaya (darling). We didn't have to come here if you don't like art."

I gave her a knowing look. "Hey, I love art. Especially when it's by a certain Sokovian artist named Wanda Maximoff."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. I grinned at her bashfulness, wanting to tease her but also very true with my words. Her work was my favourite, biased or not, and I still had that amazing portrait she'd done of me in my room back home. It was tucked into one of my drawers where nobody would find it. I didn't want anyone else to look at it since she'd done it for me and it was private... it was a beautiful reminder of the amazing day we'd had.

"You're poking fun, but in all seriousness, I'd actually love for my work to be up here someday," she said softly, looking at the painting before us with hopeful eyes.

"They wish they were that lucky to score someone as talented as you," I said without skipping a beat.

She cracked a smile, tilting her head in my direction. It was obvious she was losing her patience with me, but I enjoyed watching her lose it. She didn't know what to say, especially when being complimented, and it was endearing to witness.

We remained civil for the remainder of the 'date', refraining from holding hands or gazing at each other longer than friends would, and I was pretty proud of myself for not thinking about kissing her once when we were done.

As we got into the carriage to go back home, the door closed and I was going to ask her how she found it when she moved towards me in an instant, kissing me without question. I raised my hand, caressing her jaw and closing my eyes as she leaned forward, practically on my lap, not that I cared. She sucked on my bottom lip sensually before she opened her mouth, pushing her tongue into mine. I almost forgot how to breathe as she did, unprepared for such an intense kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," she revealed when she pulled away.

I flushed at the contact, a dazed smile on my lips. "Huh."

She chuckled as she sat back beside me more 'appropriately'. "Thanks for taking me. I loved it."

I nodded lamely, still trying to recover from our kiss. "I'm– I'm glad."

She smirked playfully, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips before sitting back. "You're so cute."

My words still hadn't returned, so all I could do was nod before looking the other way. Her laughter filled the carriage and I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to be in the presence of someone so perfect.

After exchanging some more kisses and actually being able to hold hands without prying eyes, we reached Wanda's home and she invited me in for some tea. Sadly, that meant we had to let go of one another, but I think she'd given me enough to remember her by as we parted, and she must have thought the same, judging from the smirk she sent my way.

We sat on the patio outside to have some tea and biscuits, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, a rare occurrence for England. We were chatting mindlessly when her brother decided to make an appearance, helping himself to a seat between Wanda and I.

"How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Y/L/N," he said playfully, shooting me a charming smile, before reaching to grab a biscuit. Wanda slapped his hand but he stole one anyway, making her roll her eyes.

"Nice to see you, Pietro," I greeted with amusement, always enjoying his presence.

"And you," he returned, before chowing down his biscuit.

Wanda gave me a fed up look over his shoulder which he was oblivious to, and I tried not to laugh as she clearly wasn't a fan of him interrupting our time.

"So, I caught a glimpse of the wedding invitations," Pietro said, making conversation. He glanced between us with a nod of approval. "They're coming along well."

I hummed in agreement, smile becoming less real when he mentioned the wedding. Wanda didn't acknowledge his words as she fiddled with the handle of her teacup.

"Is your brother behaving, Y/N?" Pietro continued jokingly, looking to me. "I know how many admirers he has, but my sister should be his first priority."

"Oh, Piet...," Wanda breathed out with embarrassment, facepalming.

"Of course he is," I assured her brother with a small smile. "He wouldn't dare try hurting Wanda or he'd have a lot of explaining to do."

There was some playfulness in my voice, but an underlying truth to my words.

"It's sweet how close you've gotten," Pietro noticed, looking between us, before settling his gaze on me. "It's about time Wanda made friends with people who aren't me."

Cue another slap. I chuckled at her sheepish expression, amused by Pietro's antics.

"Anyway," he changed the subject for his sister's sake, "mother has been getting on my very nerve about finding a bride because you decided to get married."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "We both know I didn't decide, Piet."

He sighed over-dramatically. "Well, it's because of your engagement that she's now on my back about it."

"Join the club," I joked, knowing exactly what he meant. "My mum was already on my back about finding a husband, but since this engagement, it's ten times more annoying."

Pietro laughed. "Oh, no. Has she lined up suitors? My parents like to point out every pretty woman they see to me in hopes I'll make a move. It's hardly productive."

"I haven't asked her for fear she'll pull out a folder with all of the eligible bachelors in town," I said, half joking and half serious.

Pietro snickered as Wanda rolled her eyes in the background. She should have been happy I was getting along with her brother. He was actually quite entertaining to be around.

"It's funny you say that because you're one of the women my parents pointed out," he admitted.

"Oh, God, so they're saying the same thing to you?" I asked with a groan, and he nodded regretfully. "Isn't it just the worst?"

"You're a lovely girl, Y/N, don't get me wrong," he began gently, "but I don't like you like that."

I raised my hand for a high five. "Me and you both."

Laughing once again, he returned my high five and I was glad we were on the same page. The amount of people that had been hinting at getting to know Wanda Maximoff's very single brother was getting pretty annoying. It was nice to know he was just as irritated at the insinuation as I was.

"Okay, I should leave you both to it," Pietro concluded, slapping his knees and standing up. Looking to me, he said, "Miss Y/L/N, it was as lovely as ever to make your acquaintance."

I smiled as he winked playfully before looking to his disgruntled sister.

"Dear sister, the pleasure is always mine," he continued to tease, and she slapped him once more, making him dodge her and begin to leave. "Love you, too!" he called before heading back inside.

I laughed at his silliness and relaxed in my seat, looking back to Wanda. She didn't seem half as amused as I was as she drummed her fingers on the table and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"I may be mistaken, love, but it looks like you're jealous," I poked fun at her.

She rolled her eyes and her jaw tensed before she finally looked to me, expression softening. "Can you blame me?" she asked quietly. "You're both single. You're both similar age. Everybody talks."

I shrugged nonchalantly, having a sip of my tea. "True... but I've got my eye on another Maximoff anyway."

She sighed, small smile creeping on her lips. Subtly moving my chair closer to hers, I grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed. My thumb stroked her hand softly as I leaned on the palm of my hand on the table.

"You look really beautiful today," I admitted in a hushed voice. "I should have told you earlier."

She, too, leaned into the palm of her hand as she watched me with an enchanting gaze. "So do you, milaya (darling)."

Unable to resist, I glanced around quickly before kissing her cheek and pulling away. Letting go of her hand, I busied myself with the tea and biscuits again.

"Biscuit?" I offered her, and she began to laugh at my attempt at acting casual.

Playing along, she accepted the biscuit from my hand. But a knowing smile was on her lips as she nodded. "Thank you."

—

Being with Wanda was a luxury in itself, even if we had to keep it private.

To everybody else, we were merely two women about to become family who happened to create a bond that was close. But we both knew what it really was and weren't eager to say it. Because saying it made it true and that meant that what we were doing became realer than it was in our daydreams and hidden moments.

I did find myself wracked with guilt sometimes – particularly the times when Y/B/N would gush about how excited he was to marry her. Wanda was technically cheating on him with me, his sister, but that fact was something that was still blurry to me.

We had no choice but to lie and be secretive. In a world like this, where we would never be able to be together like we wanted to, all we had was secrecy and deception. Did that still make us bad people?

I tried not to think about what would happen when she actually married my brother. The future was something I was adamant on pushing to the back of my mind because I knew what it would hold and I just wanted to enjoy the time I had with her. Convincing myself that what we had wasn't serious, just a heat of the moment relationship maybe, made things easier to accept. But really, I knew that whenever she looked my way with her signature smile and dazzling eyes, it was way more than I envisioned. She was way more.

So, trying not to be dragged down with the weight of reality, I vowed to myself to only focus on the now. Focus on the moments I shared with her whilst we could. Anything beyond that and I'd surely snap.

"Medovyy (honey), the Y/L/Ns are here!" Iryna called behind her, before looking to my family and I as we stood at her front door. "Please, all of you, come in!"

She ushered us into the main hall before closing the door after us. Perfectly timed, the rest of her family left the living room and came to greet us.

Automatically, my eyes found Wanda's and she was already looking my way, her dimple making a show as she attempted to reign in an excited smile. I did the same, trying to ignore the way my heart stirred upon seeing her.

Oleg and Iryna welcomed my parents and then me, kind expressions accompanying genuine greetings. In the corner of my eye, I saw Pietro shaking Y/B/N's hand before Wanda took his place, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Y/B/N. It wasn't jealousy that I felt whenever they were together, at least not entirely – they were to be married, what more could I expect? – but it wasn't anything pleasant either.

"Ah, my favourite Y/L/N," Pietro beamed upon shaking my hand, making my lips twitch upwards. "You excited for dinner? We're having salmon."

"Ecstatic, Pietro," I answered with a playful eye roll. "All I've been thinking all day."

He chuckled at my sarcasm before letting go of my hand and moving over to greet my parents. Wanda was next, her shoulders relaxing when she stepped before me with a soft smile present on her lips.

"It's good to see you," she said, but her eyes said much more than that. "How have you been?"

Exchanging a friendly-looking hug, my body was warm where she pressed against me. Touching her always sent a rush of emotion through me and I looked forward to it every time.

"I've been good," I answered aloud, before whispering into her ear, "Better now."

She squeezed my waist inconspicuously in response before letting go. "That's good. You know, we've got time before dinner and I wanted to show you the painting I've been working on lately. Wanna see?"

I glanced at my parents and hers for permission, knowing they'd heard her question.

"Just try not to take too long since dinner will be on the table soon," Iryna said with a nod. "It's so good to see you girls getting along."

Breathing out slightly, I smiled gratefully before letting Wanda intertwine our fingers and drag me up the staircase. She led me past several doors before we finally reached hers and she tugged me inside.

As soon as the door closed, she was quick to connect our lips in a heated, desperate kiss. I relaxed against her instantly, my hands falling to her side and pulling her closer. Her fingernails gently scratched the sensitive skin behind my neck, giving me goosebumps, and I let out an involuntary gasp at the feeling.

When we pulled away for a breath, her nose brushed against mine and she pressed a final kiss to my lips, slower and more tasteful compared to the first, before smiling at me.

"I missed you," she said, as if reading my mind.

A breathy laugh escaped my lips. "It's only been a week since we last saw each other, love."

She shrugged, arms laced around my neck. "A week too long."

Raising a brow judgementally, I gave her a knowing look. She wasn't embarrassed in the slightest as her half-lidded eyes met mine with a confident smirk.

"Did you just pull me up here to have a quick snog?" I teased her.

"Well, yes," she said, making me laugh again, before adding, "And I wanted to ask you if you'll go to the park with me tomorrow. A picnic. If you want."

She bit her lip anxiously, eyes darting elsewhere as she waited for an answer. I always found it amusing how she could be so confident one second and then so innocently adorable the next.

"Wanda, I'd love to." My thumb rubbed circles on her waist as I kept ahold of her. "I hear it's supposed to be nice weather tomorrow, too."

She pursed her lips. "Even if it rained, I'd still drag you to the park with me."

"Somehow, I feel like that's true," I countered with a ghost of a smile on my lips. She tried to hide her own smile and I continued, "Was there an actual painting you wanted to show me or...?"

Breathing out with amusement, she intertwined our fingers and pulled me to the back of her room where her 'studio' was. Since the last time I'd visited, there were plenty of new additions to her work, all as wonderful as the next.

"This one is from the beach at Blackpool," she said, stopping before a medium-sized canvas depicting the horizon. "When we sat on the bench. Just before I kissed you."

My heart fluttered at the memory and I studied the canvas, recalling it looked similar to her watercolour painting of the same view. She'd done a spectacular replica in oil paints, reminiscent of the trip we took.

"You should already know what I'm going to say," I said, looking to her knowingly. "But just so you can hear it again, I absolutely love this. You're so talented."

She rolled her eyes to distract from the pink spreading across her cheeks. "Thank you... and again, thank you for taking me. Seeing an actual water source upfront really helped me refine my paintings. It feels so much more real now."

I looked back to the painting, noticing what she meant. Either way, I loved both versions of her work, before and after going to the beach.

"You did good, love."

She squeezed my hand gently before sighing quietly with realisation. "We should probably go back down."

"We should," I agreed, glancing at her. "Thanks for showing me these."

She cracked a smile, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. "Always."

Reluctantly, the two of us returned downstairs and joined the others as they were settling at the dining table. Wanda and I sat side by side, and this time when her fingers brushed mine, I made no move to pull away.

The meal was good, but as usual, I found myself zoning out. The conversation made its rounds, falling to me as the Maximoffs wanted to know how I was doing, then moved on, giving me chance to focus on eating my dinner and getting through the evening. I knew that at one point, everybody was talking about some play that was showing in the theatres.

Bits of the conversation were going in one ear and out the other and I was minding my own business until Wanda's bare foot rubbed against my leg under the table. The sensation of her skin against mine made my knee bounce up and hit the table with surprise, earning everyone's attention.

"Are you okay, dear?" Oleg asked, noticing my discomfort.

I cleared my throat, straightening up and ignoring the stifled smile Wanda had in my peripheral vision.

"I'm good, sorry about that," I apologised awkwardly, shivering when she dragged her foot back down my leg. "You were talking about the play, right?"

That seemed to distract them, as they leapt right back into conversation, giving me a chance to breathe out with relief. I looked to Wanda, watching her lean on her palm and hide a smirk as she stared at me with mischievous eyes.

Glaring and nudging her in the arm subtly, I looked back to my food, but she didn't move her foot, nor her hand. Both brushed my against me, starting a fire on my skin and making me swallow hard. She kept like that for the whole evening, making my head dizzy and leaving me at a loss for words.

And when I looked her way, she was already staring, definitely knowing the effect she had on me.

—

"I just need to find my shoes and we can go," I told Wanda the next morning, before our date at the park.

She'd come to pick me up at my house and was hanging around my room as I finished getting ready. From her place at my desk, she hummed in acknowledgment before distracting herself with my notebooks.

"I see you're making great use of the notebook I picked out for you," she commented, and I glanced towards her mid-search for my shoes, seeing she was flicking through the already-filled book.

"I have a lot of ideas, what can I say?" I joked, before looking under the pile of clothes near my wardrobe.

She chuckled, before falling quiet again. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing until she spoke up after a few minutes.

"Y/N, your writing is beautiful," she said, making me look her way to see an amazed smile on her lips. "I didn't know you could write like this. I mean– I should have because you helped write that letter Y/B/N gave to me, but this..."

I shrugged awkwardly, distracting myself with my search again. "It's okay, I guess."

She exhaled mockingly. "Okay? Y/N, this is miles better than okay. Why didn't you show me this sooner?"

I smiled satisfactorily as I finally located my shoes. Grabbing them, I approached Wanda and took a seat on the edge of my bed, opposite her seat at my desk.

"Because it'll never be anything more than what you're looking at?" I said rhetorically. "It'll only ever be words confined to pages that nobody will see?"

She gave me a knowing look. "I think you forget that my brother is a publisher, dorogoy (dear)."

"And I think you forget that he is the publisher to my brother, dear," I retorted playfully.

She sighed, shaking her head and putting the notebook back on my desk. "You know Pietro would love this, right? He'd sign you in a heartbeat."

I snickered at the ludicrous thought. "Wanda, you're a little biased, love."

She rolled her eyes. "Writers write for audiences. I am an audience. I consume literature. And I'm telling you that it's not just me who would read what you have to write."

I tried not to laugh as I pulled my shoes onto my feet.

"Are you really telling me that you'd never want to get published?" she asked with a raised brow.

My heart ached at the thought of such a fantasy. "Of course I would, Wanda." I met her eyes, which were already peering across from me patiently. "I've dreamed of that. But it's just not what's to happen. My family have told me that many times. In another lifetime, maybe."

She pursed her lips, studying me thoughtfully. I offered her a smile and stood up, holding out my hand.

"Forget that," I told her. "I believe you promised me a picnic."

Thankfully, she dropped the subject and accepted my hand, letting me pull her up. The topic wasn't brought up again and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We went to the park like she wanted and she brought a picnic basket with her, having packed a lovely variety of finger foods and snacks.

As she was unpacking the food onto the blanket, I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know, now that we're finally alone, I can say how unfair it was of you to do what you did last night."

She played dumb, shrugging, focusing on neatening up the sandwiches on a plate. "I don't know what you mean, milaya (darling)."

"Huh. Sure you don't."

Giggles flew from her lips as she glanced at me through her eyelashes. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I just love seeing you squirm. You get all tense and it's so cute."

I pursed my lips. "I figured. You've been watching me squirm since we met."

She grinned knowingly before straightening up. "Okay, I made sandwiches and there's also some coleslaw, fruit, cheese... I made some Sokovian dishes, too, if you want to try them. Okroshka – it's like a cold soup. Then there's this olivye salad. It's... well, salad."

I smiled at the thought she put into it all and grabbed her hand between us. We'd set the picnic out behind a tree so we wouldn't have curious eyes watching us. It didn't look like we were overtly hiding, but we still got our privacy, too.

"It all looks great, Wanda," I said with appreciation. "I can't wait to try it."

She squeezed my hand in response before letting go to grab some paper plates. After popping a strawberry in her mouth, she asked, "Do you just want a bit of everything?"

I leaned on the back of my hands as I hummed a 'yes'. She began to put me some food in and I watched her, admiring the sight.

Her hair was half-pulled back today, falling in waves down her back and exposing her perfectly sculpted jawline. Everything about her was perfect – the way she moved was elegant and graceful, even when her hair fell over her shoulder and in her way; she simply moved it back with a flick of her hand and resumed what she was doing. The sun caught her immaculately, her hair glowing bright under the light and her eyes magnificently green as they focused.

As always, she took my breath away.

"Here," she said, holding out the plate towards me and pulling me from my reverie.

I accepted the plate and fork, returning her smile, before she watching as she began to make another plate for herself.

"You sure this is fancy enough for you?" I asked jokingly, stabbing my fork into a carrot. "I heard you and my brother went to a very luxurious restaurant the other night."

She met my eyes, holding amusement in her own. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya (darling)."

I kissed my teeth and rolled my eyes. "I'm not jealous, I just– it's so annoying listening to him talk about how beautiful you are or how funny you are or how kind you are."

"Oh, so you don't think I'm any of those things?" she teased, trying to get a rise out of me.

I titled my head towards her. "Of course I know you're all those things. But it doesn't mean I like hearing him talk about it constantly..."

Clearly amused, she erupted into laughter and I felt my face heating up with embarrassment. I know it sounded like I was whining, but it was true. Sometimes, I wasn't envious of my brother but rather at the fact that he could actually take Wanda out properly. He could be seen with her in public and hold her hand without fear of getting looks or disowned. He had the privilege of being with her and it wasn't fair.

"You may hear him talk about it, but there's one thing I can assure you that you get that he doesn't," she said when recovering from her laughter.

I stared at her with an exasperated sigh. "And what's that?"

She smiled confidently, glancing around quickly, before leaning forward and kissing me softly. As quickly as it came, it disappeared, leaving me desiring more.

Licking my lips, I couldn't tear my eyes from hers. "You know, you're a really good kisser."

She chuckled at my reaction and I found myself leaning in again, entranced by the way she tasted. Putting my plate to the side, I raised a hand to pull her closer, getting better access to her mouth.

She tasted sweet like the strawberry she'd just eaten and I swiped my tongue across her lip, indicating I wanted her to part her them. She did, allowing me to slip my tongue in and wrestle with hers, revelling in the way she tasted. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest as she let out a moan, it reverberating in my mouth and giving me goosebumps.

When lack of oxygen became an issue, she pulled away breathlessly, flushed cheeks adorned with a smile.

"As lovely as that was, I actually want to eat what I made," she ridiculed playfully.

"Yes, we will," I assured her, my hand moving from her neck up to her jaw. My thumb touched her lips, outlining them tenderly, subconsciously committing them to memory. "We'll get back to it."

She wanted to laugh, but I moved forward and caught her bottom lip between mine, unable to stay away. It was wrong, the rush I felt in my gut and the warmth that spread all over my body and the tingles that travelled down my spine. Because I knew what it all meant, but admitting it was a different story. So, I didn't.

I just continued to kiss the girl before me, knowing I could have kissed her forever and not regretted a single thing.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine

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maxenceandrebisset · 3 years ago

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165cm, polish, quite long dyed reddish brown hair. Not the prettiest, but i've been told that i am beautiful, but in a way that makes people stop and wonder 'as i have a face that is rarely seen and very unique'. Its rare to see me without a smile and a joke too. I study graphic design and marketing and i'm hoping to work for one of the car manufacturers in merchandise design or in communications sphere, just to be closer to cars and possibly aid the green cars movement. If not, i want to do corporate graphic design, possibly UX, as my art by itself unfortunately wont give me living wage. I've loved cars since i was a small child, my family always taking me to car events, like retro cars expos, long motorcycle bikes, long car trips where we spent hours driving the amazing roads of eastern europe and then hours on the side of roads repairing the car. My favorite moments are sitting as passenger, hearing the car and just existing. I confessed love once, only, by telling them that i just saw a McLaren p1 for the first time, in wild, and it was breathtaking and stunning just like they were. Somehow, they liked that compliment :) I also am deeply involved in local political movements and i go to a lot of protests but also charity drives. I am interested in political theory, i could talk about history for hours, i breathe art. I am deeply in love with eastern europe, a love that took years to grow (does Czech Republic have the same thing as poland? As in, if you love your country, you are seen as the wrong one? 'you cant love poland. Its gray, terrible and it hates you. If you love eastern europe, you must be one of them, the bad ones'), but a love im proud of. I hope i can work in graphic design but my art is traditional fine arts. I love paint, i love the feeling of the brush and the pencil. I adore drawing cars, architecture and my favorite subject, people. You can often catch me in bus or subway with a sketchbook, drawing people around me. I have many sketchbooks filled with just people i saw in subway. I've been told that even when i try to make my art emotionless or even happy, there is pain and sadness in it. Ive had many Great Highs (I worked for some impressive companies, in graphic design teams, had few international exhibitions) and Great Lows (this is my 4th attempt at getting a degree and im an orphan, no family left). Currently in a low, but I hope i can get better and better and snatch one of the porsche graphic design internships. In a relationship, my love language is attention. I like giving compliments, i like quality time, but my real love language is all the attention i give. If the person i chose to be with is around, i will focus only on them, after every joke i will look at them, to see if they laughed. I focus on everything they're telling me and all that they're sharing with me. I want their opinions on everything, the art i just saw, the theatre play i am amazed by, current political events, my own personal events. I also tend to give small touches like touching an arm when i pass someone freely if i trust them. I like having fun and laughing and having fun the most. I like going to festivals, new places, new theatre plays i haven't seen before and new restaurants a lot. I tend to laugh always, at everything. Few days after i became an orphan i was already saying that my parents aren't picking their phone and that they're ghosting me. However, me smiling and joking doesn't mean i cant take stuff serious, i just prefer to have a smile and a joke. My biggest flaw i think is that i've been listening to kpop since 2008 or 2009 and i know way, way too much about it haha. I was a DBSK fan when DBSK was 5 people still and ive been always interested in the production aspect. The marketing, the composers, the choreographers, the stylists. When i get into something, it goes deep and for long, long time. Since then i branched into khiphop and krnb and thats most of the music i listen to. A k-music veteran :) Can i say, i love what you're doing so much. Its so fun reading how others are

describing themselves and your writing is superb. Im so glad i have found your tumblr cos woW damn, thats some amazing reading right there. I havent been in czech republic yet, i usually travel throu slovakia, but i cant wait to finally see czech republic!! Mariusz Szczygieł often writes about his love for czech republic and hes honestly one of my favorite writers and i want to see all the places he describes.

Sorry for responding this late, had been busy these days with school and life in general. But I was thinking about you, my Polish friend!

First about the side questions before we jump into the main part of this answer - I wouldn't exactly say that you are viewed as weird when you publically voice your love for the Czech Republic. It is slightly similar to the Polish point of view, but you can't say a confident yes or no to this.

Sure, Czechs are incredibly pessimistic people and always look for something negative in everything - sport, education, politics, modern art & architecture, reforms, and so on... - (which I hate so much as someone, who tries to view things positively), comparing our country to others (especially the western ones, that hadn't been trapped under communist regime for several years), the old generation criticizing everything new while the younger one hating the old ugly-ass communistic remarks and old-school mindsets of the pensioners (which I hate as well cause all those concrete buildings are disgusting and many old people are so irritatingly narrow-minded, many members of my family included...), but at the same time, they are extremely harsh to the young generation, when someone says that they want to live somewhere else or that they are not proud to be Czech.

I personally am proud to be Czech - something I have grown into as I once admired a country like the US from all the sugarcoated movies and novels before I learned what life is really like there and in many other parts of the world and realized how lucky I am to live where I live -, the Czech Republic have a remarkably rich history, huge names that had gone down to history and some, who are still making history out there, but I have always wanted to live in Canada or the Scandinavian countries - not forever, just for studies or few years, experience something different - and my family never reproached me for something as harsh as they did for this when I once told them about this wish of mine.

So yeah, it is quite complicated.

When you tell foreigners that you love living in the Czech Republic, they in 90% of cases don't know a single thing about the country, where it is, let alone anything beyond that (some know Prague, but are not aware that it is our capital - as pitiful as that) or they still think that we are Czechoslovakia so yeah... Wish someone would teach them where something like contact lenses, the word "robot" or the blood types were created cause they probably think those were invented in the US.

Anyway, I recommend you gifting the Czech Republic a visit. There are a ton of magnificent places outside of Prague and countless Czech things you need to taste or try out! Can be your private guide if you ever decide to stop by.

But now back to the answer!

CHARLES LECLERC

The main reasons why I paired you with Charles are that he is also art-oriented, one of a few drivers, who seem intelligent and sophisticated enough to be engaged in political issues and other more serious topics, and also someone, who would love sharing and hearing opinions - just deeper conversations than the usual ones about how your day went and what you had for breakfast.

- We all know that this boy is genuinely interested in fashion, even in designing his own clothes so I definitely think that he has understanding and respect for artists in general

-> plus this makes me think that he would definitely help you secure some special position, either within the F1 to have you closer and to be able to see your work with his own eyes on a regular basis or somewhere else at a respected corporation, where you would be able to create the art you love creating and at the same time have a decent and stable income, which would make you be financially independent if needed

- He definitely isn't someone, who would look down on artists and say that their profession is not hard and should not be admired as dozens of others - would constantly remind you how impressed and proud he is of your work and would be like that typical supportive boyfriend promoting your art on his social media with the cheesy complimenting captions, bragging about how talented his significant other is to everyone

- He would probably also be interested in your music recommendations - someone, who is not narrow-minded and can appreciate music in any language or form if it sounds good

- Charles is also someone, who is really active in the relationship -> lots of going out to restaurants, museums, galleries, theaters, music festivals, concerts, meeting with your friends, things like these with traveling all around the world included... Mainly because he would want to make up for his absence during the busy season traveling and create some memorable moments with you

- Also think, that he would spoil you. Mainly with fashion since that is an area he is confident in and would probably love to put an outfit for you together if you didn't know what to wear or buy you some jewelry or other accessories, not only for anniversaries, birthdays, and other significant days.

- Affection and attention would be important for him since you wouldn't be like other regular couples, that can see each other every single day - when your work and schedules would allow you to be together, it would without a doubt be filled with an extreme amount of affection and focus and the fact that you would be capable of giving him the same amount back would make him fall for you bit more every single time (boy also wants to be loved and complimented)

- Slowly and surely he would also try to make both you and your art genuinely positive and happy if he eventually noticed it like other people, replacing or at least attempting to do replace everything sorrowful in you with something delightful - for example give you the opportunity to enjoy your love for cars to the fullest (attend races, not only the F1 ones, drive the Ferraris he is always given, or the older models, go on a road trip just you two, somewhere out of the city... these things)

- As I already mentioned at the beginning, he is one of the drivers, who would genuinely be into deeper discussions - he would be honest with giving you his personal opinions on your work, a lot of constructive and yet gentle critique to not unintentionally hurt you, or any sort of topic, which would be brought up

- He seems like that type of insightful and witty person, who would be up to getting educated even about things that don't directly affect him or those he hadn't paid much attention to before (environment, politics, etc...) and then pass his freshly gained knowledge through his platform to tons of others if it was something important people needed to be aware of

- Also someone who would respect your culture, despite being culturally shocked from some aspects, and accommodate to anything if needed and if it meant making you happy

- Plus his mother and brothers would definitely take you as a part of the family - Christmas, birthdays, holidays, everything important and not spent together in Monaco

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #ferrari

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scion-of-mischief · 3 years ago

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My grumpy tiefling monk Xiao ^^ trying to learn how to digitally paint not sure if I got the hang of shading here but I'm proud for a serious first attempt

#artists on tumblr #oc #original character #dnd art #dnd #tiefling #dnd character

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auriond · 3 years ago

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(For anyone who's tagged me lately, thousand apologies once again! I'll get round to them eventually, I promise!!!)

It's well into the new year, so I'd better do that 2021 art roundup before it's too late!

This year I didn't do much art before I got my new tablet in September, and much of the art I did do was posted to my other account (@brennenacht ) because they were FFXIV-related. Still, I'm reposting them here, along with links to the original posts where relevant.

All in all, I still did more art than I thought I would, which is great!

(I'll make a separate post for fics, as 2021 was the first time I got really serious about fics.)

Onto the roundup!

So this was nowhere near one of the best works I did in 2021, but I still have a soft spot for it. It started as a screenshot redraw and ended as a standalone work. I might refine it one day.

Link to original post

Drawn as a gift to a friend in FFXIV, in an attempt to cheer her up during a bad time. There seem to have been a lot of bad times lately. Tea helps. (I'm the elfboy, she's the little person.)

Link to original post

If I had to pick a piece to represent my 2021 work, this would be it, hands down. For many personal reasons, but also because for once, it turned out way better than expected, considering it was a redraw of an old wip.

Link to original post

So this was for a personal project, reimagining the leaders of my FFXIV FC as game bosses. It was fun, but I ran out of time before I could colour it. Still a striking piece though, and one that I'm pretty proud of.

Link to original post here although I've updated the image since then.

My attempt at a semi-realistic depiction of Tsunemori Akane. It was a lot harder than I expected. I used to do realism more before I got into anime, and now I'm finding it hard to switch back.

Link to original post

This is actually the weakest piece in my roundup because it was the farthest from what I had in mind when I started. Still, it's in the roundup because I spent too damn long on it.

Link to original post

Last but not least, a little something different. I picked up dinosaur painting this year thanks to my kiddo's obsession with all things dino, and slowly finding out I'm really not too bad at it. I thought I had a post with a process vid but I can't find it now. Oh well.

Anyway, that's my art roundup for 2021! Thanks for reading this far, and here's hoping 2022 will bring more and better art.

#auriond #art #roundup

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komori--shoma · 4 years ago

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Shoma Umi Komori.

🦢

(I'm sorry if my english is shitty-)

❛A sad soul can kill faster than bacteria.❜

—𝐽𝑜𝒉𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘

⟅☙⟆ Universe ⟅☙⟆

Diabolik Lovers. I plan, however, to take her out of the universe and make her a character of her own. Or maybe I'll just drop it and do both. Who knows?

⟅☙⟆ Full Name ⟅☙⟆

Shoma Umi Komori.

"Shoma" is a Japanese name that means "Woman who seeks the truth, who is not conformist at all." Her second name, "Umi", is also a Japanese name that means "ocean".

⟅☙⟆ Kanji ⟅☙⟆

ショマ

⟅☙⟆ Nickname ⟅☙⟆

Despite being initially confused by these, as she was not used to it, she was given the nickname "Engel" (which means "Angel" in German) by a family quite close to her. The nickname was given by the mother and head of the family, since in the eyes of that woman, Shoma is an angel.

Seiji, who was the adoptive father of the girl, called the young woman "Astertea", which is quite a "peculiar" name in the bible.

Yui, with whom she is no longer in contact with Shoma, used to call her "Sho" or "Shomi" affectionately.

⟅☙⟆ Age ⟅☙⟆

She is eighteen years old, although she looks a bit younger.

⟅☙⟆ Gender ⟅☙⟆

Feminine.

⟅☙⟆ Sexual Orientation ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't know yet. Doesn't really bothers her to know.

⟅☙⟆ Height ⟅☙⟆

160 cm.

⟅☙⟆ Weight ⟅☙⟆

She used to weigh 35 kg., But now she is a proud 64.5 kg.

⟅☙⟆ Blood type ⟅☙⟆

OR-

⟅☙⟆ Status ⟅☙⟆

Alive.

⟅☙⟆ Race ⟅☙⟆

Human

⟅☙⟆ Birthday ⟅☙⟆

June 20th.

⟅☙⟆ Sign ⟅☙⟆

Gemini.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Color ⟅☙⟆

Light blue and night blue.

⟅☙⟆ Appearance ⟅☙⟆

There is a great before and after in her appearance, and even though she is not shown in her story (at the end of the card), there was the occasional change in her future.

The girl has oculocutaneous albinism, so her skin and hair are snow-white. Her hair, due to a small "situation", was long, straight and lifeless. Her hair almost touched her waist, and she basically managed to cover her view. She is now a cute short hairstyle down to the nape of hers, wavy and neat.

Her skin is very pale and fragile, although now she is somewhat better, before she was simply rough and damaged. She has several deep burns and scars on this one as well.

The young woman, despite not having very good eyesight, has beautiful eyes of a light blue color, somewhat grayish.

She has a mark on her right leg in the shape of a fox with several stars on it. It's a pretty special symbol, but she keeps it covered most of the time.

She usually did not wear clothes other than bandages to cover herself, although she still finds old clothes to wear, even though she was a little too big. Now, she got used to wearing light clothes that cover most of her body; like jeans, leggings, or long dresses with something underneath. She doesn't really like to wear short or see-through clothes.

⟅☙⟆ Personality ⟅☙⟆

Many think that she simply doesn't have any kind of emotion. Shoma never shows any kind of expression in public, she is shown with her face up and with a look so cold that she makes it true to her appearance. The young woman is too serious, and depending on the person, it is very difficult to get her out of her typical attitude.

Sho is an elegant little girl, and full of grace despite all her troubles. She will never be friendly enough in front of someone (again, it depends on the person), but she will also not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome unless that is the goal of the little one. Shoma knows that she is able to erase someone from the earth fas if she wishes, but she doesn't abuse that thought, you just have to be careful not to make her angry or touch her too much. It could be a big mistake.

Still, well ...

She is always alert, so it is very easy for her to get nervous or anxious most of the time.

She can also happen that she cannot do something right (she finds it very difficult to concentrate / think on several occasions, as well as sometimes she finds it difficult to understand what happens around her, etc). Still, it is something that doesn't happen as much as before, after leaving the aforementioned situation in which she found herself.

She is easily frustrated, and this happens when she recognizes that she has trouble thinking. It's very easy for her to cry or tear up in frustration (she doesn't do it in public, she refuses to do it, but that only makes it worse). Also, her coping strategy is simply not talking about her emotions and keeping a straight face all the time.

Still, and even though she very reluctantly accepted help, Sho is willing to change and improve (even if she has to go through hell first). She has shown to be too cunning for her age and to behave as if she were an adult, and even though she is slowly trying to behave according to her age, she is very difficult for her as well.

Anyway, Shoma can also be a girl who listens to others and is willing to do it regardless of the situation, and she is always there to be a shoulder on which one can cry. She also tends to have fun when she feels calm around her, being one of the few moments when she feels and acts like a young little girl.

⟅☙⟆ Relatives ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori: Adoptive father. Currently dead.

⟣ Yui Komori: Adoptive sister. Currently alive.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Food ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't have a single specific favorite food, but she definitely likes sweet and simple foods, like grated applesauce and banana, or a fruit salad.

⟅☙⟆ Hoobies ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Shoma likes to make paintings with her hands. She serves to entertain him and clear her mind.

⟣ She also likes to make crowns with different types of flowers, even some bracelets and necklaces.

⟣ She has a certain fascination for mathematics and literature, so it is normal to see her do either of the two when she is bored. The problem is when she has a hard time doing a difficult exercise.

⟣ She Likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. She likes to decorate and combine, so it is normal for her as a hobby to do the odd combination in video games, or in a room.

⟣ It may not count as a hobby, but Shoma loves to watch an episode of a series that she likes or a movie many times to imitate the lines, as if it were some kind of dubbing attempt.

⟅☙⟆ Occupation ⟅☙⟆

None, she doesn't consider herself a student, even if she studies at home.

⟅☙⟆ Relationships ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori, adoptive father.

She did not have a good relationship with him no matter how hard she tried at the time. It was too obvious the favoritism that he had with Yui, and how she always stayed in the shadow of the blonde. Despite trying to be like Yui, he could never have any kind of acceptance with her father.

⟣ Yui Komori, adoptive sister.

He adored her with her soul. Yui was Shoma's heroine, and she always tried to follow her example despite her unruly attitude as a child. The elder Komori was Shoma's world, and he simply wanted to be with her all the time.

Things have changed now. She can't even look at her. The disgust and hatred that he has for that now young woman is simply immense. And believe it when I say she tries; she tries too hard to forget so many things that caused this feeling, but she just can't.

⟣ Yvonne Beauchene, the right hand.

Shoma's only trusted person alongside her family. Yvonne was Shoma's guardian from the day he arrived at the church, although she had some problems because of it, and that is the reason why she had to leave, but surely nothing bad could happen, right?

⟅☙⟆ Likes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite not having tasted it in recent years, she liked (and still remembers the taste of it, so she still likes) Yvonne's orange tarts a lot. She used to do them when Seiji was not at home for her, Yui and Shoma.

⟣ She loves music, especially the one that doesn't have any type of letter and is only a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. Her favorite, and also Yvonne's, is "The Vampire Masquerade", which is the melody which Yvonne met her husband.

⟣ Regarding the above, she usually daydreams many times with music in the background and she likes that (because the real world sucks and it is her only way out of the stress and anxiety that she feels most of the time). She sometimes even draws or paints those scenarios that are formed in her head.

⟣ As said before, she likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. Also, despite having the face of wanting some horror games (these make her heart race and sometimes she has panic attacks), she prefers Animal Crossing by a lot.

⟣ Loves snakes (which are not poisonous), cats and dogs. Snakes are very good company, and cats and dogs are responsible for keeping her calm.

⟅☙⟆ Dislikes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite having been seen surviving based on it, she does not like meat very much. Of course, she can bear it, she even likes some (very few) meat dishes !, but there are certain types of meat that remind him too much of ... well, her own meat.

⟣ Obviously, she can't stand going to churches or things related to religion. She gets too anxious and nervous.

⟣ Her body and mind literally rejects any kind of physical affection if she doesn't know the person very well or doesn't trust them. It's no surprise, considering her personality. Very few people are lucky enough to even put a hand on her shoulder and not get hurt (Shoma doesn't do it on purpose).

⟅☙⟆ Fears and Phobias ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Somniphobia: fear of sleeping.

Oneirophobia, somniphobia, clinophobia or hypnophobia is an irrational and excessive fear of the act of sleeping. People who suffer from it enter a state of panic caused by the fear that while they are sleeping something terrible will happen to them, such as the possibility of stopping breathing or that they will never wake up, even knowing that there is no threat, but they stay awake, presenting insomnia. Some people who have this phobia associate going to bed with death.

In some cases, panic is unleashed by the belief that the dreams that will be had when sleeping are actually delusions and these will favor falling into a state of permanent madness. This type of phobia generates a great deal of stress and significant physical and mental deterioration, so it is not uncommon for many people to end up suffering from hallucinations, a fact that further aggravates this type of phobia: fear of sleeping.

Shoma cannot sleep because various things used to happen during these. She remembers well once a nun (then she disappeared without a trace) entered her room and hanged her, almost killing her if it weren't for Yui screaming for help.

⟣ Theophobia: fear of religion.

Theophobia is the fear or aversion to religion or the gods, and being more common among people who are raised in an environment of iron religiosity. Theophobia can express itself as fear, aversion, anger, or other negative emotion towards religious practices. In some cases, the theophobic representation can categorize the deity as an arbitrary totalitarian dictator or, conversely, as unworthy of worship.

It is common among people who suffer from theophobia to avoid religious texts, houses of worship (churches, mosques, synagogues ...) and even the parishioners of a religion.

The young woman lived in a church for years and was not treated as "a daughter of God", but as "an aberration of satan" by her father and certain nuns. She causes him so much fear that, if there really is a god, she has abandoned her for "not being worthy". Many things together caused this irrational fear of religion in general.

⟣ Hafephobia: fear of being touched.

Hafephobia is a specific phobic disorder (unlike agoraphobia or social phobia) that causes great suffering in the person who suffers from it.

It is an irrational fear of great intensity that manifests itself when the individual suffering from the phobia comes into physical contact with other people and is touched. It produces a series of cognitive, physiological or behavioral responses, among which extreme anxiety and the attempt to avoid the feared stimulus to reduce the unpleasant sensation stand out.

Shoma, of course, is working on this and for now she's doing very well, but if she's some stranger, she isn't going to allow herself to be touched or touched by another individual. She is so afraid that every touch will turn into a blow or something to harm her.

⟣ Atazagoraphobia: fear of forgetting.

Atazagoraphobia is the excessive fear of forgetting, which includes both the fear of forgetting and the fear of being forgotten or replaced by others. Despite the fact that it is a common sensation, atazagoraphobia has been little described in scientific language. In fact, it has been more pointed out by philosophers and writers who speak of atazagoraphobia as the fear of eternal anonymity.

Shoma was literally forgotten or ignored from a young age, and she doesn't want to go through it again. She doesn't want to feel so cold again that she can't breathe properly or move. She can't, she doesn't want to...

⟅☙⟆ Headcannon Voice ⟅☙⟆

Mia Rodríguez.

⟅☙⟆ Skills ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She is impressively good with knives and razors. She usually uses them for cooking.

⟣ Literally she can imitate many voices, even male ones. She uses it to make jokes or for some plan (to get some dessert) that she has in mind.

⟣ She is becoming more and more independent, and that is why she is getting very good at cooking. She even manages to focus on that rather than other things.

⟅☙⟆ Extra ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She has undiagnosed “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”.

⟣ She tends to bite her arm or bite her nails if she is very anxious.

⟣ It is difficult for her to accept some changes in her life, but she manages to adapt step by step.

⟣ She likes to play with Yvonne's family, August, her husband, being Shoma's favorite.

⟣ She is considerably innocent of the world around her, but at the same time, she isn't. She is aware that the world revolves around that filthy green paper, and she is very clever with it. She knows that her "condition" and her situation may be a weak point, but it is for that reason that she is also careful who she hangs out with.

⟅☙⟆ History ⟅☙⟆

Shoma arrived at the doors of the Komori family church on May 22, 2001, with only a note that said "My name is Shoma, Mom and Dad can no longer take care of me," just three weeks after I was born. She was greeted by one of the local sisters, a favorite of the owner and leader of that church, Seiji Komori. The latter named was not on that cold night, with the snow falling slowly in that beautiful place, so the same sister took care of the girl in his absence.

A girl with blond hair and pink eyes like the petals of a cherry tree approached said sister, curious by the cries that began to be heard. Seeing her up close, and seeing that beautiful celestial gaze, the seven-year-old girl took the girl in her arms (with the permission of her sister), and did not leave her during that night until the next day. It was no surprise to the sister that her crying stopped as soon as the young Komori began to gently cradle her in her arms.

Still, from the moment Seiji arrived, he knew that something was wrong with the girl, that she was "not human", and that he probably knew whose "gift" it was. Shoma was unwelcome, and he couldn't show her that in public, not with Yui close to her. Also, the plan deviated. No, he isn't supposed to have two daughters, and she is supposed to be just one more orphan, but the young blonde girl already called her "Shoma Umi Komori", and that could be ... Something dangerous for him. Obviously, the orders for Shoma to come to his office were not long in coming as soon as he was two years old.

What Shoma saw in her supposed father's room was sealed in her mind, and nothing else. Every time Shoma was called to her father's office, her heart raced because she knew something bad was going to happen. Every time that happened it was because she Shoma found out more and more that she was going to happen to every sixteen, maybe seventeen-year-old on certain dates. It was because Shoma knew too much about her, and if he couldn't make her forget everything she had seen, then she would silence her to her grave. Every time Shoma gained courage and told Yui, she was scolded for inventing such things, and she would see her father again for "breaking her promise" to him.

The only one who managed to believe her is the same sister who received her the day Shoma arrived there, although that same sister would get a serious face everytime Sho told her that, she never had to see her father when she told Yvonne.

But, one day, Seiji went a bit far with the punishments, and let the fury just blind him, even if he didn't even regret it afterwards. Seeing Shoma talk to someone... Important, once this man left the church it just infuriated him. That man's smile when he stopped talking to her and saw him in the eye was not good news at all. That night, everyone heard the screams of a three-year-old girl resound throughout the establishment, and she was found in the middle of the hall with a desperate Seiji, saying that she had been playing with a poker and that she tripped, with it smacking part of her face.

Shoma began to startle every time someone moved near her, every time someone placed her hand on some part of her body, or when they called her, or when they approached her. She didn't separate from Yui or the sister she trusted so much, and even though it started to be annoying for Yui as she grew older, there were very few times when she was really rude to Shoma due to the fatigue of having her on her back every day three seconds, but they just didn't help Shoma with her fear of being alone, either with Seiji, or with certain nuns. The sister who had her trust steadfastly refused to leave her alone if she wasn't with Yui, although it was only because she slipped out of sight once.

Things escalated to the worse on December 12, 2006, at exactly a quarter past two in the morning. It was precisely an exhausting day for the girl, because the nun who was taking care of her and her sister had to leave due to family problems, or so they told her.

The albino-haired girl couldn't sleep due to some nightmares, even though she had become very habitual. The young woman began to hear murmurs and footsteps outside the room that she shared with Yui, and she could make out her father's voice. She could make out her desperate tone from her ... And, strangely, anger.

Carefully, she got out of her bed without making any noise, but following a little voice in her head, she took the camera that belonged to the blonde that was a gift from her only trusted caregiver, and opened slowly the door. Her father had locked himself in her office, and she could hear someone else's voice. On tiptoe, he approached the door ajar, and looked behind it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the body of one of the older girls on the ground, tied up and with blood pouring from her head. That memory is somewhat blurry, but it remembers very well various parts of the conversation between her father and a man with long hair. She took photos, and to her surprise, they did not have flash, and the photos came out perfectly ... That woman had many strange objects.

Once she finished, she turned, intending to leave, but one of the nuns spotted her, yelling to warn Seiji. Shoma wasted no time running and closing in on her sister's room, which she was awakened by her scream. Shoma told her everything quickly, leaving the photos to hide them, and the little girl didn't hesitate long to jump out the window (it was not the first time that she did that out of boredom), and she ran away from there. Still, the nun had gone ahead, and it wasn't long to be just a few steps away from her with her father's poker, part of them burning.

She remembers her sister with hatred seeing it all in horror and just standing there with the camera in her hands, shaking, to simply turn and turn her back on him.

In the blink of an eye, she was dragged by her hair by her "father" and other nuns, and before she had a chance to run away, the girl was thrown into the basement, away from other people, away from Yui, away from everyone. She tried to get out, scream, but no one ever came.

Nobody, nobody at all...

And here ends her story. The young woman, thanks to her curiosity, sealed her fate. She was destined to die in that place, even if she didn't want that, alone and starving, not knowing if Yui or someone would remember her...

But they say that there is always someone who takes care of us somewhere, right? Even if she has no hope... Maybe there really is someone, even without her knowing it.

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