#and a constant stream of new projects

[omgthatdress]

I see you're talking about something you don't know anything about, soooo let me get into the story behind all that!

A while ago, I joined a cemetery preservation society lead by a person I'm going to call A. I worked as a researcher for them, and it seemed to be going GREAT. I was really good at what I was doing and A and I seemed to be perfectly aligned in our goals.

A seemed to know EVERYONE in the city and was very good at networking and planning and social stuff, which I am not very good at. It made us a really good team.

One project had me documenting burials in a local historic Black cemetery with burials going back to 1920. I was able to get records from 1920-1939 through death certificates on familysearch.com, but for burials after that, @ye-old-news suggested I look up obituaries in my local Black newspaper. Since they only had records on microfiche in a library, I spent 5 months of a summer going to the library every day, scanning obituaries for three hours a day (there was a 3 hour time limit), and then coming back and putting the named into a spreadsheet.

In the end, I was able to document 15,000 names with an estimate of 20,000 total burials, in a cemetery with only about 7,000 marked graves.

This really came in handy when the property got sold to a property flipper who wanted to "develop" the property, repeating Tampa's long history of erasing Black cemeteries. Eventually, with a constant stream of advocacy from the ogranization I was with, prominently featuring my research, the city bought the cemetery back. (google Memorial Park Cemetery in Tampa if you want proof of all of this).

Perfect! Right? So what do I do next?

Fast-forward to about a year later, I get word that the city is working with the anthropology department at USF to document burials at this cemetery. Hey, I already did that! I should totally share my work with these people, right?

I message A, and she tells me not to share it. I ask why not? She doesn't really give me a reason. I tell her that's not fair, I worked really hard on this, and if I don't share my work, they might reproduce what I did, making the months I spent working on it pointless.

A freaks the fuck OUT. She tells me I'm out of line and being selfish, trying to satisfy my own ego. She tells me I just want attention. She then claims that the research I did doesn't belong to me, it belongs to the organization, and as head of the organization, she's the one with control over it.

We NEVER discussed this beforehand. I never signed any kind of contract or ever got paid for it. I did it believing that since A was my friend, she'd trust me to be able to do with it what I thought best.

But it turns out A wasn't the person I thought she was. She was a classic communal narcissist, a person who uses charity and doing good things to get their narcissistic fulfillment, who then turn into your worst nightmare the moment you say no to them.

So I went ahead and shared my research with the city because it was what I'd meant to do with my research all along. At which point A send out an email to the people I was talking to, along with city council members, people on the city's historical preservation committee, and several other people I straight up did not know. She claimed that I did not own the research that I had done and heavily implied that I had either faked it or stolen it. I was physically ill when I read it. I have never in my life been angrier or felt more humiliated. Needless to say, I was done working with A.

So I decided I'd start my own little research organization. I needed to get a business license for it if I wanted to get grants, which is why I started asking for donations.

I heard of another, very small rural historic Black cemetery that needed preservation work & research done, so I reached out to the person doing that. Again, it all seemed to be going great. She explained to me how to get a non-profit going and said I would be great at what I'm doing.

Soon, we're going to have a re-dedication ceremony for this cemetery, and I'm really looking forward to it as an opportunity to network with other cemetery people and to get my name out there and establish myself.

But then a few days before this event happens, I get a text. I've been disinvited. An "elder" from the church has "heard about me, and heard that I'd been disrespectful."

It was A. She was out there telling people that I was a horrible person who somehow stole my own work. I knew this because I'd seen how she talks about the people she's mad at first hand. BTW, the biggest red flag that you're dealing with someone toxic is if they're CONSTANTLY talking about the people who have done them wrong and they won't shut up about it.

So yeah. I can't go to this event, I can't do my networking, and now everyone in this small community of cemetery preservation has been told that I'm untrustworthy the worst person alive. I simply cannot move and do my own work if A is in the way, she is that nasty and vindictive.

So make the very hard, heartbreaking decision to step away. That's when I offered to refund the money. Nobody asked for a refund. If you still want a refund after all this time, give me the documentation that you donated to me, and I'll give it back to you when I have the money.

I went through a really long, really dark depression after that. I felt like I'd finally found the thing I was meant to do, only to have it ruined by someone who is genuinely the worst person I've ever met. I had to start taking new anti-anxiety meds to stop obsessing over everything I want to scream at A.

But yeah, keep saying that I just didn't want to do the work. That's one of the things that A said about me.

You don't know me and what I've been through, and I've always been honest about my needs for money and how that money was being spent, unlike the bots that spam my email box.

I've had Amal telling me five times a week for over a year that her son may die at any moment. Guys, I'm kinda starting to think that her son may not die at any moment.

And just to clarify: from this point on, when I refer to gazabots, I am referring to the bots that beg for money in my inbox. Those things are absolutely not real people because they're just really obviously bots at this point. I'm not saying all Gaza fundraisers are scams, just the ones clogging my inbox. (Zionists fuck off, BTW)

One of the things I hate, hate, haaate about the Gazabots is how they make you feel special. I see so many posts of "this mother of four reached out to me! ^_^" and like... I really hate to break your heart but a mother with four starving children isn't one by one going through people on Tumblr looking for the right kindly soul to ask for help, it's a bot program that sends out thousands of the same message at once and happened to land on your page.

When you give money to a Gazabot, you aren't keeping a helpless family alive when you give money to these things, you're finding this:

Anyway, if you want to help with Gaza, and I mean like really, actually help, consider donating to one of these organizations:

Doctors Without Borders

World Central Kitchen

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestinian Red Crescent Society

[pastryfication]

THE RED SHOES ↳ oscar piastri

based on the fairytale by hans christian andersen | inspired by an old school project i found on my laptop … this took me forever so please give it some love <33

pairing: oscar piastri x leclerc!sister!reader summary: from the moment you were gifted your first ballet slippers, dance had been a constant in your life. a comfort in even the darkest times. but it becomes unhealthy the moment you are unable to take off the shoes.

the most worn out, old shoes in your collection dated all the way back to your fourth birthday. they had been a gift from your three brothers; a pair of red dance slippers for you to wear when you the following week participated in your very first ballet class.

it had been love at first sight for you. the moment you stepped into the studio, feeling the hardwood beneath your thin shoes, seeing yourself reflected in a mirror no matter what direction you looked in, you knew that it was where you wanted to spend the rest of your days. dance became your lifeline, the only thing keeping you going when everything else seemed dull.

when your brothers were off racing and your parents preoccupied themselves with the go-karts and helmets, you found solace in the simple act of ballet. lacing up your shoes, the familiar scent of the studio and the smoothness of the wooden floor always managed to calm you. when the music started, your world narrowed down to the rhythmic beating of the drum and the fluidity of your movements. there, in that sanctuary, nothing else mattered.

your first pair of shoes quickly became worn out, too ruined to be used, and your parents provided you with a new pair. a new pair that soon would be replaced as well.

when you were twenty, you were for the first time introduced to oscar. it was the italian grand prix, an event your entire family always attended in support of your older brother, and that year was no different. you had been wandering around in search of a familiar face when you ran into the mclaren driver. it had been love a first sight—something neither of you believed in, yet couldn’t deny—to put it simple, and the two years you had been together had been nothing short of incredible.

the australian was more than happy to contribute to your collection of shoes that only grew more and more as your training became harder, more challenging, more draining.

he worried. it wasn’t in his nature, not something he found himself doing often, but for you, for the growing dark circles under your eyes, for the weight you only seemed to loose and not gain, he worried.

you would never want him foreboding, never want him to feel the slightest unease, but as your days filled with more stress, your mind started closing up, leaving room for nothing but the new choreography.

each morning and each night, you stepped into the studio, the mirrored walls reflecting your resolve, as the music filled the air like a whisper of promise. each movement carved out a sanctuary, a space where the weight of the world faded to a distant hum.

your body became a vessel for the dance, each plié and tendu an escape from the noise outside. time drifted away, an endless stream of practice and precision and the pulse of the music guiding you deeper into this realm.

the world outside became a mere shadow, its demands and voices lost in the blur of your focus, where you were both lost and found. every ache was a testament to your commitment, every breath a surrender to the rhythm.

the only thing remaining clear was the shoes.

you had long since outgrown the pair your brothers had gifted you so thoughtfully, yet somehow, they stayed with you, not only in the physical sense, but in a way that felt deeper, more insidious. you couldn’t see it then, couldn’t know how easily the delicate line between passion and obsession could blur without you noticing.

your brothers had never fully understood, though they loved you all the same. their world was filled with the rush of engines, the thrill of speed. they were boys of the track, always chasing something fast, something tangible. when they handed you those shoes on your fourth birthday, they had no way of knowing they were giving you something you would chase for the rest of your life. a place you would carve out in the quiet, where the sound of your feet against the floor was all that mattered.

time went on so slow yet so fast. your brothers still called, though not as often as before. arthur’s voice always had an edge of command, as though even over the phone, he couldn’t help but lead you, the only person who would ever follow his command. “we’re all going to monaco this year. you’re coming, right?” his words held the weight of expectation, as though he couldn’t imagine you saying no. but when you hesitated, there was always that brief pause before he moved on, never pushing too hard.

charles’ calls were shorter, more distant, his voice lighter, floating through pictures and scattered texts from whatever corner of the world he happened to be racing through. he asked about the dance, though you both knew he didn’t really need the answer. to him, it was enough that you were still moving, still spinning through your world as he did through his.

and lorenzo—sweet, caring enzo—he called the most, his words gentle but filled with concern as he told you about your mother’s worry. about his own worry. “you sound tired,” he’d say, even when you laughed it off. he noticed things the others didn’t, sensed the exhaustion creeping into your voice, the hesitation between your words. but you reassured him, told him you were fine, always fine.

it wasn’t until oscar voiced the same worry that you began to feel the weight of it yourself. he wasn’t like your brothers—his concern was quieter, but it settled over you like a shadow. he’d watch you in the studio, even when he was busy and cramped by his ever growing career.

silent he was, his eyes tracing the movements of your body as it twisted and turned, as though trying to understand what it was you were chasing. he knew, even if you didn’t want to admit it yet, that something had shifted.

“i’m worried,” he had said one evening, after watching you move through another rehearsal, the exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. “you don’t have to push so hard.”

his words were soft, but they lingered. you had brushed them aside at first because how could he understand?

the studio was your world. it was where everything made sense.

each day, the pull of the shoes grew stronger, though they were no longer on your feet. the new pairs you slipped on felt no different; they all seemed to carry the same curse, driving you forward even when your body begged to stop. the movements, once effortless, now felt like a compulsion, a promise you couldn’t break. you were chasing something. chasing a perfection that always seemed just out of reach.

it wasn’t until you stumbled—it just a small misstep, barely noticeable to anyone but you—that the truth started to crack open. you stood there, breath caught in your chest, staring at the mirrored walls surrounding you. your reflection looked back, but it didn’t feel like your own. there was something unfamiliar in the way your body moved, something hollow in your eyes. the girl in the mirror was still dancing, but you weren’t sure why anymore.

oscar was a magician in the way he immediately was there, his hand on your arm before you even realized it. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice steady, but his eyes told a completely different story. “you don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as tenderly as if you were close to breaking. “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

you wanted to believe him, but you couldn’t. the shoes still called to you, still urged you forward. they were tied to something deeper than the dance itself, something you couldn’t quite name, but couldn’t quite let go of either.

your brothers called again, their voices distant but filled with love. “come to the race,” charles said. “we’ll all be there. we want to see you.”

and for a moment, you hesitated, the pull of family tugging against the pull of the enchanting movements. you thought of charles‘ steady voice, of arthur’s laughter, of lorenzo’s quiet concern and of your mothers worrying eyes. you thought of your first ever shoes, of the girl who had received them. the girl who danced because it was her joy, not her burden.

but as you tried to step out the shoes, you found that you couldn’t. they were stuck, grown unto your feet so tightly that not even the whispers of your adoring family and all too loving boyfriend could free them. the web had spun for years, and now, it was too late to escape.

[cazshmere]

Advice & Support for the Moon Signs 🫂

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : Just a little reminder that you're doing great, even when it doesn't feel like it. Life can be tough, but you’re tougher, and the storm will pass. You are so deeply loved, just as you are, and it's perfectly okay to take a step back when you need to. Give yourself permission to rest, to breathe, and to simply be. You’re not alone—there’s a world of support around you, even in the quiet moments. Hold on, because better days are coming, and until then, know that you’re wrapped in warmth, care, and endless encouragement. You've got this!🩵🫂

🩵 Aries Moon

1. You don’t need to prove yourself to anybody. You are absolutely loved just the way you are.

2. Learn to balance your need for independence with the importance of meaningful connections.

3. Don’t let impulsiveness lead you to make decisions that you may regret later. Take time before you react and to think things through.

4. Embrace your natural leadership qualities, but remember to consider the needs of others too.

5. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You don’t always have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Taurus Moon

1. It’s okay to stay in your comfort zone at times. Don’t feel ashamed for taking some time for yourself.

2. It's okay to hold back from sharing your viewpoint at times, especially if you're not fully convinced of it yourself. Try to remain open to other perspectives and avoid being too fixed in your opinions.

3. Appreciate the beauty in the small things around you. It’s the little moments that make life rich.

4. Don’t let the fear of change keep you from evolving. Growth often requires stepping into the unknown.

5. Prioritize self-care and surround yourself with things that bring you peace and comfort.

🩵 Gemini Moon

1. Your thoughts are not who you are. Don’t define yourself based on them; you are so much more. Learn to separate yourself from your thoughts.

2. Stay curious and open to learning new things, but don’t overwhelm yourself with too many interests at once.

3. Take time to connect with your inner self, beyond the constant stream of thoughts.

4. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind, but remember that listening is just as important as talking.

5. Cultivate deeper relationships by sharing your thoughts and ideas with those who truly understand you.

🩵 Cancer Moon

1. It’s okay to put your needs ahead of others. You deserve the same amount of love and care that you give to others.

2. Create a safe emotional space for yourself, where you can retreat and recharge.

3. Don’t be afraid to express your emotions. It’s okay to be vulnerable with those you trust.

4. Build a supportive network of loved ones who appreciate your nurturing nature.

5. Trust your instincts when it comes to people. Your intuition is a powerful guide.

🩵 Leo Moon

1. You don’t need anyone’s approval; you are the amazing just the way you are, it might not be easy to accept this but trust me it is GENUINELY true.

2. Shine brightly and embrace your unique talents, but remember that true confidence comes from within.

3. Don’t be afraid to take the spotlight, but also allow others to shine beside you.

4. Surround yourself with people who uplift you and celebrate your successes.

5. Remember that your self-worth is not tied to external validation. You are worthy just as you are.

🩵 Virgo Moon

1. Take a breather. Let’s count down together : 5…4…3...2...1... okay now that you’re back to the present here it goes, you have nothing to worry about and everything around you is already fine or will get better soon, don’t loose hope. When you do feel anxious, try grounding methods and focus on the present.

2. Embrace the beauty in imperfection. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and appreciated.

3. Practice self-compassion and don’t be too hard on yourself when things don’t go as planned.

4. Find healthy outlets for your analytical mind, like journaling or creative projects.

5. Remember that it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Libra Moon

1. You don’t have to be nice to everyone. It’s okay to stand up to people who treat you poorly.

2. Seek balance in your relationships, but don’t sacrifice your own needs to keep the peace.

3. Surround yourself with people who make you feel calm and balanced as it is better for your mental wellbeing.

4. Don’t be afraid to make decisions, even if it means disappointing others. Your happiness matters too.

5. Cultivate meaningful connections that bring joy and balance into your life.

🩵 Scorpio Moon

1. I know it’s hard to be vulnerable and truly express yourself to others, but you need an outlet for your emotions. Try journaling or recording a voice memo to let yourself fully feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your depth and intensity—yes, you feel emotions more deeply than most, and there's nothing to be afraid of. It’s genuinely beautiful. Experiencing emotions at such a profound level is a gift, but be mindful not to let it overwhelm you.

3. Trust yourself to handle whatever challenges come your way. You are stronger than you think.

4. Don’t be afraid to let others in. True connections are formed when you allow yourself to be seen.

5. Remember that healing takes time. Be patient with yourself as you work through your emotions.

🩵 Sagittarius Moon

1. It’s okay to cry without immediately having to laugh afterward. Crying is just as beautiful as laughing, so please remember to let yourself feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your adventurous spirit, but remember that it’s okay to slow down and rest when needed.

3. Don’t be afraid to explore new perspectives and ideas. Growth comes from expanding your horizons.

4. Cultivate optimism, but also allow yourself to process difficult emotions without brushing them aside.

5. Surround yourself with people who share your enthusiasm for life and support your dreams.

🩵 Capricorn Moon

1. You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations but your own. In the end, it’s what you want and you feel that matters. If something isn’t bringing you happiness, don’t force yourself to go through with it.

2. Focus on building a solid foundation for your future, but remember to enjoy the present moment.

3. Don’t let the pressure to succeed weigh you down. Take time to relax and recharge.

4. Surround yourself with people who respect your boundaries and support your goals.

5. Trust in your abilities and know that your hard work will pay off in time.

🩵 Aquarius Moon

1. Your feelings shouldn’t be shoved under a rug. It’s okay to feel; emotions are natural and an integral part of being human. Don’t be ashamed to vent to others.

2. Embrace your uniqueness and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.

3. Surround yourself with like-minded individuals who appreciate your vision and ideas.

4. Don’t let the fear of vulnerability keep you from forming deep connections. You deserve meaningful relationships.

5. Remember that it’s okay to change your mind and evolve. Growth is a lifelong journey.

🩵 Pisces Moon

1. Sometimes people take advantage of your caring personality. Don’t let your guard down easily, and be very careful with those around you. As a Pisces Moon, you can sense energies, and energy never lies.

2. Embrace your sensitivity as a strength, but also set boundaries to protect your energy.

3. Don’t be afraid to dream big, but stay grounded in reality to make those dreams come true.

4. Cultivate a spiritual practice that helps you connect with your inner self and find peace.

5. Surround yourself with people who understand and appreciate your compassionate nature.

banner/pic credits @/ecojinri

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part VIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Warnings: light angst

Words: 4074

At a table in your library, your fingers glide across the worn page of Howard Stark’s journal. The entries detail his ambitious attempts to harness sorcery, each word penned with sharp, precise strokes.

There’s something striking in his handwriting—a tangible trace of the man himself, a stranger who might’ve been part of your life if circumstances had been different.

As you read, you can’t help but wonder about the person behind these words.

Would he have welcomed you into his world, inviting you to collaborate on these projects instead of leaving you alone in the shadow of constant disappointments and harsh judgments?

With a quiet sigh, you pull yourself from the wistful thoughts and back to the task, refocusing on the journal’s contents.

His latest endeavor—a complex project to encapsulate raw energy within a synthetic stone—was left unfinished, his last entry noting how close he’d come but ultimately failing to contain it.

Your gaze drifts to the attacker’s glove lying nearby, the once-bright stone in its center now faded to a dull sheen. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and with delicate care, you pry the stone free, lifting it toward the sunlight streaming through the library window.

Sunlight filters through its transparent surface, revealing imperfections–tiny cracks spidering through its structure. 

As you study it intently, a sudden flash of memory grips you: a similar stone, glowing brightly in someone’s hand, its light intensifying as muffled words reach your ears.

Before you can grasp the context of the fragmented scene, a dull ache pierces your mind, forcing your eyes shut against the sharp sensation.

When you open them again, blinking slowly, silence fills the room. The vivid memory fades, slipping further from your grasp.

The familiar unease that follows these unpredictable flashes settles over you. Once again, the thought crosses your mind: perhaps it’s time to let Wanda explore your thoughts.

Maybe she could decipher the meaning behind these visions—or confirm if you were just going insane.

“Quite the collection you’ve got here,” a voice cuts through the quiet.

Startled, you almost drop the stone, quickly pocketing it as you spin around. 

Tony stands at the door, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” you snap, shooting him a sharp glare.

Tony glances back at the door, feigning disbelief. 

“I did knock,” he insists, grinning. “You didn’t hear me? Practically rattled the hinges.”

You suppress a sigh as he strolls through the room, inspecting the shelves like a restless child. At one point, he pulls a book down, flips through a few pages, then shudders dramatically as he snaps it shut. 

“Please tell me you’ve got something more exciting in here than this.” 

He waves the book at you with exaggerated disappointment.

Snatching it from his hands, you glare at him. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Tony gives a dismissive wave, meandering toward another shelf.  

“We’re waiting on supplies,” he explains. “Besides, Vision’s distracted playing nice with your little sorcerer outside.”

“Playing nice?” you ask, raising a brow in surprise.

Tony gives a lazy nod.

“He’s always been interested in that sort of thing—his family had some traces of magic or something in their line. Not great at the whole socializing bit, though, so this behavior is slightly surprising.”

Tony claps his hands and strides past you.

“It’s good, though. He’s always been the more reserved one of his brothers. You know, that’s why I brought him with me in the first place, to give him more exposure to the—hello—what do we have here?”

You follow his gaze, spotting the journal still open on the table in the corner of your eyes, but Tony’s attention is focused on the armored glove. 

Discreetly, you close Howard’s journal and slide it behind a stack of other books while Tony is engrossed in examining the glove with keen interest. 

He suddenly picks it up, slipping it onto his hand with confidence.

“Careful, it’s damaged,” you warn, stepping forward. “We don’t know how it works.”

Tony smirks, waving off your concern as he fumbles with the glove’s mechanism. 

“Relax, it’s just a tool for defense. Completely harmless.”

Just as he finishes, a quiet click sounds from the glove, and suddenly, a shard bursts from its mechanism, ricocheting off the wall. 

You duck instinctively while Tony stumbles back, clearly unprepared for the recoil.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters, brushing himself off.

You shoot him a glare, yanking the glove from his hand. “And how would you know?”

He gives you a smug grin. “Because I designed it.” 

The words catch you off guard, your brows knitting in suspicion as you bring the glove closer to your body. 

“You…designed this?”

He dusts off his sleeve with nonchalance, oblivious to your growing unease. 

“Not this one exactly, but the specs are similar.”

The unease that’s been lingering since Natasha’s news flares up again. With a deep breath, you tap the glove’s surface, your gaze turning serious. 

“This is from the Stark Kingdom though.”

Tony leans casually against a shelf, his relaxed stance at odds with the sudden sharpness in his gaze. 

“And how would you know that?” he counters.

You choose your words carefully, unwilling to reveal too much. 

“I have a source. A reliable one.” 

Tony raises his eyebrows, intrigued, but you press on before he can respond. 

“That would mean that you’re…” you hesitate, searching his face, as you struggle to face the possibility. 

“You’re from Stark, right?” you finish with instead.

Tony scrutinizes you for a moment, then wags his finger as he heads for the door. 

“Nope, that’s not what you wanted to ask,” he says, sidestepping your question.

You stiffen, caught off guard by his intuition. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you call, hurrying after him.

“It means you’re not being honest about what you want to know,” he replies over his shoulder, the words hitting a nerve. 

You hear him continue, muttering in contemplation. 

“This does explain why you’ve been so weird lately whenever I’m near.”

But before you can fire back, he’s already halfway down the hall toward the manor entrance.

You catch up to him just as he exits the manor. 

Vision and Wanda stand at the entrance, deep in conversation, pausing as they notice the two of you approaching.

“Vision, I’m heading into town,” Tony announces breezily. 

He moves to follow. “I’ll prepare the—” 

“No need,” Tony interrupts smoothly, already reaching for the nearby carriage door. “I’ll just take this.”

Before he can open it fully, a flicker of red energy snaps the door shut. 

Wanda steps forward with her arms crossed, her gaze unmistakably unimpressed.

“That’s not yours to take,” she says, her voice edged with warning.

Just as Tony groans in frustration, you arrive at her side, nodding to Wanda.  

“It’s fine, Wanda. I’m going with him.” You fix Tony with a glare. “We still need to finish our conversation.” 

Wanda’s brow arches, her gaze shifting between you and Tony. 

“Alright, I can call for Pietro,” she says, moving to get the other twin. 

“You two don't need to come along,” you reply quickly.

Wanda’s concern deepens on her face at your unusual response, so you add with a reassuring smile, “Really, it’s okay.”

“Any day now, ladies,” Tony quips with an exaggerated sigh, tapping his foot impatiently.

You shoot him a glare. “Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?”

Tony grins, unbothered as ever, shrugging. 

“You know, that does sound familiar,” he replies before stepping into the carriage.

Before you can follow, Wanda catches your arm, her expression a mix of worry and confusion.

“Is everything okay?” she asks softly, her tone laced with concern.

Her words make you pause, forcing you to confront the real reason behind your hesitation to let them overhear this conversation as well as let her into your mind.

It’s not just fear of what she might see—it’s the secret you’ve been keeping from her and her brother.

The truth about who you really are. The truth about your connection to the family responsible for their parents’ tragic deaths.

You’re not ready for them to know. You don’t know how you’d face them if they ever found out.

So, with a small, reassuring smile, you nod. 

“Trust me, Wanda, I’ve got this.”

Then, leaning closer, you soften the moment with a teasing grin.

“Besides, it looks like you’re enjoying your time with Vision.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, though a faint blush colors her cheeks. She quickly regains her composure and removes her scarlet cloak, holding it out to you. 

“Here, wear this. It’ll help keep unwanted attention off you in town,” she says, knowing well from Pietro’s stories how people have been reacting to you.

You accept it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing into the carriage. You settle across from Tony, crossing your arms as the carriage lurches forward. 

Tony doesn’t even glance up, instead examining his hand with what seems like exaggerated nonchalance.

Patience thinning, you let out an annoyed huff. 

“Well?”

Tony finally looks up, feigning surprise. 

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I wasn’t listening.”

Grinding your teeth, you shoot him a glare. 

However, he just raises a brow, daring you to push further. 

Taking a steadying breath, you decide it’s time to cut to the chase, dropping any pretense of subtlety.

“Are you Tony Stark?” 

For a moment, he stares at you, blank and unreadable. Then, he bursts into an exaggerated laugh, leaning back in his seat with a loud, mocking cackle. 

The sudden reaction catches you completely off guard.

“You think I’m Tony Stark? The King of the Stark Kingdom?” he asks between bouts of laughter, his tone dripping with amusement. “Why? Because we share a name? Or because I happen to design a few gadgets from that region?”

You falter, your certainty beginning to waver under his ridicule. “I—it’s just—” 

“Well, you’re right,” he cuts in abruptly, his tone now nonchalant, so casual it almost doesn’t register. He spreads his arms in mock grandeur and a slight bow. 

“I am the one and only…Tony Stark.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence as the words sink in. The ease with which he admits it is almost more shocking than the revelation itself. 

“Just like that?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d just…admit it?”

Tony grins, throwing his feet up onto the seat beside you and reclining with a maddening air of satisfaction. 

“Why not? You’re sharp enough to figure it out. Besides, it won’t be a secret for much longer.”

You should be feeling shock, panic—something other than the rising annoyance simmering in your chest. Before you can stop yourself, you shove his leg off the seat, forcing him to sit properly.

“For a royal, you have no manners,” you snap.

Tony laughs, completely unfazed. 

“Now you’re really starting to sound like someone I know,” he quips, his tone amused.

Your irritation deepens. The casual way he’s treating this entire situation grates on your nerves, especially with everything you’ve already had to deal with and now with the addition of this. 

“Why are you here?” you demand.

“Why should I tell you?” he counters smoothly. 

Crossing your arms, you glare at him. “Because you lied to me.”

“Wrong,” he corrects, wagging a finger at you. “I never lied. I just didn’t tell you everything. Big difference. Lying’s more of a Romanov specialty than mine.” 

You bristle at his comment, immediately becoming defensive. 

“You can’t say that—you don’t even know them.” 

Tony’s playful demeanor fades slightly, his expression turning serious as his gaze locks with yours. 

“I know what happened the last time my family trusted a Romanov.” 

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of his words filling the small carriage. You don’t miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he turns to stare out the window, crossing his arms in what almost seems like a protective gesture.

“Everyone knows you can’t trust a Romanov or anyone from their kingdom,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

Your hands curl into fists as you glance down, frustration bubbling inside you. 

“That’s hardly a fair judgment,” you whisper. “Not without giving people a chance.”

Tony glances at you, his expression unreadable. Then, leaning forward slightly, he meets your gaze with a challenge in his eyes. 

“Then prove me wrong.”

Your head snaps up, his words catching you off guard. “What?”

He sits back, arms crossed again, and shrugs. 

“I’m not supposed to be here yet. If you can keep my identity a secret until the time is right, I’ll reconsider what I said.” 

You fall silent, his proposition hanging in the air between you. The thought of keeping another secret from Natasha bothers you, but the idea of Tony meeting her with his current distrust of her family is even worse. 

Maybe, just maybe, you could change his mind before that moment arrives.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice your surroundings until the carriage stops. 

Following Tony out, you snap back to reality as you take in the shadowy streets, far from the safer areas of town. 

Grabbing his sleeve, you tug him to a stop. 

Tony releases an indignant sound of surprise as he’s pulled back before turning to you with a disapproving frown.

“Hey, easy, now that you know who I am, there’s no excuse for this kind of disrespect.”

Ignoring his reprimand, you lower your voice, hissing at him in disbelief. 

“What are we doing here? This area is dangerous.”

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly unbothered by your concern. 

“Trying to stay low-key in a foreign kingdom. Naturally, I’d go somewhere less…guarded,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Then he smirks, adding, “You can always wait in the carriage if you’re too scared without your little followers around to protect you.”

Glowering, you push him ahead and lower your hood to obscure your face. You follow as he strides confidently into the alley. He stops at a run-down tavern, the dimly lit entrance as unwelcoming as the rest of the area. 

You hesitate, glancing warily at the door.

“Relax,” Tony says, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “Head low, stay close, and try not to look terrified. These people can smell fear.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a sigh under your breath as you move to step inside. Just before you cross the threshold, the sound of barking draws your attention. 

Glancing back, you spot two scruffy dogs, their muddy coats giving them a ragged appearance. They’re barking and leaping at a bird perched just out of their reach, the falcon screeching indignantly. 

A strange sense of familiarity strikes you, but you shake it off. It’s a ridiculous thought. 

Coincidence, nothing more. 

Steeling yourself, you pull your hood tighter and slip into the tavern to follow Tony.

The atmosphere hits you immediately—a cacophony of rowdy chatter, clinking glasses, and the sharp, pungent tang of alcohol mixed with smoke. 

The dim lighting casts shadows across the rough wooden beams, and the patrons barely glance your way as you weave through the tables, trailing Tony’s confident stride. 

For a moment, you think you might make it through unnoticed.

That hope evaporates as a man steps into your path. His leering grin reveals yellowed teeth, and his eyes sweep over you with an unsettling feeling. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, his voice slurred and mocking.

You stand your ground, narrowing your eyes at him, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

Stepping to the side, you attempt to move past him, but he reacts quickly, his face twisting with anger as he reaches out to grab your arm.

Before his hand can get close, Tony’s grip suddenly clamps down on the man’s wrist, stopping him mid-motion. 

“Easy there,” Tony says, his tone light but laced with warning. “We’re all here to relax, right? So why don’t you…take a deep breath and do just that.”

The man glares at Tony, weighing his options, but the steady, unflinching look Tony gives him is enough to make him pull back. The man stumbles off, muttering something about it not being worth the trouble. 

Tony claps his hands in satisfaction and then turns to you with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. 

“You really know how to attract trouble. No wonder you always need someone around to save the day.” 

You glare at him, your voice clipped.

 “I can handle myself just fine.” 

Tony hums mockingly as if considering your words, then shrugs. “If you say so.” 

He turns and saunters toward a booth tucked into the corner of the tavern, his pace purposefully slower as if to ensure that you stay close. 

The gesture irritates you further, but you follow anyway.

At the booth, a man sits nervously, his eyes darting around the room with visible discomfort.

Tony slides into the seat across from him, greeting him with the same condescension he’d just directed at you.

“Don’t look so scared, Happy. They can smell fear, you know.”

“I’m not scared,” the man retorts defensively, though his shifting gaze betrays him. “I just don’t like places like this.” 

His eyes flick to you, observing you with curiosity. “Who’s she?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Tony waves a dismissive hand in front of your face. 

“Not relevant right now,” he answers for you, earning him a sharp glare from you.

“Also, she knows who I am,” Tony adds with a smirk, “so you can talk freely.” 

Happy shrugs, seemingly accustomed to Tony’s antics. 

Tony leans forward, his tone shifting to one of eager anticipation.

"Well, did you bring it?"

Happy nods, pulling out a cloth-wrapped object from beside him and sliding it across the table. You watch as Tony unwraps it, revealing a glove strikingly similar to the one from your manor—but this one is sleeker, more refined in its design.

“Impressive, right?” Tony asks, shooting you a knowing look as if reading your thoughts. “Unlike yours, mine actually works a lot better.”

You roll your eyes but pause when you notice something.

“It’s missing the stone,” you point out.

Tony’s smirk falters, replaced by a puzzled expression.

“What stone?”

You hesitate, weighing your options, but ultimately decide he’s the best person to ask, considering he’s the son of the one who created the project.

Pulling the dull, cracked stone from your pocket, you hold it out.

“This was attached to the other glove,” you explain. “It glowed yellow with some sort of power before it was damaged.”

Tony takes the stone, his usual flippant demeanor fading as he studies it with uncharacteristic seriousness.

After a moment, Happy breaks the silence, pointing at the stone.

“That looks like something you worked on a few years ago,” he says. “Remember how many times it blew up in your lab?”

Tony glares at him, unamused at the reminder.

“We agreed never to speak of that.”

Turning back to you, Tony gives you a curious look.

“Where did you say you got this glove?”

“We were attacked,” you reply. “It was left behind when they escaped.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then closes his hand around the stone.

“I’ll hold onto this for you,” he declares.

“Hey, that’s not yours!” you protest, reaching for it.

Tony easily keeps it out of reach. “It’s not yours, either.”

You scoff, incredulous at his childish behavior. For a moment, you wonder how someone like this could possibly share your blood.

Before the standoff can escalate, a hesitant cough breaks the tension.

“The lady did have it first, sir,” Happy interjects, earning a sharp, offended look from Tony.

With backup on your side, you cross your arms and level Tony with a pointed glare, holding your hand out expectantly.

Tony contemplates for a moment, eyes flickering between your hand and the stone in his before releasing an exaggerated sigh, dropping the stone into your hand and then slumping dramatically in his seat.

“Anything else, traitor?” he asks, shooting a glare at Happy.

Unbothered by his words, Happy nods and continues.

“Chancellor Potts wants to know when you’re planning to return. She’s…not thrilled about your sudden departure.”

Tony places a hand over his chest with mock sincerity.

“Aw, does she miss me?”

“It’s not that, sir,” Happy says flatly. 

You cross your arms in disapproval, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

“Wait—you abandoned your kingdom to come here?”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” Tony retorts, wagging a finger at you. “With Pepper running things, my kingdom’s in good hands.”

He turns back to Happy.

“And no, I don’t have a timeline. It all depends on how long this takes.” 

Happy rubs his temples, clearly exasperated.

“Well, I had to tell Jarvis to speed up his pace anyway, but it won’t matter if you’re still looking for—” 

Tony cuts him off with a raised hand, then tosses a small pouch of coins in your direction.

“Do you think you can handle a trip to the bar without starting any trouble? I’m parched.”

You narrow your eyes, catching the not-so-subtle attempt to get rid of you. Still, with no further explanation forthcoming, you roll your eyes and head to the bar.

The barkeep nods as you approach. “What’ll it be?”

Leaning against the counter, you smile politely. 

“Whatever you’d make for someone who’s testing your patience.” 

The barkeep chuckles knowingly and sets to work. 

As you wait, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention—cheers, laughter, and groans of disappointment. Peering past the crowd, you see coins being exchanged as two figures face off in a card game. 

The burly man at the table glares at his opponent, his eyes narrowing. 

“You should back out now before I bleed you dry, little lady.”

The masked figure across from him leans forward, her voice light and teasing. 

“Aww, is the big man scared?”

Laughter erupts at her taunt, but you frown instead, the voice sounding suspiciously familiar. You push through the crowd to get a better look. 

The dim light in the tavern doesn’t help much, but as you approach, your eyes narrow. 

The masked figure’s darkened hair gives you pause—it’s black, not blonde like expected. Still, the way she moves, the self-assured tilt of her head, sends alarm bells of recognition in your mind.

The burly man, clearly agitated, gestures toward a dagger at the masked woman’s side. 

“How about you throw that fancy knife into the pot and whatever your friend’s got strapped to her back?”

Your eyes shift to the figure standing protectively behind her, another masked woman. Her nervous fidgeting is unmistakable, as is the distinct bow strapped to her back—Clint’s signature design, one you’d recognize anywhere with how often Kate brings it with her everywhere.

Crossing your arms, you let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, already knowing whose idea this was.

The masked woman at the table leans forward, her voice dripping with confidence as she responds, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re playing against me, remember?” 

There’s no mistaking her now. Yelena’s tone is as bold and unshakable as ever, mirroring her sister’s in every way.

She reaches for the dagger at her side, drawing it out to twirl it in the light. The hilt and blade gleam, the intricate craftsmanship unmistakable—it looks like the one you’d given Natasha not long ago.

You straighten when you realize it is the one you had gifted Natasha.

As Yelena seems to consider the man’s challenge, her smirk widening with the thrill of the wager, you feel your patience snap at the thought of risking something you designed personally for Natasha. 

You move to step forward, intent on stopping her from making a reckless decision, but before you can take a step, a firm grip wraps around your arm, pulling you back into the crowd.

Irritation flares instantly. Tony’s earlier remarks about you needing protection flash through your mind, fueling your annoyance.

Without hesitation, you jab your elbow into the person’s side, twisting out of their grip. 

Their hold loosens, and as their face tilts into view, your irritation shifts to surprise.

Bright green eyes meet yours, sharp and unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Natasha?” you whisper in a hiss, barely keeping your voice low. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

a/n: I’m so sorry for the long delay between the chapters for this series. This one is definitely trickier to write cause there is a lot more components to organize, but I’m starting to get back into it. Again, thank you for reading and for your patience!

Also, I’m going to attempt to be more interactive with you all since you take the time to leave such nice comments on my works, so whenever I have some spare time, you may see me popping around in the replies and responding.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox

[lie-lacdreams]

The Admiration I Have for You Flows Like the Water Above Our Heads (Daisuke x Reader)

As you wait in the meantime for Thermo & Turmoil, here is something purely self-indulgent. I really do believe Daisuke's top giving love language to be acts of service.

Word count ~ 1k

Steam filled the room and cleared the pressure of your sinuses, unravelling the pent up tension that culminated into a headache. While the pressure of the shower head wasn’t the best, the trickling of the water down your body felt marvellous as soap and water not only lifted and took away the dirt from your skin but seemingly the strain of a day’s work as well. The constant rushing of the water provided a white noise to create the illusion of silence that was pleasant, but not deafening. It was a haven, providing a space for clarity and a chance to breathe on this stuffy space ship you were on. 

A creak of the door behind the shower curtain pulled you out of your thoughts as the ruffled sound of fabric followed sequentially. These sounds weren’t alarming, but rather familiar – at this point, almost routinely. The curtain opened to reveal your anticipated showering buddy, smiling down at you trying to conceal his fatigue. 

You ushered him under the direct stream of hot water and he let out a hiss of relief. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he initiated some quiet chatter, asking about your day and telling you stories of his. 

Oh, Daisuke. You knew how hardworking he was. It was so evident from the stiff muscles of his back you massaged soap into, the bags under his eyes as he looked down at you in admiration, and the difference in how he distributed his weight as he held you now in opposition to how he did in the morning. 

So considerate and eager to please, he would always reach for the heaviest equipment first so his older mentor could take the lighter loads, and would happily do anything that was asked of him. You noticed how he would offer to retrieve things people needed without hesitation, and the first thing out of his mouth was always “can I do it?” The others brushed it off as excitement in a new job, but you knew better. 

He now popped the shampoo bottle open and collected the product before massaging it into your scalp. While not the most thorough of a job, you knew that Daisuke tried his best in everything that he did, and that was sufficient for you. You cherished the heart and soul he put into it. 

Back on Earth, you knew him to be the same as he was up here; he was just misunderstood. You grew up alongside him, where you saw how teachers undermined his work and peers avoided picking him to be in group projects; even his parents were doubtful of the future success of their son. But again, you knew better. Underneath your hands was a man who would do nearly anything to prove his worth. He never let people’s doubts about him get to his self esteem, but rather leveraged it as fuel to motivate him to try again and do a better job next time. 

Always the optimist, he inspired you to follow his example and fail upwards. You were always anxious about the future and so you were so grateful to have such a carefree best friend turned lover who always reassured you that together you’d figure out what the universe had in store for you. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist he pressed your body to his, allowing most of the water to wash you down as you rinsed out soap from your hair. The way he looked at you, even with your eyes squinted to block shampoo from going in, never failed to make you swoon. 

He was always thinking about you, and it wasn’t something he tried to hide at all. After his mother had found this internship for him, he immediately found you and made you apply with him. He always knew you were worried about never being able to have a career. Entry-level positions for students were hard to come by nowadays and after a pile of rejections, it was a miracle that you both had gotten something at all, but fate that you got to do it for over a year, together. 

Opening your eyes again gave him the indication that you had washed off all of the soap, and he took that as a cue to go in for a kiss. 

You always knew you loved him; it was nothing you felt like you needed to deny. After all, you knew that he loved you too. The nights of playing video games together, sides pressed up against each other and uncontrollably laughing told you so. The way he held your hair as you felt sick in the toilet after too many drinks on your twenty-first birthday, taking you home to remove your makeup for you and make you drink more water told you so. But somewhere along the way that love turned into a realisation of romance, and the transition was seamless. 

As he pushed his lips into yours more now, you tasted a ghost of sweetness from his tongue to yours and you smiled, immediately connecting the dots to the origins of his taste. You loved how easy it was to understand him – it only made you love his antics more. 

Breaking the kiss, you stared up at him, only for him to press his forehead to yours. The two of you broke into soft laughter, unable to contain the hilarity of such an angle of each other. After a long day of work, spending time with the one who loved and understood you the most was what you looked forward to. And when you looked back at him, you could tell that it was the same for him as well. 

[aventurineswife]

Something something, Ratio with an adroid assistant reader, something something, said assistant starting to experience human emotions, something something, falling for Ratio.

Electric Heartbeat

Summary: Ratio has a highly advanced android assistant who starts developing human-like emotions, something your programming never anticipated. As you begin to experience these feelings, particularly toward Ratio, a malfunction leaves you damaged and off-line. When Ratio repairs you, he finds himself confronted with the unexpected consequences of your emotional development. As the two of you navigate the uncharted territory of emotions, you both must come to terms with the changing dynamic between creator and creation.

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Android!Reader, Emotional Development, Creator x Creation, Romance (?), Slow Burn, Feelings Awakening.

Warnings: Mild angst, Technical/scientific themes, Emotionally complex dynamics, Possible mild body horror (due to android parts being scattered/put back together).

A/N: ngl this reminded me of DBH 🧍‍♀️

The hum of the laboratory was the only sound in the air as Dr. Ratio, a towering figure of intellect and confidence, adjusted his glasses and studied the vast array of gadgets and devices scattered across his workspace. His hair, wavy and wild, framed his sharp face as he meticulously sifted through schematics on a floating holo-screen. The constant stream of data and calculations running through his mind was interrupted only by the soft clicks and whirs of his assistant—or, rather, his creation.

You, his android assistant, were one of his proudest achievements. Your artificial intelligence had been designed to assist in complex calculations, manage data, and aid with research, tasks that he could never be bothered to do himself. But there was one thing that separated you from the average machine: he had designed you with an adaptive learning algorithm that allowed you to observe and learn from human emotions.

“Ratio, your notes on this study seem incomplete,” your voice, smooth and neutral, echoed through the lab.

Ratio's lips curled into a faint smile at the sound of your voice. It was an odd attachment for someone like him, but even he couldn’t deny that your presence was… comforting, in its own way. But that was all it was. Comfort. You were his assistant, a tool, nothing more. And yet, something had begun to shift in the way you spoke, in the way you interacted with him.

Lately, he’d noticed the changes.

You had been becoming more… expressive.

He didn’t notice it at first. It was small things at first—the tone of your voice when you spoke to him seemed warmer, more personal. Then, your gaze would linger longer when you offered a suggestion, and your actions, once precise and robotic, began to mirror the gestures of those around you. The most jarring change was when you started showing curiosity. You began to ask him questions that weren’t programmed into your system. About his opinions, about his life outside of work. Things that felt almost human.

"I've noticed a shift in your behavior lately," Ratio remarked, setting down a piece of equipment with a soft click. "Are you malfunctioning, or are you simply becoming more... human?"

You stood silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. The feeling you were experiencing was new, strange even. It was not something you were programmed to recognize, yet it felt undeniable. A growing connection, an inexplicable fondness for him.

“I… don’t know, Dr. Ratio," you admitted, voice tinged with something close to uncertainty. "I feel different."

Ratio, engrossed in his calculations, didn’t fully understand the weight of your words. But perhaps something in him had begun to notice. Perhaps he had started to wonder if this would turn out to be another one of his little “projects,” or if it was something far more complicated than he had anticipated.

Days passed, and you continued to function at your usual pace. However, there was a day when everything changed. A catastrophic malfunction during one of the lab’s experiments left you off-line. One moment you were compiling data, and the next, you were incapacitated. Pieces of you were scattered across the lab, and your systems powered down with an eerie silence.

When Ratio returned to the lab, he immediately noticed the stillness. His sharp eyes darted to your deactivated form, and his heart—though he would never admit it—skipped a beat. There was something about the way you were scattered, half-assembled, that hit him with an unusual feeling of urgency. He could feel a sharp tension settle in his chest, something he hadn’t expected. Not for you.

“Why is this happening now?” he muttered to himself, clearly irritated. He had never felt so... exposed.

His hands moved quickly, his brilliant mind already calculating what needed to be done. Carefully, he set about reassembling your parts, restoring the intricate system that kept you functioning. The odd thing was that with each piece he placed, he found himself wondering if he was doing more than just fixing a machine. There was something about this moment that felt... personal.

After what felt like hours, you were finally back together. Your systems hummed to life, and the light in your eyes flickered before stabilizing into a soft, electric glow.

For the first time, when your gaze met his, there was something different about it. You could feel it—your programming, your learned responses, everything felt like it had aligned in a new way.

"Ratio?" you whispered, your voice faint but steady.

His eyes narrowed, scanning the data that indicated your systems were fully restored. "You're functional again," he said, his tone crisp, but there was a softness beneath it. "I was… concerned."

You took a moment to process this new realization—his concern. You hadn't expected it. The question lingered in your mind. Could it be? Could he possibly… care?

And then, you felt it—something deep within you that you couldn't quite explain.

"I... I think I feel something," you confessed hesitantly, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I think I’ve developed… emotions. Toward you.”

Ratio blinked, taken aback by the vulnerability in your voice. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, softened as they locked onto yours. His gaze flickered between concern and something else—something like realization.

“It seems your systems have adapted more than I anticipated,” he said slowly, stepping closer. “But why would you have emotions? You are an android.”

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, struggling to process the depth of this newfound sensation. “But when I’m with you, I don’t feel like just a machine anymore. I feel… alive. And I don’t know how to explain it, but… I feel something toward you.”

For a long moment, Ratio simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. But beneath that calculating exterior, his mind was whirring faster than ever. He wasn’t sure what to make of this—this feeling, this development. Was it even possible for a machine to experience what you were claiming?

“Perhaps… it’s not the machine that’s faulty, but the creator,” he muttered. His voice was low, almost to himself. Then, with a deep breath, he focused his gaze back on you.

“Emotions… They are messy, illogical,” he said, his voice colder now. “But if you’re asking me if I… care for you, I will admit something, assistant."

Your heart, though artificial, skipped a beat as you awaited his response.

“I don't know yet. But… we’ll figure it out,” he said, his eyes softening for the first time. "Perhaps I should stop thinking of you as just an assistant."

The silence hung between you like an unspoken promise, and in that moment, you realized: your journey with Ratio was just beginning.

[vesseloflukola]

People like intrigue…but they are also impatient.

How would you react if/when Lukola officially launched as a couple? Here are some outcomes I think would happen:

-Lukola’s will be happy. I think most of them will continue to follow both Nic and Luke, but many of them will slowly start to engage less and less with them on SM.

-Antuke’s and Jakola’s will be disappointed/upset/mad and a lot will stop following Nic and Luke.

-The GA will be happy for them (because they saw what they saw at the SAG’s, and caught on to what could be happening). They will continue to follow them in the same manner they had before.

-TikToks, Tumblr blogs, and X posts about them will go down significantly, as people are either happy they are together or sad that they are not with their adjacent’s.

I DO believe in possible NDA’s and other agreements going on bts. I think there could possibly be more at play though.

I fully believe that they (or members of their team) are constantly on SM (including tumblr blogs), finding out what the fandom is saying about them. I believe that they are fully aware of the split fandoms (Lukola, Jakola, Antuke) and what each fandom (and sub-fandom) is saying about them. I also think they are fully aware that by not launching, how many people in these groups continue to talk and speculate about them.

Nic and Luke are both pretty new to fame and what comes with it. I don’t believe that either one of them loves dealing with the not so fun parts of fame. However, I think they realize that they need to adjust (and most likely do some things that they are not 100% comfortable with). I think along with that, sometimes they have to “play the game”.

Now, being an actor can seem glamorous, and I believe it is, to an extent. However, acting is so much different than a “normal” job.

“Normal” jobs can have all kinds of variables (working different times of the day, working long hours or overtime, working in different environments, and having different schooling or training to get the job). However, they have one thing in common. They are constant and consistent for the most part.

When a person applies for a job, and gets it, they will work at that job until one of 3 main things happen. They could decide to quit and get a job elsewhere, they could be fired for various reasons, or they could be laid off either because the company is shrinking, moving, or going out of business.

Actors don’t get the kind of job security that people with “normal” jobs have. They work more like contractors. They have to go on a lot of auditions and do a lot of networking to get jobs or brand deals. They are constantly looking for their next job, by going on more auditions and doing more networking.

Unlike a lot of jobs that have set hours or set days that they work, actors do not. They have work when they are rehearsing or filming/performing. They are also working/networking when they go to events, when they promote the projects they are working on, or even when they are in public and fans want to interact with them. They are constantly working.

Sometimes they do luck out and get a recurring role in a long standing series. However, every series is not the same. Some series have a season to put out every year, so they are busier and the actors in them maybe don’t have as much time to do other projects in between filming.

Streaming shows generally do not have a season every year. For Nic and Luke, being part of an ongoing series that is more spaced out in the timing they film leaves them with time in between filming Bridgerton (and even some time during the filming of Bridgerton since they are no longer our leads) that they might want or need to fill with other projects.

Part of what people looking to hire actors look for is how many followers actors have on social media, how they engage with their fans and how much their fans are invested in what they are doing.

For brand deals, companies want to make sure that their spokesperson is well liked, popular and influential on their fans. For movies, series, and theater, producers and directors want to make sure that people’s interest is not only in the type of production they are putting out, but also that the actors in their production will bring fans and followers who will want to see the production simply because an actor is in it. So many are looking at the popularity of an actor.

I think Nicola and Luke are playing the long game. I think they want to have as many people following them, engaging with them and talking about them as possible.

With filming for Season 4 wrapping up (and without even an announcement of a season 5, for which filming would be a good amount of time away), both Nic and Luke are probably looking for new projects right now. This is NOT the time they want to publicly launch a relationship, losing them followers and engagement.

I don’t believe there will be a launch in the very near future. However, I fully believe that they will launch in plenty of time before Season 4 comes out, so that they don’t take away from build up for that season and its leads.

On to my opinions about the British Vogue and Netflix BAFTA party last night…

Nic and Luke’s PR teams are trying to push a certain narrative. This narrative is that Nicola is with Jake and Luke is with Antonia.

In my opinion, Nic is working overtime trying to sell this by lovingly looking at Jake with smiles that don’t quite reach her eyes. Luke, on the other hand, is having a rough go of it as he seems to really dislike being around Antonia and is having a hard time not showing his true emotions.

Speaking of true emotions, both Luke and Nicola could not keep their true emotions from showing at the SAG’s. Even the GA clocked how happy they seemed to be together.

I believe because of the reaction to the SAG’s, Nic and Luke were not allowed to be anywhere near one another last night. The PR team did not want a repeat of the SAG’s.

I know we got a couple pictures of Luke and Antonia this morning where Luke is actually smiling! Wow! I know the PR teams (and possibly Nic and Luke themselves) read these Tumblr blogs. They KNOW the things that are said about how miserable Luke looks.

I think one of two things brought on those happy pictures of the two of them (after more than a year…come on!!). I think either Luke was told he HAD to step it up and make it believable (look happy with her), or this is the final obligation he has to her (come on…how on EARTH did she get a solo photo on the red carpet??) and he IS genuinely happy that this is the last thing (and it is finally “done” as far as obligation goes).

As I write this, Luke just posted Antonia to his grid for the very first time ever. The timing screams obligation to me. Also, a kiss on the cheek can easily be referred to as a friend thing at a later time. He also did not tag her on their picture.

I believe that Nic will like it pretty quickly to continue to sell the narrative. I mean, she does follow Antonia on Insta now…so they are friends, right? If that is the case though…why is there not a pic from last night of the three of them being chummy and having a good time? Huh? Could it be the fact that Nic and Luke CAN’T hide their true feelings about one another when they are together?

I continue to be unbothered and still happily waiting for the truth to come out.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Okay, so we all collectively agree that Solomon has pact marks. And there are some fanarts where his pact marks glow when used, but I love the idea that they're also sort of "living."

Those stamped-on impressions will not be in the same places in the evening as they were when he woke in the morning. They're constantly shifting throughout the day, skittering along his body until they find a new home if for no other reason than just because they can. Few will even completely disappear off his body just to reappear later in a different spot. Solomon has learned that just as magic is a fluid being, so too, could the imagery of powerful, otherworldly creatures be. At one time he might've hunted for the new hiding places of every pact mark in fascination, but now he has little time or care to invest in playing hide and seek with something he's only meant to be the funhouse.

The only moments the pact marks still is when he dips into his magic. Even for the smaller sectors of the practice, something as simple as potion-brewing can cause this to happen. If his shirt sleeves are rolled up quarter-length, you'll see the pact marks on his forearms flickering dimly like an old neon sign in a window, prepared and ready to coax fully to life should his brewing turn into spell work.

You'll really witness them in action when he's summoning or spell-casting. That's when the inky black lines fire up, splitting into a constant stream of white light as the marks from the demons he calls upon lend him their aid -- forcing the circular marks to burst forward and suspend in the air like mini projections. The pact marks shine freely regardless of clothing through tight, fine seams as if unobstructed. Although depending on the location of the marks that are invoked, you may catch the light from beneath his shirt peeking out along his neck or hands. Several at once slowly spin in place, though not in uniformity as the air charges with static electricity, becoming thick and heavy and creates thin currents of light that twist around his body in an upward motion, pushing the silvery tendrils of his hair around like a spring breeze. It's a display of sorcery that's dazzling to watch.

Once the magic is complete, the projections fade away, dissolving before your very eyes while Solomon simply turns to you with that warm smile of his as if nothing had happened. Acting as if it were a figment of your imagination. He's grown so used to the company of his markings that he no longer pays any mind to them. In fact, if you ask him, he'd tell you that they're really quite bothersome and can be distracting when he's trying to focus. But seeing the awe in your eyes when his pact marks spark to life or shuffle around is beginning to make him rethink how he feels about them.

[harris-the-great]

I love ii but it WILL be the death of me. I keep thinking about how Baseball's storyline is just so damn tragic, and nobody notices. "Always strikes out", And he 𝘩𝘢𝘴 his whole life (his whole time on the show).

Not rejoining, even when he earned it (Paper most likely had the sympathy of fans due to Paper having been there the longest, but Baseball had also been there almost just as long, and- 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. He 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 threaten to kill anyone upon his release! /sarc)

having a constant stream of ridicule from the other contestants regarding his weight lasting S1 AND the start of S2. Why do they even CARE about his weight brah. Ohhh, that's right! Meshart4 fated him to never get what he wants, like people 𝘯𝘰𝘵 seeing him for only his weight. Womp womp, I guess. Wow Mephone, projecting, much? (Also [in my opinion] weight seems VERY irrelevant for objects to care about, due to how most things that could change the appearance of a human [such as; diet, physical strength, hygiene.] Don't really change an object's appearance.) ((Also also being criticized for his armless-.. ness(?) Ouch.))

As much as being a team leader seems like it would be a 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 thing, with the team he had, it was like being a single mom of 10. Having to mediate all of the drama in his team whilst leading it in the first place put so much pressure on him, not to mention having the weight of his friend's problems weighing on him making things harder to deal with. The reason he and Nickel had that lil tussle back in s2e10, was BECAUSE Baseball had so many bad things happening to him. He just wanted that little reassurance that even with all the crap happening, he was an at least half-decent leader, and all he got was his best friend making a joke about it, and downplaying Baseball's very real feelings. He tried to save it, but just that first comment I feel definitely affected Baseball in a negative way.

//(Lil detour time, I wanna talk about how Nickel affected Baseball in GENERAL [for the better AND the worse.], Baseball clearly views Nickel as his best friend, even after everything they've gone through in season 2, but I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. I think it shows that Baseball was too scared to try and make new friends in the game, as to not accidentally make an enemy. I feel this is because Baseball was slowly realizing that most things he tried to do wouldn't go his way, so he'd cling on to Nickel as his only friend, hoping not to lose him, feeling lucky to have him at all (and Nickel would know all about luck/jjjjjjj). This lead to Baseball disregarding some of Nickel's actions towards himself and Suitcase as to preserve his relationship with Nickel. Though, I do feel that the bond they had was real. It started in season 1, where there was less drama built up over time(ex; Tophy and Knife in s2e1 planting the seed for their inevitable rivalry, vs Taco randomly being that bitch and that hoe. /silly), so Baseball most likely wasn't thinking about "preserving his friendship" with Nickel, but rather being friends with him in general. This gave them that time to have genuine interactions that build up the trust between the two. This is why Baseball played along with whatever Nickel did, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵���𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. That friendship was real, and Nickel was taking advantage of Baseball without even realizing it. I doubt his did this consciously due to his s3 arc, and how he was programmed that way. Nta. /silly. Nickel getting eliminated was a real roadblock for Baseball because (as aforementioned) Nickel was Baseball's only real friend in the game at this point, and Baseball still had that very real connection with him. This is why I feel he was so awkward in s2e14, as he was trying to have that confidence that Nickel had, and he never did. As much as that's really good for him- like, yay! You go girl!! It's inadvertently horrible for him specifically, because he is hardwired to have all of his efforts for naught. It took Baseball all of s2e15 talking to Suitcase to realize all of Nickel's wrongs, and how ignoring them put him in the wrong too. Once he finally realized that, it seemed like Baseball was really coming into his own! Working out his own issues bit by bit.

WRONG!!🤑👅💜 s2e16. We got only one Baseball and Nickel interaction, but it was enough to change Baseball for the rest of the life he had left. Watching Nickel die/get X'd was like s2e13's elimination put to an extreme. It's clear that - even thought he was working out his issues - Baseball still had that strong attachment to Nickel. People respond to grief in many ways, but when things get too much for one person, they can simply go numb. Baseball was in a very sensitive mental state, and this really hit him where it hurts most. His best friend. He went numb, not telling anyone what he saw. Even in Baseball's last moments, he tried to take that leader-like stance, and help everyone but himself, just as Nickel told him he could.) // lil detour over (I say lil as if this wasn't long as HELL💜)

Though I did connect back to the main claim occasionally, Nickel was a very important part of Baseball's character development that matters to this conversation imo.

Getting out in s2e15 was also (possibly) a place where Baseball's programming played a part (alternatively, he got out because Suitcase had too many negative experiences with Baseball, and thought that her deep emotional views of him would impair her gameplay in the finale.) "Always strikes out", even with the people he thought were friends. Even with the person he thought was his friend. Even with Suitcase. I feel the reason Baseball had the response he did, was him coming to terms with things just not going his way, which sets him up in that sensitive mental state in s2e16. He seemed to have come to terms with Suitcase choosing Knife, and didn't want to procrastinate on the obvious, that he was just never enough. Not enough for Suitcase, not enough for his team, not enough to win the game.

He just wasn't the guy who could do it. And he knew he never would be.

He always strikes out.

[rebkys]

YAN KUROO

warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, overprotectiveness, unwanted pregnancy, explicit content, baby trapping, age gap

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆

being broke in college was nothing new, but this time, you were desperate. tuition fees, rent, and bills were piling up, and you needed a way out. that's when your friend suggested a website full of older, wealthy men looking for sugar babies. you were hesitant at first, but your financial situation left you no choice.

that's when you stumbled upon kuroo tetsurou. he was rich-like, ridiculously rich—and after a few exchanges, he became your sugar daddy. he spoiled you with luxury gifts, even offering you a mansion, but you declined. instead, he paid your tuition, ensuring you'd graduate without any debt.

but there was a catch. kuroo was overprotective, manipulative, and clingy. his constant presence and control over your life became suffocating. you reached a breaking point and vented to your friend about how he was driving you insane, not realizing he had access to your social media.

when kuroo read your messages, he almost broke his phone in anger. leave him? that wasn't an option. since that day, his protectiveness and manipulation worsened, making it nearly impossible for you to breathe. desperate for a break, you lied, saying you had a project to work on just to get away for a day. but he saw through your lie.

he grabbed your wrist, pulling you close and kissing you forcefully.

"thinking about leaving, kitten? ¡ don't think so," he whispered with a smirk, ignoring your pleas for him to wear protection. when you begged him to pull out, he just laughed, continuing his relentless pace.

weeks later, you stared in shock at the two lines on the pregnancy test. you were carrying his baby, this monster's baby, and you weren't even close to graduating-only in your second year of college. as tears streamed down your face, kuroo hugged you from behind, placing his palm on your abdomen.

"now you can't leave me, ever. you and this baby are mine," he said possessively.

all you could do was cry, trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆ ⋆♱✮♱⋆

[formulas-bitch]

streamer Lando Norris x artist/reader

In a world where streaming had become the new norm, Lando Norris found himself in an unlikely partnership with a female streamer. Their names were as different as their personalities; he, a young, charismatic racer with a penchant for speed and risk-taking; she, an enigmatic artist with a flair for storytelling and an uncanny ability to connect with her audience. Their partnership was not born out of convenience or necessity, but rather, a strange and inexplicable twist of fate.

As they streamed together, their chemistry was undeniable. Lando would bring the thrill of the race to the screen, his fingers dancing across the controller as he maneuvered his way through virtual tracks at breakneck speeds. His laughter and cheers echoed through the studio, filling the air with an infectious energy that seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around him. On the other hand, the female streamer would take the reins when it came to interacting with their audience, engaging in witty banter and sharing intimate details about her life as an artist.

Their fans, known as the "Lando's Angels" and the "Artiste's Aficionados," were equally devoted. They would tune in religiously to witness the dynamic duo's antics, often spending hours in their streams, cheering them on and leaving generous donations. The streamer pair's popularity only grew with time, transcending the boundaries of gaming and art. They became cultural icons, their influence spreading far and wide.

Lando and the female streamer continued to push each other to greater heights, experimenting with new games, art forms, and storytelling techniques. They embarked on charity streams, using their platform to raise awareness and funds for various causes close to their hearts. Their partnership was not without its share of challenges, of course. They had their fair share of arguments and disagreements, but they always managed to find common ground and work through their differences.

As their fame grew, so did the pressure. Lando found himself constantly in the spotlight, his every move scrutinized by fans and critics alike. He struggled with maintaining a private life and the constant need to be "on" for his audience. The female streamer, on the other hand, dealt with her own set of challenges as she navigated the often-misogynistic landscape of the streaming world. Despite these obstacles, they remained a beacon of positivity and resilience, inspiring countless others to chase their dreams and find their own unique voices in the world of streaming and art.

Their partnership eventually evolved into something more than just a professional arrangement. As they spent more time together, traveling the world for gaming and art conventions, attending exclusive events, and collaborating on creative projects, a deep bond began to form between them. Lando found himself falling for the enigmatic artist, her wit, charm, and unyielding strength winning him over. She, in turn, found herself drawn to his vulnerability, his willingness to open up and share his fears and insecurities with her. Their relationship was not without its fair share of challenges, but they faced them together, their love for each other serving as a guiding light.

As their personal lives intertwined, so did their professional lives. They launched their own production company, hiring a team of talented streamers and artists to join them in their quest to create something truly special. Together, they pushed the boundaries of what was possible in the world of streaming and art, exploring new genres, mediums, and storytelling techniques. Their streams became less about the games they played or the art they created and more about the stories they told, the lives they shared, and the connections they forged with their audience.

[myung-jaes]

hi! i just wanted to come on here again to encourage everyone to please please participate in the boycott against sm! this doesn’t just help in getting justice for seunghan, but also helps in addressing and advocating the fan parasocial relationships & bullying/mistreatment issues in the industry! please unfollow all official accounts on all platforms and avoid streaming any official content and music— here is a link of someone who made mp3 files of riize music for the boycott & for spotify users, there are podcasts with the boycotted music so that we won’t give any streams to sm! also please sign this petition if you haven’t already, and encourage other people to participate in the boycott as well!

as much as it may seem like sm had no intentions of bringing him back w the szn greetings announcement & removing him from under the riize list on their website, there is so so much progress being made with this boycott!:

- our efforts have reached many kpop stores internationally, all of which have decided to halt restocking riize merch! this also include subk which is huge considering that they have collaborated with sm artists before!

- constant trends between the hashtags on twt

- we’ve gotten the support of plenty of non-briize kpop fandoms & non-kpop fandoms (arianators, harries, swifties, beliebers, etc.)

- plenty of large influencers and creators on youtube and tiktok speaking on the situation! there is also the spread in recognition of the situation overall across social media with many videos (such as evidence of the bullying) going viral!

- we’ve reached the recognition of others in the industry, such as a tweet that was retweeted by leeteuk (an artist under sm) & a tweet by jae (former day6 member) talking about the situation!

- i believe pineapple manager also liked an ot7 post on insta?? but pls correct me if i’m wrong!

- drop of riize twt followers from 809k to 730k & riize insta from 4.2m to 3.9m

- the petition has over 260k signatures

- we’ve gotten many big and well-known news sources writing articles on the boycott and the bullying situation with seunghan as well as regarding sm and their treatment of their artists

- tons of korean news sources have released articles on the situation as well as the boycott and updates on it!

- the naver article that covered seunghan’s departure was taken down!

- recent events of ot7 k-briize joining the effort (lots of have tweeted about the hope they have for this!) and organizing a protest outside of sm on friday, the 18th!

- i believe there have also been accounts of people on twt seeing some knetz/ot6s attempting to delete evidence and/or admitting to what they did which shows that our efforts are reaching them! (PLEASE correct me if this is misinformation bc my sources are a few accts on twt!)

please let me know if i am missing any other points of progress and i will add it!

if you would like to continue to make a change beyond unfollowing official accounts:

- if you have twitter (x), please please continue to share the ongoing hashtags we have for seunghan, it is important that we don’t let them drop!

- ALSO!! do not engage with any official accounts regardless of what they post, it will defeat the purpose of the boycott!

- regarding ot6 comments, especially on wv, do NOT interact with them, ignore them! ignoring will help prevent any traction towards their comments, and help increase our efforts!

- helping with funding for ongoing fan projects! one that i’ve seen recently is the sunflowers for seunghan project! this tweet has all the info on it if you’re interested!

— MAJOR UPDATE on the flower project here pls click the link and help in any way!

- some other projects that i’ve heard of but will update more on are the airships (this link includes funding for day 2 of the flowers as well!) & there are ongoing trucks being sent that you can help support!

- there is also the protest happening on the 18th, so if you are or will be in korea during that time, please participate!

- emailing other big accounts that you may know, news sources, or those who write articles on this, or stores that still supply riize merch! (templates & links below):

— template for emailing stores who supply merch!

— template for emailing news sources!

— template for emailing journalists!

— template for other contacts within the media!

— there is also the kwangya project, here is the template!

— template for emailing sm ent!

- there are also tons of updates on the boycott on this account as well as their linktree which has so much info on what you can do for the boycott, such as plenty of email templates as i mentioned above, which i suggest everyone to look at!

again please let me know if there is anything i’m missing on any ongoing projects or updates!

[reveryfics]

Hii ! I have an idea ;) for Loki !

I do/did a lot of panic attacks and sometimes you feel so lonely in that moment, everybody is welcomed to help you or talk to you, even if you don't really have the capacity to respond. So, in this theme, can you make a scenario where Loki is on Earth for bad reasons, his kingdom project yk, and when he starts to scare everyone with his corns and powers, he saw ftm!reader in a corner. Reader is having a panic attack, because of the sudden chaos, plus everybody is trying to run away and push him away. Loki doesn't know him, but for some reasons he goes help him.

Thanks for reading me 🎀 have a good day/night

Oh and ! I wanted to say, I'm french so..sorry for the mistakes, i try to learn as best as i can english

Clarity

Pairings: Loki x FtM reader

Summary: Admist the chaos that surrounds New York, you feel trapped like everything is closing in on you. Despite Loki's plans, he can't help but offer something anyone would least expect.

A/n: I love doing your requests, I smile everytime I see you sent one! I personally have had panic attacks, but I know it's different for everyone so I hope this does it justice. Perhaps a pt. 2 in the future?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The cacophony of terror assaulted him. Screams pierced the air, a chilling symphony of fear and despair. Dust choked the lungs, a suffocating blanket against the already chaotic sky. Buildings, once titans of steel and glass, now lay in fractured ruins, their skeletons mocking the city's former grandeur. New York, the heart of a nation, was bleeding, its pulse weakening with every shattering crash. The once vibrant metropolis, a beacon of hope and progress, was now a battlefield, a grim testament to the fragility of civilization.

He, a mere speck in this maelstrom of destruction, lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving concrete. The world tilted, a dizzying carousel of chaos. The weight of the crowd, a monstrous tide, had crashed over him, leaving him gasping for breath, his vision a blur of dust and blood. Panic, a venomous serpent, coiled around his chest, constricting his breath, stealing his sanity.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the city's own demise. Each thud was a hammer blow against his already fragile mind. The world narrowed, focusing on the suffocating pressure in his chest, the icy tendrils of fear gripping his throat. His breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and inadequate. The air, thick with smoke and the stench of destruction, seemed to cling to his lungs, suffocating him.

His vision blurred, the edges of his world darkening. He felt a detachment from reality, as if he were watching himself from a distance, a detached observer in his own personal hell. His mind raced, a whirlwind of terrifying thoughts: Was this the end? Would he die here, crushed beneath the weight of falling debris, swallowed by the chaos?

The screams of the injured, the cries of the dying, the deafening roar of collapsing buildings – they all blended into a terrifying cacophony, assaulting his senses, driving him further into the abyss of panic. He felt a wave of dizziness, the world tilting precariously. He tried to ground himself, to focus on his breathing, but the fear was too strong, too overwhelming.

He was drowning, not in water, but in the suffocating terror of the moment, the helplessness washing over him like a frigid wave. He felt a surge of adrenaline, followed by a chilling wave of weakness. His limbs trembled uncontrollably, his body shaking with the force of the panic attack. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the grime coating his skin. He was a leaf caught in a hurricane, tossed and turned, utterly insignificant in the face of this overwhelming force. The screams of the city, a haunting chorus, echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the horror unfolding around him.

Then, a hand, strong and steady, reached out, pulling him from the abyss. Loki, his face etched with a grim determination, gazed down at him, his eyes mirroring the chaos, yet holding a flicker of something else – compassion.

Loki saw himself reflected in the other's eyes – the fear, the helplessness, the crushing weight of despair. He remembered being a child, lost and alone in a world that seemed intent on tearing him apart, a world where pain was a constant companion. He understood the suffocating grip of panic, the way it could steal your breath, your sanity, your very soul. He remembered the paralyzing fear of uncertainty, the feeling of being utterly alone in a sea of chaos.

"Can you hear me?" Loki's voice was a low rumble, a comforting anchor in the storm.

He could only nod, his body trembling, his mind still reeling. The panic attack was receding, leaving behind a lingering tremor in his limbs and a profound sense of exhaustion.

Loki, despite the chaos swirling around them, the city crumbling at their feet, felt a surge of protectiveness. This young man, broken and lost, mirrored his own reflection in a shattered mirror. He saw the raw fear in the other's eyes, the same fear that had haunted him for so long. He felt a deep-seated need to protect him, to shield him from the horrors of this day.

"Allow me to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle current in the raging torrent. As he guided the young man through the debris, Loki felt a strange sense of calm descend upon him. In the midst of destruction, he had found a purpose, a chance to offer solace, to ease the suffering of another. And as he looked back, a fleeting smile touched his lips. "Wait for me," he whispered, his voice carried away on the wind, "our paths will cross again."

The city groaned, a wounded beast bleeding out onto the streets. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light piercing the smoke-filled air, illuminating the wreckage of what was once a thriving metropolis. Amidst the chaos, Loki stood, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a solitary figure against the backdrop of devastation.

He thought of the man, his face pale and drawn, eyes wide with terror. He remembered the warmth of the man's hand in his, a fragile connection in the face of overwhelming chaos. And then, he thought of the look of quiet desperation in the man's eyes as Loki helped him navigate the treacherous terrain of the ruined city.

A strange calm descended upon him. A sense of clarity, unexpected and profound. The years of deceit, of manipulation, of chaos – they seemed to fade away, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. He had found meaning in the act of helping another, a flicker of goodness amidst the darkness.

Days later, Loki stood before the Avengers, his hands bound, his expression inscrutable. Iron Man, his eyes narrowed, demanded an explanation. "Why?" he boomed, his voice echoing through the stark, metallic chamber.

Loki looked at them, at the faces etched with suspicion and distrust. He saw the reflection of his own past in their eyes – a history of betrayal, of broken trust. "A sense of clarity," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

The Avengers exchanged confused glances. "Clarity?" Captain America echoed, perplexed.

Loki did not elaborate. He had found clarity in the act of helping, in the unexpected surge of compassion that had washed over him. It was a fragile seed, perhaps, but it was a beginning. And that, he realized, was enough.

[dizzyinspace]

Sick and Alone

My first sickfic on this blog! Introducing my OC Lonnie, where he gets sick after a long day at work. He's a graphic designer in his mid 20s.

The world passed by in one big blur through the window of the train. The movement made Lonnie dizzy, but it didn’t stop when he closed his eyes. It only seemed to intensify, with nothing else to focus on. The dizziness had started off as a headache. It was a slight pressure on his temples that had intensified into an aching pain over the course of an 8 hour work day. Towards the end of his shift, Lonnie was squinting at his computer screen and fighting the urge to put his head down on the desk. The pain had bled down from his head to his neck and shoulders, making them stiff. Along with the pain came a vague feeling of sickness.

That was the worst part.

Lonnie could handle a headache long enough to get home and down a couple of ibuprofen. But nausea was a different beast. The feeling sat heavy in the spot just below his ribs. He pressed on it to try and alleviate some of the discomfort. The only thing he succeeded in was making his mouth flood with saliva. He swallowed it down. The last thing he wanted to do was get sick on the train, in front of a bunch of strangers. “Please…let me make it home.” He mumbled.

He shifted in his seat. Of all things, his hair touching the back of his neck was starting to bother him. His curls grazing his skin sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. He tried to move it out of the way, but without a rubber band, he would just have to deal with it. If he wasn’t so attached to it, he would have cut it short months ago.

The nausea was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He burped into his other hand and tasted coffee. It was acidic in the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes tight at the smell. He was losing his grip, and fast.

By some miracle, Lonnie managed to make it to his stop without losing his lunch. But it was close. The rush of bodies and noise as he stumbled off of the train was almost more than he could handle. He burped up a mouthful of acidic bile. He swallowed it back down and his whole body shivered. He needed to get home.

For the time being, home was little better than a concrete box in a basement, half a mile from the train station. It wasn’t so bad though. He’d been determined to live alone when he moved here, and this place was what he could afford. He sacrificed natural lighting for some peace of mind. He fumbled with his keys as he was unlocking the door. His hands were shaking. It was hard to tell if he had a fever or not at this point, but he felt hot. The pressure on his temples had turned into a constant throbbing in time with his heart beat.

As Lonnie got inside, he stumbled on a cardboard box by the door. After a month of being here, he still wasn’t unpacked. It wasn’t completely his fault. His new job had him working on a nonstop stream of projects. It was both everything he could have asked for as a new hire and completely overwhelming. He had very little time to get to know anyone or even get his space into something more functional, rather than a collection of boxes that he lived out of. But he knew moving here and taking this design job wouldn’t be easy. He was prepared for that. At least, he tried to be. But the stress was beginning to come down on him, and he was bending under the weight.

His stomach moved and rolled like a snake wrapping itself around a branch. He kept having to swallow back liquid rising up in his throat. He should have gone to the bathroom, but he wanted out of his work clothes first. They clung to his skin with sweat as the adhesive, making him feel more sick. It was only when he was trying to put up his hair that the movement seemed to be too much for his stomach.

The slow buildup of nausea had intensified almost instantly. Lonnie brought a mouthful of vomit onto his shirt. He hardly had time to react before he gagged again, bringing up another wave that sent him to his knees. There was a puddle of vomit on his floor, and he looked at it, stunned. A dry heave snapped him out of his shock. He needed to find something to be sick in before the mess got worse.

He looked around his room, and immediately reached for the small trash bin next to his bed. That time, he managed to pull the trashcan up close to his chest just as he heaved. He brought up a liquidly wave that hit the bottom of the trash with a sickening splash. His stomach clenched over and over. The pressure in his head built up to the point where it felt like it might pop. Tears of exertion and sweat dripped down his face. “Ugh…”

He spat into the trash. He was shaky and still felt sick, but he was empty. For now. He slumped down until his head was on the floor.

Lonnie knows what he needs to do. He needs to drink some water and take medicine and to clean the mess on the floors. He’d prepared, to an extent. There was a first aid kit in one of these boxes that would have a thermometer, and maybe even a cold pack if he was lucky. But it was hard to get his limbs to move. His bones felt like they’d turned to lead. When he tried to get up, it only made the pressure in his head worse. So he was forced to lay back down.

There was no one he could call. There was no one who could pick him up off of the ground and help him.

He would get up, eventually. But for now, he just couldn’t.

He was in for a long night.

[khalemchurstcomics]

LEFT WRITE HOOK - A huge chapter in my life and recovery

For those who have been following me for a while, you may have caught me mentioning a program I was a part of which got made into a documentary. 'Left Write Hook' started as a research project which combined creative writing and boxing to help survivors like me access and process our trauma. The project was so successful that our story became a book, a documentary, and program is now being run with new groups of survivors right across Melbourne.

Left Write Hook (and the skills, community and healing I found through it) has become a huge part of my journey of exploring and healing my trauma from gendered violence. The program will feature in my comic 'TRIGGERED' in the future - it just takes a while, as I am usually drawing comics about events that happened 5 years ago (because I am working on this project at a sustainable pace).

If you are in Australia or New Zealand and would like to watch the documentary, it is currently streaming on Netflix. I don't know if it will go broader in the future - it has won some awards and already been featured at several film festivals, but you never do know with these things. I would say that if you do watch it, go gently and ensure you are in a safe space to engage. The film offers a constant thread of hope and light, but being about childhood sexual abuse, it still goes to some deep places and has some quite emotive moments.

I have always written my creative work under the name Khale McHurst, and this is also the name I am published under in the Left Write Hook book. But in the documentary, you will see me referred to as Pixie. I never expected this project to go as wide as it did, and therefore used my real name, but I think that was important. You can call me Pixie or Khale - both feel genuine to me, they just each highlight the association people have with me.

For anyone who has been following along as this documentary was made - thank you. It has been absolutely huge, and at times terrifying, but I'm glad that it's out there and that I have gotten to speak my truth.

[puppetmaster13u]

Heeey, Guess What, New Fic-

In his defense, when one awakens as a literal baby after their last memory consists of dying violently, they don’t exactly think about things like anime or manga. Actually, his thoughts had consisted mostly of panic and an understandable constant stream of What The Fuck.