#metal flake gold

[flakehub6]

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Why Choose Flake Hub?

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Flake Hub – Where Your Vision Shines Bright!

[maxyvert]

🦋Guy redraw🦋

Ink and colored pencils on tea soaked watercolor paper with metal leaf.

Yes, that is the title, he's just a guy :D This was a fun little distraction, also recorded a video for it, will upload soon-ish. The original one is from a very very old inktober challenge.

2014 vs 2023 under the cut:

[your-fave-is-bi]

Painted n dry sets + just painted set, second coat drying

I only made the red raw meat set, the rest were made by my sister n just never got to the being inked stage lol

[reasonsforhope]

"Scientists have developed a way to dramatically reduce the cost of recycling certain electronic waste by using whey protein.

Their method allows for the easy recovery of gold from circuit boards at a cost of energy and materials amounting to 50 times less than the price of the gold they recover—these are the numbers that big business likes to see.

Indeed, the potential for scalability depends on this sort of cost savings, something traditional e-waste recycling methods just can’t achieve.

Professor Raffaele Mezzenga from ETH Zurich has found that whey protein, a byproduct of dairy manufacturing, can be used to make sponges that attract trace amounts of ionized gold.

Electronic waste contains a variety of valuable metals, including copper, cobalt, and gold. Despite gold’s public persona as being either money or jewelry, thousands of ounces of gold are used in electronics every year for its exceptional conductive properties.

Mezzenga’s colleague Mohammad Peydayesh first “denatured whey proteins under acidic conditions and high temperatures, so that they aggregated into protein nanofibrils in a gel,” writes the ETH Zurich press. “The scientists then dried the gel, creating a sponge out of these protein fibrils.”

The next step was extracting the gold: done by tossing 20 salvaged motherboards into an acid bath until the metals had dissolved into ionized compounds that the sponge began attracting.

Removing the sponge, a heat treatment caused the gold ions to aggregate into 22-carat gold flakes which could be easily removed.

“The fact I love the most is that we’re using a food industry byproduct to obtain gold from electronic waste,” Mezzenga says. In a very real sense, he observes, the method transforms two waste products into gold. “You can’t get much more sustainable than that!” ...

However the real dollar value comes from the bottom line—which was 50 times more than the cost of energy and source materials. Because of this, the scientists have every intention of bringing the technology to the market as quickly as possible while also desiring to see if the protein fibril sponge can be made of other food waste byproducts.

E-waste is a quickly growing burden in global landfills, and recycling it requires extremely energy-intensive machinery that many recycling facilities do not possess.

The environmental value of the minerals contained within most e-waste comes not only from preventing the hundreds of years it takes for them to break down in the soil, but also from the reduction in demand from new mining operations which can, though not always, significantly degrade the environments they are located in.

[Note: Absolutely massive understatement, mining is incredibly destructive to ecosystems. Mining is also incredibly toxic to human health and a major cause of conflict, displacement, and slavery globally.]

Other countries are trying to incentivize the recycling of e-waste, and are using gold to do so. In 2022, GNN reported that the British Royal Mint launched an electronically traded fund (ETF) with each share representing the value of gold recovered from e-waste as a way for investors to diversify into gold in a way that doesn’t support environmentally damaging mining.

The breakthrough is reminiscent of that old fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin who can spin straw into gold. All that these modern-day, real-life alchemists are doing differently is using dairy and circuit boards rather than straw."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[unboundprompts]

I don't know if you've done it yet but could you do hazel eyes, preferably hazel green?

No rush though, love your page 💞

Different Ways to Describe Hazel Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

His eyes made them think of the woods behind his old house: not just the green of the leaves but the rough brown bark that used to scrape his hands as he climbed the trees as well.

Their eyes were the color of spring and the memory of autumn.

She had the most interesting eyes he had ever seen. They held the sweetness of honey and the softness of pastures after a heavy rainfall.

The brown elements in their hazel eyes were more dominant, complimenting the freckles that dotted their nose.

His hazel eyes had never held such hatred until now.

She had soft, hazel eyes. A warm brown with an inner radiating golden sun.

Their hazel eyes were both the sunlit branches and the moss that clothed the old oak tree.

Her eyes reminded them of spring. Irises like the forest floor that stretched over the roots of trees and the plants and flowers that sprouted from between the cracks.

He had eyes like the sea and the wet, sharp rocks that lined the edge of the cliff. The center was all rock, a harsh brown that spread out to waves of greens and blues under an angry sky.

Their green eyes were flaked with gold.

She hated to admit that he had beautiful eyes. They were a soft hazel, with waves of browns and greens and golds that mesmerized her. The warmth of his eyes however, did nothing to change the impression she had of him.

Behind their hazel eyes, he could tell they were hiding something. It reflected in the greens and golds of their irises.

Her eyes were the same colors as the bracelets on her wrists. He watched the golden metal with the blue and green gems clang against one another as she talked with her hands.

They had never imagined that hazel eyes so beautiful could look so sad.

His eyes mirrored the ground of the cemetery and the blue sky that looked down on them.

She had eyes like watercolors, blues and greens and browns swirling together to paint an incredible scene.

They had eyes that painters could only ever dream of capturing in their art.

Words could never describe the incredibility of their hazel eyes, but he was damn well going to try.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

Broken (but it's on the mend) - AVA/M

Word count: 6,221

TW/CW:

-Graphic depictions of panic attack

-Mentioning of past child abuse

Characters: Purple, King Orange/Mango Tango, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, The Second Coming, Navy Blue(mentioned), Orchid/Pink(mentioned), Gold(mentioned)

Relationships: (No romantic pairings) Purple & King Orange/Mango Tango, Purple & Green, Purple & The Colour Gang

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post AVM Ep 30 "The King" , Purple having self-worth issues, Good parent Mango, Bad parent Navy, the Colour Gang being good friends

Summary: Purple decided to clean up Mango's house while he was away, but made a terrible mistake in the process.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

"Okay, I'm leaving. Remember not to open the door for strangers, if you want to visit Green and the other kids in Minecraft drop me a message first, if I'm not home yet when you come back, don't forget to close the nether portal, also-"

"Sir-MT, I'm not a kid anymore. I've been living by myself for almost 2 years now, you don't have to worry about me." Purple pouted at Mango as the latter reached for his gold scarf, wrapping it around his neck meticulously.

"I know, I know. I have completely faith in your ability to take care of yourself, it's just..." Mango let out a sigh and placed a hand on the door knob, "...old habits die hard."

Purple bit their lip as they watched Mango open the door. The fierce, icy wind of December blew some snow flakes onto the doormat. 

"And don't forget to eat your lunch, there's food in the fridge. Don't heat metal containers in the microwave, remember to scoop whatever's inside into a bowl first-"

"MT!"

"Okay okay I'll stop now." Mango laughed and ruffled Purple's hair. "See you in the afternoon."

"See you!"

The door closed with a thud. Purple let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and turned around.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...The sound of the wall clock echoed across the living room, the only sound keeping them company.

They were alone, the realisation slowly sank in like a pebble descending down a deep well. Purple hugged themselves absentmindedly, their gaze drifted onto the small framed photograph placed on a low cabinet to their left. In it, a young child sat on their father's shoulders, beaming at them brightly. 

Purple responded with a small smile of their own, then withdrew their gaze and straightened their back. No use in standing here like a moron, they scolded themselves, they need to find something to do.

They scanned across the living room and only then did they realise what a mess it still was. The walls were covered with furious scribbles of Mango King Orange's notes and calculations, books and previous iterations of the King's staff were hastily piled up in the corners, the floor was coated by a thick layer of dust. 

Purple mentally kicked themselves. It's been two weeks since Mango gave up his title as King Orange and even allowed Purple to live with him in his own house, and they didn't even think of cleaning up said house for him? What kind of child roommate were they?

They'll make the house spotless before Mango came back. Purple's heart leaped as they pictured Mango returning home, pleasantly surprised, and telling them how good it was to have them around. They bounced on their feet a few times in excitement, and immediately set themselves in motion.

An indefinite amount of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and tidying later, Purple glanced at the wall clock and noticed the minute hand had thrice swept pass the same marking since Mango left. They stretched their sore muscles and admired their work: the once dusty and stained floor now practically gleaming, the walls clean and polished, furnitures and items neatly arranged, a fresh scent of cleaning products filled the air. Several short, joyful notes escaped from Purple’s mouth, they can’t wait for Mango to see this! 

Satisfied, they realised how exhausted they were, and decided to take a well deserved break.

A bucket of dirty soap water, coincidentally sitting in Purple's way, was knocked over. Purple stumbled on the slippery floor and lost their balance. They yelped in surprise, flailed their arms and tried to grab hold of something, but failed and fell painfully into the puddle of filthy water with a splash. "Ow..." They mumbled, sitting up and rubbed their aching elbows. "Great, I have to mop the floor all over again..."

Suddenly, they spotted something on the floor. Blood drained from their face.

The photograph of Mango and his child lay submerged in the foul, murky water. A large, ugly crack marred the lovingly polished glass, liquid gradually seeped in through the crack, tainting Gold's wide grin with a greyish stain.

"God, oh no, oh nononononono...." Purple snatched the broken photograph from the ground and desperately wiped away all the disgusting liquid from its surface, but the damage was already done.

"It's okay, it's okay! I-I can fix this!" Purple reassured themselves with trembling voice, knowing perfectly well deep down that there's nothing they could do to reverse the damage. They traced the cracks with cold, numb fingers, the glaring blemish on the photo paper stung their eyes. "Oh god, what have I done..."

Purple recalled the first time they entered Mango's house, everything was carelessly lying around unkempt except for this photograph, which was free from the slightest speckle of dust. When Purple picked up the photograph to have a closer look, Mango snatched the photo away from Purple immediately. Every now and then, Mango would stare at the photo with such tenderness in his eyes that made Purple's heart throb.

A newfound horror dawned upon Purple. What would Mango do when he found out that Purple broke his most cherished possession? The one and only memento of his dearest child? 

The mere thought alone made Purple's whole body seize up in fear. Their legs felt like noodles as they sat helplessly in the slowly spreading puddle of dirty water. Purple hugged the broken photograph closely to their chest, their frame trembling with every sharp inhale, wet eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to find a solution.

Then, Purple heard the click of a key inserted into the keyhole, followed by the soft clunk of the bolt retracting.

Their heart stopped.

"I'm home!" Mango's deep, warm voice sounded like death knell to Purple's ears. They suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground, eyes glued to the dark liquid beneath them, unable to move, unable to speak. Their knuckles went white with how tightly they clinched the photograph, heart hammering against their chest.

"Wait no-shoot...wrong house..." 

"...Eh? But this is my house?"

"Purple! Kid, did you clean up the whole place while I was gone? Hehe, I didn't even recognise this place!"

"...Purple?" 

Footsteps. Mango's voice was right above them. "Purple? Why are you...what's wrong?"

Purple tried to answer, but their vocal cord cannot make a sound.

"Hey, kid-" Purple felt Mango touching their shoulders, they jerked backwards so violently as if being burnt. Purple looked up, and saw Mango towering over them.

A heavy kick from Navy sent Purple slamming into the gravel ground. The friction sent scorching pain across their back. Their father towered over them, looking angry and disappointed. "Get up! Now!" He growled, stomping the ground hard with one foot.

"S-sir! I-" Purple wanted to stand up, but their feet doesn't feel like theirs. Instead they scrambled backwards like a wounded animal. 

Mango must have sensed something was wrong. Purple didn't miss how his brows furrowed and how his eyes went sharp and scrutinising. His gaze was like an invisible hand squeezing the air out of Purple's lungs.

"Get up you little-! You think your enemies are just going to let you take your own sweet time?! If you're in a real battle you'd be dead by now!" Navy's mouth was contorted in a snarl, his booming voice rung at Purple's ears. They tried to stand up, but every muscle inside them screamed of pain and exhaustion.

"Purple, I need you to to tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't hurt you." Mango's voice was gentle and steady, but Purple still flinched as if Mango was yelling.

"I...I..." Purple's tongue felt like sandpaper inside their mouth.

Say something! Make something up! Anything! He cannot find out about the photograph!

As if on cue, Mango's piercing gaze locked onto the small rectangular frame in Purple's arms. All was lost.

Time slowed down. Purple watched, frozen in place, as Mango slowly bent down and took away the photograph. Seeing the damage, Mango's body stiffened, lips pressed together tightly. Then, his eyes turned to Purple again.

The floor was spinning. The room was spinning. Purple's chest felt weird. They tasted bile in their throat. Heartbeats were deafening. Needles were pricking their hands and feet. Somewhere in the distance someone was gasping for breath. They were gasping for breath. 

"What the hell is wrong with you today?! Stop crying like a wimp! Did you forget everything I taught you? GET. UP!!" This wasn't their father. This couldn't be their father. The being yelling at them was a demon taking form of their father. Purple curled into a fetal position and hid their face, wishing for everything to stop.

No, no, no. They need to calm down, go back normal. Mango's gonna notice and things would get worse. These episodes always make things worse. Stop breathing this fast, NOW!

"Purple, what-" Mango's lips were moving, but Purple cannot register what he was saying. Mango crouched down. Mango lifted their hand towards them.

The first kick landed on Purple's back, knocking the air out of them. 

Useless. Thud. 

Weak. Thud.

Pathetic. Thud.

Failure. Thud.

Purple's pupils contracted as the hand inched closer to them. No, no, no. This is bad. This's very bad. He's angry. He's going to hurt them. He's going to hurt them like Navy did. 

They need to stay away from him, they need to run, they need to get out of here.

Driven by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Purple bolted like a doe startled by a gunshot and dove straight into the trap door leading to the basement. Mango's astonished shout rang behind them, but they didn't dare to look back. They stumbled across the passageway littered with debris, blood pounded in their ears.

Purple activated the nether portal and threw themselves inside.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple stumbled through the jagged terrain between deep ravines filled with flowing lava. The sweltering heat amplified their dizziness, making everything around them swirl and warp. The crimson landscape around them seemed to close in, muffling every sound except their desperate, shallow gasps of breath, and the frantic scream in their mind urging them to run, escape, get away.

They didn't know how long they ran or how far they went, eventually fatigue overtook them, as if molten lead had filled their veins. They staggered to a stop, bending over and gasping for breath. Wetness clung to their face, but they couldn't even tell if it was sweat or tears.

Suddenly, a faint, melodious sound of the flute drifted into Purple's ears, a stark contrast to the incessant grunt and rumble in the Nether. Purple's heart skipped a beat. But it couldn't be who they hoped it was, right? Must have been their ears playing tricks on them.

The sound rang out again, Purple held their breath and lifted their head. Could it be? Could it really be?

"...uuuuurrrrrple......!" Purple gasped. A young, silky voice was calling out their name. The familiarity of that voice nearly made Purple burst into tears in relief. They wanted to shout back, but their throat was too tight to make a sound.

"My dear ol' grape boy!" A blur of vibrant green flashed before their eyes and they were enveloped by a pair of warm, slender arms. They automatically replicated the gesture, suddenly felt so completely drained that they could barely stand. It took all they had not to instantly melt into a sobbing mess.

"-so nice to see you again! How're you and King doing? Are you here by yourself?"

"...Green? How...how'd you..." They croaked weakly. Green seemed to notice something was off.

"Why's your voice so...and oh my Alan-"Green pulled away from the embrace, hands still clutching Purple's shoulders, "-you're shaking like crazy! What happened?!"

"I-uh-" The intensity in those emerald eyes made Purple look away. "I...I'm lost...?"

Green's brow twitched. "Purple, that's the lamest lie I've ever heard, even Red can do better than that." He scanned them from head to toe with concern and barely concealed anger. “Tell me, is it King again? Did he do something to you?!"

"No no h-he didn't, I just-"

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to worry about anyone, you're safe with me!"

And just like that, the dam collapsed. Purple's knees quietly buckled below them, they hid their face in the crook of Green's neck and started to bawl. 

"Cursors!" Green stumbled backward slightly due to Purple's weight but quickly steadied himself. With one arm he cradled Purple firmly, supporting their limp body, with the other he began to rub soothing circles on Purple's back. 

"No, no-It-it's not him..." They whispered between sobs,"-It's me...I did something...I did something terrible...I messed up...Oh Green, I messed up so bad!"

"Shh, shh…A-ah, it’s alright Purp, it's alright..." Green replied, with a slight tremble in his voice that Purple did not notice.

“An-and now he must be so mad at me! W-what if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if h-he kick me out?” Purple wailed.

“Don’t say that! King wouldn’t-“

“It-it’s all m-my fault! I’m so u-useless!”

That obviously hit a nerve, because Green’s body immediately went rigid. “Bullshit!” He retorted heatedly. “Look, Purple, forget whatever just happened, right now what you need is plenty of rest. So here’s the plan. You, are going to come to our place and stay here for the night. After that we’ll figure out the situation with the other guys. Deal?”

Purple could only stare at Green blankly, teardrops still on their cheeks.

“Actually, never mind! C'mere!” Without further ado, Green tucked a dumbfounded Purple beneath his arm and started walking towards a Nether Portal.

What happened after that was a blur. Various colours danced around Purple emitting a cacophony of voices, but they barely have the energy to acknowledge each of the Colour Gang's presence. Green kept Purple close to his side and exchanged a few words with the others. Then, Purple was led into a dim and quiet room and lay down on a soft surface. They vaguely registered a small plushie being slid into their arms and felt the comforting pressure of a soft, warm blanket wrapped around them. Purple let out a long sigh of relief and silently thanked the Colour Gang for their consideration. At last, they allowed their weary mind to drift into sweet oblivion.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple was woken up by raised voices outside their room. 

"...did you do this time?! Purple ran into the Nether! They weren't even wearing their elytra! You have no idea how bad a state they were in, shaking and crying all that, who knows what would've happened if I haven't found them!" Green was shouting angrily.

Purple's heart raced as they faintly heard Mango's voice outside the door, but his exact words were indecipherable.

"No! What kind of 'accident' are you talking about?! Was mistreating and betraying them in the past also counted as 'accidents'? We won't let you take another step forward unless you tell us exactly what happened!"

"What happened is between Purple and me. Let me talk to them and things would be resolved." Mango's voice increased in volume, his tone was carefully kept neutral, but Purple could detect the seething anger underneath.

"They're terrified of you! Who knows what you'll do to them if we let you through!"

"I won't do anything to them you stupid kid! I already told you it was a misunderstanding!" Great, now Mango was shouting too. 

Purple hurriedly untangled themselves from the blankets and stood up. Despite their dread of confronting Mango, they knew they had to intervene before things escalated further. Having two people who mean the most to them fighting over them was the last thing they wanted. They already made enough mistakes.

Purple took a deep breath and opened the door.

Just as they thought, Mango and the Colour Gang were outside. The five teenagers formed a semi-circle around Mango, shielding Purple from the adult stick figure.

"H-hey MT..."

Seeing Purple, Mango's irritated expression was immediately replaced by relief. 

"Purple! Thank the internet you’re okay!" He barged his way through the gang, ignoring their indignant yelp, and strode towards Purple, only stopping abruptly at a 2 meters away as if fearing Purple might run away again if he gets too close.

That wasn't right. Shouldn't Mango be furiously yelling at them for damaging his most valuable possession? Or at least gave them "the look" of disappointment like what Navy used to do? But Mango did nothing like that. Instead, he looked at Purple as if they were made out of delicate glass, and when he spoke his voice was soft and cautious.

“Purple, are-are you…is it alright if I talk with you for a moment? In private?”

What was happening?

“S-sure…?” Purple’s answer was more like a question. They never saw Mango like this before. King Orange was always authoritative and commanding, and although he often treated Purple harshly, his demeanour somehow made Purple feel safe. After giving up his title, Mango became calm and gentle. Purple really liked that, even if they were still unsure how to act around him. But right now, Mango looked like he was treading on thin ice, it even reminded Purple of themselves. 

“Purple, you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, we’ll deal with him.” Green walked to Purple’s side and whispered. The rest of the gang also looked at Purple with concern.

“Thank you guys, but I want to talk with him. We’ll be okay.” Purple offered the gang a weak but genuine smile.

“…Right. If you say so.” Green reluctantly walked away, throwing Mango a dirty look as he brushed past the tall stick figure. Mango visibly heaved a sigh of relief, and together they entered Purple’s room.

Sitting on their bed, Purple’s heart start pounding again. What if all that was just an act, and Mango was going to unleash all of his anger on them now that they were alone? Purple’s mind drifted back to the broken photograph and trembled. After committing such a horrendous crime, how could they just ran away without a single apology? Indeed, Mango had every right to be furious with them, they deserved every bit of his wrath and disappointment. 

But first, they need to apologise to Mango, it was the least they could do.

Purple watched as Mango quietly closed the door and turned to Purple. They cowered and squeezed their eyes shut, took a deep breath, and-

“I-I’m sorry MT!”

“Purple, I’m so sorry.” 

Two voices said in unison, both of them froze.

Wait, what? Was Purple's ears playing tricks on them again?

Purple opened their eyes and stared incredulously at Mango. Mango, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and sat down at a comfortable distance away from Purple. Purple saw him shifting in his seat.

"Allow me to start first, alright?" Mango closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly appearing ten years older. Then, he straightened his back, and that fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone.

"I want to apologise to you for overlooking the damage I inflicted upon you as King Orange. I manipulated you, deceived you, oppressed you, forced you to act against your conscience, and I had almost... if not for these kids...I would've..." Mango closed his eyes again, his face twitched as if in pain. "...I should never assume that you were okay. No one would be okay after what you've been through. And due to my ignorance, I caused you much distress today. I scared you, didn't I? You ran away because you were afraid I might hurt you again like before, didn't you?" Mango's eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Oh Purple, I am so, so sorry. For everything." Mango's hand inched forward as if wanting to hold Purple's hand, but quickly gave up when Purple did not replicate the gesture.

This conversation was not at all what Purple anticipated to be. The memories of King Orange were still raw and painful, they didn't want to relate this kind, gentle stick in front of them with the ruthless, intimidating King they remembered. It broke Purple's heart to witness Mango being swallowed by guilt, but at the same time, it felt like an empty, aching part of them was gradually being filled up by something warm and fuzzy. These complicated feelings was not something they experienced before, and it scared them. So instead, they decided to push them away for the time being and ask Mango the question they cared about the most: 

"You...you're not mad about me? For ruining the photograph?"

Mango turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, Purple. It was an accident. It was not your fault."

"But I tripped over a bucket and knocked it down! If I were more careful..."

"Everyone makes mistakes, you didn't mean it."

"But that was your only keepsake of Gold! It's so important to you, yet I ruined it! "

"...I am upset about the stain, yes. but what is done is done. Being angry at you doesn't reverse the damage."

"But...!"

"Purple, if there is one thing I learned from my mistakes as King, is not to let my own emotions get the better of me and to inflict unnecessary harm upon others. Especially those that I care about, like you." Mango's voice regained its strength. He looked at Purple with such impeccable sincerity that Purple almost believed him. And Purple wanted to believe him, but a voice inside them just kept screaming wrong wrong wrong.

Mango shouldn't forgive you, he should be mad, he has to be, because you are-

"Although there is something I want to know." Mango's voice interrupted Purple's train of thought, "Why did you cleaned up the house all by yourself? You know you can wait for me to come home so that we can do it together, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry- you're right," Purple said quickly, "I shouldn't have...if I didn't mess around, I wouldn't have broken the photograph-"

"No, no, I'm not blaming you!" Mango held up his hands in a placating manner, "As a matter of fact, I should thank you. I don't remember the last time the house was so clean and tidy." He chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to know why you decided to do it. It's not an easy task to do after all."

"Be-because, I wanted to be useful for once..." Purple admitted quietly, "It's been two weeks since...well...you let me to stay with you even though you weren't hiring me anymore, and you've been so nice to me all this time, so I thought, cleaning your house is the least I could do to repay you for that..."

Mango inhaled. "Purple, you don't have to repay me for anything. I let you stay because I...because you're a good kid. I'm no longer your superior and you're no longer my lackey, I should never have treated you as one in the first place." Mango moved his chair forward and gently placed a hand on Purple's lap. The warmth in his gaze was reserved for them alone. "I don't expect you to do anything in my favour, because I care about your welfare more than mine. I wish you could do the same for yourself."

Purple took a second to register what Mango said. The elder stick figure's words sent streams of warmth through their torso and into their limbs, as if there was a tiny sun blooming inside Purple's body. Oh stick, Mango really cared about them, maybe even more than they ever dreamed of. Their whole body was warm with joy...

Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Failure. 

Navy's voice rang at their ears, and suddenly the warmth was gone, a cold realisation set in. Purple lowered their head and discreetly shifted their legs away from Mango's touch. Mango must have noticed their sudden change in attitude. "...Kid, is something... did I say something wrong?" He inquired gingerly.

"MT...sir," Purple replied softly after a moment of silence, "You don't have to keep this up if you don't want to."

Mango blinked, looking surprised. "Wha-Kid, what are you talking about-"

"Sir, I know you're treating me well like this only because you're guilty of what you did to me in the past. I assure you there is no need for that." Purple looked down at their feet, trying their best to keep their tone levelled.

Mango's response didn't came immediately. When Purple timidly raised their head, it was to their mild surprise too see Mango's lower lip wobbling slightly, his expression was a mixture of shock and hurt. Then, it morphed into indignation. “Nonsense!" Mango raised his voice for the first time since their conversation. "Didn't you hear what I was trying say this whole time? I don't know what has gotten into your head all of a sudden-" Purple gritted their teeth at those words, "-but I certainly did not take you in because of guilt! I truly care about you from the bottom of my-"

"But why should you?! I'm of no use to you anymore!" Purple sprung to their feet, hands shaking.

"This isn't about-"

"I can't even get a single job done without breaking the one thing you value the most!"

"That's not-"

"Why're you still keeping me around? You should know I'm just a waste of space by now!"

"Enough!" Mango finally stood up, his face burning with rage."Why do you keep saying things like this?! What makes you think I would stop caring about you just because of your mistakes?! Can't you see how-"

"Because I'm not good enough!" These words made a daring escape out of Purple's lips before their brain could stop them. Tears obscured their vision, they couldn't see Mango's expression, but they didn't care, they just squeezed their eyes shut and kept on going.

"I-I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm a failure...I can't even g-get up on my feet when my dad ordered me to! "It felt like a cold, unforgiving hand had seized Purple's heart, tightening its grip painfully. But still, words tumbled out of their mouth like water pouring through the floodgates.

"If o-only I was strong enough, if only I was a be-better fighter, dad wouldn't have fed up with me and le-left me and mom behind, and, and if d-dad didn't left, then, then mom might still be alive right now! It's all my fault!" Tears streamed down Purple's cheeks as sobs wrack their body, it was as if they were once again the grief-stricken child standing in front of the freshly dug grave of their mother, helpless, vulnerable, alone.

"If I d-don't try hard en-enough, I'll just le-let everyone d-down, then no-no one would-“

“That’s not true!” A voice interrupted Purple’s lament. Green's arms were strong yet gentle, pulling Purple close with a reassuring steadiness, shielding them from the fierce winds on the top of the snowy mountain. "You don't always do the right thing, and you're not always as strong and capable as you want to be, but that's okay! As long as you are your true self, we would love you just the same."

Purple opened their eyes, the familiar warmth made them realise that Mango was holding them. They were both sitting on the floor, Mango's large, firm hand cradled the back of Purple's head, pressing it gently against his chest. Purple automatically leaned into the embrace, resting their head against Mango's broad and sturdy chest. The deep, steady rhythm of his heart beat thrummed against their ears, spreading through Purple's body like a calming wave. They could hear Mango breathing heavily right above them, with every exhale his breath came out wavering and unsteady.

"M..MT?"

"Please, enough...that's enough." Mango's voice was hardly more than a whisper, quivering with raw emotions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you all these things..." Purple sniffled, wiping their eyes furiously, their cheeks felt tight after crying so hard.

"No, Purple, I should be sorry, sorry for not connecting the dots earlier. I finally understood, everything makes sense now."

"W-What do you mean?"

Mango slowly and gently pulled away from the hug. Holding Purple's hand, he guided them to rise from the floor and settle on the mattress, himself following suit. Honey brown eyes met amethyst, a tender, sincere gaze that wrapped Purple up like a warm, fluffy blanket. "Purple, you need to know that none of what happened to you in the past was your fault. You shouldn't be burdened by those things."

Purple frowned, "How could you say that? My father left because of me, didn't he?"

"Oh Purple..."Mango sighed,"You're such a kind soul to think that way, but no. Definitely not. Your father set unrealistic expectations on you, and blamed you for not living up to them. This is extremely unfair." There was a noticeable edge to Mango's tone, as if he was struggling to contain his boiling anger.

"Unrealistic expectations?" Purple's head whipped towards Mango,"But I thought all parents wanted their children to be good fighters?"

"Well, yes, but not all of us would be such an a- I mean-"Mango took a deep breath, "-apparently, your father's way did more harm than good. At what age did your father start training you, may I ask?"

"Um...he started sparring with me since I was five."

"Five?!" Mango's hand was gripping the bed sheets so hard that it wrinkled. "Me and Gold still play fight with corn dogs when they were your age!"

A snicker broke the solemnity of the conversation, despite the previous emotional breakdown, Purple couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image."S-sorry, but really?" Purple's shoulders trembled with barely conceived laughter, "The King of the Nether, playing with corn dogs?"

Mango raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a reaction from Purple. But Purple's laughter was contagious, soon, Mango's eyes softened, and his lips curled into a grin.

"If you want we can do it as well someday, I know a guy that makes the best corn dogs."

But then his smile wavered, on the verge of fading, as his gaze grew distant and sorrowful, as if he was lost in a bittersweet memory. Purple knew he was thinking of Gold again.

"MT..." Driven by a newfound strength, they gingerly reached for Mango's hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. Mango blinked, glancing down at his hand in mild surprise before turning back to Purple with a thankful smile, gently holding their hand in return.

"Purple, You...reminded me of Gold in some ways," He said softly. "You're both enthusiastic, curious, and always seeking my attention. But Purple, you are so much more than these similarities. You have a brilliant tactical mind, able to craft creative strategies that outsmart your opponents, " Mango tighten his grip on Purple's hand, "and what you did just now shows just how incredibly observant and compassionate you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise what a wonderful kid I've found, but now that I did, how could I not care about you?"

"But I..."

"Before you say anything, yes, I know you are not perfect, you are a real kid, not an emotionless machine. You are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to be vulnerable, and you are allowed to feel the way you do. I'm here to accept every part of you——your mistakes, your flaws, your insecurities and your trauma, and I'll keep supporting and caring for you until you are ready to open up to me. So, Purple, will you give me a chance?"

At that very moment, Purple recalled their mother's tender, sad smile as her frail hand gently touched their face before going limp in their grasp. They wondered if Orchid's spirit was still watching over them, and if it was she who blessed them with such a perfect parental figure, because fate could never be so kind. They tried to summon a response, but what words could possibly convey the depth of the emotions surging through their heart? So instead, Purple did what first came to their mind: they threw themselves towards Mango, wrapping their arms tightly around his neck. And Mango did not hesitate for a second to pull Purple into his arms, enveloping them in a firm but gentle hug only a father could offer. "Heh..." He croaked, "I'll take that as a yes."

Yet, one last question lingered in Purple's mind like a blemish on a smooth, clear surface, and they couldn’t be completely at peace until they got an answer.

"But...what if I start doubting myself again? What if something went wrong and-and I-sorry..." Purple bit their lips, trying to break free from Mango's hold." I...I just couldn't see myself as you see me..."

But Mango only hugged Purple tighter. "It's alright, healing isn’t an overnight process,  it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support. Whenever doubts cloud your mind, I'll keep reminding you just how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to me, as many times as you need, until you believe it just as I do."

Mango paused, turning his ear towards the door, and smiled mysteriously. "And don't forget-" he released Purple, walked up to the door, and yanked the door open."-you have friends that care about you as well."

"Woah-!"

"What the-!"

"Ow-!"

With surprised yelps, five colourful sticks tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

"What the-!" Purple leaped up from the bed, blood rushing to their cheeks as they sputtered: "Why are- How did- Are you guys eavesdropping?!"

"Red get your fat ass off my- Sorry Purple! I tried to stop them but they just wouldn't listen!" Green explained hurriedly while trying to free himself from the others.

"Hey that not true!" Red shot back, "You were the one eavesdropping in the first place!

"What?!"

Yellow managed to get to his feet first, panting. "How did you know we're behind the door Ki- I mean Mr Tango?" He asked incredulously.

"Eh, I learned from experience." Mango sat back into his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"What does that mean-"

"-Anyway we're really sorry for eavesdropping you guys," Second gave Purple and Mango an apologetic look while helping Blue up, "but we were just worried..."

"Yeah," Blue added, "we heard shouting and we thought-"

"That's not an excuse for eavesdropping us!" Purple stomped the floor in exasperation, face as red as a plum.

"Don't worry!" Red flashed a toothy smile at Purple, "we didn't hear a thing!"

"Well except the part where you screamed you were a waste of space, and the part where-"

"Yellow you're not helping!" The others shouted in unison.

"I...you..!" At this point, Purple just wanted to disappear into thin air and never to be seen again.

"Alright alright," Mango stood up and placed a comforting hand on Purple's shoulder. "I understand you kids are concerned about Purple, but it's improper to listen in on our private conversation."

The five teenagers at least had the courtesy to look ashamed, their eyes fixed to the ground as they mumbled their apologies. Green, in particular, seemed the most uneasy. "Hey uh...Mr Mango? Sorry for talking to you like that earlier... I shouldn't have assumed that you were hurting Purple..." He stepped forward and bowed his head.

"I accept your apology," Mango said, patting Green on the shoulders and gesturing him to lift his head. "Although a bit rash, your protectiveness towards your friend is commendable."

"Yeah, thank you guys for...well...everything. I guess we do owe you an explanation for what happened between me and MT..." Purple scratched the back of their head, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

"Nah, it's fine, we're just glad that you guys are okay now!" Green gave a dismissive wave of his hand, the others nodded in agreement, smiling at Purple warmly.

Then, Yellow's expression brightened. "Hold on, is this the first time Mr Tango visited the PC?!" Hearing his words, the rest of the gang visibly perked up.

"Oh my gosh you're right! We should totally show him and Purple something cool!" Red chimed in, flapping his arms in excitement. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking-" 

"Yes! Sec, grab Alan's pen!"

"On it!" And with that, as swift and sudden as a summer storm, the gang ran off into the desktop.

Green stopped abruptly at the door and turned around, bouncing at the spot and waving at both of them wildly. "Purple! Mr Tango! You gotta come and join us!"

Purple heard Mango chuckle right behind them."These kids..." He sighed fondly before looking down to meet Purple's gaze. "So? What do you think? Want to see what crazy shenanigans they're up to?"

Purple stared into those soft honey-brown eyes, and remembered his words. "Healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support." Right now, with Mango by their side and five amazing friends up ahead, Purple know that they will not travel this journey alone.

They smiled. "Of course!"

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Thank you very much for reading this fic! Although Alan gave Mango and Purple a happy ending at the end of AVM Ep.30, I doubt it would be smooth sailing concerning Purple's backstory. This kid really had a rough childhood, years of tryiing and failing the expectations of an overly strict parent and shouldering the weight of another parent's death must have lasting impacts on their mental health. Purple and Mango's relationship was like a thin piece of ice, and it does not take a boulder to break the ice and discover the surging current underneath. But thankfully, both of them have what it takes to strengthen the relationship and to heal from their past trauma: love, understanding, and the support from others.

P.S: I've never played Minecraft before so I apologise for any inaccuracies about the game.

P.P.S: 10 minutes later, "More faces" happened.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[devoted-tiefling]

a/n: a stupid brain rot thing that was inspired by my post here ft. my completely blind tav who is a tiefling druid with a propensity to dream

warning: spoilers for act one of the game

You rolled the ring around in between your fingers like a coin, turning it over on the backs of your fingers, flipping it side over side.

Though it was made with cheap metal, it felt warm in your hand instead of cool. Probably because you held onto it so often.

Normally, you wouldn't have been able to read what was on it but the infernal was carved in well enough that you could feel the grooves of it under your fingertips.

Most of it was just nonsense; runes taken out of a fairytale book perhaps or maybe just symbols that kid took a fancy to.

The infernal, however, on the inside spelled well-wishes; love, luck, protection. it was the wish of every single tiefling ever born since anyone could remember.

Just running your finger over them made you feel warm, made you feel understood and maybe just a little bit less lonely.

"And what are you up to, darling?"

You knew that voice to be Astarion and all his rather sassy glory. Immediately, you smiled, sitting up a bit straighter as you felt him sit down next to you, his thigh pressed tightly against yours.

"Just fiddling, biding time." You answered easily enough, shrugging as you continued to roll your finger around the inside of the ring.

Astarion hummed, sounding like he was trying to seem uninterested when, truly, it was always the opposite "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" You asked only to answer your own question "Oh, play with this ring?"

"Yes. Look at it. The gold is slowly flaking off!" Astarion huffed and you could imagine him rolling his eyes "I hope you didn't give those tiefling brats good money for a phony gold ring."

You let out a little tittering giggle before holding out your free hand. Astarion, so used to you now, automatically put his palm against yours.

"Feel the grooves underneath." You guided one of his fingers into the ring.

You knew approximately where his finger was so you knew what word it was he was feeling for "Hope."

You let him run his fingertip over that for a moment before turning the ring more "Shelter."

Then, the next, just as carved in as the last "Protection."

On and on, you showed him the small miniscule words that carried heavy meaning to them. Love, luck, kindness.

Six words that probably meant a whole lot to those kids.

"The brat told me it was a ring of infinite wishes but, really, it was a ring filled with their wishes." You let Astarion pull away and, like always, you immediately missed the comforting press of his body against yours.

"What a load of horseshit." He chuckled but your perceptive twitching tiefling ears immediately heard it for what it was: a bluff.

You didn't think Astarion realised it but you knew he saw himself in those tiefling kids.

You knew that, if it had been him 100 or so years ago, he would've carved his wishes into metal in a desperate hope that, perhaps, some higher-power would hear him out then.

So, despite how you'd practically kept the ring in your fist ever since you'd gotten it, you felt around for Astarion's hand yet again and placed the ring snuggly into his ring finger.

Astarion let out a soft scoff "I hope you don't think I'll marry you if you're proposing with such a cheap ring."

You laughed again, tittering, soft, before leaning in, your lips brushing against Astarion's jaw "I want you to have it so your wishes come true instead."

"Oh, darling, if my wishes came true, the world would truly become an insanely dark place." He countered your sincerity with his own little quip but you knew he appreciated it because his calling hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"I wouldn't mind as long as I'm by your side." You snuggled in while being careful of your horns, happy to indulge in the intimacy Astarion was allowing you "It's not like I'll see first-hand what dastardly deeds you're up to anyway so I'll have plausible deniability."

The way Astarion laced his fingers with yours and laughed made the bad joke worth it. You especially enjoyed the new chill the ring on his fingers took on, comforting and smooth against your skin.

[ichorai]

reset me ; wade wilson.

track twelve of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; wade wilson (deadpool) x mutant!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; charles sends you to recruit deadpool into the x-men. expectedly, the bastard tries to weasel away from you—and when that doesn’t work, he resorts to his most lethal method: flirtation. that, and taping a kick me sign on your back.

words ; 1.3k

themes ; comedy, mild fluff and action, mutant au

warnings / includes ; mild injury/violence, sexual jokes and foul language, a lil bit of banter/terrible flirting, reader has the mutant ability to harness energy into ropes, wade steals blind al's crocs, reader's implied previous romantic relationship with wolverine, mentions of the rest of the x-men :)

Wade’s place smelled like greasy pizza, put-out cigarettes, and old socks. The door wasn’t locked—in fact, it was slightly ajar, and you could clearly hear Wade and Al bickering about missing Crocs.

“I swear I put them right here!” she vehemently exclaimed, gesturing to a potted plant. 

Wade rolled his eyes. “Right—because you always hang your Crocs on our leafy greens.” 

Al shuffled somewhere into the back of the house, complaining loudly to herself. 

You took that as your cue to silently step in, standing just behind Wade, noting with mild amusement that he was wearing a pair of white Crocs. The very ones Al was searching for, you presumed.

In the blink of an eye, Wade whirled about on the heel of his squeaky, rubbery footwear and brandished a knife. Its strangely warm blade slotted against your throat just as you defensively raised your hands.

“Watch it, Wade,” you warned, though you were not at all worried. His knife lowered and flipped back into the depths of his fluffy bathrobe when he realized who you were. 

“Oh. It’s you,” he said. The discolored flesh of his face twitched with a grin. “Did Mr. Metal Dick send you? The bullwhip substitute to watch over the class?” He snickered at his own joke, recalling your mutant ability to harness energy into the form of ropes.

“Piotr is off on vacation with Kitty,” you replied, propping your hands up on your hips.

Wade tipped his head back and guffawed. “Do you think he stays that way under the sheets?”

With a grimace, you pinched the space between your brows and sighed loudly. “Jesus, Wade—I don’t fucking know. Why don’t you ask him next time you see him?”

“Good idea.” He shuffled off to shuck open a box of day-old pizza on the table. “You want?”

“No thanks.”

“You sure? It’s pepperoni. You know how expensive it is to get pepperoni nowadays, in this economy? I’m offering you gold flakes on bread, here.”

“Mhm, I’ll pass.” After a considerable silence, only filled with Wade’s loud munching, you tested the waters by saying, “Charles actually sent me.”

Wade gestured at a chair and nudged for you to take a seat. “McAvoy or Stewart?” 

“What? Charles Xavier, who’s McAvoy and Stewart?” You sank down onto the creaky wooden chair, frowning at the baby powder rimming the backboard. It was probably Al’s. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was Wade, though.

Ignoring your question, Wade tilted his head and asked, “How’s Yukio? And her emo-face Megasonic Nuclear Bomb-Head girlfriend?”

You smiled slightly, remembering how they were pestering Logan, who’d been working on fixing a motorcycle back at the mansion when you left. 

“They’re fine. Wolvie, too.”

“No way!” exclaimed Wade. “Logie’s there, too? Jesus—whole damn gang’s there.”

“Except you,” you pointedly said.

Wade paused mid-chew. “Oh. Oh-ho-ho, I know what you’re doing here. Charles wants me to join his rag-tag team of circus freaks.”

“Wade—”

“The answer is no.”

“Come on—”

“And he wants me to be around all those kids? In a school? Has he met me?”

“Believe me, I don’t know what he’s thinking, either,” you told him, scoffing. “You’re the last person I’d expect to be on the team but… I trust Charles. If he wants you in, there must be a reason why.”

Holding his hands out, Wade shook his head. “Listen, I’m flattered, really, but Deadpool works solo. Except for that one time I formed the X-Force. But that was a team of people I hand-picked! The X-Men just doesn’t sound up my alley, y’know?”

You blew out a breath and fixed him with a serious expression. “Some day you’re gonna have to pull your head out of your ass and realize that there are people out there who are willing to be your friends. Your family. Don’t throw it away, Wade.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he studied you. 

“You’re really bad with rejection, aren’t you?” he finally asked, quirking up a brow—or, at least where his eyebrow used to be—and crossed his arms. The Crocs he’d stolen from Al squeaked as he stood up and gestured to the door. “I’m surprised you didn’t go running back to Charles the moment I said no. I’m beginning to think you have a crush on me, or something. Not that I blame you. My face may be fucked but my dick works better than ever. Just ask Al. She’s blind as a bat, but she hears everything in this damn house.”

Immediately, you grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t be crass.”

“What? I thought you were into broken men. Like to pick up their pieces, don’cha? You and Wolvie had that fling once, no? He told me all about it.” 

In truth, Logan had told him little to nothing about his brief relationship with you, but Wade had ruthlessly pestered him anyway. 

You stiffened at his words, glowering. “You’re exasperating.”

“And you’re looking awfully lovely today. That frown really accentuates your eyes. Makes you look about a decade older.” Wade leaned his weight onto the table, leering over you, patting your back twice. “I find it very attractive.”

With a flick of your hand, a crimson coil of your harnessed energy shot out and thwacked him in his side, and he hissed out a string of curses, backing away from you. You’d burned right through his fluffy white robe, to his simultaneous dismay and astonishment.

“Jesus!” Wade glanced incredulously from you to the slight, shallow gash that formed by his ribs, already starting to heal itself. “That’s actually—that was so fucking cool. Do it again!”

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself away and stood up. “Final time I’m asking. Yes or no?”

Wade pretended to give it a long, hard think. “Mmh…” He wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “When Piotr comes back from vacation, he’s going to find you and he’s not gonna go as easy on you as I have.”

“Ooh, ouch. Hope he brings some lube with him.” Wade grinned wolfishly.

Completely fed up with him, you ripped out a wad of paper and a pen from your jacket’s pocket, scribbling down your phone number. You folded it in half before shoving it against his chest.

“I’m not giving up on you. I’m a competitive person, Wade. If Piotr was the one to convince you to join, I just wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re literally obsessed with me, I get it,” he remarked, sparing you a lopsided beam. He made a show of pocketing your number on the side of his robe that wasn’t burnt. “You little minx, you.”

With a final flick of your hand, you lashed out another coil around his foot, and made your way to the door just as he fell back onto the couch with a muffled oomf! 

Just as you left, you heard Wade cackling to himself through the door you left partially ajar, just as it was when you came in. You chalked it up to him finding it funny that you managed to trip him over with your powers, and strode away from the shoddy house with your lips twitching upwards. 

Wade, however, was laughing because he’d successfully pulled off taping a kick me sign onto your back without you noticing. A low and childish blow, but would certainly make for some fun banter whenever he saw you again—which, he suspected, would be pretty soon.

Plus, Wade thought you were pretty cute when you were riled up.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Tails for all! - Kings edition

Other parts: Gehenna | Tartaros | Hades | Avisos | Nilfheim | Abaddon | Paradise Lost

Satan

The most classic tail, simple elegance. Ankle-length, black, with a red arrow at the end, just like his horns.

At the base, it is as thick as the wrist and tapers towards the end.

Identical to the horns to the touch, set won in the lottery.

You'll recognize his emotions more easily by his tail than by his face, he wags it like a cat when he wants to make some noise and lifts it at the base when he's happy.

The end has rounded corners, making it resemble an elongated heart instead of an arrow.

Sensitiveness 8/10. Doesn't like it when someone touches him by surprise.

When he's in a good mood, he gives tail slaps instead of kicks. The nobles are delighted.

It's not sharp at the end, so he'll try to stick it inside you. It's smooth and slippery, an arrow produces milk just like horns, and it fits so good.

Mammon

Big tail for a big man. Long, winding along the ground, golden and scaled. Standard tip without decorations, at least as thick as Mammon's thigh at the base.

His tail and greed gave rise to the legend that dragons collect treasures.

The upper scales look like pure gold, the lower scales are black and resemble obsidian. The entire tail resembles flakes of stones and precious metals.

The scales are bumpy like his horns, but it has no spines or blades.

Surprisingly warm. The scales at the base are very large.

Sensitiveness 5/10. He really enjoys being scratched hard as you leave lighter marks on his scales from the pleasure.

He likes to put his tail in his lap and you on top of him and watch you grind against him while he plays with your ass.

Leviathan

Not much longer than Satan, but covered with scales. They are soft compared to Mammon and shimmer like smoky mirrors. At the base, it is as thick as two cupped hands, shimmering purple and black.

Its ending is unique. On land it has a long, soft fur, but when he approaches water he can wrap a thin layer of skin around it, making it membraneous and resembling and looking like a fin.

Similarly, it has tiny long fins on its sides. They are a bit sharp, so sometimes he hurts himself with them. (Kiss these wounds, he will criticize you but he will love it anyway.)

Due to childhood trauma, he learned to hide his tail, wrapping it under his clothes and only showing the tip. That's why many demons think his tail resembles that of a deer.

Very, very sensitive. 12/10. Proceed with care.

He loves playing with his fins, but of course he won't tell you that.

Just seeing his tail in all its glory is incredibly rare, and being choked with it is the greatest honor. Not even Solomon experienced it.

Beelzebub

rainbow unicorn tail narwhal tail insect abdomen A long tail, similar in thickness to Leviathan's, but does not taper towards the end. Black, with dark green lines on the sides and back.

As befits the Lord of the Flies, his tail resembles a pelecinus polyturator. Composed of segments like a scorpion. Shiny, slippery and very hard. Chitin.

Green stripes are not just decoration. He can pull out the blades from them, and whipping will easily cut off your limb. He can pull out a sting at the tip, each blade producing a paralyzing venom.

His whip is almost a mirror image of his tail, but with golden blades instead of green.

While the rest prefer to wrap their tails around their legs, its natural position is twisted upwards, also like a scorpion. When he feels uncomfortable, he can "blow out" his tail into a swarm of flies that follow him. After all, it is a deadly weapon.

Sensitiveness 2/10. He likes it because it gives him an advantage over you. Until you start scratching his skin at the base. He's all yours on his knees.

If he doesn't pull the stinger out, the tip is rounded and a little bulbous, but you won't notice until he's deep inside you.

Lucifer

Long and thick, almost like a Mammon, phenomenally beautiful, angelic white with golden reflections. Resembles a snake. It splits in 1/3 and has two ends.

If you get close enough to it, you'll see that the base is as red as its horn.

You'd expect it to feel like reptile scales, but it's more like smooth feathers. Soft, but only the top layer. When you press it, you feel that the core is iron-hard.

He has the same scar as on his chest above his tail, only smaller.

Sensitivness 6/10. Unlike others, instead of pleasure, he may suddenly be struck by pain. Take care of him.

That doesn't mean he won't use his tail against you.

He wants to see your tears when you have his penis in your mouth and the tips of his tail in both holes.

[kastalani123]

Consider:

Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.

Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.

A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.

The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.

It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.

Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.

He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.

Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.

Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?

[flakehub6]

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[buckys-metal-arm]

A Work of Art

Bucky x Artist!GN!Reader

Description: when Bucky is feeling Self-conscious about his scars, you decide to do something that shows him how you see his body

Warnings: fluff with a little hint of angst, self conscious!Bucky, established relationship, Soft!Bucky, not beta'd, rushed writing

A/N: this is a quick one, the idea came to me while waiting for a doctor's appointment and needed to write it down. I love the idea, I'm not sure how I feel about the writing of it, but I hope you enjoy!

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!)) 

It starts late at night, when you're getting ready to lay down with your boyfriend

Bucky settled down beside you, and you went to wrap your arms around him, hugging him from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek 

You went to slip your hand under his shirt to rub his stomach, something you know he loves, but Bucky flinches away from you. 

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” You asked gently, “are you alright?”

He shrugged, rolling over so that he was facing you

“Jus’ having a rough time with…everything,” he murmured, “with the scars.”

You nodded, not wanting to push him 

Bucky got like this sometimes. When he was deep in his own head and his depression got the best of him, he'd suddenly become hyper-aware of the scars on his skin, of the permanent reminders of the abuse that he had endured. 

When he got like this he would shy away from everyone's touch, even yours, convinced that no one could truly accept and love him as he was

“Bucky…” you whispered, cupping his face, “Sweetheart…” 

“You don't have to act like you like them,” he cut you off, “they're disgusting. I know that. You don't have to lie to me, Doll. I know.” 

“It's not lying, Buck,” you brushed your thumb over his cheekbone, stroking the scar that ran there, “I mean it. Your scars show how brave you are. They're a part of you. And I love you. Every part of you.”

He'd hummed, eventually letting you hold him and rub his back, but you could tell he still didn't believe it. 

It broke your heart, not knowing how to make him see that you thought he was perfect. 

The idea came to you while you were working on commissions one day, a few months out from yours and Bucky’s anniversary 

You were working on your commissions and listening to a crafting podcast, when the idea hit you for his anniversary present.

 If he wasn't going to believe you when you told him he was beautiful, then maybe you could show him

 You didn't need a reference photo, you knew his body so well you could do it from memory

It was difficult to find time to work on it between commissions and having to quickly hide it away when Bucky came home, but you manage to get it done a few days before the big day

In no small part because Bucky was out on a week long mission and wasn't home so you had time to work on it 

Cut to the big night, it's after Bucky cooked you a very nice dinner

You were seated on the couch, admiring the way his dog tags looked around your neck (his present to you), waiting for him to finish the dishes

He'd shooed you off when you tried to help him because “it's your night Doll, you're not lifting a finger” 

You'd tried to argue that it was both of your anniversary, but he'd insisted

 When he finally sat down you pushed the wrapped present into his hands, smiling widely

 “Go on, open it!” You exclaimed. 

He chuckled at your excitement, his eyes widening when he saw your gift It was one of your embroidery projects, mounted on wood and framed by the hoop.

 On it is his body from the waist up, front and back, carefully recreated

 Each of his scars satin stitched on with gold thread and expert precision.

 It reminded him of the art exhibition you and him had attended when you'd first started dating, showing pottery that had been repaired with flakes of gold. his metal arm was lovingly recreated with perfect accuracy down to each of the golden veins that run through it

 Underneath it, carefully cross-stitched in Navy blue are the words “EVERY INCH OF YOU IS A WORK OF ART”

 Bucky stared at the piece with wide eyes, his jaw slack. 

His silence was making you nervous. 

Did you overstep a boundary? Did he think that you were putting his insecurities on blast? 

You placed a hand on his leg when you saw his eyes filling with tears, stroking your thumb along it

“Oh, Bucky,” you cooed, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to see yourself how I see you–”

 He enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug, pulling you to his chest. 

You were shocked, to say the least, but wrapped your arms around him, hugging back and running a hand through his hair

He held you tight for a moment more before pulling back

 “I-I’m not… you didn't make me feel bad,” you reached up to thumb the tears that had fallen down his cheek, “these are good tears. I… I love it, Doll. It's beautiful.”

 “I'm glad you think it's beautiful.  I wanted you to get a glimpse into how I see you,” you pressed your lips against his, “you’re beautiful, Bucky.”

He pulled you into a deep kiss, gentle and full of love

One gesture like this wasn't enough to destroy the demons in his mind, he knew that.

 But now, running his fingers along the  stitches, your loving, careful, incredible recreation of his body? 

Maybe he can start to see himself the way you do. 

[l3viat8an]

HWAAAAHHH HEY ROOOOO ♡

A not so quick thought I've been dying to shareeeee ahhhhh

Omg- so yk how Mc has that long table in their room??? Imagine setting up a craft station each week for the boys to do a lil craft.

Beel, Asmo, Dia, Simeon and Luke are super excited for crafting. Barbie, Mamms and Levi are excited too even if they won't admit it. But Luci, Satan and Belphie need a little bit of convincing. They're not children! But after your first successful chaotic crafting session they start to like it.

𖥸 Luci is surprisingly artistic. Even if it seems silly, this little crafting session is very relaxing and it gives him time to bond with his brothers. He likes to follow the model closely first before experimenting a little bit with his technique and style

𖥸 Mamms + Levi are trying to 1 up each other the whole time. They will hate on each other's projects and will fight over supplies. Mammon will swipe the scissors from Levi mid-cut even though there are 5 other pairs currently not being used. Then Levi will try to get them back and a fight will break out. Mc has to use "stay" before Levi summons Lotan.

𖥸 Satan bbg I'm so sorry. He will make something beautiful that he's proud of but it will get ruined. He'll just be putting the finishing touches on his craft when Levi and Mammon's fight will cause something to ruin it. A paint cup got knocked over and now there's paint water soaking his hard work. Or the glitter got spilled and now there's sparkly bits clinging to the undried glue. Mc is gonna have to use "stay" again to keep him from wringing his older brothers' necks.

𖥸 Asmo's crafts can be described in one word. Shiny. He's using all the glitter, gold leaf and sequins available to him. He especially likes those gold and silver detailing pens. But don't mistake sparkly for tacky because even if his crafts are sparkly they are still tasteful.

𖥸 Beel + Belphie will make adorable little projects but Beel will try to eat the supplies duh. Please for the love of Dia get the nontoxic supplies. He can't help it though. That shade of pink looks just like a poison strawberry tart and the colors Simeon mixed look exactly like Madam Scream's Macarons! He just wants a little taste. Belphie will be busy trying to stop him from drinking paint. If he keeps a few extra snacks on hand then it will keep Beel at bay.

𖥸 Diavolo is just absolutely enamored by all the cool crafts. Like woah you made that little scarecrow!? And you made a pom pom pumpkin? He's so excited to try out all the crafts and is that one weirdo that is absolutely covered in 8 different colors of paint somehow even though he only used white.

𖥸 Barbatos will also create the most gorgeous crafts. Like excuse me sir, you're telling me you made that out of construction paper, pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks???? There ain't no way. 100% the chillest crafter at the table but he will snap Mammon and Levi's necks if any of the mishaps of their fight ruins his project.

𖥸 Simeon and Luke will probably work together on a craft. Like Asmo's projects, Simeon and Luke will add lots of pastel colors and shiny bits to their project mostly in the form of gold flakes or those metalic paint pens.

𖥸 Solomons crafts are similar to his cooking. They never end up being what was intended. Like today we're making kites and - Uhhh Solomon made an abstract Mona Lisa with construction paper shapes?? Alright then... You do you man

HIIII CHERRY!!! Omgg okay- this is all so cute <3 finally giving that silly table a good use too jsjsjsj besides homework 💀

Lucifer being good at everything doesn’t even surprise me anymore- but he’s genuinely very into it and it’s nice to see him try to relax and do something with his brother that’s just for fun!!!

Mammon + Levi- I wouldn’t expect anything else honestly- those two can’t stop for five minutes and they almost ruin it for everyone. (Until MC calms them down and fixes everything) also the fact Levi’s better at traditional drawing them Mammon is probably another reason they fight hskshsj

Poor Satan. Tho depending on how annoying Levi & Mams have been it might be fine to let Satan smack them up a bit- jkjk bad idea ik- MC needs to help him calm down and maybe start a new project together? (That’ll at least perk Satan up and piss off Levi ‘n Mammon which again will make Satan feel better :))

The first thing Asmo used was a pick glitter gel pen and his artwork is absolutely gorgeous~ (definitely something super shiny!!! but still gorgeous and he’s careful to stay at the other end of the table away from Levi and Mammon helpsjsj)

All the supplies have to be non-toxic and absolutely no one can try drawing or making anything resembling food- Also just imagine Belphie taking the paint water away from Beel and putting it by his drink….so a little later sleepyhead accidentally drink some instead lolol also anything Belphie actually makes looks like it’s out of a horror movie while Beel’s is just…abstract :)

Diavolo’s feels like a callout as the kid who was always covered in paint but he’s so happy with his little somewhat lumpy pompom and little painting!! Just look at his sweet smile!!!

Barbatos doesn’t even need to threaten Mammon or Levi- they take one look his way and see that smile and know they better knock it off and behave- also how??? Sir it’s gorgeous but how??? Hell he probably made a fully functioning little model of MC XD

Simeon and Luke are adorable as always!! It’s definitely something sweet, yet a little more simple, but still very cute! The shiny bits are perfect and they definitely made it with the intention of gifting it to MC when they’re done <3

Solomon……Solomon wtf why?….you could’ve drawn a stick man and it would’ve been better that…uhhh that- But he’s happy!! Also very, very proud of it and when you ask what it’s supposed to be he looks a little offended-

[bestwenclairfics]

Sweet Nothings - Chapter 1 - Hymenopus - Wednesday (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

I love when in a fic Wednesday showered Enid's with affection even Addams family.

---

Sneak peak:

She unfolded typewriter paper and read happily.

‘Dear Enid,

This reminded me of something that you would enjoy.

-Wednesday Addams’

She laughed, a large piece of paper and a fancy envelope for thirteen words. That was so Wednesday, proper and to the point.

Her heart swelled in her chest as she sat the paper aside and pulled out another small box, the same metallic silver shade as the writing on the first box. She opened it and almost started crying again, a beautiful golden necklace sat gently on velvet fabric. A small rosebud and flakes of gold encased in resin. Enid squealed, she thought of the time she told Wednesdays how receiving flowers made her sad because they would always die, she wasn’t sure if Wednesday was even listening but the necklace was proof.

+++++

This fic could have more episodes because I have a lot of questions about the other characters but it's ok

[creamiesstoryconer]

Yandere Harpy x Reader Taster

Yander Harpy x Reader Taster 

Word count: 666

Length of time to read: 5-8 minutes

This is a taster for a OC x Reader story I am working on, it currently has about 4 chapters planned and I am hoping to release every other day :) This is a taster I am posting for the first chapter enjoy 

TW:Mention of blood

Nature's natural lace, web, clinging onto the remains of the early morning dew. The clear pearls that drape themselves over finely pulled strings that are nestled in the sea of blue and green. Catching glimmers of sun as it breaks through the dense canopy, its golden light a welcoming glow to the undergrowth.

Fine petals of muted blues, reaching for its limited life line of light. Moments of silence such as now, rare within the small thicket. The gentle pushing of the wind picking up stray leaves, dancing with the yellowing trinkets in the air to be carried into the distance. 

Under your foot, grass that once stood tall crunches, its brothers in arms gently grazing your ankle. Early morning air crisp as always, nips at one's shoulders and nose, beckoning the solemnly sweet wind to join it in its conquest of stealing the heat from any warm body.

Knuckles tightly grasped around brown wicker, a basket neatly woven by hand. Packed sunngly with vibrant colours, forged from the long negated trail. 

Damp penetrates your nose, the untones of pine. Forcing the almost suffocating scent to almost have a refreshing taste upon your tongue. 

Onward,deeper into nature's land of peace, the hum of the village morning grows mute. Replaced with the rustling of leaves calling for you. Singing of birds just from sight, soothing and lulling.

Just a little deeper down the overgrown path you know so well, a routine experience every spring. To bring an offering, to wish for peace to the Earth, to keep a titration you grew bored of. The ways of the old and their tales are nothing but fables for children to be afraid of. 

Feet grew stiff at the edge of the opening, the woods breaking its dense canopy of greens to allow for the flooding of gold. Warm upon the skin, stark contrast to the morning wind, the honey coloured light swallows the clearing in its entirety. 

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A blur and a impact, 

The coarse texture of dried bark entangled in once soft locks of hair. Throbbing, building a deafening silence is what over stimulates the nerves. Soothing warmth trickling down your neck, tracing itself past your crook. Allowing for a bud of red to flow and root itself onto once pristine white clothing. Now defiled with browns and quickly darkening crimsons. 

The rising of your chest like hard labour, air having been stolen from your lungs. Hoarse gasps replace a steady rhythm that was once there. Drying your mouth as a once cared for body folds in upon itself. 

Ringing in your ears causes one's head to spin. To not focus is to not be able to see. 

Blurs of greens, a blue perhaps the sky. Golden shines for a moment. Then the sight of flesh. 

Flesh unclothed, blotches of maroon identifiable upon the sun kissed skin. 

══════════════════════════════════════════

A guttural scream escapes your lips, ripping through your vocal cords, straining already fatigued muscle. 

Cheeks, red as puffed eyes strained to stay open, salty water - your own tears-  sullying your face. Teeth bared as saliva bubbles and leaks from the corner of your mouth. 

Fingers tangled within a sickenly soft plumage of feathers. Almost comforting to touch under dirt stuffed nails.

Air that was once almost refreshing to the lungs now reeks of desperation and fear. Tawng of metallic lingering, your own blood that was long dried and flaking. A dried river of rusty colour liquid fashioned from your own wound, wrapping around your neck like a macabre necklace. 

It’s animalistic eyes boaring into you, pupils blown to unnatural size. Tilting its head, forcing itself to envelope your sight. It’s chest rumbling, trilling… studying.

══════════════════════════════════════════

I am in desperate need for a proofreader (￣ ￣|||)

sorry this is another super short post but chapter one will be up tomorrow with about 2,000 words none of which are here this is just some extra content that i reworded and shortened so all new content tomorrow ;)

all feedback is welcome!

[imawreck]

Changes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Banner's experiment lands him with a death on his hands and a heavy heart, meanwhile Max deals with the heartbreak the only way she knows how to.

Warnings: Multiple POVs, mild descriptions of gore, angsty self loathing (again, sorry)

Word Count: 5,010

Tony-

I had known from the moment Max radioed in that something had happened between her and Tin man. The way she spoke told me everything. She had marched herself to her room the second she had a chance to bolt from the Quinnjet. I hadn't asked around, hadn't needed to. I knew she wouldn't have told anyone. The only people who would know what went down on that mission would be her and Sergeant Barnes. That was just how she worked.

I was a little hurt that she hadn't come to talk to me, we had developed quite the friendship while she stuck with us. Max was brilliant and funny, a wiz with technology and had a unique perspective on things. I loved talking with her about my suits or additional modifications that could be made to the other uniforms. Her ideas seemed to be endless. She was also kind and had a heart of gold. It was amazing how she had come out of her life with the amount of hope that she had.

That hope wasn't there when she had come back from that mission, and I wanted to know why.

The wrench slipped from my hand, and I scooped it off the floor with a curse, dropping it on the cart besides me as I studied the section of metal spread out on the table before me. I could sure use her help right about now. Unfortunately, I had caved and given her a simple mission that would take her a day or so to complete before she would return to the tower, so no Max to call to for genius ideas. I sighed, feeling the stress begin to add on my shoulders.

I wanted Max to be happy, wanted her to enjoy being with the team. Rogers would always be a problem with his moral high ground and all that, but I didn't understand what poor-little-kicked-puppy-Barnes could have possibly said to her to make her shut down the way she had. He seemed so smitten with her, I just couldn't wrap my head around such a change.

For the time being I would just have to sit it out and rely on Friday to catch things that I couldn't and hope that maybe Max would tell me herself.

______

Natasha-

I stepped out of the elevator and headed towards the glass walls to peer through the labs. I was a little nervous despite seeing Bruce all the time. I couldn't help it really. He was just different, and it made me feel good, happy even.

A scream tore me from my thoughts as a woman collapsed in the lab on the other side of the glass. I picked up the pace, slipping through the doors and taking in the scene before me.

The woman, a lab tech judging by the lab coat and gloves, laid across the floor convulsing with a wild look in her eyes. There was a scrape on her arm and blood staining her white sleeve. The wound looked like it was festering and slowly spreading outwards. Almost like it was... Decaying.

Bruce was crouched on the floor besides her, hands pulled into his chest. He looked terrified. His skin was pale, sickly so and sweating on every inch I could see. His sleeves were pulled up to expose his arms. They were a light shade of green and dry, flaking off onto the floor if any part of the fabric disturbed it. Where this skin had peeled off looked scaly, like a snakeskin.

I was too confused to make sense of the whole thing while medics came in and rushed the woman out of the lab. I just stood there looking at him, at the alienated skin on his arm. "Bruce?"

He didn't answer me. His brown eyes simply bored into the floor tiles where the woman had laid and trembled.

"Bruce, what..." I reached out for him only to flinch back as he yelled out at me.

"Don't touch me!" Bruce's eyes were wild as he fell back in an attempt to put distance between us.

I stopped, standing there while the rest of the lab techs scurried out the door in a hurry to get as far away from him as possible. I watched them leave before I tried talking with him again. "What happened?" It was taking all of my strength to keep myself from spiraling.

For a moment he just sat there, his eyes searching my face but not seeing me. I could tell in the vacant way he gazed over me. When he spoke his voice was hushed, ashamed. "I tried to fix it."

I frowned, "Tried to fix what, Bruce?"

"I tried to get rid of him. The Hulk. But it didn't work."

My mouth went dry, "What do you mean 'tried to get rid of him?'"

He swallowed hard before he continued, "I was studying Max's healing. I thought that maybe if I could isolate it, maybe it would revert the cells into their original form. Normal. It didn't work though... I nearly killed her. I didn't even mean to! I- I just slipped and my nail caught her arm an- and she went down, and it just started killing her!" Bruce began to cry then, horrible, awful sobs bursting out of him. "I didn't mean to."

"Mr. Banner?" Friday's kind voice echoed through the lab, "Mr. Stark has been notified of the events and has requested that you be isolated for the time being. He has set up a team to find a cure. Do you have a sample of the serum you created?"

Bruce seemed to think for a long moment, anguish on his face. "Yes... Yes, it's in the top drawer of my lab table."

"We will have someone collect it for research and then dispose of it after a cure is made. Please make your way down to the cells and refrain from touching anything. We will get you taken care of, Mr. Banner."

I shook my head after the room went quiet again, "Why did you do it?" It just didn't make any sense. I thought he had come to terms with it, maybe even accepted the alter ego living within him. He didn't ever seem like he hadn't.

"I cause more harm than anything. I am destructive and violent, uncontrollable. All I do is hurt people, Natasha. I wanted to be normal. It just isn't in the cards for me." He sounded so defeated and resigned. "If they find a way to fix what I've done, I won't be staying at the tower anymore. I'm quitting the team."

"No, Bruce you can't be serious!"

Bruce shook his head, his hair falling in messy curls over his forehead as he pushed himself off the floor. He kept his distance from me as he circled around to make it towards the door. "I don't think you should visit me anymore."

And then he left, letting the door shut gently behind him and leaving me in the empty lab to stare at the floor much like he had. I felt my heart break at his words and at the silence it left me with. I couldn't stand the way he viewed himself and the way he went about things. I never thought he would go this far though, and I had been horribly wrong.

A bitterness welled in me, and I scoffed, marching out the door and back to the elevator. I let it carry me up to my rooms, vacant of Max and anyone else who would bother me. Screw him. If he wants to leave, let him. I have better things to do anyways.

_____

Max-

Metal groaned as the hatch of the Quinnjet settled against the Tower's landing pad. I had been recalled back not six hours into my mission, not even given the chance to begin it before Friday had announced that there was an emergency at the tower, and I was to return immediately. My gear still clung to me as I marched through the tower heading straight to the meeting room.

Tony waited there, sat in the chair furthest from the door. It was only him which was my first clue that whatever it was that had happened here was something regarding the team. "Spill it, I have a mission to get back to."

Tony frowned, his lips thinning into a line. "Sit down."

I stared at him a moment longer before I followed his command, sliding into the cold metal chair parallel to him.

He began again, "Banner had an incident in the lab. He experimented an untested serum on himself and tampered his genetic makeup."

I stared at him in confusion and a little bit of annoyance, "What? Why was I called back for this? That's terrible news, really, I hope he's alright, but-"

"It was your DNA he used to experiment on. I called you back here to ask you for your personal file. We don't have it, and something tells me that you might know where we can find it." He paused to let me soak in his words, "I can promise we will return it with everything as it was. The team I have put together to fix whatever he's done needs it. They have to know how to reverse the effects."

I felt white hot, "Where is he?"

Tony seemed to contemplate whether it was a good idea to give me that information but sighed with a hand pressing to his temples. "He's in the cells. We have to keep him isolated, nearly killed a woman on accident from a scrape. She was rushed to the emergency room, but they don't know how to help her."

I shook my head, pushing off the table, "She won't live."

Tony got to his feet, "What do you mean?"

"I mean she won't live. No one ever does." I held his eyes for a long, long time. "The DNA he meddled with is poisonous, that's the only thing I know about it. When I read my own file, I was still young and hardly understood half of it. I haven't looked at it since, I just took it to keep anyone else from doing exactly what Bruce has done." I pushed my fingers through my hair, blowing out a breath to try and ease my anger.

"How do you know that she won't live?" Tony's eyes seemed to cement me in place, demanding for an answer.

I hated telling people about the things I was capable of. The things Hydra had installed into my very being. I possessed these abilities that most considered an abomination, qualities that made me less than human. Even telling Tony, a man I knew wouldn't fault me for what I was, would walk a little further from me if he knew all that I could do. I lowered my eyes to the table between us, staring at my warped reflection.

"I know because everyone I have ever infected has never lived, no matter how advanced the medical treatments were." The look he gave me was filled with confusion, but I just shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it." I took a step back, angling for the door, "I am going to talk to Banner. I'll take the file with me. When your team has finished creating a cure, I want access to the labs. None of my blood samples or anything else can be left."

Tony nodded, "I'm sorry this happened Max, I had no idea he would do what he did."

"Scientists can't be trusted with things they don't understand. It's in their nature to find the answers and they don't always realize that maybe those answers shouldn't be found." I left him to think about what I had said, heading down to the cells using the stairs. Too big of a chance to run into someone I didn't want to see if I took the elevator.

When I took the last steps to the bottom floor I was met with a familiar silence, one that had kept me company while I too stayed on this floor. I could smell the anxiety and sadness leaking through the cracks of the door before me. "Friday, unlock the door."

Her voice trilled kindly, "I am sorry, but Doctor Banner is in isolation."

"I am immune, let me inside." There was a small delay before her voice echoed against the marble once more.

"Mr. Stark has given you clearance for this floor."

I shoved open the door, not caring as it slammed shut behind me. My boots clicked harshly against the white tiles as I surveyed the cell in front of me. It was much like my own in the fact that it was mostly made of glass. I was sure it was some sort of reinforced byproduct, but I could clearly see Dr. Banner's sickly green skin from where I stood. His eyes had snapped towards the door the second it slammed shut, jolting him where he sat.

I didn't slow in my steps as I walked right up to the glass, "You used my DNA."

Banner's brows pinched in sorrow as his eyes dropped down to the cell floor, "Yes."

Even though I knew before, hearing him confess it multiplied the anger brewing inside of me. "I trusted you."

His brown hair fell over his brows as he shook his head in shame. "I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to fix me, to find a way to use your healing capabilities for something good."

"That wasn't your choice. I've worked too hard to hide myself from people like you for this reason alone, and now look what you've done. That woman, the one you scratched? She will be dead by the end of tomorrow. There is nothing that will stop the venom in her veins." I was seething with anger and sorrow from the events of the recent month, couldn't stop it from bubbling out at the Doctor. "You will have to live with her death on your hands forever."

Silence.

Banner sat there with his wide eyes staring blankly at the floor, his mind long gone from where he sat hunched over with his pale limbs curled against his chest. I just stood there, letting him soak in what I had said to him, the true consequences of what he had done laid out before him. An innocent woman would die, and he had the possibility of remaining like this forever. Now he knew, and my word had been said.

"Your studies regarding my genetic makeup will be destroyed this afternoon. Nothing will remain. If you tell a soul what you've done, I will find you, Banner."

I turned, leaving his crumpled body seated in his cell and returned to the upper levels of the tower to destroy the lab. When I finally cleared the last flight of stairs, few were remaining in Banner's personal lab. A few lab techs scurried around collecting papers I was sure were the ones used for Banner's little experiment. When I stepped in the room, they all stopped.

I took a moment to take in their faces, seeing their varying expressions of fear and concern. "Once the antidote is made, every single scrap of paper used to resolve this event will be given directly to me. No one touches the computers until I have given you the command. Does everyone understand?"

A wave of heads bobbing was the only response I got before they resumed scurrying around and leaning over microscopes. I took a seat at the edge of the room and watched as they all worked, waiting until the moment I could set it all ablaze.

_____

A cure was created 26 hours after Banner's mishap.

I had remained in the lab the entirety of the time, only leaving to retrieve a small lunch or use the bathroom. Tony got the phone call from the medical team at exactly 8:36 P.M. that evening. Like I had wished, the team left every paper used for the cure on the lab table in front of me along with Banner's studies. I had Tony produce a drive that would wipe the computers of all files related to two key subject word, 'Snow' and 'Ghost', and all data linked to this ordeal was stripped from the lab. I read over and shredded every last piece of paper and piled it in the middle of the lab table, igniting the remains with a lab torch. I watched as they withered and greyed as the flames devoured them and the knowledge with it.

I could breathe for a moment after the ashes finally settled and the only sound in the room was my own steady breathing. I left the ashes on the marble and returned to my room not long after the job was completed. It was nearly midnight; the past two days having run together with all that had happened. I hadn't slept more than three hours in five days, only letting myself rest when I was truly alone or miles above in the Quinnjet alone with just my thoughts. I was exhausted though, plain and simple. My body ached with every step and my mind was struggling to keep up with my surroundings.

I didn't remember getting into bed, only the feeling of the silk sheets made me realize I had made it. I sank into the mattress with a sigh, letting it envelope me in much needed comfort. It wouldn't be long before I had to throw myself back into something to keep my mind off the gouge in my heart, but sleep would do the job well enough for now. I felt my eyelids close, weighed down until all I could do was let sleep take me away.

_____

The next morning, I woke with a start. My heart hammered in my rib cage as flashes of fallen bodies and walls painted in blood threatened to hold me captive. It wasn't real though, the all too familiar dark walls of the tower bringing me back to my senses. It had been a long time since I had dealt with a nightmare. I figured it must have been the stress. Hauling myself up from the covers was harder than it should have been, too sore for it to be any good. I thought back to the last time I had eaten and realized I couldn't remember at all. I had slept in my gear as well. Not good.

Something soft brushed the sole of my foot as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The black fabric laid sprawled out on the floor, fallen off the edge sometime in the night.

Bucky's sweater.

A pang shot through my chest at the sight of it. Carefully, like it would somehow harm me, I grabbed it from the floor. It still smelled of him, leather and cologne, so much so I nearly cried. I had been avoiding everything he had lent or gifted to me. The reminder was too painful for me to handle all at once.

I should return them. That would remove the reminder completely and with the way the two of us have been avoiding one another, I will hardly ever see him while working. It would make the pain more manageable.

With a deep breath, I began folding his sweater. I laid the folded item on the mattress and headed over to my dresser next, shuffling through the clothing there and tugging out his things. He had moved more of his clothes into my room over the time we spent together, more nights in my room than his. I stacked them on top of his sweater and stepped over to the nightstand. Inside the top drawer was the copy of the poetry book he had given me, and the flower stuck out of the top. My hat laid next to it, but I hardly turned my eye towards it. With a moment of hesitation, I grabbed both of them and bent over to retrieve my box under the bed and swiftly stuffed them inside as neatly as I could.

Finally, I had it all put together in a pile on the bed. All I had to do now was go up to his room and leave it by the door... Easier said than done.

I gathered the clothes up in my arms and headed towards the door, kicking it open and shutting it with my elbow behind me. The ride up the elevator made my nerves jump and anxiety to leak into my body. I tried hard to ignore it the closer I got to him. When the doors finally opened, I took a shaky step out and headed down the hall. His scent was stronger, strong enough to let me know he was still on his floor. Not good. I quickened my pace, turning to his door and bending down to set the clothes down when another scent hit me. And it hit me hard.

Hairspray and cherries, Natasha's scent, was mingling in the air. It wafted from the open crack of the door, hitting my face in strong waves. That wasn't what stung though. No, what stung was the sickly-sweet hormone hanging in the air with it. My eyes snapped up without my command, taking in the scene playing out before me.

Bucky, with his hair messy and nothing but his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, had his hands set gently on Natasha's arms. Natasha herself was fully clothed on her tiptoes pressing her lips to his. Their eyes were closed, as if they were caught in the moment.

I must have bumped the doorframe in my desperate attempt to leave.

Both of their eyes snapped to the door where I stood, backing away from it as quickly as I could. I schooled my expression and took off down the hall at a quick walk. There was scrambling behind me and hushed voices, but they were drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I watched as the door of the elevator closed just before Bucky bent down to take his clothes from the floor. I tore my eyes away, hating the way they burned at the sight of him.

I stumbled out of the elevator with blurry eyes, b-lining it back to my bedroom where I slammed the door shut. My chest heaved with silent sobs, the tears finally falling against my skin and wetting the front of my suit. I reached down, yanking the buckles off and the zipper down, slipping it off my arms and kicking my boots off so I could tug it off completely. I sat on the cold floor, muffling my sobs with my hand.

I was stupid.

How could I ever think someone like myself would have a place in his heart? He was strong and kind, not nearly as broken. He could be fixed. I would never be normal. I would never be able to walk the street and not be viewed as an animal meant for a cage. If the world knew who I was like it knew him, I wouldn't have a trial or a chance. They would simply cage me and sentence me to death merely for the qualities I possessed.

I was Hydra's creation, born and raised to be cruel and efficient. That's all I would ever be. It was a mistake to get caught up in such a dream where I could be treated as anything more. Never again.

With wet eyes, I picked myself off the floor and paced over to the nightstand again. I pulled the top drawer out, reaching under it and pulling out the knife I kept there. With it tucked in my grip, I walked to the bathroom. The girl in the reflection looked more familiar than the last time. Her red rimmed eyes shimmered under the fluorescent lights and scars wrapped around her frail shoulders. There was pain painted across her face as clear as day as the tears slid from her eyes. Hair fell to her shoulders in stark white strands, falling over her eyes and brushing her cheeks. She looked broken, just the way I felt.

I ran my fingers through my hair, watching as she did the same. I gathered it up at the ends and pulled it away from my head before I jerked the knife down across the suspended strands. She did too, releasing the wad of hair and letting it fall to the floor. I repeated the motions with her, again and again. I quickly fell into old motions, cutting the hair close at the back and feathering it out at the top. I watched as the girl turned from someone I hardly recognized into someone I knew well. Her hair was short, and the pain she felt was littered all over her body in jagged shimmering scars for all to see.

I decided then that I wouldn't hide her anymore.

A knock at the door drew my attention as I placed the knife on the countertop. I grabbed a tank top and a pair of shorts from the dresser and slipped them over myself as I made for the door. I steeled myself, wiping away the remnants of my tears before I opened it.

Blonde hair and worried blue eyes scanned over me as my name left his lips in a breath, "Max." His gaze lingered on the scars out in the open before he met my eyes again. Thor stared at my hair, then my temples where the scars were normally hidden, before back to my eyes. "You didn't come out for breakfast... I got worried. You look beautiful." He finished his sentence with a bright smile that had my previous denouncement of worthiness crumbling to pieces at my feet.

I felt the tears gathering once more before I realized what was happening. "Do you really think so?" I pushed my palm against my eye to suppress the tears.

Thor's face fell at the sight of my sadness, and he stepped a little closer. "Of course, I do! I think you're one of the most beautiful Goddesses I have ever laid eyes on."

I laughed through a sob at his exaggeration as he set a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"What is wrong?"

I tugged him into the room and clicked the door shut behind him before I spoke again. "You know that Bucky and I were... complicated in a romantic sense, right?" I hoped he would understand what I was trying to say without having to go into further detail.

His blue eyes softened, and he nodded. 

I let out a shaky breath, "After the most recent mission I had with him, I did something drastic in order to get us all out alive. Natasha didn't listen to my orders and went off and things got more complicated. Hydra soldiers had us cornered from everywhere, I could hear their reinforcements coming." I clenched my fists anxiously at the memory, "So, I told him to run. I trusted that Natasha would get to the jet with the information. I told her what to do over coms. Bucky thought that I didn't care about her safety, but I did, I swear I did. I trusted her skills.

"We all split up at the beginning and I had a bad feeling about the whole thing so I went from house to house telling everyone I saw to get out of town and tell everyone they knew to get out of the valley as quickly as they could. I evacuated the civilians so they would be safe. The others didn't know, and Bucky... He didn't even give me a chance to explain before he labeled me a monster. So, we haven't spoken. That's why he is so hostile towards me."

I cleared my throat, "Earlier, just a bit ago, I saw him with Natasha. I was returning the things he used to keep here. They were kissing in his room." I grabbed at my arms as if I could shield myself from the image of them together. "I shouldn't be upset by it, we weren't ever anything real, but I gave my heart to him a long time ago. He can't remember, but I do."

Warm arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders and hair tickled the side of my face. I tensed at first, unused to sudden affection, but his grip tightened around me like a safety I hadn't known for a long time. "It's alright to feel the way you do. Love isn't something we choose, it just happens when and with whom at the most surprising times."

His words melted the cold encasing my heart as I forced out a laugh, "Such wise words, you're starting to sound like an old man."

His chest vibrated against my ear as his musical laugh filled the room. He didn't say anything for a long while, just held me tight and swayed with me in my empty room. It was peaceful and soothing in a way I didn't expect. We hadn't talked more than just some of our pasts and fleeting stories to pass the time in the mornings, but I felt that the God of Thunder understood me in a way most couldn't. 

I wrapped my hands around his back sometime during our hug and I mumbled into his shoulder, "Thank you for being here for me."

"Of course, anytime." 

I pulled away and offered him a small smile which he returned with one of his own. "Would you like to have that breakfast now?"

Thor rolled his eyes playfully, "I thought you would never ask. I'm starving."

I punched him in the arm to which he feigned offense and headed out the door to the little living room and kitchen where we both sat and ate breakfast together in the morning light.

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