JBB: An Artblog!
Xuebing Du
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
JVL
I'd rather be in outer space πΈ
β
@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies
β£ Chile in a Photography β£
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Jules of Nature
Discoholic πͺ©
Claire Keane
Today's Document
seen from France
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from TΓΌrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from TΓΌrkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
@calledstars
I SPENT AN ETERNITY IN HELL β
[[ ALERT OF INSUBORDINATION . ]]
an indie & selective au portrayal of ENGINEER MARK ATLAS of IN SPACE WITH M.ARKIPLIER .
[ CREWMATE FILES : [ GUIDELINES ] [ DOSSIER ] [ NOTES ] [ PROMPTS ( never expire ) ] [ OPENS ( never expire ) ] ]
[[ RISK OF FAILURE : 98.64% ]]
β β¦ and, captain ? β¦ thanks. for β¦ not giving up on me. β
// β . . . β END RECORD .
// β REBOOT UNIVERSE ? [ Y ] / [ N ] β
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
@paladinquest sent :
He canβt remember, now, when they last spent Christmas together. Lark can recall how it felt, staying up all night with Atlas only to race out in the morning, but those times feel far off. Theyβve both been through too much since then β and thatβs exactly why he wants to make sure the holidays are perfect for his brother.
Heβs shaking Atlas by the shoulder unceremoniously by sunrise, like a little kid. Chica is by the edge of his bed and wagging her tail, while Lark holds out a wrapped, intricate tool belt, smiling. βMerry Christmas, Atlas. Iβll race you to the snow.β (@paladinquest merry christmas! healing arc π)
When Atlasβ eyes groggily open, heβs barely aware of what time it must be, much less what day it is. Cold, thatβs what it is. With.. Lark shaking him awake, evidently.
He pushes himself into a sitting positionβ¦ and is met with a tool belt in his face. A tool belt ? Not his, surelyβ or, at least, not the one heβs used to. He takes it, letting it sit in his hands for a few moments before he realizes what it *is*β and then, his eyes widen, hands turning it around and over to get a better look at it. He doesnβt have much time to, though, as Lark seems to already be on the edge of running out of the room. An awed β thank you β barely manages to make it out before the challenge is realized.
His legs swing over the side of the bed, narrowly missing Chica as she ducks around and between legs. His blanket is tossed back into place and tool belt sat at the footβ he has an important race to get to, first !
Laughter coats his words as he grabs a robe and kicks his shoes on, already halfway out the door before he manages to fully pull his boots on. β Not if I get there first ! β
Their childhood is far away⦠but that simply means they have much to catch up on, games and snowball fights included. When they finally get back inside, cheeks and hands freezing, there will be a warm fire and warm foods waiting for them⦠as well as a wrapped present, holding handmade and enchanted gauntlets bearing intricate leatherwork patterns for Lark. Merry Christmas, Lark.
Morgan had problems sleeping even before their time on the ship; insomnia and frequent nightmares saw to that. They had been prescribed some sleeping medication, but some nights those didn't work as well as Morgan hoped. And when they did? It was a coin toss as to whether or not they'd have a nightmare so intense it yanked them out of a deep sleep. They had tried to get a stronger prescription, but had been denied because they "couldn't be trusted not to self-medicate". (The Chief Medical Officer was just doing his job; it wasn't fair for Morgan to hold it against him. And it wasn't as if they could refute his claim either, nor could they explain that their circadian rhythm was so fucked up because they had been caught in a loop)
On this particular night, Morgan woke up with phantom pain in their left hand and tears drying on their cheeks. Another dream about their confrontation with Atlas in the warp core room. Teeth clinking together and stars exploding before their vision as the fire extinguisher collided with their head. The vice-like grip on their wrist and the sharp, burning pain as the crystal was ripped from their palm. The agony of clinging onto Atlas with that hand as the wormhole tried to rip him away. The dread sinking like a stone into their stomach as he slipped away.
Sleep constantly evaded Morgan no matter what they tried; jumping jacks, folding their laundry, organizing their craft drawer. Every time their head hit the pillow and they began to drift off, another terror would jump to the forefront of their mind. Even their infamous stubbornness had its limits, and eventually Morgan resigned themself to not getting any sleep for the remainder of the night. Thin cotton blanket draped over their shoulders like a cape, Morgan padded down the corridor. Gunther's ear-rupturing snores and the gentle hum of the ship's insides reminded Morgan that The Invincible II was alive. They hadn't woken up to a cold, dead ship.
They had no destination in mind, just movement for the sake of movement. Their mindless wandering eventually led them to a part of the ship they hadn't spent nearly enough time in; a more recreational section that housed the galley and break room. The windows- shattered with a loud crash that was swallowed up by the void of space. Alarms blared as Morgan was swept off their feet into the endless, glittering abyss of glass and stars. The cold seized them and the air in their lungs caused them to burst. They only felt that agony for a mercifully brief second before death claimed them.- Morgan squeezed their eyes shut and sucked in a breath. They curled their toes against the cool linoleum floor. When they dared to open their eyes, the break room was peacefully silent. The stars on the other side of the glass twinkled. Morgan took in a deep breath. They were fine. They were safe. They would only have to be on the ship for a little while longer. They were...
... Not alone.
Silhouetted against the stars was a figure, occupying one of the small square tables. Too broad to be Lady, but not broad enough to be Wug. Someone else? No, no, no, not possible; Morgan had increased the ship's security. Everyone who was currently on The Invincible II were supposed to be there; not a single outlier. Morgan took a breath, wishing they had grabbed their PDA at the very least, and tip-toed towards the other person.
It was Atlas, looking out into the blanket of stars with a distant look on his face. Dressed down as he was, Morgan could see the dark blotches of skin tissue across his arms and shoulder. Their stomach lurched and their heart jumped into their throat. Whatever he had gone through in the wormhole... whatever he had been subjected to in that eternity, it hadn't been kind to him. Morgan still had scars; burns, gashes, and of course the electric burn like scars on their left arm, staring from the meaty part of their palm. Whatever Atlas had encountered seemed to have taken out chunks. And that was only on his arms.
(They remembered the stink of burning flesh and ozone as Lady's blaster melted through cloth and skin and muscle and bone. The horrible, rattling breaths Atlas took as he defended his Captain; somehow still alive despite the smoldering crater in his chest.)
Morgan shook their head again and waved a hand to get Atlas's attention. "Couldn't sleep either?"
-
Everything was too loud. While alone on the Invincible II, he could hear everything. Every clicking signal, every whirring machine, every fluctuation in energy as the engines fell into a rhythm of periodically bouncing between speeds. He could still hear all of it, each breath of the ship β all of it, and everything new.
Everything there, and everything beyond. Not all the time; there would be times of relative peace, where nothing would be going horribly out of place. Yet, at other times, heβd see it from the corner of his eye. Pieces of the ship not completely loading in, or a wall that wasnβt metal but instead just patterning over wood planks. Sometimes, heβd hear the chatter. People talking. People he couldnβt see, but who could see him.
He couldnβt sleep. He didnβt need to anymore, anyway. He wasnβt real ! He didnβt need rest, didnβt need food !
Then why was he so tired ?
He tried working. Tinkering with anything he could find. He had to stop tinkering with the ship itself, or someone would scold him for doing pointless work for the sake of work. Heβd taken up a few crafts during his eternity, but those were too loud to do during the night cycle β¦ not to mention that most required designated stations, which he had built in his time and had been wiped away by the wormholeβs resetting of the timeline.
β¦ So that night cycle, when heβd awoken to a cut - off silent scream, choking feeling in his throat and hands tense and shaking, he hadnβt delayed in moving elsewhere. He had no expectation in his ability to fall back asleep.
So, one of the less - used rec rooms it was. To sit, and stare out at space.
Atlas almost jumped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A delayed reaction of responding, after looking over to Morgan with wide eyes. β β¦ No, I β¦ I couldnβt. Havenβt been able to, in general, recently, β Atlas half - mumbled, voice low. He looked down, staring at the surface of the table he was sat at rather than looking at the Captain as he confessed. Leaning back in his chair, he gestured to the other empty seats. β You can sit down, if you want to. No one else comes here during the night cycle β¦ except for you, now, obviously. β
The surprise of seeing the Captain quickly shifted to realizing the Captain was there. The longer he thought about it, the more sick he felt β there they were, alone together. On the bridge of the ship, with the gaping emptiness of space only a window away. A window heβd wanted to installβ no. Not now. He shook his head to himself, pressing a palm against his eye with his free hand. It struck him, then, how bare he felt β he hadnβt anticipated being seen by anyone, so no uniform had been donned. Merely his sleeveless turtleneck, and a pair of working trousers. No sleeves to hide himself, no patches and badges to hide behind.
Were they really the Captain and the Engineer, in that moment ? Or were they Morgan and Atlas ?
His hand went to his shoulder, thumb subconsciously self - consciously brushing across the skin, the faintly dipped line where skin turned to scar. His gaze wandered, anywhere but directly meeting Morgan. The table, the wall, back to the window.
β Do you β¦ want anything ? I could go grab you a water. β β something that might be helpful after waking from a nightmare, which he could assume their situation was. The look on their face was tell enough.
-
There was a pause that admittedly made Noah falter for a brief second. He had faced many a trial over his career, but there was always a short pang of nervousness when he was still unsure whether he definitely had a job. This would be the moment of truth: was he working alongside a genius, or a madman?
Even in this moment, Noah held his nerve and let out a soft, steady breath as he kept a relaxed expression. He could prove his worth. He had the credentials to back his experience.
Mark shook his head, seemingly making his decision on the newly appointed Captain and offered a hand. The corners of his lips tugged up in a smile that was hinted with relief as he accepted the handshake. His grip was firm, but not too tight.
"I will do her proud, and should any important decisions need to be made, I will ensure you will have a say. Me being Captain will not diminish your role, I hope you know that." The last thing he wanted was to create a sense of animosity between himself and Mark.
Thankfully, an olive branch was offered. "I would love to be shown around. It would be best to learn about her from the expert."
Mark had always been told that handshakes were a better first impression than whatever the person said. Heβd never particularly believed it β how could a handshake tell you what you needed to know about a person ? β but the words of wisdom felt prevalent in that moment. Though professional, everything about Noahβs air feltβ¦ right. As though he was meant to be thereβ and not in the manner of literally being meant to be there ( obviously, given he was the future captain ) , but rather that he was meant to be there. Made for that journey.
The assurance of his remaining in a strong position, admittedly, caught Mark off guard. Something that shouldnβt necessarily have needed to be said, but Noah had made a point to. He nodded to affirm the statement. The further he walked with him, the more Mark felt as though the choice had been made wisely.
β Hah, Iβm afraid thereβs far too much to show you in one tour, but I can give you the highlight reel, β he offered. β Itβs a lot to take inβ¦ but I have a feeling youβll be able to manage. More than. β
The realization, the sudden standing, startles Atlas to the point of taking a stuttered step back. Chica seems to only be thrown off for a moment, already back to nuzzling and sniffing against Larkβs legs. The thought to tell Chica to refrain from knocking Lark over comes to mind, but he canβt manage to get the words out when faced with the knowledge that Lark is there at all.
He looked for him. He looked for him ? β I wanted to, so badly β I wanted to tell you I was alive, but I couldnβt, I didnβt want to endanger you β¦ β Atlas explains, rushed and without thought β¦ before the surprised response shifts to concern. β β¦ but it looks like you already have been. Come on. β
β Chica, β he calls with a whistle and a click, to which Chica returns to being at his heel. She barks back at Lark, as if also asking he follow. Friend ! Come with ! Join ! Go home time !
Itβs time to go home.
β How did you get all the way out here ? β Atlas asks, more questions on his tongue but managing to refrain. Heβs already made more commotion than heβd made in a long timeβ and he doesnβt want to push himself or Lark.
He scratches behind Chicaβs ears, but itβs absent minded. As much as Lark is happy to see her β to see both of them β itβs a shock he can barely comprehend. A relief that threatens to knock him off his feet. Atlas is alive andβ¦ well? Heβs not sure about well. But with the day heβs had, itβs all another squeeze to his sore heart.
βEndanger?β What? βWhyβ why would it have endangered me? Were you in danger? Are you still in danger?β He wants to help! He doesnβt know if he can. Lark shifts in place at the offer, uncertain for a moment. It hardly lasts long enough for him to protest.
This is Atlas. He trusts him. Even Chica seems to be compelling him to follow, and he finally feels some semblance of safety at the normalcy.
Itβs time to go home. Where is home, anymore?
βI rode.β Exhaustion isnβt something he can keep out of his voice. He gives Atlas a sign to wait a moment, and then goes to fetch his horse from the stream, leading her back by the reins. βI didnβt know where to go. I was just trying to get away.β
β¦ Right. The realization settles in that Lark still doesnβt know. β Iβllβ¦ tell you later. When weβre somewhere more private. β Not that the woods is particularly bustling with activity, but one can never know.
The accident. He never explained the accident to Lark. It weighs on Atlasβ shoulders, knowing that Lark has gone so long without knowingβ¦ but it was for his safety. Now that he seems to be no longer with his kingdom (something Atlas fears to know the explanation for), thoughβ¦ perhaps Atlas can dare to explain.
β Youβ¦ rode ? By yourself ? All the way here ? β Something is certainly wrong, then. What is Lark running from ? β Have you rested ? At all ? β
Heβs relieved, far more than usual, that the travel back to his home isnβt far. A few minutesβ walk, at most. He and Chica usually took a more circular path for their walkβ but for this, the path directly back would be taken.
β β¦ Youβll be staying with me. β It isnβt an offer that Lark can try to politely deny, if heβd even attempt to. A statement, without bothering to ask. Atlas knows he needs it, and maybe a statement will be easier on his pride than a question. β I have the room, and the supplies. Chica will surely like having a roommate. It isnβt much farther. Chica and I take walks this way on most days. β
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
got emotional, started doodling an au comic
whoops my hand slipped ( yes i know itβs really messy and probably not intelligible, itβll get cleaned up later π )
Whenever Atlas goes on a walk, Chica comes with. She trots alongside him, weaving against his legs before occasionally dashing off to follow a scent. Guarding Atlas, but supporting him as well. He needs to get out of the workshop, and so does she.
When she ran off that time, it was clearly after something she deemed interesting. Exciting, even ! But instead of stopping within Atlasβ field of vision, she kept going. Confused, Atlas stalled before trying to catch up. When he finally catches up to her, the mutterings of β Chica, what β ? β are all that make it out before he freezes.
It feels impossible. Yet, it must be real.
Chica barks, breaking the silence. Snapping Atlas out of his trance. He slowly steps forward, pushing overgrown hair out of his eyes ( more silvers & blues than browns, tangled in his hair like unnatural aging ) . β Lark ? What β¦ what are you doing here ? β You look terrible, he almost follows with, but it doesnβt seem the right time to point that out.
The stranger calls him by name. The stranger? No. No, itβsβ¦ Lark glances back at the dog, who by now is practically forcing him to pet her by pawing at his knee. He obliges, but his expression remains confused. ββ¦ Chica?β Then, he looks to him. βMarββ
Lark stands abruptly, barely able to get his words out. His scars. His hair. Blue? What happened? βYouβ youβre still alive. I looked for you. I worried about you, and youβre here! Youβre here.β
He wants to launch himself at him, to embrace him tightly and never let go. He wants to see for himself that heβs truly present. But something in his eyes says he doesnβt fully believe whatβs happening. Like heβs seen an illusion, or a ghost.
βWhat am I doing here?β The question finally hits him, and he flounders for an answer. βIβ¦ there was an accident.β
The realization, the sudden standing, startles Atlas to the point of taking a stuttered step back. Chica seems to only be thrown off for a moment, already back to nuzzling and sniffing against Larkβs legs. The thought to tell Chica to refrain from knocking Lark over comes to mind, but he canβt manage to get the words out when faced with the knowledge that Lark is there at all.
He looked for him. He looked for him ? β I wanted to, so badly β I wanted to tell you I was alive, but I couldnβt, I didnβt want to endanger you β¦ β Atlas explains, rushed and without thought β¦ before the surprised response shifts to concern. β β¦ but it looks like you already have been. Come on. β
β Chica, β he calls with a whistle and a click, to which Chica returns to being at his heel. She barks back at Lark, as if also asking he follow. Friend ! Come with ! Join ! Go home time !
Itβs time to go home.
β How did you get all the way out here ? β Atlas asks, more questions on his tongue but managing to refrain. Heβs already made more commotion than heβd made in a long timeβ and he doesnβt want to push himself or Lark.
recovery arc atlas vibes
bonus, stuff for his room ( which he still hasnβt decorated ) :
Comfort Starters
Feel free to change how you see fit!
Sentence Starters
βCome on, letβs get you away from there.β
βHey, are you okay?β
βYou look like you could use a hug.β
βDonβt listen to them. Youβre perfect the way you are.β
βLet it all out.. Iβm here for you.β
βYou donβt have to tell me anything, but Iβm here for you okay?β
βYou look down. This calls for cuddles.β
βA kiss here. A kiss there... Ah! Thereβs the smile Iβve been hoping to see!β
βDo you want to talk about it?β
βYouβre safe now, I promise.β
βIβm not going to let anyone else hurt you.β
βYou okay? I could tell they were bothering you..β
βI heard about what happened. Iβm so sorry, _.β
βItβs nothing to be ashamed of. Youβre allowed to cry.β
βYou have every right to feel that way.β
βIs there anything I can do to help?β
βIβm so sorry youβre going through this.β
βI thought you could use some space.β
βIβll give you as many hugs as you need, okay?β
βCan I get you anything? Tea? Hot chocolate?β
βYou donβt have to go through this alone.β
βIs something on your mind?β
βIf theyβre bothering you, Iβll go tell them something.β
βNo, you donβt deserve to be treated like that.β
βI got you all of your favorite snacks.β
βNo, you donβt need to blame yourself.β
βYouβll get through this and Iβll be here every step of the way.β
βYou have every right to be upset.β
βYou donβt have to hide your tears from me.β
βTell me what happened.β
βIβm here to listen.β
βDid you have a nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?β
βHow about we go on a walk. It might calm your nerves.β
Actions
[Hug] Sender pulls receiver into a hug.
[Tears] Sender wipes tears from receiverβs face.
[Kisses] Sender gives receiver many kisses all over.
[Cuddle] Sender cuddles with receiver after a rough day.
[Drink] Sender makes receiver something to drink.
[Visit] Sender shows up at receiverβs place shortly after learning something is wrong.
[Rest] Sender stays in bed with receiver.
[Alone] Sender leads receiver away from the crowd after seeing that they need space.
[Cry] Sender holds receiver close as they cry.
[Meal] Sender makes receiver a warm meal.
[Hand] Sender gives recieverβs hand a gentle squeeze.
[Hair] Sender gently strokes receiverβs hair.
[Pat] Sender puts a hand on recieverβs shoulder.
[Massage] Sender gives receiver a shoulder rub.
[Action] + reverse for the reverse of said action!
@calledstars requested a starter!
-
No, he isnβt lost. Navigation had been part of Larkβs training. Itβs only that he had run off in a hurry, not caring where he was going, only caring that it was away. Impulsive. Stupid.
Surely, heβs crossed the kingdomβs borders, but no land marks are familiar to him. He halts his horse, and leads her to a nearby stream. Maybe the break will give him a chance to clear his head.
Thereβs a rustle in the bushes, and Lark tenses. Waiting. But only a dog emerges, trotting over to him and wagging her tail. She looks so much likeβ¦ No. That would be impossible. She and Mark left ages ago.
A new wave of sorrow hits his chest, and heβs only distracted by the dog gently barking at him and sniffing. βWhat do you want?β Lark kneels beside her, extending a hand. βWhereβs your owner?β When he raises his head, he sees someone so unfamiliarly familiar it makes his breath catch. He canβt be Larkβs brother. He canβt.
Whenever Atlas goes on a walk, Chica comes with. She trots alongside him, weaving against his legs before occasionally dashing off to follow a scent. Guarding Atlas, but supporting him as well. He needs to get out of the workshop, and so does she.
When she ran off that time, it was clearly after something she deemed interesting. Exciting, even ! But instead of stopping within Atlasβ field of vision, she kept going. Confused, Atlas stalled before trying to catch up. When he finally catches up to her, the mutterings of β Chica, what β ? β are all that make it out before he freezes.
It feels impossible. Yet, it must be real.
Chica barks, breaking the silence. Snapping Atlas out of his trance. He slowly steps forward, pushing overgrown hair out of his eyes ( more silvers & blues than browns, tangled in his hair like unnatural aging ) . β Lark ? What β¦ what are you doing here ? β You look terrible, he almost follows with, but it doesnβt seem the right time to point that out.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
@xshatteredreflectionsx sent : ( *reverse uno cards ur angst *)
Maybe they were never meant to get attached. In the first draft of this twisted fucking story, maybe Morgan was only supposed to see Atlas as a charming sidesick; a pretty face and an over-inflated head that bumbled alongside them like a lost puppy while they took center stage. But the more reality unraveled around them, the more Morgan ripped pages out of this meticulously crafted script and shredded them into confetti, the more they cared about Atlas.
("I love improvisation as much as the next," The Man in Red told them in between breaks, smile pulled too tightly to be genuine. The bones of his knuckles creaked together as he clutched his hands, folded stiffly behind his back. He invaded Morgan's space, bent at the waist to still loom over them. He felt like frostbite and graveyard soil. "But you are getting too far off script, Captain." The title was spit between his teeth and dripping in honey-sweet venom. An intimidation tactic that Morgan refused to submit to as they shoved past him and into another wormhole.)
Every time Morgan moved to get close to Atlas, reality seemed to respond in kind and rip him away. More often than not, it was Atlas taking blows that had been meant for Morgan. Jumping in front of bullets, blasters, and knives. Pushing them out of the way from a collapsing ceiling. Using his body as a shield as from explosions so intense they melted flesh from bone.
The "Golden Ending" was dangled in front of them like heavenly Ambrosia. They made it to the Colony -an even better planet as a matter of fact!- and it became a Utopia amongst the known galaxy. Morgan had everything anyone could ever want, served to them on a silver platter in pristine polaroids: wealth, prestige, admiration and love from everyone who they met, and a peaceful death surrounded by friends and family. An ending Morgan rejected, because it felt empty without Atlas.
(If Morgan was so insistent on loving their Head Engineer, then fine. Fine. Scripts were re-written at the whims of characters all the time; and who didn't love a tragic romance story?)
Atlas's body crumpled against them like a puppet with his string cut, coveralls stained in thick crimson and face frozen in a silent yell of pain and horror. If they hadn't been shining in hopeful mirth not two minutes prior, Morgan would have believed there were glass eyes in his skull, staring up at nothing from a pallid, waxy face. Yet again, the end was just within their grasp, and yet again Atlas took a blow meant for the Captain. The assailant a distant memory now. Morgan had long since run out of tears, but their eyes burned and vision blurred all the same. Their lungs constricted like a boa had taken up residence in their chest cavity, suffocating the air out their lungs so it could make itself comfortable in the hollow. Their throat was as dry as sand paper and just as rough. Morgan took a shuddering breath and lifted Atlas's body gently -so gently, like he was made of the finest porcelain ever crafted, and placed a kiss on his forehead. He was lowered to the ground like he would crumble into pieces if Morgan wasn't exceedingly careful. Another wormhole yawned into existence, and they sunk into the viscous, icy blue abyss like one sank into a bath after a long day at work.
There was a happy ending here. There had to be. And if there wasn't one, Morgan would write one.
( prompt )
ΰ³ΰΌ comforting words Λββ‘ β
β "it's okay, just breathe."
β "I'll stay for as long as you need."
β "what can i do for you? please, i want to help."
β "sh, sh, you're okay now."
β "no one's gonna hurt you again, i swear."
β "just come here. let me hold you."
β "hey, hey, you're alright! it's okay, just calm down."
β "why didn't you tell me the nightmares are back? you know i never minded helping you with them."
β "what do you need? another blanket, some tea? wait, i'll just go get both."
β "you don't need to apologise, ever."
β "you can trust me."
β "i love you. please don't ever forget that."
β "can i touch you? is that okay?"
β "tell me when you're ready to let me in. i'll still be here, however long it takes."
My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it.
some things i saw on p.interest that i think atlas should get to have / make to snack on
WAIT I HAVE CAKE MIX okay i know what i might be doing later today
hi i need healing & domestic atlas stuff.
i definitely was not scrolling through p.interest and got emotional over some of the stuff i was saving to atlasβ board what no β
like ?? give him a polaroid and let him take pictures. let him decorate his room ( it still is in dire need of decoration ) . let him figure out clothes to wear that arenβt industry - grade or jumpsuits. let him try foods he hasnβt tried before. let him stargaze.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
some things i saw on p.interest that i think atlas should get to have / make to snack on
watching yt videos from a certain y.outuber has led me to realize that, if atlas can work himself out of the state he's in post - warpcore, he has an engineering degree and too much free time. he can and will be abusing that power.
@xshatteredreflectionsx
β β¦. β
>:(((
