Celeste

She/Her | Hey, there! I'm a Mexican-American artist who will be using this blog to post both art and writing! Use the tags to look through my work!

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Final Blog Reflection

Dear reader, 

In the past school year, I have made a blog with a total of 25 posts on it (26 including this reflection). I have written in ways both new and familiar. Prior to this blog, I hadn’t seriously written any poetry for fun. I hadn’t even toyed with it. Such a thing is bizarre for me to say considering how much I love to chase new experiences. After all, I’ve tried writing books and songs and about five different instruments along with three different runes and two different languages. I collect new experiences like I can never get enough of living. Now, after this blog, I can say I’ve collected at least three more. I think what helped the most was having so many sources of inspiration to draw from. While I’ve had plenty of those days where even the sun seemed dull, I could always look forward to eventually piecing myself together enough to explore interesting concepts. Through my dearest friends and the alternate universes I’ve crafted with my bare hands, it was difficult to return from the abyss feeling anything but inspired. Or at least ready to be inspired. The blog, overall, was a challenge. It was a challenge I pursued with an open mind, and it was a challenge that influenced me to play around even more with poetry and prose. I’m just as curious as I was before, but now I have more experience. 

The prose, poetry, analysis, and mind map pieces on my blog are all works that I put a lot of effort into. In the process of making them, they were constantly revised until I was content with them. They were alI important to me; however, I do have my favorites. One piece that demonstrates my progress is my poem about love told from the perspective of one of my original characters: “What Does Love Feel Like?” As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never created poems so seriously before; however, this was endearing to me as a content creator because it allowed me develop my character on a level I’ve never considered before. I even sent this one to my friends to hear their thoughts, and I was happy with the way the poem was perceived, especially because they knew about the original character I had in mind. Another piece I want to mention is a prose piece, and this surrounds the character that I’ve just spoken about as well as another character of mine. It’s called “We Should Stay Enemies,” and for this I had to think deeply about how two of my original characters would interact with each other in a time of stress. I remember taking personality tests to better gauge the thinking processes of each individual, so this piece definitely required a lot of independence on my end. I think the success of this piece furthered the story that I had in mind, so I was very proud with how it turned out. One of the most difficult pieces I created was the prose on the history of another original character of mine: “The Tale of Psysuakaida.” This piece took place in an alternate reality of a universe I made from scratch alongside my friends. It heavily relied on fantasy and my ability to come up with a new way to introduce a character I’ve already established. This was turning an action-based superhero story into a fantasy and found family based story. While it was challenging, I was happy with the result. In fact, I was overjoyed when I realized I had to develop characters that didn’t even exist in the original content’s material. I would say that my pride is evident in just about every piece that I’ve created so far. I am most proud of my prose and poetry work because I was able to cover a wide range of topics and because I was able to make them about the people and tropes that bring me joy. I wrote about love, conflict, grief, fantasy, hope, and all in completely different settings. I think working on these pieces helped me to become more willing to try new approaches in writing. I look forward to exploring more even after posting on this blog. 

Gratefully,

Celeste

@ppsykee on Tumblr

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dances between enemies turned lovers

An enemies to lovers poem piece!! I am still not used to poetry but I thought this was very fun to make. 

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the tale of psysuakaida

A piece for TFFO fantasy AU! Here, Psyke is not a superhero. Instead, she is a child raised by a dragon deity. She nearly dies as a baby, and this deity blesses her with a second chance at life. 

Not long ago, a dragon deity’s fate became entangled with that of a nomadic clan. A sorrowful twist it was; the people had been slaughtered for their precious items. How cruel for such thieves, so few in number, to take advantage of those who refused to fight. The deity discovered this only after the tragedy had taken place, and by the time they came across the scene, there was barely one life left. That life flickered like a flame in a storm. The small soul contained in a body just as small. A baby on the brink of death. The rags around it could not keep out the harsh cold with the unlit lanterns, and so the great dragon, taking pity on the poor infant, picked the bundle up with their teeth and carried it back to their sanctuary. 

This sanctuary protected thousands of dragons, and their god watched over them all. Here, the little one would be safe. Upon seeing the young, pale face of the dying child, the dragons questioned the deity relentlessly. 

Psysuak, this is a human child. What will happen should that child grow up to be a hunter strong enough to kill us all? 

Psysuak, why have you brought it here when it’s skin is already sickly and its eyes refuse to open? Do you wish to feed that miniscule creature to us?

None of us have any business caring after that human when its species is responsible for needing a sanctuary in the first place. What do you plan to do with it?

The questions evoked only a single answer from the Psysuak: “The little one’s people were slaughtered, and she was left to die. She is now my own responsibility. I will heal the child.”

Upon hearing the divinity’s response, the dragons began to gather furs from their previous hunts to surround the baby whose skin had begun to turn blue. They were hesitant and considerably skittish, but they respected their leader, and so they assisted without asking any more questions. 

Nearly an hour had passed, and the furs proved to be useless when the baby’s condition did not improve. Still, her skin was pale and blue, and her breathing was labored and slow. A smaller dragon brought the child into the cave, and called to the mighty god for help with lighting humble fires around the edges of the cavern. Delicately, hot breaths led to gleaming flames, careful so the fragile human would not burn. Its soft flesh and wispy hair and brittle bones were hardly any protection in the eyes of a dragon. This creature had no wings or horns or scales or claws to keep itself from harm. It could not spit fire or fly or kill. How, then, could such a creature survive all alone? Even if it heals from the brutal cold? This question echoed in the minds of the dragons who now watched over the still shivering infant; however, none of them dared to speak up. Instead, they watched their deity carefully remove a small pendant that locked the child’s rags in place. A single claw was all it took, and beneath the rags the baby’s body was blue and purple and red. Colors much different from the pinks and tans and browns that the humans from the nearby kingdom were. Colors much too dangerous for a human to be. Bruises and blood littered its skin, and, oh, how shallow its breaths were. Several moments would pass between each one, and the god could barely detect a heartbeat. 

“This child has already fallen prey to the merciless cold, Psysuak,” one of the dragons finally expressed, “I fear it may be too late to save it.”

For a brief second, the deity considered letting it die. Perhaps it would be better this way. Hunters regularly sought to kill the nearest dragon that made an appearance outside of the sanctuary, and adding another to the population would worsen the issue. But…

This human child’s life had barely started. Psysuak could not let this infant die, not after her family had met such a grim fate. And so they gently pressed their forehead upon the little one’s body, using their magic to detect even the tiniest sign of life. The child’s foot curled ever so slightly, and the godly dragon took this as an indication that the small soul in the small body was willing to fight for life.

So Psysuak inhaled deeply and allowed a wave of power to wash over their body. Snippets of what must have been the child’s memories flashed through their mind. A gentle hand cradling the child’s head, a brush of lips against her forehead, soft whispers of what must have been her human name. 

They exhaled, and the baby was bathed in a golden dust. If nothing else could save this child who was so new to the world, magic would have to do. 

Sure enough, the baby’s bruises faded away, and red began to return to her flesh. Her breaths returned to her, and her eyes opened for the first time since she had been rescued. They were golden, briefly reflecting the Psysuak’s own shimmering gaze. At this, they let out a breath of relief; they had not realized how tense they were for the sake of this infant. This god, Psysuak, accepted now that since the child had healed, and since her village had been killed, they had the responsibility of raising her. 

“You will be my daughter, Psykaida, and the other dragons of this sanctuary will call you Psysuakaida, daughter of the dragon deity Psysuak. Be blessed, little one, and know that you are safe.”

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what does love feel like?

Love in the eyes of Malakai is curious and peaceful, and I did my best to convey this through the poem!

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Having a dog

I got a dog this past month and his name is Koda and I love him a lot!! Here is a mind map about what comes with getting a dog hehe

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My favorite things to make!!

I love baking and cooking so I thought it would be fun to gather all of the things I like making in one mind map!!

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psyke fantasy au moodboard

(information under the cut)

TFFO FANTASY AU!! A girl’s tribe is slaughtered when she is only an infant. She is left in the cold to die until a dragon deity saves her. This deity is called Psysuak. They care for the child as best they can within a dragon sanctuary. The deity names the child “Psykaida.” Other dragons call her “Psysuakaida” (daughter of Psysuak). She eventually comes to give herself the nickname Psyke. As she grows, she is raised by these dragons, becoming their family. In times of need, she is able to call on Psysuak so that they can lend her their power. When she is grown, she learns of other humans and how to communicate as a human would. This is how she meets the rest of the five. I’ll eventually make a moodboard for Malakai when I figure out what color scheme I want him to have hehe

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future psyke costume

(click for better quality) I have made so many messy sketches for Psyke’s costume post-timeskip, but I managed to make one neat drawing. She definitely has different phases in terms of her costume (the one with the blue coat is one of her first), and with the help of a wizard she gets upgraded along with the rest of the Five! 

(version with the activated visor under the cut)

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If I Were Not Human

If I were not a human, I think I’d like to be a moon.

Radiant and round, a light among that inky abyss of the sky

Which is sprinkled with distant, twinkling specks.

And I think I’d like how my bright light leads the souls

Of wayward lovers to each other

Or to places they’ve never been

Or to a new life.

And I think I’d like how I glow even when hope seems lost.

When you, my friend, feel alone

Or scared

Or sad. 

When your troubles are looming like the waves

Of an angry ocean, threatening to force you

Beneath their merciless tendrils of foam.

When you find that you can’t breath, I hope you look up to me

And find serenity in the chaos of the deep darkness.

And I would do my best, as a moon, to protect you from

The perils that come from galaxies beyond our own.

I think I would like to be scarred as proof that I have

Saved you from something beyond yourself,

My skin freckled with craters from comets or blasts that

You couldn’t have taken on alone.

I would like to be a moon so that I could see you thrive.

I could watch you burst with life

And I could watch you love and laugh and sing and dance

The sweet melodies of your joy would be like nectar

And I could feel proud of having protected something so beautiful.

If I were not a human, I truly think I would like to be a moon.

I think maybe I’d like to be your moon.

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We Should Stay Enemies

Summary: Malakai is a villain called The Shredder. After a particularly dangerous battle, he finds himself stuck with Psyke, a hero who uses telekinesis. He struggles with wanting to know who she is after almost years of constantly fighting her, and his feelings are making it all the more difficult.

Malakai tore off his mask, gasping to take in any wind that the collapsed room would allow. He was met only with the taste of dust and concrete, bitter on his tongue. He could hear Psyke do the same, though her breaths were a lot shallower than his, and she was wheezing quite a bit. The pair were enclosed in a small space beneath what used to be a building. It was empty, thank goodness, but the damage was severe enough to leave them trapped.

“Can’t you move the debris?” he inquired. She was a telekinetic, and a decent one at that. She caused enough trouble for Malakai and his team that, on more than one occasion, Malakai had to carry his exhausted teammates (with the exception of Catbot) back to their base.

“I.. I can’t,” she replied in between pants. “I’m not at that… strength yet. What about you?”

Malakai shook his head before observing the thick sheet that separated the two of them. “No,” he admitted, “I’m not there either.” With his strength, he could lift a piano or a car, but he hadn’t attempted anything heavier.

“What about Phantom? Can’t she teleport and get us--you out?”

“Not in a tight space, and not when she doesn’t know the location.”

“Oh.”

The two sat in silence for a while, neither one of them making an effort to fight the other. It would be pointless, and too much movement could cause the rest of the building to topple on top of them. They were lucky they could even find a space to duck under.

Eventually, Malakai began to grow anxious. He didn’t like this silence. Especially not since the incident that had happened months ago. The other villain. The one that was skilled and strong enough to manipulate the minds of the heroes his friends often fought. Malakai couldn’t even remember how long it had lasted. He could only recall how confused and hurt the public had been at the sight of its beloved heroes suddenly causing chaos instead of dismantling it. He had needed to put Psyke to sleep, and he had used his own strength to do so. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I know you saved me.” She finally spoke after what must have been at least half an hour. “I never had the opportunity to properly thank you.”

Malakai’s face contorted. “Saved you?”

“Yes, saved me. Back in October; the villain who… messed with my teammates’ minds. I saw the papers after that happened. You had to carry my body back to Stopwatch. Thank you.”

Malakai paused, and he played with the mask in his hands. “I didn’t save you. I hurt you.” He spoke just above a whisper, and he did so with bitterness in his voice.

“You did what you had to do.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t--” he paused, letting out a breath, exasperated. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“I’m your enemy.” Psyke stated simply. “I’m having trouble understanding why you are distressed.”

“Yeah, technically we’re on opposing sides, but--” he cut himself off, trying to find the words. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say. 

“But?”

“But I didn’t want to hurt you,” he muttered. His gaze fell to his scarred arms. The same arms he had used to choke her until she passed out just a few months ago.

A couple moments of silence passed between them before Psyke’s voice broke it. “I don’t want to hurt you either,” she spoke softly. “And I’m sorry that you were put in a situation where you had to do something you didn’t want to.”

Malakai shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

“I suppose that’s why you’ve been avoiding me in battle, then? You don’t want to hurt me again?”

Malakai was silent. She knew she was right. 

“I’m okay now. You know that, right?”

“I know nothing,” he breathed. “We know nothing about each other.” “You sound like that’s aggravating you.”

“It is, because--” He stopped himself, suddenly. Briefly glancing at Psyke’s silhouette through the sheet. “I want to know you.”

Psyke hesitantly reminded, “You know very well why we can’t do that.”

“I know the idea behind secret identities, I just don’t get why we can’t know each other’s. We’ve been through a lot together as it is. We fight for the same cause but in different ways. We battle each other at least once a week. I had to rescue you twice-- hell, we even danced at prom.”

“That wasn’t voluntary.”

“No, but you--we connected.”

“I had to stop you from panicking so that the villain wouldn’t accuse us of not playing their sick game. That’s all that was.”

“Am I imagining everything, then? I know I can be pretty dense, but I just thought…” He trailed off. Where was he going with this? What did he think would come out of it? Did he think they were going to date after his little emotional moment? That they’d stop being enemies and get to know each other? He didn’t even know who she was. Malakai’s hands began to fidget with the rubble that sat idly by his shoes, and he attempted to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

“Hey,” Psyke softly called, “Are you doing alright over there? You’re not asthmatic or anything are you?” 

“No, it’s just stress…” He responded to her question, but he was trying his very best to focus on anything other than the stupidly loud drumming that his heart was doing. Like an hammer to an anvil, it was relentless, and so he shook his head and attempted to listen for any sign that his teammates were still out there.

“Okay… Please take deep breaths,” she murmured. He didn’t even realize that his breathing had quickened, but she did, and she waited for the rhythm to return to normal before continuing. “Look...It’s not that I don’t care about you. I do. Probably more than I should,” she admitted with a slight laugh. Malakai felt a flutter in his chest. “I want what is best for you and I want you to be safe and I hate that you are stuck here with me purely because it means you are in just as much danger as I am of being crushed to death,” Psyke explained. “But it would complicate things beyond belief if we continued this way. I wish it didn’t. I don’t care as much about the rules as you think I do. I just know that if someone found out I knew your identity, they’d try to arrest you. And it would be so easy to find you. And, like you said, I am fighting for the same cause you are, so I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Malakai was unsure about what he could say. “I want to know you..” He repeated.

“I want to know you, too,” she replied hesitantly. “But I can’t have you know who I am yet. Perhaps sometime in the future, but…” her voice trailed off.

Malakai’s heart leapt at the thought of one day knowing the girl beneath the mask. He played with the fabric of his mask, heartbeat drumming in his ears. His hand briefly twitched toward the sheet, and he wondered if…

“If I can’t know you, maybe you can know me…” He spoke softly. His eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers gently grasped the edge of the sheet.

“Shredder, what are you doing?”

“I’m closing my eyes.”

He slowly began to lift the sheet back. 

Psyke began to panic, and her eyes widened as she slowly saw more and more of his scarred arms. Just as the lifted sheet uncovered Malakai’s chin, Psyke’s hands flew to his wrist, and she objected, “Don’t!” Her voice was quavering, but he stopped. She gently brought his hand down and gave a shaky sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” she expressed, her brows furrowing. “I just… I can’t… Not without putting you in danger.”

Malakai bit back frustrated tears. He was an angry crier. He could not help himself. Regardless, he pulled himself together. What to make of these feelings was something beyond him. He would have to deal with them later. “I know,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

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Wuthering Heights Character Mind Map

Here is a mind map I made! I recently started reading Wuthering Heights, so I wanted to branch out my current takes on how I perceive the characters based on what I’ve read so far. :)

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The Handmaid’s Tale Analysis

    In Margaret Atwood’s novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, the society of Gilead makes use of  psychological cruelty in the form of conditioning and dehumanization to enforce the idea that women are only tools in control of the government.

    From the beginning of the novel, Gilead perpetuates psychological cruelty in the form of conditioning. Handmaids are trained by women with the title ‘aunt’ to behave in a specific manner. This is consistently seen when the protagonist, Offred, recalls Aunt Lydia explaining to the young handmaids that it is “best not to speak” unless the handmaids are asked a “direct question.” Aunt Lydia’s remark suggests that the handmaids are supposed to be silent. They are not supposed to openly express any opinions or worries they might have. It is conditioning the young women to submit to the power of the men they are assigned to by the government and to rid themselves of power thereby acting as a form of cruelty. If the women believe themselves to be powerless, men do not have to be afraid of them banding together against the government to ruin its order. As the novel progresses, it is evident that the handmaids are not allowed to take their lives into their own hands when Offred reveals that she knows why the glass in the windows of her room are “shatterproof” and why there is no chandelier. At first glance, her statement merely illustrates that the government does not want these handmaids to take their own lives or that the government cares about the well-being of the handmaids; however, upon closer inspection, it reveals that the government views death as an escape, and the handmaids must not have any way escape-- not even by their own hand. They must be kept alive for the purpose the government gives them and only that. They are nothing more than a vessel for future children of society, and this consistent reminder exemplifies the psychological cruelty that Gilead uses to keep the women in line as tools.

    Later in the novel, the cruelty evolves, manifesting itself into another form of psychological cruelty: dehumanization. Conditioning and dehumanization can go hand in hand, and this is especially evident in the way Offred views her own body. When she is being called from her room, she describes herself as something that must be composed “as one composes a speech,” and she goes so far as to say that she is a thing that is “made” and “not something born.” Offred’s comparisons between herself and inanimate objects reveal just how much she has come to dehumanize herself. She explicitly states that she does not see herself as being something that is born. This is not the result of her living life as normal; in fact, it is the result of Gilead’s conditioning. She is belittling herself and viewing herself as a tool because of that psychological cruelty, and it is working to the government’s advantage. A more direct look at the dehumanization of the people would be the wall that displays corpses to the public. Offred walks by this wall routinely alongside another handmaid, and at one point she describes the corpses as “hanging, by the necks… their heads in white bags.” These corpses are not hung there for people to pay their respects. If they were, they would have been hung without bags covering their faces. Because Offred’s description suggests that no one can tell who the hanging people are, and because the bodies are kept up to be seen, this scene implies that the corpses are tools. They don’t mean anything to the government personally, so they are kept up in public to serve as a reminder of what could happen to the people of Gilead if they do not follow their rules. A reminder that the government is the one with the power over the people. This gory reminder is dehumanizing the people who hang on the wall, and it is psychologically torturing the people of Gilead into submission.

    Cruelty is a weapon, and the government in The Handmaid’s Tale makes use of it to ensure that the people of Gilead cooperate with their structure. While the damage it causes is not physical, psychological cruelty is just as dangerous, and this is evident in the way women are conditioned and dehumanized so that they are under complete control of the government as nothing more than tools.

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Little Knight

Summary: This is an introduction to a character from a book that I am writing as a personal project! I wanted it to be detailed enough to get an idea of what he is like without being too specific because I do plan on posting more about him and about the world he lives in. 

     The little knight could not recall the last time he felt a sense of pride swell in his chest so large he swore his heart would burst. Only now did he understand that this feeling was among the first to truly make a smile spread wide across his face as Her Majesty pulled the little knight for an embrace.

     The youngest knight (19 among knights in their early 30s) was assigned as a guard to protect his queen. Initially, he had been shocked. He had looked around at the faces of his peers, all much older than he was. They were not exactly pleased. An array of different Empirians who had trained longer than he had been alive, and he was chosen. This was no accident. The little knight possessed abilities like no other.

     One moment he could soar with wings as large as the clouds that would come in a storm. Wild and with gray scales glimmering beneath the light of two suns, he could feel the cool Empirian breeze lift him through the sky without a care in the world. The next moment he could curl up in the linen folds of a shirt pocket with large eyes and even larger ears with short brown fur brushing against the skin of his tiny paws. These full-body transformations were limitless and they came easy to him.

     He adored his job. He adored the peace that came when being a knight. There was hardly ever anything life-threatening that would come to them. It was mostly physical training and saving the Empirians that had gotten themselves into unlucky situations. Most of the little knight’s days were spent wielding a sword or hurdling a spear through the air. If he woke up early enough, he would get the chance to practice with a bow and arrow. Nothing much else happened. Any and all more important issues were solved by sending out the older and more experienced knights-- even if they could only transform into one other animal (two if they were lucky). 

     Then came a day where he had been summoned to the castle. He did not know why; the little knight wasn’t anything particularly special save for the ability he possessed. 

     Whispers of a new queen made their way around the palace grounds five years ago. The Living Empire had not seen a monarch for approximately fifteen years, and here was this small girl with short, round ears and young eyes. She was not yet grown, but she was due for a coronation.

     The little knight had not seen her until now. The first thing he had noticed was that she was trembling. Dark bags marked the skin underneath her eyes, and her gaze was trained on him despite her figure being far smaller than his own. The High Council explained to him that he was assigned to be her personal guard, and he would accompany her across the multiverse from then on. She was no longer safe by herself regardless of how safe her destination was, and his ability that no other Empirian possessed.

     So here stood the little knight, beaming and filled to the brim with anticipation. This was an honor far greater than anything he had ever experienced. And then Her Majesty the Queen pulled him towards her and held him in her arms. With her own power, she read she could count on him, and she was relieved that she would be with someone like her: too young for such a grand job yet too powerful to be anything but different from their peers.

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The Prophecy of Empiria

Summary: I am writing a book series for fun, and for this book series I have needed to do a lot of worldbuilding. The plot revolves around this prophecy (click ‘keep reading’):

One soul split in two

Neither piece incomplete

Both possessors in different realms

Sharing synchronized heartbeats

Born at the same moment in time they were

Forced to share a destiny

One must claim the Empirian throne

And the other fall prey to devilry

A soul of light and one of dark

Balanced will the multiverse be

And after a love that conquers hate

Empiria will find harmony

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Teamless Hero

This is just a piece of creative prose for a personal project I have with a few of my friends! 

Summary:  Psyke is enduring the aftermath of her team, the Five, breaking up. (click ‘keep reading’)

     Psyke was not Psyke. Well, she was still physically herself, yes, but she was different now. At this moment, she was frantically trying to piece herself together. Again, not physically. 

     One new thing she had just learned is that it is very difficult to stealthily compose yourself when you live with the people you are trying to maintain a facade for. This is because while you feel alone-- while the whole world seems to isolate you-- you still do not have a moment to yourself. Not if you believe your sole purpose is to love and help others.

     She was doing this to herself, of course. Frantically trying to slow her breaths and to calm her drumming heart in the safety of her room, she sat all alone. A light softly glowed from her nightstand miles and miles away. Ah. It was Wes.

     “are you coming over soon? My moms are trying to make enchiladas but uh. you know how good mama cara is at cooking :CRINGE:”

     Psyke mused at the text notification that popped up on her watch. For a brief moment she felt a flutter of happiness as though she were back to who she was before, but that feeling quickly dissipated as she remembered why she was sitting alone, basking in the darkness of her room in the first place.

     A pit was growing in the back of her mind. You see, before Psyke was who she is now, she was a considerably happier young teenage girl. She was one who fought crime alongside her closest companions. A hero who did charity work and ran fundraisers for nonprofit organizations purely to make up for the damage her telekinetic abilities caused whenever a battle occurred. She’d be able to naturally talk for hours about whatever interested her with whoever who would listen. Banter with villains. Picnics with friends. Talk shows and interviews. That person was gone now.

     Then, prior to that Psyke, she was nothing other than average. Average in quite literally every way. Her days were only filled with what school would offer (mostly homework and sleepless nights) and the occasional event with a few friends every so often. Psyke’s biggest problem during that era (prior to receiving her powers) was how she was going to cram study for both math and history on the same night.

     Then came a thoughtless action. A simple swig of an unknown substance was all it took for her to develop the telekinetic abilities she utilized to become a successful hero. The abilities she used to fight alongside her four best friends. Of course, now, things were different.

     A couple of deaths and an argument later, the team separated. Psyke did her best to limit herself from taking a side, but she was ultimately devastated by the entire situation. Oh, she loved her friends dearly. Luminary was off the map, both Redacted and Havoc were distant in their rooms, and Unassailant was… somewhere. They were somewhere. Where was Unassailant?

     Psyke’s head began to pound just as a hammer would on an anvil. Constant. Relentless. Where was her friend?

     Somewhere along the way, she must have lost track. Not a very Psyke thing to do. Then again, spiraling wasn’t a very Psyke thing to do. Not this badly, at least. 

     You see, Psyke liked to take burdens and put them in boxes. Her mind was nothing more than a storage bunker. Rows upon rows of boxes sitting in the cold, dark space, all collecting dust. She organized these boxes mostly by importance. How long would it take to solve this issue? How much of an obstacle is it? Who is this issue affecting? These questions made her life easier. She would not touch the boxes when she was busy. 

     But she has not been busy. Not involuntarily. Before, she had school, the team, crime fighting-- the stuff she could not say no to. Now she was sat in her room, trying to peel herself away from her bedsheets. If she is not busy, she has to look into the boxes, and she did not want to do that. Even if the boxes were beginning to spill open.

     A box for the fight. A box for her skin being torn through. A box for the separation. A box for the isolation. A box for the growing anxiety. A box for her lack of motivation. It would all be washed away as soon as she walked out the door to her room.

     ‘Slip notes for Redacted. Send a good night text to Luminary-- let her know you hope she is okay. Bake for Delly. Grab a meal for Havoc. Clean the living room and bathrooms so your friends don’t have to. Send something funny to Unassailant so they know you’re thinking of them. Bring your dishes to Wes. Exchange everything for a couple of smiles. Give your love out the best you can so that you will be busy. They have to know you love them.’

     The boxes were cracking, unraveling. She could not stop shivering. Her chest ached. Psyke stared into the void, lost. A shaky hand reached out to the phone miles and miles away. She pulled it close, and her fingers tapped against the screen. A text to Wes.

     “No worries! I’ve got you. I’m on my way. :)”

[empiiriya]

Here is a one pager for Fences that I made a while back!!

[empiiriya]

POV: Psyke just saved you while you were getting mugged