#BUT this is how i do it now. recently i took a figure drawing class that was specifically about anatomy and specific bones and muscles etc

[blueskittlesart]

hey! i love your zelink art. i was wondering if you could show a guide to how you draw bodies? (specifically link and zelda). i’m rlly bad at anatomy so any visual guide would be amazing.

thank you!

here's roughly how i do it :) hope this helps!

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 17]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Heavily Implied Animal Cruelty (Lab Rats), Mild Body Horror, Implied Anxiety, Implied Depression, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 9.0K

(17/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: I told y'all it wasn't going to take long this time LOLOLOL although no promises for the next one, classes are ramping up a bit so I cranked this one out before I got on that grind lolol but, as always, I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This series is originally by@fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2022

The silence was tense. No one dared to say a single word and, while you usually enjoyed moments like these, the sound of the papers in your hand being the only noise in a room filled with six people was unnerving at best. A few hours ago you had finished the physical examination with Dr. Bronte and at your request the tests were expedited, with the recent attacks, you couldn’t afford to sit still. You tapped the corner of the map with your pen, watching the inkblot the paper under it. In your hands was a rough drawing of the kingdom and all of its military bases, you had circled the ones that were decimated by the attacks and you’d annotated the remaining ones with how many Knights were assigned there. The map was filled with scribbles and flaws, but the information was still readable. The sudden decrease in Knights was a whole other problem you’d been pushing to the side, and the Knighthood was spread thin as a result. All of the key players were moved to the Capital to surround the Royal family while the newer recruits were sent to the further sections.

Despite this, you could just barely make out the hushed conversations.

“Is that really…?” Dick’s voice was quiet, trained.

“Yeah, it has to be, it is,” Damian’s, natural.

“But you saw her on the field, it hasn’t been that.…”

“You don’t…”

“But I do, if no one else, I do…”

“Where’s Jason? I’m sure…”

‘It’s just… something isn’t right.”

You took a deep breath and focused. Keeping your hands busy to avoid suspicion, their voices became clearer.

“Some things just aren’t adding up,” Dick mutters. “Why and how are the major things.”

“Of course those wouldn’t make sense, Grayson.”

“Bruce, what do you think? You’ve been quiet this whole time,” Dick probes.

“There’s not enough information, we’re missing too much of the big picture,” he answers, his gaze matching yours for a second before breaking. Would it kill them to just ask you? You were right there. But you couldn’t blame them, a family of detectives, it’s only natural that they want to save their pride and solve the case that is you before you could even figure it out yourself.

“Hey, if you’re done hyper-analyzing me can one of you toss me those painkillers?” You asked loudly.

“Yeah, here,” Dick grabs the bottle from the shelf and hands it to you. “What dose are you supposed to take?” You ignored him, opened the bottle, and took the whole thing. “(Y/N)!”

“Relax, bird boy,” you waved him off and closed your eyes, the pain finally subsiding. You’d been ignoring it since you woke up, but it messed with your focus too much. You weren’t too much of a fan of them, expectedly once they wore off you felt like you were in more pain than before. But this was a new kind of pain, you think, it felt like everything was threatening to rip open at the seams if they weren’t already. “It’ll take nine of these to make any effect,” you reassured him. “I wonder if the lingering effects of the serum have anything to do with this,” you thought aloud.

“We’re not analyzing you, (Y/N), we’re just trying to find out how this is possible.”

“Little sister almost dies again and still her family ignores her, fun.”

“(Y/N),” Dick’s voice takes a new tone and you turned away from him. You didn’t relax again until you noticed him return to the others.

“Some family reunion,” you scoffed quietly, spinning the pen in your hands while you skimmed over the map in your lap and the pages of survey notes in your other. In a world filled with technological marvels, old habits still seemed to die hard, memories of the stacks and piles of papers in your room came back to you, painstakingly recreated and re-detailed notes from your classes and constant observations and findings from your research, some would call have called that the lowest point of your life. Even now, to avoid their whispers and stares, you buried yourself with work.

~

2018

The alarm clock ticked menacingly in your room, a constant reminder of upcoming due dates and the steady yet glaringly short amount of time. You bounced your pen on your thigh while looking at the spread of loose papers pinned to the cork in front of you. Mathematic equations have been written, crossed out, marked over, scribbled through, and rewritten across a canvas of loose pages with haphazard arrows and messily drawn circles around key information, and even then some were violently crossed out with red ink. Sticky notes littered with barely legible writing were sometimes pinned or taped in place. But you couldn’t toss anything out, what if a previous calculation was correct and you had tossed it out on accident? No way, and so those papers were gathered in a stack lining the floor underneath the board.

You were so close to cracking the formula, you were certain. With no reasonable way to ask Bane about the concoction himself, you were stuck in a cycle of trial and error, a secretive one, that only your professor knew about and approved. To your lab colleagues you were studying stem cell regeneration and repurposing, but in truth, your search for a new and improved serum was at a standstill. Maybe you should have just bit the bullet and accepted the grotesque body trauma that came with drinking the serum, but… 

“Maybe if I adjust this amount…” you muttered quietly, running through the quick calculations in your head.

You didn’t want to be a monster.

You’re not one. You’re different. You had to look the part of the hero. You had to match the legacy somehow if you truly were going to go through this. You could argue day and night about your noble intentions but that wouldn't detract from what everyone would see on the surface. You had to be sure. You had to be perfect. And, most of all, you had to have the insurance.

“But then I’d have to account for the-” your head snapped to the window of your room, causing Tim, in his Red Robin uniform, to pause his movements.

“You look… bad,” he says, a look of concern settling on his features.

“Ever heard of knocking, Tim?” You know you said he could drop by whenever he wanted, he was more than welcome always, but you weren’t expecting him to actually do it. At least, not after that nasty fight with your dad. And definitely through your front door.

“Sorry, sis, uh… I brought a snack if you want some?” He pulls his mask off and shows you the paper bag. You could only sigh at the telltale grumble of your stomach.

“Sure, let’s eat in the kitchen,” you left the room first and he stepped into your room, closing and locking the window behind him. He took a brief pause, a small moment, to look at the state of your mind. On top of your dresser was a line of emptied coffee mugs and energy drinks, some showing signs of having been there for weeks and some brand new. Your bed wasn’t made, but that wasn’t a new from the manor. Aside from the general stuffiness of the room, there was the modest wall plug to combat it, but it paled to the pile of unfolded clothes piled up on your desk chair.

Your desk. Tim looked at the large corkboard in front of it.

What were all those calculations for? He knew you to be an exceptional student, a brilliant one actually, but he couldn’t figure out what was in front of him. Not with your handwriting, and not with how the information was laid out. Only you could’ve understood your own madness.

Worse than the corkboard had to be the stacks of paper. They were all on the floor, but why was it that the shortest stack was as tall as he was? He pulled the first paper from the top and skimmed over it, but his eyebrows scrunched together. It was just… scribbles. Whatever was on it before was indiscernible now. But, he swears, he could see the faint outline of a bat in the scribbles.

“Tim? What’s the holdup?” You called him out and with one last glance, a quick and well-calculated grab of all your mugs, Tim walked out of your room.

“What’s with the freak calculations?” You watched Tim place all your mugs in the sink before sitting down.

“CAPSTONE Thesis, why?” You finished cleaning out one of your many mugs and placed it in front of Tim, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into it.

“Real funny, (Y/N),” Tim snorts when he sees the Robin-themed mug.

“It’s a collectible!” You defended. Tim looks into the mug for a moment.

“Did you need any help with your thesis? I have a lot of free time these days,” he says.

“No, all good, I want the satisfaction of saying it was all my work,” you told him. “You’re all amazing, don’t get me wrong, and I appreciate all of your help, but I want this to be my thing, you know?” You explained and Tim could only nod. “I just…” you look at your mug now, Tim notices the dried coffee drips along the sides of it and the chip on it’s rim. Tim looked at his mug and noted that it was pristine. “I want to have something like all of you. Dick’s the acrobat, Jason’s the man of the people, you’re probably the smartest kid in the world, and Damian… well, he’s still trying to figure his thing out other than ‘the product of his upbringing,’ I just want to have something other than ‘the normal one.’” You explained. He didn’t realize it until now, but the dark circles under your eyes almost made you look dead.

“I mean… you are the named heir to Wayne Enterprise,” Tim says.

“Were,” you corrected.

“Are,” he corrects you again. “Bruce can’t be mad at you forever, (Y/N).”

“I know, Tim, but…” You hesitated. “It was bad,” you didn’t say anything more.

No one was there. No one saw or heard the argument. It was just you and him. He didn’t talk about it, and you didn’t talk about it either. You’d never argued like that before, it was so intense it almost didn’t seem like it was him and when he wore that fucking cowl he’d might as well be a stranger to you, hell, that night he basically was. Never had you argued like that, and never had he spoken to you in that way. But you knew that recently it was just argument after argument between the two of you, and usually one or the other would give up and settle. But this time?

Nothing. Radio silence on both ends. You shouldn’t have instigated the way you did. Now so much more was on the line than just your name.

“It’s been a month.”

“Has it?” You looked at your phone. It has. Barbara’s swearing-in ceremony was coming up soon. It was on the same day as your thesis presentation and you’d long told Barbara that you wouldn’t be able to make it. You had plans the next day for a girls’ trip with her, Steph, and Cass after though.

“You know… Alfred still sets a plate for you.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“You’re welcome to come back,” Tim says carefully. You don’t answer, instead, you begin tapping the bottom of your phone against the counter, which is enough of a sign that you weren’t going to answer.

“Is that a new phone?” Tim asks.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I left the old one at home and figured I’d get myself a new one before I got cut off,” you half-joked with him.

“Can I see it?” You handed it to him, unlocked, and he seemed to tinker with it for a short while before handing it back to you. “I added the distress call app on it,” he says.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you looked at the app on your screen, the icon sporting Barbara’s famous insignia on it.

“What do you mean? Of course, I had to,” he says. “Did you want me to bring your phone here?”

“No, it’s fine, that data’s not important anyway. I’ll just drop by in a couple days to get the last of my things. I didn’t want to go earlier while I was still royally pissed off,” you mumbled. Tim hummed quietly. He looked at your hands, it was evident that you’d been chewing on your fingernails. 

‘That’s new,’ he thought.

“Stop it.” Your voice cut through the silence like a knife. Tim blinked out of his thoughts and shook his head.

“I’m sorry?” He looked at you now and felt his heart stop. Had he ever seen your expression like that before? What was it? Fear? Concern? Shock?

… Anger?

You shook your head, running your hand down the side of your face.

“Sorry, I’m just tired,” you muttered. You grabbed the bag he brought and pulled out its contents. “And… hungry.”

“Yeah,” Tim looked down. “Are you sure you’re okay, sis?”

“I’ll be fine.” You took the empty mugs and stacked them in the sink. “I think you should go now, Tim. These deadlines… they’re catching up, you know? I love you, I do, but…”

“No, I get it, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tim stumbles off the stool. “Just… let me know if you need anything too.”

“Sure.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Then it’s likewise.” You stood up and opened the door for him and he stood at the doorway for a while.

“I’m fine, Tim, really I am, you don’t have to worry about me,” you repeated. “So stop studying me. I hate it when you guys do that.” You finally said it. You knew he’d been doing it since he got here, that’s why he spent so long in your room, why he was so quiet while you were preparing coffee, and even why he’d asked for your phone. You grew up with this kid, you knew exactly how his mind worked, and yet you could easily tell that he couldn’t read you at all.

Good, to some extent, at least one of your mother’s teachings has stuck with you past these years.

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” he was quick to defend.

“I know. Just be aware of it now,” you held your hand out to stop him. “Bye, Tim.” You closed the door and he heard the locks fasten. He stood a while longer, wondering if he should knock or come back around the window.

He had to, just a quick glance. The way you paced your room, the way you stacked papers and tore them off the wall, it was like you were in a manic state. What were you trying so hard to find out? All this over a thesis? Just what did you and Bruce argue about so much that it left you like this? Again, he is pulled from his thoughts by a sudden sound. He looked up into the window and saw your disappointed face.

“Go home.” He couldn’t hear your voice through the window, but it was clear enough what you said. You pulled the blinds down and he jumped down the fire escape. He looked at his phone, a text chime coming in at almost too perfect a time.

‘How is she?’ A text from Bruce Wayne.

‘Fine, working on her thesis.’

‘Did you tell her to come home?’ Tim stared at the message. Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why go through the trouble of having a middleman?

‘She’ll drop by to grab her things later.’ And the conversation ended there. There was this strange feeling in his chest. Dick couldn’t convince you to come home, Jason didn’t agree with forcing you to come back when you clearly didn’t want to, and Barbara was too busy focusing on everything else and could only offer her support in other ways. Maybe it was too prideful of him to think that it would’ve been his words that convinced you to come back.

Or, maybe the falling out was just that bad.

~

2022

“Could I help you out?” Tim chimed next to you, pulling up a chair and waiting expectantly. You shifted so he could see the map.

“It’s already done, but I can walk you through it. Knight allocation. Right now we have to keep the castle fortified, so that means all of us in the Brigade and our usual squadrons. As a result, we have this number left to move around,” you pointed at the numbers as you explained. “I was planning on dispersing them evenly, but with new intel for predicted daemon attacks, I want to fortify those military bases more.”

“Makes sense,” Tim nods. “In that case, these inner forts can be kept at a minimum,” he points at them. 

“That’s the plan,” you scribbled in numbers. “It’s not ideal though. With everyone dying no one wants to enlist anymore,” You sighed.

“A couple people went home already,” Damian adds. You leaned back on your hospital bed, staring at the muted news feed above you.

Captain Wayne Hospitalized. Brigade on Standby.

Standby? Whoever said that? You were working them half to death trying to find anything on these monsters.

“How do you feel, (Y/N)?” It was still such a foreign feeling to hear Bruce talk to you.

“Fine,” you answered him while placing the clipboard on the side table. “I know you have questions, I see the cogs turning, so just ask me already.”

“It’s… it’s not that we’re trying to theorize, sis, we’re trying to find out what to ask first.” Tim to the rescue. “We have no idea where to start.”

“Let me say the basics then,” you crossed your arms. “I died in 2019. Official cause of death was severe blood loss. I woke up here, somewhat together and sitting in the middle of a field. Shortly after I was found by a couple, around the same age as you, Bruce. The woman was a baker and the man was the then Captain of the Knights. After a few months of them helping me get back on my feet, I wanted to repay their gratitude. I either worked for their bakery, or I put my near decade of observing all of you to good use. I went with the latter, joined that year’s class of cadets, took three advancement exams, and now I’m here as one of the leading captains of the knights.” You gave the facts only, that’s all they needed. “After my third advancement, the royal family handed out “blessings” to those who survived the advancement, enhanced powers that were supposed to help us out in the field. It’s why you’ve seen Carter make fire from nothing, Alex pull people from themselves, it takes a great deal of energy since they’re synthesized, but in last-ditch efforts, they’re quite helpful. But to avoid droning on about the theory of it, I’ll stop there.” You leaned back now, waiting for them to ask anything.

“So that skill of yours.”

“Not reattachment,” you shook your head. “That was because of some weird black magic shit that Alex cast so I wouldn’t die during my last advancement mission. Apparently, it was royal decree so he couldn’t say no,” you looked at the scars on your wrist. Maybe you were just imagining it, but they seemed to be stretching, as if you were falling apart at the seams.

“So then…” Damian now. “What is your ability?”

“Control over—”

“Captain?” There is a soft knock at the door before it slides in. Marion and Dr. Bronte enter swiftly, the former holding a grim expression, ending the conversation prematurely. “We have your results,” she says while handing the chart to Dr. Bronte. His head shifts slightly, acknowledging everyone in the room.

“They can stay,” you assured him. He responds with a nod. “Everyone, who hasn’t met him, this is Dr. Bronte. He’s been my primary care since landing here.” Bruce extends a hand out to him.

“I’m her father,” he introduces. Marion clears her throat awkwardly when Dr. Bronte makes no moves.

“You’ll have to excuse him, Mr. Wayne. Because of the accident, he prefers not to come into contact with strangers,” she explains.

“Understandable,” he steps back just as Marion moves to be next to you.

“How are the wounds?” You looked under your hospital gown.

“Healed, but with no sign of reattachment.” 

“Could I see your hand?” She asks. You stretch your arm out and she gently grasps your arm just above the scars. She brushes over them carefully and observes their connecting points. Dr. Bronte and Marion share a look, and she places a semi-spherical device on your lap. In seconds, it buzzes to life showing an array of images.

“We took a few samples from the open wounds earlier, Cap,” she starts. “These are the videos of your reattachment abilities from your previous physical after we added a shallow cut to your palm. Notice how the red blood cells and your skin cells stretch to cover and compensate for the lost ones while some reach out toward stray drops like magnets, and at the same time notice how fast the platelets react to the injury and cauterize the cut. This next video shows how fast the surrounding skin cells interweave together to close the wound.” This was all information you already knew, but your siblings seemed to listen carefully in their own ways. “Now, these are your current labs. There are no sudden increases in RBC count and the cauterization process is now at an average speed. But, there is a sudden decrease in overall cell activity. A majority of your cells have gone into a stage known as autolysis, they’re breaking down at a rapid rate which is causing the delays in your reattachment.” The video plays as she explains it.

“So, I’m a normal person now,” you tried to put it in layman’s terms.

“Not necessarily, autolysis at this rate doesn’t occur until…” she trails off and Dr. Bronte clears his throat.

“The open wounds, they’re specifically centered around those existing scars you had before entering the Knighthood,” Dr. Bronte steps in and you nod to confirm the information. “To put things bluntly, you’ve entered a state of decomposition, Captain Wayne.” 

Now this caught your attention.

Decomposition?

“So she’s a zombie?!” Dick was the one to break the silence.

“You could say that, yes,” the masked doctor nods. “Ironically, it was that chemical that almost ripped your body apart that’s saving you right now, Captain,” Dr. Bronte hands you a small box and, upon opening it, you found several small vials of the βα-V serums you’d so painstakingly researched and, later, painstakingly ingested. 

“Just like you had intended, βα-V compound is inherently an enhancer. While you had ingested it, the rate of cell division increased ten-fold and the rush of it all is what sustained your adrenaline levels for so long. If you hadn’t taken it, then it’s no exaggeration to say that you’d be counted among the casualties of that attack,” Marion explains. “So, Dr. Bronte and I ran the calculations and separated what we had left into these dosages. Twice a day, consistent, and twelve hours in between. I’m not completely sure yet, but my fear is that those old scars will start opening again without it, I’d rather err on the safe side,” Marion advises. “You’re going to need this,” she hands you a syringe and you let out a small laugh. “Injection straight into the bloodstream is advised over ingestion.”

“Got it,” you took one of the vials and loaded it into the syringe. You lined the needle against one of your veins and pressed it into your skin. “Should I do it quickly or gradually?”

“Whichever you’re comfortable with,” Dr. Bronte answers. You ripped off the bandaid and pushed the entirety of its contents into you, pulling the empty syringe out and wrapping it in a tissue. You watched the green appear for moments before dissolving into your bloodstream.

“I’ll have the remaining syringes sent to your office, Captain.” She takes the syringe and disposes it into the proper bin. “We’ll run a few more labs now that you’ve started the treatment and we’ll continue to monitor your cell count. You’re welcome to continue doing your duties as Captain, but you need to dial it back. The βα-V serum isn’t as effective when your body is in shambles.”

“Right, right,” you sighed and looked at the vials in your lap and handed it to Marion. “Leave this there too then, please,” you told her.

“Do you have any theories why you’ve stopped reattaching, Captain?” Marion asks. “Anything at all. Any changes to your daily life? Exposure to dangerous chemicals?”

“Nothing has changed except for the fact that there are now destructive monsters destroying the continent,” you answered. That and… You looked around the room.

Them. But they couldn’t have caused this, right? You were certain that there weren’t any meta-viral strands you had to be wary of from your original earth, but in terms of changes they’d have to be the only ones.

“If you can come up with anything at all, Captain, let me know immediately,” Marion says.

“Of course,” you nodded and Dr. Bronte stood up.

“We’ll take our leave,” he says with a stiff salute. Marion responds in kind and you dismiss them.

Again the room falls into silence, and luckily it didn’t last long.

“Captain, brought you a pick me up,” Alex enters the room with Constantine, handing you your drink and placing the rest on the table. “There’s some for everyone, feel free to help yourselves,” he says. 

“Reeks of magic all over the place,” Constantine exasperates. “For somewhere that relies so much on tech, seems like magic’s just as important.”

“They are warring factions,” you hummed, thinking back to the war that had embroiled the continent just a few years ago. “Well, how’s the search?” You asked Constantine.

“Your daemons might be magic,” Constantine answers. You drank your coffee.

“Better than nothing,” you sighed and handed another paper to Alex. “That’s next month’s assignments, since you’re acting Captain I’ll trust you to disperse everyone,” you said.

“Certainly,” Alex nods. “Sorry to contribute to the crowd, I’ll leave after discussing one more thing with you,” he says.

“It’s fine, just ask away,” your hand gestured toward him.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You paused your movements and looked at him.

The whole time they’ve been here, they haven’t spoken to you once aside to ask why, and there they were in their little corner filled with questions that you probably had the answers to, and yet they still didn’t ask you. That wall that separated you from them, after all these years, it was still there. Higher than ever. Even if Tim was sitting right next to you, even if Damian was sleeping next to you just minutes earlier.

You’re still a stranger to them, and they to you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I should be asking you, you look horrible, should I ask Henry to fill in more?”

“Please, Henry can’t do half of what we do. I’ll take a day off tomorrow though if all’s in order.” Despite his reassurance, your worries only grew. The dark circles under his eyes, the hallowed cheeks, and the overall sallowness worried you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so drained, actually, he almost looked dead. And here you were, properly rested and looking more alive than ever disregarding the worrisome scars. And it wasn’t just you either, you could see the way Constantine noticed your worry, and you could tell he felt the same.

“Granted,” you finally answered. “Anyway, isn’t there a rule about how many people can come in during visitation?” You asked aloud.

“Doesn’t apply to family,” Alex answers. The door slid open again with a slam and this time your poor assistant came in.

“Cap, it’s an emergency,” he looks around with frenzied eyes, “the Colonel's back and he’s—”

“Where is she?!” A voice boomed down the hospital corridors and, somehow, it seemed to shake the very walls. “I swear to fucking god if she’s missing any body part I’ll destroy the lot of you! The fuck kind of report is this anyway?! Captain Wayne in critical condition, don’t make me fucking laugh, she reattaches faster than I can even say the goddamn word, how badly must you all have fucked up for her not to?!”

“Oh god, here comes the cavalry, open the window for me, Aldryn,” you shook your head just as a new person entered the room. An overbearing aura fills the small space in an instant, it's the same feeling one would feel when they realized they’re outclassed, outnumbered, or outplanned. And the only thing that changed was the addition of this one individual. Then again, it was understandable. Anyone who marched into a hospital room covered in blood, riddled with scars, and with a just lit cigarette would be shocked.

“Beat it, Aldryn,” the man juts his thumb over his shoulder and the other rushes out. “Jesus Christ,” the Colonel grimaces while putting the cigarette out in a nearby potted plant, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he shifts his weight onto one leg and looks at the state of you. “Been a while since you had to stay in a hospital room.”

“Colonel MacLennan,” the nurse finally catches up with him, “visitation… is full,” she huffs. He holds his hand up and gently urges her out of the room.

“I’ll be in and out.” He takes the liberty of closing the door. The Colonel was originally away on another continent for a foreign aid mission and recently returned back after its conclusion, however, despite his distance he had also been keeping an eye on the monster problem. “So, what the hell happened? Tell me the good part so I know what to tell Claire, then tell me the bad part so I can find out how to kill the bastards.”

“Oh, yeah, your rifle was so helpful,” you scoffed. And just like that the tension broke.

“The hell do you mean?!”

“Go figure bullets don’t work on mutated monsters.” You pick up the clipboard back up and feign boredom.

“That rifle saved thousands of lives in the war!”

“And yet it hasn’t taken a single one since its reinstatement.”

“You little,” Allistor takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you, you see your old mate after years and you don’t say anything?” He turns to Constantine.

“You looked like you were busy,” he raises his hands in turn and you push yourself off of bed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” different voices chimed and you found yourself being pushed back down by Tim.

“We still don’t know how your body is reacting to the chemicals, take it easy,” Tim advises you.

“Actually, I think I might be the only one who knows how it reacts,” you corrected. “Relax, I just wanted to sit up is all,” you brushed him off and adjusted the pillow behind you. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, it wasn’t an injury to warrant a return to the Capital.”

“Of course I had to come back, did a daemon hit you over the head so hard you forgot how to take care of yourself?!”

“You couldn’t have at least, I don’t know, showered before coming in? You’re going to attract minor monsters here, you know.”

“Like you couldn’t just step on them and have it over with,” he argues. “Have you even seen the mission report?” Allistor grimaces. “It was gruesome, that’s what it was, you know I’m still your guardian, right? What would I be if I didn’t check on you after reading that,” he shakes his head. “Anyway, why the hell’s this room so stuffy, it’s crowded in here,” he complains.

“You could say that again,” you groaned. “Allistor, this is my family. My older brother Dick, my younger brothers Tim and Damian, and the man who raised me, Bruce,” you pointed at each of them as you introduced them. “Family, this is my boss, Allistor MacLennan,” you introduced him last. “Apparently you know Constantine already so there’s no need to introduce him.”

“We shared a drink a few years ago,” Constantine corrects.

“An oversimplification of what happened, but whatever. What’s your prognosis?” Allistor presses. “Your boss who took you into his family is worried,” he snarks back.

“What do you think? Bedrest until my body reattaches properly again,” you grumbled, looking down at the stitched wounds along your scars. “You can tell Claire that I’m fine, she doesn’t have to come over too.”

“Christ, kid,” Allistor drags a tired hand down his face. “You really know how to make someone worry. I only approved that weird chemical you and Mary were working on because I thought it gave you something to do outside of training, I didn’t expect it to put you in a hospital bed,” he says.

“So you’re pulling funding from it?” You asked.

“No, it’s too far in development anyway,” he shakes his head. “Plus, looks like you’ll be needing more of it now.” The conversation dies out, and you finish your cup of coffee in the meantime.

“Any other questions?” You ask him.

“No, I’ll leave now that I’ve seen you in one piece,” he says. “Alex, take a few days, you look like you’re about to keel over there. I can pick up any of (Y/N)’s tasks.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” Allistor looks around the room one last time. “About that thing you asked, Alex.”

“Hm?”

“You were right. Cosmo never returned his watch.” You looked up from the clipboard now. Then you turned to Alex. It wasn’t Constantine he called that day. “Makes sense, he went straight to the first subjugation from his mission in E-34. And since there was no body to recover the watch never made it back either.”

“I see, thank you,” he nodded.

“Yeah, but… Figured I’d mention it now since I would’ve told (Y/N) anyway,” Allistor rubbed the back of his head harshly. “But don’t take it as an invitation. (Y/N), don’t poke your nose into anything too dangerous.” 

“I know,” you answer him in a way to cut the topic and Allistor catches on easily. “Just quit nagging and go already, Aldryn will give you the rundown.”

“Would you rather me nag or Claire?”

“This whole thing is going to drive me insane,” you slammed the clipboard on the table and Alex sighed.

“Want me to keep looking into any dimension fluxes?”

“If you could, that would be helpful, do it after your break,” you told him. ‘When did you ask the Colonel to look into Cosmo’s gear?”

“After Damian landed here. There’s no other way to get into this dimension without it so I figured that one of them had to be missing, but it still doesn’t add up,” he answers. You took the tablet now and opened a file. A debrief projects and you turn it so your siblings could see it. 

“Allow me to explain. If you haven’t noticed, the knights primarily work in trios. There were six of us in the Brigade until the daemon attacks started. The first time we ran into a mutated daemon was on the outskirts of the town Helio, where frequent wildfires had been reported. All six of us went, but we got too cocky, didn’t have a good plan against a daemon we had no info on, and so one of us stayed behind to fight. Fire took everything, all that was left behind was a necklace and a sword,” you explained. “We assumed the watch melted in the fire, they’re not very heat resistant, you see, even Carter has to be mindful of his temperature with the newer models. So your theory is that someone got their hands on Cos’ watch and now they’re wreaking havoc,” you finish with a question and Alex answers with a nod. 

“It’s all I have to work with,” he says. Tim looks over the details carefully.

“Sounds right to me, but you know more than us in this situation, (Y/N),” Dick says. “All I can tell you is how we found it in the first place.”

“I’ll take anything.”

“I assumed it was yours only because it was on your seat after you left,” Tim says. “But now that I think about it, there’s no way I can know if someone dropped it off while I was knocked out, and your friends made sure to cut all the cameras during your escape too so we can’t even fall back on that.”

“I see.”

“For what it’s worth, it’s the same watch that sent us here too,” Tim adds on.

“Do you still have it?”

“No, Zee zapped it to the manor while she was trying to bring Jason and Tim back,” Constantine answers. “Did you need it?”

“It’d definitely help track who used it last.”

“Hypothetically,” Tim clears his throat.

“Hm?”

“Could it also do that if it was broken?” Tim asks quietly. You blink.

“Which one of you broke it.”

“For the record, I was trying to get it back so we could study it more. I have no clue what Jason wanted it for.”

“Well, there goes the main lead,” you shrugged. “Gotta look around for a different avenue then,” you turned to Alex, who leaned against the table next to you.

Then, for the final time, the door opens.

“Your Highness,” you fixed your expression quickly just as Allistor and Alex stood at attention.

“At ease,” he says, seemingly reading the room quite quickly. “I have a message for you from the Queen,” he looks around. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“Just say it, your highness.”

“You’re ending your bedrest early, your services are required.”

“Does the Queen know her perfect soldier’s not reattaching anymore?”

“You’re not reattaching?” The Prince is shocked.

“Nope, Dr. Bronte wanted me to wait until the wounds are healed over before doing anything intensive,” you explained. “‘Fraid I can’t do work right now.”

“That’s…” the Prince swallows harshly. “It can’t wait,” he says with a more serious tone.

“Look, Your Highness, I know your word is law but what good will (Y/N) be if she worsens her condition,” Alex cuts in. The Prince glares at him and he matches his look. “Whatever it is—”

“The Queen is demanding for the Dark Knight,” Calvin blurts out. Your jaw clenches just as you feel the attention turn to you.

“That’s out of the question. Even for our normal operations we need to be in top condition, going on a special ops mission could put so much strain that I might actually lose a limb.” You chanced a glance at your hand, the scars more prominent than ever.

“Please, you know as well as I do that this is just a formality,” Calvin argues. He looks you over. “You’re fine.” You’ve never heard him take that tone before.

“Take it up with Bronte then,” Allistor argues.

“It’s a royal order.”

“Doctor’s orders can overwrite those if they believe the patient’s health is not in the best interest,” Allistor cited. “How long are you going to argue, Your Highness?”

“Give me a few days then, I’ll report in as soon as I can, and I’m not stupid enough to disregard Dr. Bronte’s diagnosis,” you finally answered. If you said no the Queen would’ve come here herself to tell you to do it anyway, and you didn’t want her crossing paths with your family unless absolutely necessary. As long as you don’t strain yourself too much it should be fine anyway, you think. Calvin seemed to relax at this.

“We’ve sent the details over.”

“Figured. Is there anything else you need, Your Highness?” You open the file on the holoscreen and start to read the details.

“No, that’s all.”

“Actually, perfect timing, Your Highness, I’ll give you the debrief on my mission,” Allistor kicks off the wall and approaches the prince, urging him out of the room. “Top secret stuff, we should leave.”

“Ah, yes—” Allistor shuts the door behind them.

“Is it… is it really just a formality?” Tim asks after a short pause. “You’re really fine?”

“You saw the labs, and you see me now. If anything I should just be more mindful of just tanking my way through enemies,” you say.

“I was just thinking… they haven’t even set up a heart monitor for you, how would they be able to tell if you’re stable?” Tim looks at the unplugged device with its wires wrapped around the base. “I haven’t seen another doctor or nurse walk by aside from the ones who’ve been helping you…”

“Drake, I could use your insight, actually,” Alex interrupts him. “All of you could help, really. It might speed up this whole daemon process faster,” he clears his throat. “You’re outside sources, and Constantine and I are gathering as much information as we can from the daemons, if you’re okay with answering a few questions. Might get you home earlier if we can crack it,” he says.

“Yes, we should focus on the pressing task,” you push yourself up and feel the scars stretching. “Unnff,” you winced and held your hand up, already feeling Tim’s hand hovering behind you. “Just need air, this room’s stuffy,” you moved toward the window and looked outside before settling on its sill. “Anything else you need from me?” You looked around the room.

“Nothing too pressing, Captain,” Alex answers.

“Good, I’ll take my leave too then,” you cleared your throat. It was silent for a moment and you looked down the window before glancing at the clock. You leaned backward and the first person you saw halfway out the window was Dick.

“Are you crazy?!” He shouts.

“Relax! I got her!” Jason shouts under you, catching you easily and setting you down. “I’m not gonna die for helping you break out of hospital jail, right?”

“Nope, let’s go,” you ran off as soon as the door slammed open. You both took off, seeing your motorcycle parked and at the ready.

“Here, you be backpack,” Jason shoved the helmet in your hand and you pushed it back.

“What? No! You be backpack!” Jason pushed the helmet back into your hands.

“Hell no, I’m bigger therefore I need more space.” You groaned and pushed it back to him.

“And I’m shorter therefore it makes more sense for me to be in the front! And you’d have less space in the front!” Jason tries to pull the helmet from your hands and you pull back.

“Womp womp, you’re backpack.”

“It’s my bike!”

“I’m older!”

“Fine! Just give me the helmet!” He tries to tug it harder and you pull back, seeing him lose his footing for a second.

“No! You’re just going to shove it on my head and make me backpack!” 

“When’d you get so strong anyway?!”

“Shut up and let me drive!”

“Busted,” Dick pulled the helmet from between your hands. You and Jason paused.

“Bruce says we’re both hardheaded anyway,” you climbed on the motorcycle and Jason was quick to follow. You revved the engine and left dust in your trail.

“You two, I swear!” Dick shouts from far behind.

“So where are we going anyway?!” Jason shouts over the air.

“Keep your mouth shut, you’ll catch a bug,” you grinned, revving forward and completing your escape.

You read the mission details. You really did have to deal with this now. The daemon problem was bad enough, and you knew that you couldn’t deal with another war on top of that.

~

Earth - 617

“Thank you so much, Cass,” Zatanna smiles as the former hands her a warm mug.

“Sure,” she crosses her arms and continues to watch Zatanna work away.

“I still can’t believe it, was (Y/N) really here?” Barbara asks. “We didn’t even get to see her, I bet those boys said something stupid and chased her out,” she shakes her head. “She… she was really going through it those last few days, I can only imagine how her mind spun when she returned,” she frowns.

“Cass, what do you think?” Stephanie asks. “You were closest to her.”

“I don’t understand why it affected her so much,” Cass mumbles. “Almost all of us aren’t blood-related,” she says, “I don’t understand why she…” she stumbles over her words and falls silent.

“It’s okay Cass, you don’t have to force it,” Steph says.

“Oh! I think I got it!” Zatanna finishes tinkering with the watch and holds it up, the piece now put back together. “The only thing is, I’m not sure if the enchantment on it would still work,” she says, placing it on the console of the bat computer. “I’ll look into it more tomorrow, I don’t want to accidentally trigger it without fully understanding how it works like those other two did.”

“Fair enough,” Barbara nods. She had been trying to send a message to any of the boys’ comms all day but hadn’t had any success. Luckily, her distress signal to the League was answered and soon enough they’d have a few extra support from other heroes in Batman’s absence but she was worried that it wouldn’t be enough. The region was down five vigilantes, and soon enough the villains will take notice.

But the conversation fell on deaf ears. Cass hadn’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened, and it bothered her that nothing made sense about it. She knew that Tim wasn’t the type to let anything suspicious slide, so why did he let you stay for so long without confronting you? Why did you act the way you did? 

“So frustrating…” she muttered, now alone in the bat cave and staring at the mocking watch. True to Zatanna’s words, it had been hastily put back together and looked to be in shape. Whether it worked or not was yet to be seen, however. She picked it up, the chain threading around her hands, and with extreme caution, she opened it up. Just the same as before she saw the layers of clock hands atop a starry watchface. “Hm…” she closed it and turned it around again before focusing on the watch cover. She squints carefully and sees another opening on it and, out of curiosity, she pried it open. This time it sported a normal watch face, well, semi-normal. She pulled up on the attachment and hummed again. Not often you see sundials as big as your hand. But, perhaps even more curious, was the picture on the backside of the cover. A blonde woman who she’d never seen before with a smile as warm as the sun. Handwritten in small print were the words ‘Come home safe, Cosmo.’

“Cosmo, huh?” Cass closes the watch and stares up at the bat computer, watching the figure talking to Damian over and over again. But distractions were just that. Distractions. And soon she once again felt that foreign emotion climb up inside of her. She truly should have tried harder that night three years ago. All of this, all of this had to be some kind of sick karma.

~

2019 - Gotham University

“(Y/N)? What is all this?” Cassandra asked quietly. You stumbled to your feet, dropping the syringe in your hands, then knocking over the other syringes on the lab table to the ground and the shattering glass caused you to jump. Cass looked around the lab, splotches of red on the tables and floors, unknown serums were mixed into beakers, and syringes— so many syringes— in the glass waste cans everywhere.

“Cassie, I didn’t hear you come in,” you picked up the glass from the ground and disposed of it, then you wiped off the blood on your hands while ignoring the fresh drops that came from the small cuts that littered your palms. “Just my thesis, no worries. I’d never seen it get this crazy though,” you laughed quietly. “Then again, rats aren’t exactly supposed to blow up so there’s that too,” you sighed. “What’s wrong?”

Cass freezes in her spot, her mind overwhelmed by all the signals you were throwing at her, signals that just weren’t supposed to come from you. They were so powerful that she could almost feel them herself.

Dilated pupils, shaking hands —> Anxiety

Tense shoulders, clenched jaw —> Stress

Even breathing, controlled movements —> Understanding?

Why were all of your movements conflicting?

Bloodied hands, chipped nails, whitened knuckles —> Stress

Hunched posture, shifting eyes —> Stress

“Cassie?”

Quiet voice.

“Sorry, must look like a crime scene in here.” She watched you pick up the carcasses from the tables and drop them into biohazard. “I must have gotten too excited, I thought I finally cracked the code.” You washed your hands off after scrubbing the blood from the tables. And all the while, Cass watched you.

You scrubbed the blood off the tables so harshly that the pads of your hands lightened from the pressure. You scrubbed them over and over again as if you didn’t know the blood had been cleaned off already. Then you repeated it with your hands.

Conclusion —> Something is very wrong.

“What…” she muttered.

“Hm?” You rubbed the towel over your hands repeatedly.

“What were you about to inject there?” She asks. You shake your head.

“Ah, don’t even worry about it,” you shook your head and tossed the towel before shoving your hands in your labcoat’s pockets. You were lying. You always hid your hands when you lied. “Just a little project, is all. I felt like the syringe wasn’t working so I was testing the tip on myself.”

“Right over your vein?” You fell silent.

“What are you doing here, Cass?” You asked monotonously. “Dick and Tim have already asked me to come home. I won’t. I can’t. Not until I finish this. He won’t let me come back there until I’ve proven myself.”

“Proven what? Come home, (Y/N). What are you doing to yourself?” Cass couldn’t stop it. The signals kept coming. “You’re going to work yourself to death, (Y/N), and for what? You and Bruce fight all the time, just come home and apologize!”

“I’m not in the wrong, Cass! It wasn’t my fault but he kept saying it was!” Your hand smacked your chest now while the other held onto the table for support. “How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t his daughter?!” Your shoulders slumped and Cass’s expression dropped.

“What are you talking about? You’re (Y/N) Wayne.”

“I thought I was too,” your whole body seemed to sink. “How was I supposed to know I was the cuckoo bird…” you mumbled.

“You can’t be talking about that article that came out, (Y/N). That’s just gossip and you know it,” she says.

“I know, I know but I looked into it anyway. You know I always did wonder why I was so ordinary compared to my parents,” you looked at your hands, convinced there was still blood on them. “I know Selina and I aren’t related. She was just the unfortunate soul who my mother found first. But I was so convinced that Bruce was my father that I didn’t even consider the possibility that he wasn’t.”

“Why does that matter, (Y/N)? None of us are his biological children except for Damian.”

“Because…” you mumbled the rest, clutching your head and digging that hand into the roots of your hair to stop the incoming headache.

“Because what?” Cass took careful steps toward you.

“He told me that I couldn’t come home until I proved that I had some value to this family,” your voice was hopeless. “If I’m not a blood Wayne then I have nothing else.”

“I’m sure that’s not…”

“Then why did he say that to me then, Cass?” You squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s too late for me to become a vigilante, I don’t have the time or the luxury for that.”

“What were you planning to do?” Cass looks around the lab again. “(Y/N)?” She knew that the syringe looked oddly green.

“Nothing, I wasn’t going to do anything,” you straightened your posture as if nothing had happened. Carefully, she took another step toward you, and now you stood at arm’s length.

Dark circles, sunken cheeks —> Sleep deprived

Chapped lips, dry eyes —> Dehydrated

Thinned hair, pale skin —> Deficient

“Cass?” Had your voice been so hoarse? She took a step forward and pulled you into her arms. Slowly, you relaxed into them, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you carefully wrapped your own around her. Your hug that was so famously warm was now the opposite, the tightness of it that your family sought after was missing, but the love behind it was still there. “I love my family, Cass. I don’t want to leave you all,” you said into her shoulder.

“Then come home,” she says against your head.

“I can’t.” Cass could feel your tears drop onto her shoulder. “Cass, he won’t let me,” you insisted.

“That doesn’t sound like Bruce,” she says, pulling away just enough to look at you. But soon, and once again, her expression falls when she sees your face.

“I know.”

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435

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@alishii @bluebear142077 @miso-sopas

@enjisthings 

[sosa2imagines]

You, me and Vegas! Part 1

Warnings- Fluff, drunk idiots.

The city of Las Vegas, Nevada is known for its vibrant strip of casinos, hotels, and entertainment venues.

The bright lights, glitzy resorts, and non-stop excitement create an atmosphere that draws people from all walks of life. Whether it's the high-stakes gambling, world-class shows, or luxury dining, Vegas promises an experience unlike any other city.

Bucky Barnes, a man in his mid-thirties, sat at the bar, his steel-blue eyes reflecting the dim lighting of the room. He swirled the glass in front of him, taking a long, slow sip.

His thoughts were heavy, as the recent job loss hung over him like a dark cloud. He was struggling to keep up with the secret and the pressure was mounting.

Bucky's parents, George and Winnifred Barnes, were prominent figures in society, known for their wealth and social standing.

They had always had a clear vision for Bucky's life, meticulously planning out every detail, from his education to his future career. The pressure to meet their expectations had been a constant presence in Bucky's life, casting a long shadow over his own desires and ambitions.

Bucky took another sip of his drink, feeling the liquid burn as it went down his throat. He stared into the amber depths of his glass, his mind racing.

Losing his architect job had left him feeling lost and confused. The stability he had grown accustomed to was suddenly gone, leaving him grasping for purchase in the chaos. He didn't know what the future held, and the uncertainty gnawed at him relentlessly.

Peach, a woman in her early thirties, sat at a table across the room, her sparkling eyes full of mischievousness.

She was a writer, a free spirit who reveled in life's unexpected turns. Clutching a colorful cocktail in her hand, she observed Bucky over the rim, intrigued by his brooding demeanor.

Despite her own financial struggles, Peach harbored an unshakeable optimism. She was determined to push her worries aside and revel in the moment. Tonight, she was in the mood to enjoy the scenery and escape the constraints of everyday life. And something about Bucky's brooding presence caught her attention.

As Peach made her way to the bar, she couldn't help but notice Bucky, his furrowed brow and taut frame drawing her attention.

She took a seat beside him, her laughter bubbling over as she smiled warmly. “Hey there, tough guy…” she teased, her eyes glimmering in the dim light.

Bucky looked up as Peach took the seat beside him, surprised by her easy-going smile. He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes roaming over her infectious grin. “What's so funny?” he asked, his rough tone softened by curiosity and the buzz of alcohol.

Peach shrugged, still smiling. “You…” she replied bluntly. “You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Mind if I lift some of that burden?”

Bucky huffed, his expression a mix of bemusement and irritation. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” he asked, taking a swig of his drink.

“Well, first, I think we need to get you out of this funk. You can't solve anything by brooding in a dark bar...” she chided gently, flagging down the bartender.

Turning to Bucky, she added, “And then we might just make a plan. What's got you so weighed down, anyway? I’m Y/n by the way, but everyone calls me ‘Peach.’”

Bucky's shoulders sagged, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. He stared into his empty glass, his eyes cloudy with frustration. “I’m James, everyone calls me Bucky and I lost my job.” he confessed, the words heavy on his tongue.

Peach's grin faded, her expression softening into sympathy. “I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “That must be really tough.”

Bucky nodded, rubbing his face with a weary hand. “It's more than tough. It's... crushing. I thought I had it all figured out, a steady job, a plan. And now... I've got nothing.”

Peach reached a slender hand to rest reassuringly on Bucky's shoulder. “It might feel like that right now, but there's always a way out.” Her voice was gentle yet firm.

Bucky looked up, meeting her earnest gaze. There was a glimmer of hope in those blue depths; a hope that he didn't want to extinguish. “You make it sound so simple.”

Peach laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Loosen up, Bucky! A little too serious for a weeknight, don't you think?”

Bucky glanced at the time, the alcohol making the numbers blurry. He sighed, pushing himself off the stool. “It's getting late.” he mumbled.

“Ah, come on! Don't leave yet...” Peach protested, a hint of disappointment in her tone. “The night's just getting started.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, the alcohol making it difficult to focus. “I... I really should go.” he said, his voice rough.

Peach chuckled, her words slightly slurring as the alcohol took its toll. “Why are you such a tight ass?” she teased, leaning a little closer to Bucky. “You're so tense, so uptight. You need to loosen up.”

Bucky bristled at the accusation, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I am not a tight ass!” he protested, the denial coming out a bit louder than he intended.

Peach smiled slyly as she leaned in, her breath hot against Bucky's ear. “Prove it...” she whispered, a challenge in her voice.

Bucky swallowed, his heart thudding a little faster. Her proximity was intoxicating. He took a deep breath, determined to prove her wrong.

Bucky, feeling a sudden rush of determination, signaled the bartender. “Two more shots!” he barked, his voice rough with drunken determination.

Turning to face Peach, he set the shot glasses on the bar between them. “I'm not a tight ass!” he said firmly, meeting her gaze.

Peach smirked, amused by his sudden display. “You're on...” she retorted, raising her shot glass in a mock toast.

They clinked glasses and downed the shots in one swift gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, fuel for the budding rivalry between the two. Bucky slammed his glass down onto the bar, his eyes locked on Peach's.

“Another!” he declared, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Peach raised an eyebrow, impressed by his defiance. “You're braver than I thought.” she teased, flagging down the bartender for another round.

The second shot burned just as much as the first, but with it came a wave of liquid courage. Bucky leaned slightly towards Peach, his inhibitions fading with each shot.

“See? I told you. I'm not uptight...” he said, a cocky grin playing at the corner of his lips.

Peach chuckled, enjoying the change in Bucky's demeanor. “One more to settle this.” she proposed, signaling for yet another shot.

They downed the third shot, the alcohol fueling their banter. Bucky felt the alcohol coursing through him, emboldening his words and movements. He leaned a little closer, meeting Peach's challenging gaze.

“Satisfied yet?” he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

Peach leaned back, her smirk widening. “Almost...” she confessed, the alcohol making her bolder than usual.

“Almost, huh?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. His heart was pounding now, fueled by the alcohol, the challenge, and the unexpected chemistry between them.

And so, fueled by liquid courage, Bucky ordered another round.

As the night wore on and the alcohol fueled their conversation, Bucky and Peach found themselves sharing more than just drinks. They opened up about their dreams, their disappointments, and the sheer absurdities of life.

The buzz of alcohol in their veins loosened their tongues, and they laughed loudly, feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The weight of their worries faded, replaced by the warm, almost giddy sensation of carefree banter.

With the fresh night air hitting their faces, the laughter doubled. They stumbled out of the bar, the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas a dizzying backdrop to their tipsy giddiness.

The cool night air was a stark contrast to the heated banter and alcohol, but it didn't dull their good mood. They leaned on each other for support, their steps unsteady.

As they weaved through the crowds, Peach grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Let’s do something wild!!!!” she declared. “Something that defies all reason.”

Bucky’s heart raced. “Like what?”

Peach pointed to the 24/7 wedding chapel ahead. “Let’s get married.”

Bucky's eyes widened as he followed her pointed finger towards the wedding chapel. The bright neon sign glowed, advertising the one-stop shop for quickie weddings. He stared at Peach, his mind spinning with the implications of her words.

“You can't be seriousss,” he managed to say, the alcohol making his words slur together.

Peach pulled him towards the chapel, her grip on his hand unwavering. “Oh, I'm dead seriousss…” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of a drunken bravado.

The chapel was small and cozy, but somehow it added to the charm of the moment. The Elvis impersonator, with his sparkly jumpsuit and greasy pompadour, looked on serenely as Bucky and Peach stumbled towards the altar.

They didn't have rings, witnesses, or even proper clothing, but none of that mattered.

The words of the vows were slurred, and they couldn't keep straight faces, but they were serious in their own way. As they pledged their love, or whatever passed for it in their current drunken state.

Bucky and Peach had never felt more alive.

And as they kissed, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declared, his voice booming with exaggerated gravitas.

Bucky and Peach looked at each other, eyes wide and filled with laughter and incredulity.

They had done it—they had drunkenly gotten married in a Las Vegas chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating. It was insane, ridiculous, and the most spontaneous thing either of them had ever done.

Together, they stumbled back into the night, as husband and wife, weaving their own story amid the glittering lights of Las Vegas.

Part 2-

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

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[littlespacereader]

hi id love love love if you could do wanda!caregiver and a reader whos about 9-11 years old. reader has been really stressed due to school and processing trauma, and after a week of not attending, wanda persuades them into being a kiddo with her all day to relieve some stress :3 i have no nicknames i hate, but an absolute FAV is "angel."

I’ve never written for Wanda before!! I was so excited for the opportunity! I really hope you love this story as much as I did writing it! Enjoy!!💞💞

A Little Love From Mama🥣

Caregiver! Wanda Maximoff & GN Little! Reader

Tags- hurt and comfort, hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses, cooking together, drawing, small cameo of Vision at the end

There’s been a pit in Wanda’s stomach for weeks now. Slowly but surely she could see the stress and trauma eating away at her little one.

In and out of the Avengers tower they would go, giving a small quiet goodbye to Wanda and the rest before attending school. Then dragging themselves back home to the tower looking even worse than before.

She knew school had been their biggest stressor. Between the other students, the workload, and the social aspect of it all, it was taking a toll on their mental health.

Wanda didn’t want to push them or make things worse, but her motherly caregiver instincts couldn’t help herself. She made them lunch, giving them a small kiss on the forehead beofre they left and gave them a warm hug when they returned.

But even these small gestures didn’t help the inevitable.

Eventually they started missing classes, then missing days at school. At first Wanda wasn’t too worried, maybe they needed a mental health day just like some take sick days.

But that day turned to days that turned to a week. She knew she had to step in, she couldn’t hold back another minute.

The Avengers went on a mission abroad, leaving her the perfect opportunity for her to take care of Y/N alone.

A small soft knock to their door, “Y/N? Can I come in?”

Silence, then “I…*sniffle*…I thought you were on the mission?”

“I decided I didn’t want to go. Can I come in Angel?”

Angel, a nickname reserved for Y/N when they’re regressed. It holds a special meaning between the two of them.

It already seems to have taken its effect onto Y/N as they softly yet with a broken sob say, “Yes Mama.”

Wanda immediately enters the room to find, Y/N sitting on their bed, knees up to their chest, crying.

“Awww Angel come here,” she takes a seat on the bed and opens her arms to Y/N who gladly reciprocates.

Wanda wraps them in a tight hug, one arm holding them close and tightly against her, the other rubbing their back. All while Y/N cries in their arms.

“I know sweetheart I know, it’s been a lot recently hasn’t it?” She asks getting a small nod.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing right now. It’s time for Mama to take care of her sweet little Angel. Okay? Does that sound good to you?”

Y/N break apart but only slightly to look into Wanda’s eyes. There she can see the change immediately, now she’s got a Little in her arms. They nod their head, looking so desperately in need of some love and affection.

“There’s my sweet Angel.” She smiles, leaning forwards to places a soft kiss to their head.

“Let’s get you changed into some clean comfy clothes and then we’ll see what we’re going to do for the rest of the evening okay?”

Another small nod but this time accompanied with a smile. It’s been a long time since Wanda’s seen them smile.

Without even moving, using her powers she opened their closet and grabbed their favorite pair of pajamas, bringing it over to the two of them. She then helped them change. While she knew their headspace was older, she figured the extra comfort would be welcomed.

And welcomed it was. She ended it by brushing their hair and placing another kiss to their forehead for good measure. “There we are. All fresh and comfy.” She smiled back to them.

She stood from the bed and took their hand in hers, “Now how shall we spending our evening together?” She asks as they walking from Y/N’s room into the tower.

“We could play legos, we could play make believe, we could watch a movie and snuggle up together.” Wanda began listing options to help her little one.

“C-Could we…” Y/N started to say.

“What is it Angel?” She stopped and turned to them, carding a hand through their hair.

“Could we cook together?” Y/N suggested shyly.

Wanda’s face brighten up with the suggestion. “Of course we can Angel. I’d love to.”

They walking into the small kitchen together. Y/N took a seat and the barstool as Wanda rounded the counter, standing across from them.

“Now what dish would you like to cook chef?” She winked.

Y/N smiled, “Can we cook one of your family recipes?”

“Of course we can.” With the flick of her wrist pots and pans started flying out from the cabinets. Then the ingredients started to fly from the fridge.

“We’re going to make a Sokovian dish called Chicken Paprikash. So first I’m going to need you to help Mama cut the vegetables.”

A small cutting board and a plastic knife floated over to where Y/N was sitting on the barstool. “Now, I want you to be extra careful with the knife okay? It’s not that sharp but it could hurt my little Angel.”

“I promise I’ll be careful.” Y/N said, so happy to be helping out.

A green bell paper floats over to Y/N, landing on their cutting board. “Could you cut that up for Mama? I’ll get started on the chicken while you do.”

Y/N eagerly nodded and began working on cutting their bell pepper up. They worked in comfortable silence. Wanda humming a small song while Y/N focused on their work.

“Mama?”

“Yes?” Wanda lifted her head.

“Where’s Papa tonight?” Y/N asked about Vision.

“Papa went on the mission tonight. But I’m sure he will be back later to see his little Angel again. And won’t he be so surprised to learn that you made dinner!”

Y/N gasp and looks back at Wanda beyond excited. “We gotta save him a bowl!!”

“We definitely will. We can’t leave Papa out.” She smiles. Even though Vision couldn’t taste anything nor did he eat, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

Y/N helps put all the cut vegetables into the soup. Wanda floats over the lid, covering the soup and letting it simmer and cook.

“Now we have to let it cook on its own for a while. But, in the meantime, maybe we could play together or draw?”

“Draw!! Let’s draw something!” Y/N jumped from their seat.

“Go ahead and get your markers while I clean up. I’ll meet you there Angel.” Wanda explained as more things started to float.

After a couple of minutes, Wanda join Y/N at the table, coloring a picture together. Wanda praised every picture, promising to put it on the fridge.

Both of their head lifted to the sound of the timer going off. “The soup!” Y/N smiled.

“It’s all ready,” Wanda smiled back, “Clean off the table while I grab us a bowl.”

Y/N nodded, starting to put their markers and papers away. After they were all cleaned up, Wanda had returned with two bowls.

Together they sat at the table enjoying the meal they made together. With the first spoon full Wanda gasp, “Y/N, I think this is the best chicken Paprikash I’ve ever had!”

Y/N’s whole face lit up. “Really?!”

“Definitely! I couldn’t have made it any better myself. You’re truly a talented cook! You truly are a Maximoff.” She smiles back, seeing the Little beaming under the praise.

They enjoyed their meal together, sitting right beside one another, talking and laughing together. The worries and stresses of school long forgotten.

~~~

Vision returned back to the tower late at night. Quietly arriving off the elevator at his shared floor with Wanda and Y/N. The light were off so he assumed they had gone to bed.

That was…until he saw the television still playing in the living room.

He made his way over, to find Wanda and Y/N sound asleep cuddled on the couch together. The tv plays Y/N’s favorite cartoon, and mixed with the low lighting must’ve lulled the two to sleep.

Vision smiled at the sight, happy that Wanda was able to help Y/N. He grabbed their bowls of snacks and their drinks, bringing it back to the kitchen to help clean up while they slept.

He walked over to the fridge, seeing the outside now decorated with new drawings. He opened the door and inside sat a bowl of soup with a note:

Dear Papa,

I made this bowl of soup with Mama today! I saved this bowl especially for you!

Made with love,

- Y/N xoxoxo

[kokiriri]

Hi!

I really like what you draw, I like how you draw your character.

Looking for an art style, I wanted to ask you. How did you find it?

Hope my question doesn't bother you... 😓

Have a nice day!

Hi!!

First of all, thank you for your kind words! I’m really happy that you enjoy my art :)

Great question! I think there’s always a lot of confusion when individuals are trying to discover their own styles (I’m often confused myself) but hopefully by sharing my experiences, it can make things a little more manageable for you.

I really think that my style now is a conglomeration of everything I’ve so far been interested in. And I’ll try to explain what I mean. When I was really little, I would draw things like “The PowerPuff Girls” or other shows like that because their character designs were simple and easy for me to draw. It wasn’t until I was around 10-11 when I started reading some Pokémon manga/comics (called “Pokémon Special” in English) I found at my local library. I really liked the style of these comics, so I would copy the way they drew eyes and such. My art began to get slightly more complex, and I began to move away from drawing simplistic cartoon bodies to more anatomically founded figures. These Pokémon comics are honestly the major foundation of my style.

Here’s some examples of what the comics looked like.⬆️

I was also obsessed with the Megaman EXE television show around the same time, along with this one comic featuring Megaman X. You would probably agree with me that the Pokémon comics and Megaman share a very similar style (at least, in terms of character design and structure.)

For years, I drew exclusively in a style very similar to the images you see above (albeit, I was still pretty young so my drawings weren’t nearly as good.) When I turned 13, I started watching Inuyasha, and again, my style shifted. I was largely inspired by how they drew hair in Inuyasha, especially the poofy bangs Inuyasha and Kagome have (the two characters in the image below.)

I started meshing those kinds of hairstyles with the Pokémon/Megaman styled bodies. Keep in mind that as I was doing this, I was drawing A LOT. Nearly everyday, during class, whatever. Because of that, I started to grasp a better understanding of what character design features I liked best and so on. However, my major flaw that I wish I realized sooner was that I hardly drew from reference. Please please please use photo references or other artworks you enjoy for poses or expressions because it really does improve your art! (Don’t blatantly copy and claim them as your own though, that will earn you a shadow ban from the art world.😵‍💫)

Fast forward to this year. I recently started getting into manga by Adachi Mitsuru because I fell in love with his retro comic style. Some of my favorite works of his are Touch and Cross Game, feel free to check them out! Anyways, I’ve been studying his art and what makes it appealing to me, and I found that I like the simplicity along with great dynamic poses. So I look at those panels that showcase those aspects the best, and try to redraw them! The first few drawings always look terrible, but after a bit, you begin to understand what you were missing the first time, and slowly you improve. Here are some panels from Cross Game to help you get a taste of what the art is like.

For me, it took years to develop my own style, and it will probably be the same for you. It doesn’t come easy, and although it sucks to admit, your art will look bad to you for the first few years after starting to draw. But know that each time you draw, your body memorizes the way it moves whenever you draw an arm, a hand, whatever, and it learns. Because of this, be sure to draw referencing styles that YOU like. That way, your body becomes slowly accustomed to a better way to draw hands that you enjoy, rather than getting stuck and not improving. And don’t be afraid to experiment with different styles! I try to draw out of my comfort zone, and that’s where I feel I learn the most.

I hope this post was helpful and provided good tips. Of course, you shouldn’t feel the need to watch/read all the shows and books I’ve referenced here because at the end of the day, you’re looking to forge your own style, not replicate mine. Find what shows and comics you love, and then ask yourself “Why do I find this appealing? What about the style is speaking to me?” And then draw those aspects/designs you enjoy. Just draw. Things will start to come together after that. :)

Bonne chance!

[fiberc]

your anatomy is really good, do you have anywhere you learned it from/general anatomy tips? love your art!

thank you !! sorry this took so long to reply to. im not very confident in my anatomy skills. also sorry if this is incomprehensible

i practice anatomy by figure drawing (via this site, mainly. used to use real-time models but had to stop) and just studying in general. (("studying" as in just looking at poses real hard and attempting to memorize the shape of muscles and bones (i need to actually study. but i dont waanntt to/waiting to just take a college class so i dont have to find materials myself))

i do figure drawing like. maybe twice a year. ideally id be doing it way more often but i just forget. heres some i did recently

+ heres my "cheat sheet" that i use when i fuck up my proportions . going to tell you right now that this is probably not 100% anatomically correct . yes i follow these anyways. do not be like me

finally for general tips? the usual.. do timed figure drawing, dont spend too much time on one sketch (i have problems w this one), and draw/practice a ton. studying muscles and bones helps too. and proportions. look at muscles and how they flex and stretch. etc etc i hope this helps you in the slightest

[niamiya]

Would you mind if I sketch you?

High school AU!!

Synopsis: You would usually hang out in the science lab's storage room to get away from everyone until one day Albedo decided to walk in on you.

A/N: Albedo brainrot, tbh I miss him. hoyo pls I need to see him in an event again </333. anyways I might consider writing a part 2 for this, and as alwaysss enjoy reading and sorry for any grammar mistakes-

School had never been your strongest suit. Yeah, you can manage not to fail any classes and be decent, at least, but there wasn't a particular subject you were master at, or that was what you think.

You had recently picked up a new hobby of sketching, something to get your mind off of when school starts getting too much for you. Sometimes, the teacher would call you out for sketching on the blank spaces on your test papers.

Today was one of those days where you just wanted to be away from everyone, being the loner you are and having no interest in interacting with any of your classmates. You head to your usual secret place, which is the schools science lab's storage room. It was dusty and looked like no one had touched this room for so long, which is good for you cause now you needn't worry so much about people barging in.

You brought your sketchbook and sat down on the ground near the tiny window so that you have a little bit of light to see you pulled out your sketchbook and started to sketch out what was in your brain, slowly enough without realizing, you begin to doze off a bit.

By the time you woke up, it was almost evening, so the sun was setting golden light shining from the window, which shuned the figure in front of you.

"Wait, what?"

Having just woken up your mind was a bit hazy until you gained a bit of consciousness.. who and why is there a man sitting across you? What is he doing? You had so many questions as you were surprised to see this man.

You cleared your throat, letting out a small "ahem," to which he caught it, finally looking up at you from his what seemed to be a notebook?

"Oh, sorry, I saw you sleeping and thought that it'd be weird to just leave you here in case you overslept till noon, I was actually planning to wake you up immediately, but I saw how in deep sleep you were" he spoke, brushing his ash blonde hair while looking back at his notebook.

"I thought no one goes inside this room... how'd you find me?" Questioning him while rubbing your eyes, looking around the still dusty room filled with science equipment.

He chuckled softly before speaking up, "Actually, there were comments from students outside that they were hearing strange noises coming from here, so I decided to just check it out."

You must've gotten carried away while you were alone in this room, which now got you feeling embarrassed. "You.. won't tell anyone that I was here now, right?" Sweating nervously, not wanting your spot to be exposed, it'd be a hassle to find a new hiding spot.

"Sure, I'll just tell them it was a rat or something," he grinned before closing his notebook and dusting everything off which you took notice, was he sketching in his notebook just now? does he also like to draw?

"Is that a your drawing?" You raised up the confidence to ask, to which he replied. "Indeed it is supposedly I was writing my thesis earlier before i came here but decided to sketch something whilst waiting for you to wake from your slumber"

"Is that so? I also happen to be sketching just earlier, that is, before I doze off-" chuckling softly and grabbing your sketchbook from the floor, he was watching you pick it up and smiled.

You looked up at him to see his face, the light brushing his face. "What were you sketching?" You suddenly shot up the question which he seemed a bit flustered to reply.

"I'd rather not say..." he said while looking away from you and gripping his notebook "aww not even a glimpse? I won't judge, I swear," playfully trying to see what he just sketched, you were curious.

He quickly cleared his throat and changed topics. "It's getting late now. We should head back home before the school gates close, I'll walk you home"

You felt a bit disappointed but respected his decision, and it really was getting late so you stood up and brushed off the dust from your uniform and placed all your stuff inside your bag.

Both of you headed out with your stuff as he walked you home. The sun had already set, still before reaching your home, you both had a small chat walking home. You get to learn his name and how he's the leader in the science club.

Once you both reached the destination, which is your home, he handed you a piece of paper from his notebook that was folded, which you took from his hand. "Goodnight [name], I hope to see you again." he smiled before waving goodbye, and quickly enough, he was gone.

Confused, you unfolded the paper, and it revealed a sketch of you when you were in the storage room peacefully asleep. His sketch definitely did capture that, alongside the sketch was a bunch of writing that was probably for his science notes.

You giggled and kept the paper with you ever since, excited to see him again the following day.

[cannibalsrider]

fallen stars scene one Vampire Empire

In the world of Delarus, where regal courts and majestic mislands intertwine, Fallen Stars  weaves a tale of passion, sadness, and obsession. At the heart of the story is Lady (Y/N) Shoko, a girl just trying to save not only herself but as many souls as she can before time runs out. The stage is set for an elaborate dance of power, obsession, and secrets. 

"In the maze of affection, He finds solace, weaving a web of devotion that traps the object of his desire."

pairings: yandre vampire!gojo x Ieiri! reader

warnings: slight smut but its lowk poorly written since it was my first time and it was from January

A/N: I'm reposting this since I never posted it earlier but this kinda ate I think

“To be the object of his love is to walk on a tightrope between adoration 

and danger, with every step a dangerous gamble.”

“Lady Kanna, how lovely to see you!”

The mysterious voice said in a tone too snarky for a lady of Kanna’s class. Kanna looked at the tall figure standing not far from her, his recognizable eyes staring right at her as they stood in the streets below the dreary Keep of RavenStone. Her hands moved to take down the hood of her cloak.

"I should be surprised to see you here? I'd thought you would be cooped up in those dreadful Brothels by this hour," she commented as she moved to draw closer to the man she knew all too well. Even after ages of being stuck at his side, she wished some days she didn't know him just by the look in his eyes.

The mystery man took a step from the wall he was leaning on, the armor he adorned clinking with his movements. "Dear sister, even after all this time, you still choose to think so low of me. Have I not shown you that I haven't wasted my time just paying for pleasures?" he said, shaking his head in a distasteful way. Kanna’s eyes rolled at his voice; she had a feeling inside her that he had gone and done something stupid.

"Even after all this time, somehow you manage to almost blow the cover we have had for years now, Satoru. I know you haven't fed recently. Why are you coming to find me now? You know I don't have anything to offer you," she stated flatly, her accent almost seeming soft in her usual annoyance with her elder brother.

Satoru leaned forward, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Now, dear sister, don’t assume I need you for something every time we meet. We’ll be meeting much more often, and I’ve had more than my fill with the distasteful blood of the animals harboring within the brothels. Why do you think there’s been no reports?" he said, not revealing his entire motive of finding his sister.

The girl huffed in annoyance as she fiddled with her rings, a nervous habit she had picked up throughout the years. "I'm not surprised you would choose the whores waltzing in and out of the establishments you've visited throughout the past few weeks," she stated almost uncharacteristically calm versus her usual annoyance.

Kanna watched him for a moment, her icy blue eyes looking up at him. "You want something, don't you? Toru, you never seek me out unless it's grown important. I can't help you if it is truly dangerous, as we almost got caught the first time you wanted something big," she told him, suspicion coating her tongue.

Satoru stared at her for a moment, a bored look now adorning his face. "Sister, you are only half right. I sought you out to inform you I am to become the commander of the king's guard and only thought to ask if you knew of any food sources within the house. I am dreadfully tired of drinking the blood of common whores," he said, sticking his tongue out to show his distaste.

She nodded. "I may have a few options you could have," she answered almost in a faint grumble when she heard him announce his move to Commander of the Kingsguard. "You can't climb far in the idea of feeding off any of the royal family. It would be a quick way to have us caught. If you find a way, though, brother, I wouldn't oppose you doing as you wish, as long as I am not an accomplice," she added, her tone almost seeming firm.

A Knight catching her almost piercing gaze traveling the crowd she recognized him in a split second Okkotsu Yuta, the Sworn Guard of the Princess. "I think I might have you a way to get better-tasting blood on your palate," she murmured as she nudged him, the two silver-headed siblings locking eyes onto Okkotsu.

Satoru followed the so-called guard of the princess with an almost thrilled look in his eyes. "And how is he going to get me to the blood of a princess? Don’t tell me my little sister is going to whore herself out," he said, putting a hand on his chest in fake surprise.

She smacked his arm. "Oh, piss off. I'm not a whore. At least I'm not a frequent visitor to all the brothels in the city like you have been," she retorted, her eyes not leaving the ink-black hair she had known as if it was the back of her hand.

"You want an in, don't you, Toru? This is how you get that in," she added quickly as she fixed her silver curls. "This might take a while, so keep yourself busy, you bloody whore," she called out as she made her way towards the brothel she had watched him enter, unclipping the gold clasp keeping her cloak secure on her shoulders.

The hours passed by as if it was sand in an hourglass, his incoherent whimpers and groans filling the room, mixing with Kanna’s moans and whines as they overstimulated one another. His length buried deep inside her core, tears of pleasure brimming at her eyes as she was kept atop of them. The pace of his hips bucking up into her almost transferred her thoughts back into reality – the true meaning of why she was doing this. She had to kill him. Her eyes glassy as she heard his praise falling out incoherently from his lips. “Such a good girl, f’me just like that, pretty girl,” she could make out of the strings of words he spoke. Her lips left sloppy kisses around his carotid artery, her tongue tracing shapes against his throat as she sank her fangs into his neck. The piercing feeling of his flesh against her fangs, the pooling crimson blood filling her senses as she began to drain his body. 

Small gulps taking in liters of blood as the man slowly went silent, his body growing cold, a final breath being drawn from his body. The satisfaction shown with the grin on her blood-stained lips, dismounting the now ice-cold Okkotsu. “Such a shame you had to die, you’d been so handsome,” she mumbled, dressing quickly, making herself look decent, throwing the cloak over her shoulders, clasping the gold sigil of House Gojo. Her blue eyes trained on the brothel frequenters, eyeing her as if she was their prey. She had made her way out of the poorly lit establishment, rain pelting down. She wasn't sure how long she had been with the knight; all she had known was it grew later and later by the second. She had to find her elder brother before it had grown too late for her to find him in the winding streets of Troria.

Satoru watched his sister trace after the knight with an almost disgusted look. Sure, he’s done the same thing, but watching your younger sister go to do it with some knight is gross. Having watched his sister enter the brothel, he sighed, choosing to turn around and continue his patrol and other meaningless tasks that a king's guard was tasked with. The cold chill of the night left Satoru time to think, a dangerous thing.

The man walked down a familiar path one has walked for ages, the clicking of his armor and the sound of the wind the only thing to be heard. “Riko… Why did you half go and die on me?” Satoru sighed for the hundredth time tonight. The path he's walking is one filled with dying flowers and decrepit houses aged by time, the same path he met who was supposed to be the love of his life. Years and years before he became the monster he is today, before the streets of Troria became waste-filled streets, before the Fushiguro family became the royal family. 

The time when he and his sister were humans, humans with blood pumping in their veins who ate normal food, who could die. That's when he met Riko. She had just stolen something from a shop no longer around, the dirt from the ground staining the front of her skirt. Something about her drew Satoru to her. “Now, stealing isn’t very ladylike, now is it?” he asked, stepping in front of the girl, causing her to take a large step back. “Excuse me, as you can see, I am currently running from someone – hey, wait, how do you know I stole this?” Riko asked with an annoyed tone on her tongue. “Satoru, HEY, earth to Satoru!?” Kanna yelled, trying to get her brother out of whatever dream he was in.

Satoru, having been torn from his memory, almost hurt his sister, having been spooked, grabbing his sword hilt from his side, his armor making a loud noise in response to the speedy movement. “Jesus, Kanna, are you trying to have me kill you?!?” he whispered, sweat dropping at the annoyed look on her face. She scanned his eyes for a moment before speaking. “Not even a ‘thank you sister for opening up a spot for me to have access to good food.’ It's as if you're ungrateful,” she grumbled as she adjusted her cloak hood over her silver hair. “You looked as if you’ve seen someone we know, Toru. What's wrong?” she asked, concern almost lacing her tone as she looked up at her elder brother, almost with more curiosity than concern.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to clear his mind completely of the memory. “Nothing, sister, just thinking of when we were human, when this city used to be lively, pretty,” a reminiscent tone laced his tongue. Satoru often thought of before the city was the way it was now, back to when she was still alive. Kanna nodded as she listened to him speak, a sense of understanding between the Gojo siblings. “I'll assume you had been thinking about Amani again?” she breathed, almost a hint of annoyance at the reminder of the past. “You'll find someone, Toru, especially in the keep. It wouldn't surprise me if you found someone better than she had been,” she added, almost trying to reassure him so he didn't forget the task at hand. Satoru nodded along, deciding she was right. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Anyway, I have to go; my coronation is tomorrow, and I still have to feed. I’ll see you soon, dear sister,” he said, turning around, and throwing his hand up in a sign of goodbye. Kanna watched him leave, worried her brother would never find someone else. “Yes, goodbye, Toru,” she said, knowing Satoru had not heard her, for he was lost in his search for food.

And finally, within the last few hours of the night, both Gojo siblings went to sleep, one ready for his coronation, the other worried for her brother.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔

Summary: Dinner is served. And Aemond has his mind set on torturing you.

Warning: Smut, angst, horniness in general

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, I have decided to post tomorrow a short one as well as an apology for my absence. Enjoy!

Masterlist (Part 15 - Part 17)

Aemond clearly remembers the day he fell in love with you.

At that time he was surprised that he had not realised it sooner. It was long due. But it didn’t prevent him from feeling scared.

It was a rainy day over King’s Landing, you were both teenagers, and unfortunately, so was his brother, already a lazy and sulky drunk, and he was attending the same classes as him, private lessons from the royal maesters.

You were not able to attend those classes, at Aemond’s greatest dismay, so he had to endure those time with an old man and his snoring brother next to him. Aemond did not even bother waking him up any more.

On this day, when the lesson ended, Aemond’s recent talk with his mother about Aegon’s incapacity to take his education seriously rang in his ears, making him stop in his tracks when he was eager to leave and search for you in the castle grounds. Now he was guilt-trapped, his mother would have wanted him to take care of his brother, so Aemond tried to wake him up to make him at least do the assignments the maester had just given them. It was better than nothing.

“Aegon, wake up. You slept during the whole lesson. Mother will be mad.”

Aegon shifted and mumbled something under his breath, his head resting inside his arm, hair dishevelled all around him. Aemond tried to shake his shoulder.

“Aegon you… Get up!”

Aegon’s head rose from the table this time, eyes half-closed, looking weakly at his brother as if he was a vulgar insect.

“Leave me be. You don’t have to be a suck up to mother all of the time. You are worse than father, weak and always following her around. It’s pathetic. If you were able to talk to other women than the ones of our family, you would know.”

And he once again fell into slumber, snoring louder than before.

Despite his young age, Aemond took his brother’s words harshly. He did not care for women, and he was sick of his brother’s late teen desires that reflected poorly on their family’s honour. His brother was an idiot, and so was his father.

Fuming, he fancied hitting his brother for a while, but his thoughts were interrupted by a shuffle sound coming from behind him.

You appeared from behind the shelves, obviously proud to see the surprised look on his face as he watched you come toward him, a finger on your mouth to keep him quiet.

He watched you as you crept towards Aegon on your tiptoes. With expert hands, you rolled a piece of parchment and dipped it in the bottle of ink lying next to the Prince’s arm, and proceeded to spread it on his face, hair and hands, sometimes drawing comical patterns on his skin. Aemond tried to stop you, too afraid of what punishment you would face for such an affront, but you prevented him from doing so with a reassuring smile. You then reopened the parchment, took a quill and drew a badger laughing. You then took his hand dragged him out the room.

“Who is pathetic now?” you gloated at him once outside with a wide smile on your face.

“What were you doing in here?” Aemond asked, still stunned by your presence and a little admirative.

“Well… I have missed you in the garden with Helaena this afternoon and besides, you know that I have always wanted to follow the lessons you and your brother are taking… So I figured it would do no harm if I listened in. Without anyone noticing!” you proudly said. Aemond knew how much you liked instructing yourself, as it was what made you strong against other people at the court. And you had said that you missed him, his heart warming up at the thought.

“Yes but… Why did you do this? To Aegon? And why did you draw this on the parchment?”

“I did not like how he talked to you, a little prank will do him no harm. And as for the drawing, I could not let you take the blame, could I? I’m not afraid of a little punishment,” you said, as you took his hand once more affectionately.

This was then that he realised that he was dearly in love with you, had been for a while. He loved you, you were the girl he thought about when you were away from him, and you were the girl he wanted to be closer with even if you were in the same room. And as years passed, not confessing anything of it to you, puberty hit him hard, and he understood that he did not only want your closeness, but you in your entirety. He would be devoted to you, he wanted to make you happy in every way possible, because you deserved it. But as he grew up and his feelings felt more tangible than before, Aemond grew scared as well, dark thoughts darkening his mind: you did not deserve him, he was not enough.

He was the second son, the little one, but even as he trained harder and harder, focusing on sharpening his skills over the years, he was still convinced that he would never be worth it. He even managed to convince himself that he got over you for a time, ignoring the flutter in his chest each time you smiled, joked, or when he saw the way your eyes filled with pain as you sympathised with what someone had just said to you, compassionate. But he was deluding himself. As you both matured, you became less friendly to each other, more polite, a result of his restrained behaviour around you. But he still couldn't let go, you were in his thoughts, on his skin, in his dreams. Everywhere.

And now everything had changed. Once you were gone for Dragonstone, for months, something in him snapped, and as his anger toward the Blacks grew, so did his determination. And now, he knew that he would not rest before he had you completely to himself, like he had dreamt of.

You were more than anxious. It wasn’t enough that you had to endure the many judgmental eyes of the castle all day long, but now you were forced to sit among them for a whole entirety of dinner.

You had learned that beside the royal family, the most prominent members of the Greens would be present as well, and when you entered the dinner hall at the requested time, it was clear that you did not have your place here.

Near the great table was were standing Larys Strong, the master of whispers, Tyland Lannister, master of coins and Jasper Wylde, master of laws. However there were several you did not recognise, and you were glad that you did not have to introduce yourself as everyone seemed happy to ignore you. Only Aegon was absent, his injuries rendering him too weak to even move.

The only familiar face you were glad to see was Helaena’s, who greeted you with wide arms and led you to sit next to her, inquiring happily about your health and your time in Dorne with genuine curiosity. You were happy to oblige, answering her questions as you did not have any occasions to speak of your travels of yet, and you felt that this dinner might not be so horrible, if not for the newcomer that placed himself between you and Helaena.

Aemond had come to his sister, first asking her about her afternoon flying with Dreamfyre, visibly content that Helaena had enjoyed herself for a while, far from the concerns Aegon’s affliction was giving her. He then turned fully to you, his eye scanning your form, bowing his head in order to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“You look dashing in blue, my Lady” he simply stated only for you to hear, making you blush a little as you mumbled a thank you in return.

You didn’t know why you felt that flustered right now, maybe the memory of last night was still fresh in your mind.

You tried to keep as composed as possible when you saw him sit in the chair beside yours, placing himself at his rightful place at the centre of the table, next to his grandfather and keeping you on his good side.

You wondered if the reason for his invitation to such a crowded dinner was a way of displaying you so close to him, for everyone to see, and if it was his way of punishing you, as he had said. At this moment, you certainly did not enjoy the looks the assembly gave you when they saw you seated next to their Prince. But as soon as he sat, everybody did the same, taking place around the table in a racking of chairs, pretending to not pay you any mind.

You tried to make yourself as little as possible while the food was served, not wanting to draw any attention to you as you politely conversed with Helaena, sometimes listening in to the conversations of others. You also made a point in ignoring the man next to you, trying as hard as you could to not notice his every move, every slight change of expression, and every glance he made your way.

The dinner went quite smoothly as you managed to hear more about the affairs of the Kingdom, explaining the absence of some members at this very dinner, as well as the presence of others. You learnt that Criston Cole, the Commander of the Royal Guard, was currently leading part of the army into the Crownlands borders, while the Lords and Ladies you did not recognised were none other than Ormund Hightower, Lord of Oldtown, who was seated between his uncle, Otto, and his wife, a Tarly born. In front of them was placed Lord Redwyne from Arbor, a Bannerman of the Hightowers and close friend to Ormund. Both of them had joined King’s Landing in order to counsel and place their armies in strongholds along the way, strengthening the Green’s grip over the land.

As you listened to Helaena speaking in riddles again during the third course, nodding in agreement, you realised that it was becoming more difficult to ignore Aemond as he was pretending to listen to what was said around the table, sometimes taking part in the conversation. But the sensation of his gaze lingering on you at times clearly indicated that he was not interested in what Lord Ormund had to say in the slightest.

He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, playing with his glass.

“Was my bed to your liking, my Lady? Did you enjoy the cake as well?”

You bit your lips, bracing for what was certainly coming. “I did, thank you, even if that is the only enjoyment I had the pleasure to experience on this dreadful day,” you said, not looking at him either, rather watching Tyland Lannister cut his chicken with great difficulty.

Aemond turned his head, musing over something. “Surely that is not right, I see that the dresses I had sent to you are fulfilling their role. Quite well, actually.”

“Well, I could not exactly come without one, my Prince. I am unsure of the reactions I would have received otherwise,” you said, flattening the folds of that very blue dress you secretly adored.

You didn’t see it directly but Aemond’s eye flashed in amusement and a smirk appeared on his face. The thought of you without a dress at dinner apparently pleased him.

Your unheard conversation was interrupted, however, by Lord Redwyne who required Aemond’s attention, and you resumed eating what was left in your plate, enjoying the warm feeling you felt at the short exchange you just had with Aemond. You didn’t know why, but when he was not looking, you couldn’t help but glance at him, his jaw, his composure, his always scanning eye making his profile justice. It was unfair, how handsome he was, his hair well groomed and his sharp jaw, clenching when he didn’t like what he heard but not letting anything appear to others.

You blinked when you realised that it would not do. You could not allow yourself to get caught gawking at him like that. So you kept your head straight ahead, controlling the blood coursing through your veins.

You were brought out of your reveries by Tyland Lannister’s loud voice, narrating one of the many stories where his brother had made a fool of himself, this particular occurrence taking place during a hunt at Casterly Rock. As he told the tale, however, he quickly changed the course of the subject toward more idle matters that you did not appreciate at all.

“I believe that he had the idea in mind to impress a young lady, thinking that bringing back a legendary animal would do the work,” he spoke, laughing at the memory. “But from my own experience, women are not impressed by such proud acts, they require less grandiose ones as their understanding of what makes us men remains small.” He now harboured the face of one that had infinite knowledge of philosophy. “As I told him, some pearl or a new dress to wear would have been largely sufficient! I know it to be true for I used this myself quite often.”

You saw Alicent tense a little, eyes lowering on her food as she stabbed her chicken a little too strongly with her fork, whilst the other Lords wore an embarrassed smile. Aemond was staring straight at him, a smirk still on his face as if enjoying the foolishness of his master of coin, the latter seemingly happy of his little tirade.

“I am certain that your charms make us women, fall for you as soon as you open your mouth, my Lord. And I have no doubts that it must overcome the fact that you speak of them as if they are not even present, in addition of making us appear like we don’t have any education,” you said, not having any of it. “I shall think of you when I look upon all of the pearls I have been offered, maybe I will finally figure out their use, for I have a small understanding of grandiosity.”

You knew it was bold, but you considered that nothing worse could happen to you, you were already a pariah, one more snide comment to a man that took the other sex for granted would not do you any harm. If anything, it made you feel better.

A chain reaction occurred at the table, everybody looked at you in turns, surprised to hear the sound of your voice, some lords, especially Otto, lingering far more than necessary on you, a dark look in his eye. Helaena was discreetly repressing a laugh as Alicent clearly looked at you with something that resembled a smile. But Aemond bluntly chuckled at your words, not hiding his grin in any way, stopping only when he saw the disapproving look on his grandfather’s feature.

Tyland Lannister had dumbfoundedly looked at you for a while before clearing his throat and resuming ignoring you again. You were certain that he did not grasp the meaning of your words and you thought it for the better. Then you risked a glance at Aemond, only to find him already looking at you with what you recognised as pride, a smirk still displayed on his face. You weakly smiled at him before deciding to make yourself small once again.

Fortunately, it was quickly forgotten as the conversation shifted, thanks to Lord Wydle, toward the subject of some dispute that had recently occurred between members of the Guildhall of the Alchemists. You found interest in the topic until you felt something rest on your thigh, making you drop your focus completely.

You froze as under the table, Aemond’s hand gently laid on your dress, his thumb caressing the fabric. You looked at him, instantly reaching for his hand by reflex, taken aback by the sudden touch.

He was not looking at you, but when he felt your hand on top of his, he instantly trapped it in order to intertwine your fingers between his, joining your hands. He looked at you with a wry smile as you parted your lips to say something, his fingers grazing your palm. But no words came out. Then amidst the flowing conversation around you, he simply resumed paying attention to his guests as if nothing was happening beneath the table. It unnerved you, the way he acted so casually.

You enjoyed the feeling of his touch for a while, not caring if someone would notice as you barely paid attention to what was said around the table, Aemond apparently comfortable in just caressing your skin with his thumb. You felt electricity coursing through your body, welcoming the touch. However you thought it wrong after a while, being that much starved touch would not do you any good. So you forced yourself to let go of his hand and reached for your glass, drinking its red content and feeling its warmth pass through your throat. A small consolation.

Aemond’s hand froze on your thigh as he felt you leave his touch, but did not move. Instead it proceeded in caressing it back and forth, as if he had done it all of his life. It felt so familiar but yet you felt overwhelmed by it.

You had seen his jaw clench when you had withdrawn your hand but he was still paying you no mind, talking to the rest of the table as you gradually felt his hand squeeze your thigh harder and going higher, his fingers making their way between your legs.

“Aemond, what are you doing?” you harshly whispered when the attention was not on him any more, giving you the opportunity to talk to him as discreetly as possible.

“What I wanted to do since I sat next to you, and that you have put this fool in its rightful place. Right now, you have all of my attention Y/N,” he replied, malice in his voice. You breathed sharply as he went higher, now inches from where you shamefully wanted him.

“Is this your way of punishing me? Was this invitation not torture enough?” you asked, trying to move as little as possible as you put your hand on his arm, squeezing in an attempt to still his movements.

He clicked his tongue and leaned towards you, whispering into your ear. “Trust me, if I was punishing you, you would know.”

You felt your whole body tense at his husky tone on your skin, his touch on you not helping soothe your nerves in the slightest. You wanted to stop him, but you felt that if you did you would die. Or something close to it.

You swallowed as he pretended to ignore you once more, while continuing his ministrations on you, now pulling up the blue silk of your dress in order to reach the undergarments, leaving only one layer between your bare skin and his palm.

You gasped when you felt his warmth pass through the fabric and you were amazed at how he appeared as if nothing was occurring between you two at this very moment, his face calm and composed, a faint curve of his lips as only indication.

But his expression changed when his fingers crept into the slightly soaked fabric of your dress between your legs, his jaw clenching and biting his lips at the new feeling, sending blood into his lower parts. You had to lower your head in order to hide your face and flushed cheeks when he pressed further into you, asserting the level of arousal you were already in with his fingers.

Because he could not properly reach the spot he longed to touch due to the remaining layer and your legs squeezing together in tension, he proceeded in tracing large circles on the inside of your thigh, inches from your softness. You knew he was patiently biding his time, waiting for you to snap, part your legs further and grant him access.

And you did when you felt him grip the fabric of your underdress hard, as if he wanted to rip it off, and you brutally sat straight when you felt a finger press against your folds. He only smiled as you tighten your grip on his arm while your sudden movement had earned suspicious looks from the guests who sat the closest to you.

You smiled weakly at them in a reassuring look before pursing your lips together and letting go of Aemond’s arm under the table to not appear suspicious. He waited for you to settle down again before resuming his unfairly satisfying movements between your legs. You cursed under your breath when you felt something in you snap. You did not know how much longer you would remain silent if he continued to shamelessly touch you like that.

And it did not fail. The pace of his ministrations so agonisingly slow on you, you felt something strong starting to build up inside of you and you could not stop the whimper that escaped your lips, drawing all eyes upon you at once. You immediately simulated a cough, feigning to choke on your dessert as you took several sip of your glass for good measure. Aemond’s touch had stilled, an audacious arched brow over his eye even if he knew full well that he was responsible from your abrupt outburst.

“I apologise, my Lords, I think I will retire. I need rest,” you weakly announced, clearing your throat as you bowed to the assembly and bid goodbye to Helaena before departing.

You did not see the look Aemond gave you as you dared escape his presence, watching you disappear though the door. His jaw clenched, drumming his now cold fingers on the table. It was far from over.

-0- Part 17

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[v3nusxsky]

Mine 18+

*Authors note~ loving this prompt so much and honestly just want to thank you all for the lovely comments on recent posts. Also met some amazing people through writing so thank you all for improving my life *

Trigger warning~ oral sub r dom l (barely) thigh riding strap on (r receiving) fingering

Prompt~ number 17 (you're. Mine. I. Don't. Share) requested by the darling idkaname666666 on wattpad

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Some how this year you had managed to be roped into chaperoning the Raven. Not only were you part of the planning committee but now you would have to attend. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy the dance or seeing the students so care free, it was more the fact a certain headmistress would be in attendance. And you just knew you were going to have a hard time keeping your thoughts appropriate. Larissa Weems was certainly the belle of the ball in any occasion, that much was a given. If only you had the confidence to revel your feelings for the women then maybe you would be attending the dance together. However you couldn't risk her not returning those feelings for you, and possibly losing your position at Nevermore. At least hiding these feelings meant you could still be at the school where you felt the most safe and still see the women every day while imparting knowledge into the students you taught.

The theme for this years dance had been one that instantly sparked creativity and excitement in you. Being Nevermore's history teacher you had a natural passion for the past. So when Larissa informed you it was going to be based off some form of royal/god of your choosing you couldn't help but be overjoyed. You had just started the Ancient Greek module with your students and this felt like the perfect opportunity to enhance the lessons, giving more of a hands on experience that was so rare in history. Diligently as ever, you drew up the detailed plans for the Raven and submitted them into the headmistress for her to review. Once she had approved your idea even complimenting you on the creativity, you began to draw up posters to advertise the theme. It took a few try's to get it where you were happy but you loved the final product and so did Weems.

In the upcoming weeks to the hall you made sure to centre your lessons around Mount Olympus and any god or goddess that could be linked in any way shape or form. You figured you could save the mythical creatures until after the Raven in a hope the students would take on bored the hidden lessons. Naturally there was a buzz running around Nevermore the day of the dance, classes having been scheduled to finish just before noon to ensure everyone would be ready in time, and the hall fully decorated. It pained you to do so but you had to ask Larissa to assign a cover teacher for your morning classes just so you could oversee the decorating.

Soon enough by the end of the school day the hall was completely transformed, sculptures of some of the main gods and goddess were proudly stood around the room, the roof having a projector that created a look of a beautiful nights sky. The tables made just fit for a god or goddess, gold knives and forks, perfectly white plates and even goblets to hold the heavenly grail. Essentially red whine without the alcohol, it had been hard to source until one of the students who where sorcerers offered to lend a hand and made batches full. Even the lights around the room just set the perfect tone for a night fit for a king. The flowers were the easiest for you to find and of course to include the one and only Wednesday Addams you had even managed to get some black roses. It was perfect and you could only hope the students would agree. And of course Larissa, she had trusted you with such an important tradition for the students of Nevermore and you were determined to exceed any expectations anyone could have.

You scurried off to get yourself ready, the instructions had been clear. The Raven was themed for gods and goddesses so they could either choose a god or goddess to recreate the look of, add their own twist to it and even possibly create their own version of a god or goddess. Personally, yourself with your ability you decided to go as Demeter, Goddess of agriculture and harvest. She even had the ability to control weather and seasons. You used your ability to turn your fake crown into a real one woven with real plants. You decided on a tight, floor length white dress embroidered with beautiful gold accents that related to agriculture. The make up you chose was simple and light but still tied the whole look together with the waves in your hair.

Arriving back at the Raven you couldn't help but be proud of yourself for how it had turned out. You scanned the room until you're eyes found purchase on the principle. She looked simply stunning in her Aphrodite inspired outfit. You couldn't help but stare at her as she moved effortlessly around the room, taking in every small detail. You pulled yourself together and approached the older women, your heart filling with joy seeing the bright smile plastered on her lips. Pleasantries were exchanged between all staff members chaperoning the dance. It didn't take long before huddles of students began to arrive and the dance officially started.

The students seemed to be having a ball and you had to admit they looked fabulous. Some choosing recognisable gods or goddess such as Zeus, Hades, Athena and more and others choosing the less known such as Demeter, Nyx and Eros. And then there was a few who had outright created their own versions of a god or goddess. You were shocked when Marilyn Thornhill who had come dressed as Persephone approached you striking up a conversation with you. You were polite as you always were but you were blatantly ignoring her attempt at flirting because you only had eyes for a certain tall blonde who was seemingly glaring dangers into the back of Marilyn's head. She was sweet and nice but just not your type. Yet the smaller women didn't seem to be receiving the hints that you were not interested in anything other than a platonic relationship. She was a good colleague and maybe even a friend but that's all you could ever see her being.

You couldn't help but sigh in relief when you heard the voice of Larissa interrupting Marilyn's flirty comment. "Miss Y/n, I was just hoping to grab you for a second to talk about or your hard work on the dance" you couldn't help but smile and polite excuse yourself from the conversation with Marilyn and followed the women to a quite area of of the hall. You could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not a fan of Marilyn flirting with you but yet you didn't quite understand why. Still you kept the pleasant conversation flowing while your eyes scanned over the students. It was completely a shock when you felt the breath of the older by your ear whispering about moving this conversation to her office once the dance was over. For the remainder of the dance you were anything but focused, mind filled with thoughts of why Larissa wished to talk to you in her office and why her eyes held such a look when Marilyn flirted with you.

And that is how you ended up sat on the sofa in front of Larissa's fire place with a glass of red wine delicately hanging between your index and middle finger. Larissa's gaze seemed to follow your glass as you brought it to your lips causing that same look from earlier to appear. "Y/n darling I must confess something to you, seeing you with Marilyn earlier it just well I was jealous darling. I don't want you with anyone else but me. What I'm trying to say is I like you darling" her voice seemed to waver as she confessed to returning the feelings you held for her. This was most definitely not what you were expecting from the night yet you couldn't say you were mad. "Rissa, god I've waited so long to hear that, I like you too Larissa and I'm not interested in Marilyn at all" you reassured the older woman even daring to rest a hand on her thigh.

That small action lead to Larissa leaning forward and capturing your lips with her own in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that left you breathless and needing more. You pulled away with foreheads resting against each other as she growled out "You're. Mine. I. Don't. Share" causing butterflies to form in the pit of your stomach. Hearing those words were like a dream come true. You truly desired nothing more than belonging to Larissa Weems.

This kisses were becoming more needy and your brain hazy, to the point you don't quite remember exactly when you had made it to her room or when you'd lost your outfit. But with Larissa diligently working between your thighs you couldn't bring yourself to care. The coil in your stomach building as you relished in her attentive movements. And when she added two fingers into your soaked cunt, you were a goner. All you could do was whine and moan for the older women to bring you to your release. And when she did with a curl of her fingers and a gentle nip to your thighs, you came screaming out her name. She made sure to help you come back to earth from the high before coming to kiss you. You groaned at the taste of yourself invading your senses.

You were eager to please the older women so when she began to settle herself on your thigh and rock you couldn't help but moan at the sight. You tensed your thigh aiding her in her climb, loving the way she tilted her head back in pleasure releasing a string of moans. You could have sworn she hung the stars, the moon and the sun with her beauty as she came all over your thigh. God this was so much better than the dreams you'd had. She came down from her climax and dropped her head to your shoulder trying to catch her breath. Only you weren't done when Larissa reached over to her bedside table you couldn't help but feel the excitement building once more. "Darling can I?" She murmured question seemingly dying in her throat. You nodded in approval watching as she adorned the harness and rubbed a generous amount of lube over the fake cock. You bit your lip in excitement watching her actions.

It was a surprise when Larissa switch to lay below you, indicating she wanted you to ride her. You were a little nervous but with some encouragement you positioned your core and sunk down on her cock. You groaned at the feeling of her stretching you out, hands coming to her breasts to cup them. Her eyes were black with desire watching as you slowly began to roll your hips against her. With every roll of your hips the fake cock rubbed against Larissa's clit causing her to moan out with you. Only when her desire became too overwhelming did she start to meet your hips with thrusts of her own. Moans were flying freely around the room as you both climbed toward your orgasms. It was with the short sharp thrust of her hips that threw you both over the edge together riding your joint climax's together.

You lifted your hips removing yourself from her strap and collapsing down next to the women. Instantly she seemed to snap into action despite being breathless from her own release. She made her way to the fridge and got two bottles of water and two snack bars before coming back to the bed and offering you both. While you took both and processed coming back from the overwhelming high Larissa had got a warm wash cloth and began to clean you up. Only when she was sure you'd be comfortable and have absolutely everything you could need did she join you back in bed. "Darling" you mumbled "be mine?" Causing the older women to blush and confirm she was indeed yours if you desired to be hers as well.

Word count~ 2094

*Authors note~ I hope this is okay I don't know if I love it or hate it tbh because I had a tough day so I may rewrite this*

[feyspeaker]

Hii me again. I'm not sure if I sent the ask I'm talking about on anon, so maybe that's why you didn't see it? It partially got answered with a recent ask you got anyway so no worries. I was just wondering if you use 3d in your process and if so, how? I've seen other illustrators use it to varying degrees and it seems like a really helpful tool to push your work.

Oh that's so weird! No I periodically go through my asks in chunks and I didn't see anything like that. I've had a few people in the past few months send me asks that looked like the second half of something else with no context, so maybe it's Tumblr fuckery. Sorry!!

I recommend learning Blender so you can help sculpt shapes and render lighting onto them in order to get the weirder/more complex shadows right. You can also apply colors onto the things you sculpt in order to see how the colors act in different lighting. It's pretty much an invaluable tool to me as it keeps me from having to problem-solve too much. I did a lot of digging around in my house to build references to photograph but it was just impractical to achieve the things I want to a lot of the time. I still do that, and you would not believe how many goofy photos I have of my husband in the poses you've seen me paint Astarion in lmao...

I do think that it needs to be used in moderation if you are a more beginner artist- I think that using 3D is DANGEROUSLY close to becoming a massive crutch for a newer artist and improper usage or over reliance on it can lead to stiffness or artificial looking colors. You need to be able to train your eye to create compelling compositions by bashing things together, and train your hand to replicate/add/subtract as needed from your references with an organic feel.

I will say this as a total committer of this crime myself in the past, it's VERY easy to tell when an artist relies too much on, for example, Clip Studio Paint posed models as bases for pieces without a good enough grasp on their fundamentals. And I also used to prickle when I saw more advanced artists warn of this, so I do think maybe it just has to run its course sometimes, because I know that using 3D for reference seems like an easy-button.

I've taken a lot of in-person classes for live figure drawing and painting, as well as just totally done drills, basically, on sketching and painting from life before relying too much on static imagery/3D/etc.

I often fret over every piece I do looking too stiff even still.

You have to do a LOT of the boring hard stuff the old fashioned way. And I regularly go back to it over and over when needed.

For example, I recently did a stupid amount of rose petal/flower studies deconstructing and painting ugly little paintings/doodles over and over because I know that I've been horribly weak at painting flowers for years (actively avoiding them). And I've been doing a lot of floral stuff lately due to that.

Whenever I start a new piece in new territory, I know it's going to mean several 3AM nighters where I have two other tabs open on Photoshop where I test out different textures or do a couple of studies. I'm working on a piece of my OC right now that has a lot of gore/medical instruments and I've been working on testing out different methods for shiny metal painting and some anatomical studies. I'll come to a snag in a painting and go "here we go" and work through it one piece at a time.

My Halsin piece, "Secret Spot" in the hot spring, was a massive undertaking with a lot of these moments. The Karlach x Dammon piece took 3 times longer than it should have due to me just having to go back and fix things knowing I could do better after doing some studies.

Ultimately I personally find art tutorials to be quite useless overall once you get to a certain point, unless they are teaching the use of a tool/software because you HAVE to figure out what works for you. And even then I use Blender like a monkey with a keyboard, I suspect, because I've just bruteforced through it, so I could probably use a tuneup from a good teacher on that haha. I hope this helps some, and sorry if I overstepped if I sound preachy.

[ashwithane]

happy 5th anniversary, fire emblem three houses!

i didn’t have time to do anything super elaborate, but i’m glad i could at least make some simple drawings of how i looked when the game released vs how i look now. i tried to give them a similar vibe to the in-game portraits haha

rant below about my feelings right now because there’s a Lot to say! content warning for mental illness and childhood trauma 🫠🤙

as you can see in the drawings, i’ve come a long way in the past five years. when three houses first released, i was a deeply insecure high schooler who never dared to speak up or express themself. i struggled with self worth issues and had long since begun developing ocd symptoms as a result of the fear i had that there was something wrong with me, something i couldn’t possibly know or change but that everyone would see if i made a single wrong move.

throughout high school, and my adolescence as a whole, i had a hard time connecting with people. but when i played three houses, i connected with the story, the characters, the ability to replay it again and again and always try something new, change characters’ classes and find new paired endings and discover the little details i hadn’t noticed before. i was playing three houses the weekend after covid lockdown was announced, and i remember talking to one of my friends about this cool game i’d just started my second playthrough of. we laughed and talked about the game, figuring that lockdown would only last a few weeks, and then things would be back to normal.

lockdown was difficult for me, as it was for most people. but at the same time, not going to school in person meant i could afford to let my guard down. i could afford to unmask, and discover who i was when i didn’t spend every moment in fear of what others would think. and so when lockdown ended, i started college still timid, but somewhat more familiar with who i was inside.

and then, one day, a thought hit me out of nowhere.

“am i trans???”

and thus began the journey of self-discovery that was my first summer after college. i started using the name ashe, started using any pronouns and later switched to just they/them. i also finally got up the courage to tell my parents i wanted to get tested for autism, and came back with that diagnosis to explain almost everything i hadn’t had the words to understand before.

recently, my mental health has gotten worse. i got diagnosed with anxiety at the same time i got my autism diagnosis, but nobody told me i have ocd as well until earlier this year. things took a nosedive for me over this past school year—i stopped taking risks, barely left my college campus, barely allowed myself to put effort into social connections out of fear that i’d be forcing people to put up with me. but through therapy and medication, i’ve been working through those feelings, and the fears my brain internalized as a result of the way i grew up: feeling like something was wrong with me, but not knowing what. today, i feel pretty good! i’ve been having more and more good days, so i’m overall optimistic about what my future holds.

to bring this back on topic, fire emblem: three houses has gotten me through countless tough times, and has been immensely helpful in figuring out who i am. so in honor of the anniversary, i’d like to give a special thank you to the characters who have been the most important to me over the past five years.

ashe: i’ll start with the obvious. ashe is the character i stole my name from, so of course he will always hold a special place in my heart. in addition to that though, ashe’s earnest personality and commitment to doing the right thing is immensely inspiring to me. he proves that it’s possible to make mistakes and grow from them, that your life isn’t over after one misstep. ashe has taught me to never give up on doing the right thing, and being the best version of myself i can be.

felix: this list would not be complete without the scrunkly of all time! obviously i find felix to be a very compelling character and fun to write, but his significance to me goes beyond being a writing muse. i’ve often thought that i wish i’d had a friend like felix when i was younger, and even now—someone who would drag me into situations i found stressful and encourage me (in his own rude way) to have confidence in myself. someone who would have stood up for me against the people who treated me like i was lesser. felix inspires me to fight for what i want, his shield symbolizing the ability to make your own choices for what and who you defend. he reminds me that there’s no glory in being a martyr, and so i shouldn’t make my well being a second priority. i love you felix and i’m sorry i put you through the horrors regularly (but not sorry enough to stop).

marianne: it’s probably concerning to say i see a lot of myself in marianne. her journey is incredibly inspiring to me, especially now as i see that the past five years have taken me along a similar path to hers. marianne starts out thinking she’s too different from everyone else to deserve a life like theirs, and condemns herself to crushing loneliness all to avoid the possibility of her hurting the people she loves. and yet she learns to live for herself, realizes that her mere existence doesn’t cause any harm, and learns to embrace her right to enjoy life. i hope to have the same strength she does, so that one day i can reach that point as well.

linhardt: no joke, i realized i was neurodivergent because of linhardt. so many of his lines and support conversations made me go “ha, he’s so autistic/adhd coded!” i made these comments repeatedly, but i also kept noticing all the little ways in which i related to him. linhardt was one of many autistic people who made me go “huh, i do that too! what do you mean that’s not normal???” his character also serves as a reminder that it’s okay to take a break once and a while, and that looking after myself doesn’t mean i don’t care about others.

if there’s one thing left to say, it’s thank you. thank you to ashe, felix, marianne, linhardt, mercedes, sylvain, ignatz, hapi, yuri, hell—my oc rowan, all the characters i’ve connected with and loved so deeply over the past five years. thank you fire emblem three houses, not for being the only reason i am where i am today, but being a major part of it nonetheless. and if anyone’s still reading, thank you for making it this far, and happy timeskip! 🎉

[whiterosebrian]

Death and Depression

I have very sad news to report.  My mother died.  She most likely died from a complication from chemotherapy, though I suspect that the other family members wouldn’t want me to divulge other details.  My mother and father both did their best to help me cope with my autism for well over forty years.  I am grateful that they taught me to honor every human life and treat every individual with respect with no regards to color, heritage, or any other inherent qualities.  I am also grateful that they set me on a path of seeking truth and love, whatever twists and turns that path took.

There have been times, especially in recent years, when I feared that I have not been a good enough son to my parents.  I’ve feared that long strings of repeated incidents of misbehavior and inappropriate reactions continually ruined their lives.  They have told me that I have actually been a good son; they’ve also told me bad behaviors largely came from a disability that I can’t entirely control.  Was my best good enough for my late mother?  Maybe it was. 

My mother died recently enough that it may be too early to tell how exactly how the loss has affected me.  Perhaps I can say that a massive, bloody gap has been left in my life.  Is my pain valid, however?  So very many people are facing much, much worse at this moment.  As a cisgender white male living in an upper-middle-class home, am I too systemically privileged for my pain to count as real?  Must I passively accept each and every personal pain? 

I have indeed felt much emotional weight and pain.  I have felt a cloud of depression over my life for a very long time.  That depression may be getting worse now.  I have felt almost no motivation for sketching or drawing.  I haven’t even felt up to writing another exercise in poetry lately.  I’ve felt even less delight in activities that should be relaxing or stimulating.  You may recall that my decades-long dream of being a successful and popular creative writer and illustrator has seemed further and further away from reality as the years passed, despite my efforts to develop my skills, leading to a profound crisis of purpose. 

I recently realized that I still feel the wounds from the difficult decision that I made back in 2018 to abandon Catholicism after nearly a quarter-century as a fervent convert.  I’ve heard losing faith being described as akin to a very ugly divorce.  Talking about wanting to be a pagan druidic wizard does risk making me sound like a complete infantile lunatic.  Being an autistic loner leads me to being terminally online, and the brutal socio-political polemics and frequent doomsaying that I encounter (of varying degrees of accuracy) exacerbate my crisis of purpose—I certainly have a hard time knowing exactly what is true and just.

My awareness of being a northwestern European on Turtle Island also makes me think that I am too much of a colonizer to be worthy of human dignity.  Sometimes, I think that I might as well be some nightmarish Lovecraftian eldritch alien—or a malignant tumor.  Do I need to at least passively accept every burden and every loss as punishment from Mother Earth for being a colonizer from birth?  Yes, I know how melodramatic those statements sound.  I am being brutally honest about how I’ve come to see myself.  I simply wish to do right by people who are more marginalized and by the earth itself, helping to bring healing and peace and freedom.   

I don’t know if I can ask for much sympathy at this time.  So very many people suffer far more badly.  I appreciate anything that you might offer to me.  I ask that you also badger your leaders wherever you live and agitate for meaningful policy changes to enable meaningful social changes.  Can you also find any local organizations that you can work with to build stable local communities?  Anyhow, what can I do for myself?  I’m still trying to figure out what is best, both for me and for everyone around me.

[kirayaykimura]

The Art of Deception

The mission - which Shirayuki had chosen to accept after hardly any deliberation - was simple. Find the person attempting to sell a new poison that could kill in seconds, secure the poison and the seller, get the seller to explain how to make the poison, and figure out an antidote. She was currently on step one. 

This step would have been much easier if her informant hadn’t snuck out onto the balcony and then…off the balcony. 

“Well, that was selfish,” Obi said, peering over the ledge to see if the body of their best lead was possibly, in any way, able to get up and walk the forty story fall off. 

Obi was the actual spy on this mission. Shirayuki was decidedly not. She didn’t like it when other people lied to her and she was frankly terrible at lying to others. She was, however, an expert at plants and poisons, an area of expertise Obi did not possess. Thus, she was effectively a spy until she could shut herself away in a lab and get back to her normal life. 

“What should we do now?” Shirayuki asked. She peeked over the ledge as well and immediately regretted it. She’d seen a couple of cadavers in biology classes in college, but none had exploded in quite so gruesome a fashion as the one in front of her now. 

“We go back inside,” Obi said, ushering her away with a hand that never quite made contact with her back. “We move rooms. We let someone else call that in. And we go to the gallery opening tomorrow to start asking around.” 

–

Obi had sincerely meant the we part of that sentence. Almost immediately after entering the gallery a respectable forty-five minutes late-

“That’s not respectable,” Shirayuki said. They were already five minutes late and she was feeling anxious. 

“It absolutely is. You’re thinking of the word respectful, which it is not, but we’ll draw too much attention to ourselves if we’re the first ones there. People will talk if we camp out and watch the door.” 

-he abandoned her to chat up a woman who was slightly unsteady on her feet. Whether the wine in her hand or her heels were to blame was anybody’s guess, but Obi was ready to pounce on the possible opportunity of lowered inhibitions. He left Shirayuki with nothing but a wink and a mouthed, Talk to someone. 

She did. After a while. First, she had to get over the wrongness of striking up a conversation only for information. Then, it was hard to figure out how to steer the conversation away from the art in the gallery to anything useful. Are you trying to poison someone tonight? wasn’t exactly an icebreaker. 

Obi found her an untold amount of time later at a small cocktail table near the edge of the event, exhausted and rethinking her strategy. 

“Where have you been all night?” Obi asked, sidling up next to her from wherever he’d come from.

“Around,” she said after a pause. That felt like a safe answer. 

Ears are everywhere, Miss, Obi had warned her before they’d left their hotel room for the gallery earlier in the evening. His breath ghosted along the back of her neck, closer than necessary to clasp her necklace for her. He’d checked the room for bugs when they’d settled in, but couldn’t be too careful. All talk of the mission had been in hushed whispers and written on paper that Obi had immediately burned and flushed the ashes down the toilet. Be careful what you say out there.

“Around, hmm?” Obi asked. He leaned an elbow on the table, the backs of his fingers just barely brushing against her upper arm. “Meet anyone interesting while you were around?” 

“I did,” she said. “He used to run his own nursery, but he recently downsized to a personal garden after his grandson took over the business. He said he’d give me a cabbage if I stop by his farm sometime.” 

Obi slowly raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. 

“Oh, you meant-” Shirayuki started, then said, “No. No one interesting.” 

“You’ve only spoken to an old farmer and dull people.” 

“He wasn’t old. He had life experience.” 

“I’m starting to think I may have some competition. What will I do when you decide to run off with him and leave me here all alone.” 

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Good, because your boy is flush with cash. I bet your farmer can't provide for you like I can."

"What?"

"Someone mistook me for the valet and gave me five bucks." Obi took a five dollar bill out of his jacket pocket and waved it around like something to be proud of. "People just don’t carry cash like they used to, nor do they tip. Other than that, I’ve met no one nearly as interesting as you, either.” 

She was sure that wasn’t true. Everyone could be interesting if you dug a little. For the sake of playing along with wherever he was going with this conversation, she stayed silent. 

“I did, however, see a couple around the corner that I could use your help meeting. Word has it that they like chatting with younger couples.” 

Shirayuki stared blankly at him. 

“Here, you-” Obi looked down at her neck, then peered behind her. “Your necklace seems to be caught in your hair a little. Let me fix that for you.” 

She couldn’t feel anything caught, and her suspicions were proven to be accurate when Obi stepped behind her and immediately whispered, “Everyone here now thinks we’re engaged. It'll help move things along. Go with it?” 

“How did you manage to tell everyone so quickly?” was Shirayuki’s only question. 

“You’d be surprised how many people want to hear stories of young love.” 

A moment later, a ring was sliding on her finger under the table.

Breaking character for a short moment, she asked as quietly as possible, “Where did you get this?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi said. A gold band on his own finger caught the light as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek in his palm. He held her gaze for a long moment, then said, “I missed you.” 

Shirayuki knew what she would do. Botanist Shirayuki who saw the inside of a lab more than her own apartment would lean as far away as possible. She might even flee the event altogether. Undercover Shirayuki, engaged to a man she’d met two days ago and long enough ago that they were engaged by now, she decided, should do the opposite. She tilted her face into the inside of Obi’s wrist and leaned as if she wanted to settle in, to let him hold her up for the rest of the night just like this. In return, he swept his thumb across her cheekbone in soft half-circles. 

After a moment, Obi let his hand trace along the side of her neck and down her arm, twining their fingers together and leaving goosebumps along her skin his wake. 

“Come on,” he said with a gentle squeeze to her hand. “Let’s go talk to some people about some art.” 

[siyurikspakvariisis]

Alright, I'm doing it. I'm replaying Baldur's Gate 3 as my first Tav, now redesigned and with a bit of a backstory and everything.

Meet Belarna. Despite what the card says, she's a priestess of Eilistraee (I'm using a variation on this build because 1. I really wanna play a bard and I really want said bard to be decent in combat, 2. I think it fits the vibes of a priestess of Eilistraee better than the Cleric class does, 3. Cleric != Priest and I will die on this hill) and a lorekeeper/courier between surface drow communities. She brings news from one community to another, passes on songs and prayers and recipes and jokes, and is down to draw her sword to defend the often maligned surface drow from assailants.

She's the daughter of a Secret Moondancer, a commoner from Menzoberranzan who had converted to Eilistraee and ran a small chapel in the Stenchstreets. Her mother had her smuggled to the surface when she was a child, to keep her safe in case Lolthite leadership took wind of the chapel and the Eilistraeean community surrounding it. She has few memories of her mother, but her adoptive family told her many tales about her, and she came to view her as a hero, a larger-than-life figure she aspires to emulate.

This is still a work in progress, but at least I have identified key elements: the hero worship, the way she clings to the tenets of harmony, peace, hospitality and joy, and... I still have to work this out, but the Second Sundering is rather recent, so during most of Belarna's lifetime Eilistraee was an absent goddess. I wonder how did that shape her church...

[camelcasebestcase]

crafting asks: 5, 6, 11!

5. anything you have made that you hated?

I once knitted a sleeveless cardigan out of leftover yarn of several colours with large seed stitch diamonds that just turned out super disappointing. It took forever, was boring to knit, and when finished was a little bit too small for me. I ended up donating it.

6. anything you made that you loved?

I love most of the things I've made, so I took a picture of some hightlights.

The first thing I knit (apart from some practice squares that are lost to time), at age 16-17 (it took that long lol), was a 3 meter 4th doctor scarf. I would even work on it between classes at school. You can see where I started, because there's a bunch of dropped stitches there, and one botched colour change, and on the other end my knitting had become so much more even. I couldn't get all the colours from the same brand, so I went to different shops and bought all kinds of different yarns - that's why the edge is so wobbly, there's a lot of different weights!

It looks decent and it taught me so much, I'll always cherish it for that reason, though I rarely wear it anymore because it's impractical.

The sweater is from 2021. Kind of a 10 years of knitting anniversary! It's pure wool (A sheep and alpaca blend if I recall correctly) and very warm. I don't love the cold, but I love that I can wear this sweater when it's cold! It's part of why I often have to turn up the heat a bit for guests in winter... I used a standard drops sweater pattern for the shape of the sweater, and came up with the colour pattern myself. The collar is kinda improvised, but I like how it turned out. I love working with colours, thought recently I have been branching out into doing more with cables too. I calculate how many stitches I have, figure out whether I can divide that by something like 16 or 20, and then draw out patterns until I find something I like on 5 mm paper.

I carved the symbol into the prayer bench when I volunteered in Taizé, a religious community in France which organizes retreats for particularly young people. It's my rendition of the orange origami boat, the symbol of the German pro-refugee movement (I don't think it's used as much anymore). Before I was in Taizé, I volunteered in a women's center for refugees in Greece for half a year. Nowadays my pro-refugee activities mostly consists of donating. If you want to help, considering donating to action for women, offene arme, equal rights beyond borders if you want to support the small organizations whom I have personally seen doing amazing work, or doctors without borders if you prefer an org with a wider scope who also does great work there.

The potholders are the first and so far only thing I quilted- they are completely hand-quilted from thrifted fabrics, and I love how they turned out. I now have a sewing machine, and yesterday a friend got it to work, so there's gonna be a lot of quilting in my future I hope!

The shirt is bought, but I embroidered the flowers with perl cotton. I had done some cross-stitch before, but this was the firs time I did this kind of embroidery. I based the flowers on the drawings of the herbs in pathologic 2, and used some instructional videos on youtube to figure out how to stitch them.

11. best thing about [your craft] is?

I mostly knit, but what I like in any craft is to make things that are are both pretty and can be used. And I can make exactly what I want! Of course, with literally *all* of these, there are things that could be improved. With everything I make, I reflect on what I made before, and change how I do it. But while everything I make is flawed, it's already great for just existing. It's fun to make things, and it's fun to use things I have made. The options are endless.