#It should have shadows that I would be able to put in in digital work

[rendoa-blog]

Aphra! (IMV!Dust)

First time drawing one of Icarus's little guys!

Up first, Aphra having a breakdown!

And it's painted!

(Og Dusttale by ask-dusttale, even if this is majorly fanonized lol)

[tristarnova]

Since today is the 1st year anniversary of tadc, I guess I should make some headcanons for it, I will be going over the performers as well as Caine.

Pomni in the real world is kinger and queenie’s daughter, and put on the headset after hearing the rumors about their parents going missing while working as an accountant, kinger was one of the main coders in the amazing digital circus, as we know, while queenie was a stay at home mom, how took care of pomni, while kinger was working.

If their will is strong enough, abstraction can strengthen the individual, granting them a new form and abilities, inspired by a design of abstracted pomni that was based of spamton neo, without abstracting them fully.

Feral Abstractions are calmer in the dark softening out their sharp edges, and can be turned back to normal, by showing that people care about them, by showing memories of them, similar to what happened in the dad au, though they will lose memories as a result, and they will need to be recovered.

Caine does have a brother named able, and may or may not be an ai, able being an ai created at the same time as them, and if not was just tricked into thinking they are an ai, due to being given control of the digital circus, and the ability to create adventures.

Ragatha has a brother in the real world outside the digital circus, inspired by the siblings Au, cause, yeah, I do think she probably has a brother.

Jax was the youngest to be put in the digital circus, and basically grew up there, due to how young he was, he grew cold and hard due to this, and became a bully, so nobody would get attached to him, not realizing that it might help him if he ends up abstracted.

I believe in abstragedy, meaning in my headcanon, gangle and zooble are a couple, and for some headcanons on the two, gangle does have another mask underneath their sad mask too, and they are some parts in the zooble box that actually are what zooble wants, but zooble has given up on finding them.

If queenie holds her breath, she becomes what is basically a shadow, shrouding her surroundings with darkness, like an opposite of her husband, kinger, if kafumo holds his breath, his neck ring starts spinning, acting like a helicopter, and for jax, he basically acts like a cartoon character, it’s embrassing for him.

[livewireprojects]

Nicole Ref(Lost Prince AU)

Nicole is another person I don't know much of but found interesting.(I went to look her up a little) Oddly enough I knew even less about her than Sally. There were snippets Sally I didn't realize were there cause I had no idea who Sally was but Nicole had nothing. I learned about Nicole around the time I learned about Sally(maybe a bit later, forgot when I learned about them), Nicole is kind of interesting but the thing that confused me was learning she's a cat not a jackal.(I'm stupid & didn't think about looking up lynx before, also she also looks kind of like a black back jackal)

Unlike with the Sally ref this one can stay & I just need to adjust some text.

I swapped the outfits around because I like the wrapped up dress look so I had president day Nicole wear it.(This is under the impression I'll show her more or something, I dunno how anything is going to go) The ??? version is heavily inspired by fan art I saw of a child version of Nicole, I then went on to dress her slightly in an outfit similar to the kindergarten uniform from Clanned. I dunno if I want to scrap ??? or not, I torture these characters enough as it is.(Especially Sonic & technically Shadow due to some stuff involving Sonic)

I'm putting the summaries under a keep reading again cause this is long.

Link to master post

Nicole is a digital entity that is a of friend/the assistant of Sally, she started out as a handheld computer with a living AI but has since been able to transfer herself to different devices if needed especially should her computer be destroyed. She started off emotionless but caring for her team but over time thanks to getting to see what it was like to have a body for a while & help from Sonic she's been working on having her own personality & doesn't like thinking of her more robotic personality.

Technically she's the one of the only remaining people from older Sally's group that remembers the war on Christmas Island & if given the ability to could help the younger Sally find her grandmother's missing friend.

Timeline from left to right

???:

It's best not to think on this, s̴̘̹̭͉̮͍̯̹͕͕̈́̋̈́̄̑͗̄̌̍̓̌͛͐̃̈́̈́̒̐͋͘h̴̢̡̫͉̮̬͈͎̪̹̝͖̙͋͐̐̌̿̎́͜͠ͅĕ̷̜̮̫͍͙̱̺̠͍̳̺̜̲̫̖̯̤̬̪̽̅͌͐̽̓͂̐̂̏́̎̕͜͝'̷͓͇̄ş̴̛͔̓̊͗̄̉͑̐̒̎͒̀́̈́͘͘͜ not coming back & the p̶̢̘̫͉̭͚͕̰͉͍͈̃͋̋̅͝ờ̸̡̗͕͉̺̣̎͋̍̐̄͒́̏̆̊̐̎̆̀͝ǫ̵͈̩̺̙̺̜̪̗̫̞͖̩̊͛̐͊͛̇͑̑͑̿̐́̚̕̕͘͝͝r̷̲̻̝͚̥͍̦͙̜͙̜̫̳͇̘͙̈͊͊̏̓̋̃̋͝ ̴͇̲̟̳̰͕͇̳͛̉̏̏͑͐̋̔̚͘d̵̡̛͔͕̥͎͔̅͂̆͑͂͑̋̎̔́͒̏͆͂͌͘͝ê̷̻͍͙̫̈́͌̓á̸̙̼͖͎͜ŕ̷̺̂̽̀̔̕͠͠ won't get to see

t̷̢̛̹̪̹͉̺̝̜͔̣̖͖̣̜̬̝͊̔̓̉̅̈͒̂̄̾͜h̵̡̞̩̣̟̞̩̲̫̝̻̬̖̄̂̍̉͒̈̂̄̈́́̽̈́́e̶̢͎̣̲̪͌̃ ̶͚̝̩̮̋̈͌̄̾͛͊͗́̑̈l̸̢̛̛̲͓̙̗̝̺̳͗͛͘͠ȉ̵̻̞̲̙̙̫͓̲̤͋͜f̵̛͙̝̲̥͈͕̟͇̮͗̔͌̿̿͒̅̑͊̕͜͠͝e̵̛̳̋̄̈́̑̅ ̵̡̡͇̲̀͒̾͒͋s̵̛̲̪̩͔̩̰͓̃̌̄̂͂̏̄͆̋́̅́̒͘h̷̨̤̫͍̙͇̼̝̙̣͔̹̯̗̣̆̎͋̒̋̍̅̉͋͗̔͝͠͝ḙ̴̡̮̝̟̲͈͋̀̓̐̎͊̀͌̓͗͌̕͝'̶͙̺̺̈́̆͂͐͐͗͝l̷̢̧̧̘̥͇̠̓̈̇͆̓̐̽̓̌̆̅̅͘͠ļ̸̨̡̨̛̟̻͎̦̦͓̣̬̺̟͉̼̎̍̂̊̌̿̍̒̎̈̅̍̓̚͝͝ ̴̧̣͚͓̗͈̬̮̰͔̩̥̭͎̺̰̀͗͂̊̋̽͋̀̌̒̓͝ͅn̶͔̼͖̪̊̏̍̂̐͝͠e̸̳͌̊͌v̷̦͙̤̟͖̻̣̆͆̃̿̕é̶̡̛̻̝̭̜͓̘͇͈̻̫̝̠̺̃̏̈̔̅̉̏̓͐̕͘͝ͅr̶̀̒͐͌̏̍́̃͑̐̔̕͜͠͝ ̵̺̘̆̈́g̸̻̖͉̜̩̫͇̫̦̲̪̻̩͈̱͖̒ȅ̷͙̯͕̟̩̯̗͊̃̅̆̄̅̒ͅt̵̳̙̠̠̲̮͎̹̭͌͊͒̏͂̾͋̾͋̂̌̓̌͝ ̷̦̠̜̪͐̌̔̇͆͒̓͑̚͝ṭ̵̨͚͎̦̙̜̼͔͉̲̲͚̯̎͌͋͛̆͋̊̒͑͜͝ő̷̟̎̓ ̴̣̍̾̅̇́̇̀̅͂͗͠h̴̡̰̬̖̥̱͇̤͈̝̝̲͔̗͕̘̯͒̉͐̿͗͒͌̄̕͝ą̴̯͉̤̞̦̱̥͈̼̼̣̫̮̈́̈́̓̈́̕͝ͅv̴̡̢̙͎̳̹̹͓̣́̀̄͂̓͗͐̆́͌͗͑̄͠͝é̶̡̦̽̉̓͊̀̃͂͝ because someone wanted to play god with computers.

40 years ago with older Sally:

Nicole started off as a computer given to Sally after she was found by some people working for her father while looking through a since abandoned lab. Nicole would help Sally with things & eventually assisted her & others when Sally went to help the queen of a kingdom of Christmas Island as a representative of her family as Robotnik's war was starting to spread to other areas of Mobius pretty fast. At some point while helping Sally's group & the triplets she got to know what being alive felt like & tried to make her own personality.

She's a caring & curious person but also nervous about her new self & new things that come with emotions.(I apparently lost my train of thought) She still has some kinks to work out from going from emotionless living AI to sentient but that's life some times.(I forgot what I'm getting at, wtf was this description?)

...Why is she interacting with Metal Sonic?

Modern day with younger Sally:

Nicole has come to find her own style & isn't as worried about herself much any more, she does however now know what it's like to lose people especially to old age She's out lived most of her friends even the princess that this all started with.

Nicole went on to help out & become friends with Sally's granddaughter of the same name. While Nicole has made new friends & re-met old ones(that were in stasis) she thought she'd never see again but still wonders what happened to the one Sally's family still seems curious about.

Nicole helps younger Sally & her father try to find said friend as best she can. While she has info that could help she doesn't know his whereabouts & even then she, Sally & friends/teammates have noticed someone like them around the kingdom that makes them wonder if he's possibly said person's descendant. Either way they now have some questions they want to ask(though never get a chance to fully ask) & have interacted some.

On the bright side Nicole has found a guy with yellow/gold stripes that she can spend the rest of her ageless life with.

….What's that boat that keeps showing up?

Casual:

Under cover? Night on the town? Just something to wear around town or something? Yeah that's about it. I think I got lost trying to work on the descriptions.

[awkwardgtace]

All Nighter

Melody stayed up all night and gets an unexpected morning visit

All Nighter

Melody groaned as she pulled off her headset. The stupid thing had tangled in her hair from how much she’d been fidgeting all night. It didn’t help how much arguing she had to do just to fix the issue someone caused. Production wasn’t even her job this week, but no one else had any idea how to fix it. She leaned as far back in her chair as she could just thinking for a few minutes.

Caprice came in at some point during the night when she’d been yelling. It wasn’t at anyone, just at the code that wouldn’t work. Of course it took hours to find the problem, get the permissions, and push the damn fix. All she wanted was some caffeine and to distract herself. At least her boss gave her the next few days off, a thank you for the emergency help.

With another groan she leaned forward. Her glasses fell off, but she didn’t care. It took all her energy to climb to her feet and make her way out of her office. She was met with bright sun from a nearby window and grimaced. Taking care to shield her eyes she made her way to the kitchen. Anything worth it was going to take too long so she grabbed a mug, filled it with water, and stuck it in the microwave. Bad tea was the best caffeine she could ask for right now.

Melody leaned against the counter, the microwave behind her hummed. She stared ahead, taking much longer than she would have liked to realize something was blocking the sliding door. She grumbled to herself about Caprice doing something stupid before walking towards it. She couldn’t decide if she had to deal with it until she could actually see what he put there.

Halfway to the door and squinting she could make out a solid dark blue. She laughed to herself and smiled. It was probably one of Kyrie’s scales. It wouldn’t be hard to move, she could just deal with it later. She stretched to try and work out the anxiety she’d built up over her night. Then the blue object blinked. She froze with an arm on her head as she realized just what was ahead of her.

“Melody,” Kyrie said. His voice managed to rumble through her chest. Her mind wasn’t able to keep up with the fact it was him. He was staring at her, without her glasses, her hair a mess, and the pajamas she’d put on just before she’d been asked to work. “Are you safe? I heard yelling…”

Her mind was completely blank. That solid blue eye just kept staring, she couldn’t even be sure it was focused on her. The microwave beeped behind her, but she couldn’t make herself move. A few chirps she recognized as worry came from the giant merman ahead of her. Then the eye was gone. She wanted to walk away, get cleaned up, anything besides standing there. When his finger came inside the sliding door she thought was closed her mind went blank again.

As much as the image seemed terrifying in her brain, she couldn’t move. His finger snaked into her home, a reminder of just how big he was next to her. Slowly he curled the digit around her. It was actually kind of comforting. He pulled her forward, gently guiding her outside. Her mind was too slow to try and avoid stepping out and into his shadow.

“Caprice said you were in trouble…,” his whisper was enough to make her shudder. “Need help?”

“I’m fine!” she shouted. The finger around her moved until the pad of his finger rested on her head. He moved his finger just slightly, she smiled a little at the feeling. He loved the feeling of her hair, it was different from merfolk hair. She almost relaxed under his touch, but her mind decided to completely catch up then.

Melody ducked away from the warm skin and backed into her house. She should have known Caprice had left her alone because he wasn’t even home.

“I’m just gonna make some tea and come back out,” she said. The chirps he made echoed around her. She bumped into warm fingers behind her. Another squeak escaped her, but his fingers had her completely surrounded. When she looked ahead, his eye was all she could see again.

“Was it… bad dreams?” he asked. The quiet fear in his voice made her pause. The massive eye ahead of her was shimmering, it wasn’t normal. She had to squint to make sure. Despite the proximity it was hard to see it clearly without her glasses. The fingers around her started to shake.

“How long have you been out here?”

“The moon was still high when Caprice came, so since then.” He somehow managed to make his voice quieter. “...was it the really bad one?” The fingers around her were shaking worse. A tear slipped from his eye.

“Kyrie…” Melody reached for the fingers around her. They froze as soon as she touched them. “It was just work. Someone broke something important and I was the only one who could fix it. I was yelling about that. I actually haven’t slept in over a day.”

She tried to laugh it off. Not sleeping wasn’t unusual for her. It was something she’d grown used to in her life. Kyrie pulled her close to him again. He pressed his nose against her. Hidden between his fingers all she could see or feel was him. It was enough to make the exhaustion she wanted to push away come forward. Each time she blinked it took longer for her to open her eyes again. She gathered her strength to push back the comfort Kyrie offered.

“Sleep,” he said. The quiet fear in his voice was gone. The base of his voice rumbled in her chest. The feeling was strange and comforting, she loved it. 

“I should stay up, sleeping now will just make it-” she said. He cut her off with a rumbling noise. It was soothing, easily making it hard to fight him.

The fingers around her tightened and lifted her off her feet. She felt as he pulled her closer to him. If it was anyone else she’d be afraid of being lifted up into the sky, but not Kyrie. The hand she was on never left the ground. The pressure of his nose was gone for only a moment. Kyrie’s deep rumble continued as she was pulled further from her home. Eventually he stopped moving her and set his nose over her like a blanket. It made her start laughing.

“Isn’t this uncomfortable for you?” she asked. The words sounded a bit odd. It was obviously his decision that she should sleep was winning.

“No, just sleep,” he said. The rumbling didn’t die down. If anything it got louder. It took all her energy not to let her eyes stay closed, but even then it was impossible to do anything. Melody let out a heavy sigh accepting this. For once she’d listen when someone told her to sleep.

[magnetarbeam]

LotF/FotJ: Miscellaneous Reactions/Outprocessing 10

The use of Nam Chorios was actually a really good decision for Vestara's character. Here she has to realize that she actually gives a shit about the random people that might die if she uses the Force.

Conviction is definitely my favorite FotJ book so far.

The idea that ships have sound systems built into the sensors and the cockpits that then mimic the auditory effects that would happen in atmosphere, in order to assist the pilot's intuitive sense of the engagement, is an explanation for why Star Wars has sound in space that goes back to the days of the original trilogy. It probably doesn't hold up to newer stuff, but it lasted at least long enough to be explicitly referenced when the bridge crew of the frigate that I assume is the Black Wave hear a shadow bomb go off before they hit Nam Chorios' atmosphere.

I wonder how the Jedi who got Force psychosis in general, and Valin and Jysella in particular, cope with that shit after it's over.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I have immense respect for Jagged Fel. It's not every day someone creates a piece of technology that inspires the Jedi to invent a new Force power.

I wish the scene where Vestara kills Taalon was actually from her point of view.

I'm embarrassed that it took me until less than a week ago to realize that the times that the Jedi use mainline X-Wings in these books, instead of StealthXs, is when they're operating as part of a larger force that they need to be able to communicate with.

Visualizing the battles in FotJ is a lot more fun when I imagine the Lost Tribe all having black-core lightsaber blades. I'm still torn on how they should sound. I'm pretty sure they're supposed to sound different from a normal crystal, but I'm not sure if I want to give them The Darksaber's sounds or something in-between or what.

According to Omen, the Eternal Crusader is explicitly larger, and I think it also said more powerful, than the Omen itself, whereas the next book repeatedly identifies the Crusader as a frigate. I'm guessing one of the ChaseMasters. In Crosscurrent, after the whole relativistic-time-travel clusterkriff, Jaden Korr identifies Harbinger, which is the sister ship of and thus necessarily the same class as Omen, as being "cruiser-sized" by the standards of this era. By the interpretations I subscribe to of the way these classifications work, that would put it in a comparable range of internal volume to something like the Malevolence or the empirically observable scale of Home One (which is about 4 kilometers long), although obviously it would look nothing like those.

I don't think there's any reconciling the descriptions of the Eternal Crusader as either a heavy cruiser/battlecruiser with more than enough mass and firepower for smaller-galactic-scale stories to assume it's a one-off, or a light frigate that carries maybe a hundred humanoids across naval crew and embarked troops - in a force like this there may not even be any organizational distinction between those - and a probably single-digit number of shuttles.

[hizzalot]

SL. 33. Rebecca-Rose in Chicago by @SirHizzALot

#SL33 #RebeccaRoseInChicago #Vengeance #Hizzy

I was finally in the same city as Rebecca-Rose. It's been years since I managed to catch up with her and the last time I did I had been so blinded by hate I had to leave to not give myself away to her, leaving only a few decapitated people from her coven behind. I’d been lucky that she never suspected me or recognized the scent I left behind. Her arrogance which anyone would dare to try to say anything about was my biggest weapon against her. Finally, I was here watching her from a building across the street in a dark room with her hotel room right in front of me. With my eyesight, I could see most of the things going on very clearly. She was in the penthouse, of course, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Again her loss is my gain. 

I watched her move around, still dressed in a see-through nightgown. Yes, I could see the way the fabric swayed around her body moving with her like it was part of her. Her skin is white as snow shining through, the dark hair between her legs as visible to me as the one on her head. 

Not that I was looking, she was the most unattractive thing I knew even if it was normal for a maker and prodigy to feel a sexual pull to each other. I had none towards her whatsoever. All I felt was a burning rage deep inside of me and I knew it wouldn’t change until I saw her dead. I put my digital binoculars down since I didn’t need them. At times they could come in handy to see details even I could miss. Instead, I sit down in the chair I placed next to the window and relax. Now at night with the lights out I could mostly sit by the window watching her without having to worry much about being seen. The space between the buildings was too much for her or anyone in her security to see an unmoving body and even if they had the brains to use technology why would they be looking more than doing their normal security scan. I already figured out their routine for that and it didn’t include making sure there were no creepers across the street in a window. Everything should be fine, feel fine too. 

Yet, it isn’t. Deep in thought, I tap my fingers against my chin and over my mouth. There’s something wrong, I can feel my inner alarm going off. When I went through my steps of securing my location and making sure I had the best visual of the penthouse she was staying in it all had gone way too smoothly for my liking. And it wasn’t until now when they were all acting extremely normal almost to the point of being overly so that my senses went on high alert. I didn’t have much respect for Rebecca-Rose or her security team but this was a little too much even for them. I was 99% sure she had no clue that I was around. I doubt even Rebecca-Rose can ignore the scent of a prodigy and not give away what she knew. She was old but she lived by instinct more than I did and the only way I kept myself from lashing out at her or being pulled in was because I was prepared and could take precautions to hinder myself from being pulled in. Black magic was after all da shit. It wouldn’t work forever but for now. 

A light flickered off catching my attention back to the penthouse across the street. I sunk further back into the shadows in my room just in case someone was watching. The curtains covered the window enough that it was easy for me to fall back into the dark without moving much. I sat still with my sunglasses-covered eyes looking through the curtains to the other side and there in the dark room stood Rebecca-Rose looking directly at me. It only took me a few seconds to see that her eyes were moving around too much to be focused on me but for an untrained eye they most likely would have panicked but I held back and waited her out. I was prepared. I knew, one way or another, she would pick up on my presence. We weren’t linked like most makers and their prodigies, mostly because she had left me for dead, but not even she would be able to ignore the pull when we finally got close enough to each other. She would have no idea who she was looking for at first but the pull would guide her so I had to be careful. I might be at a slight advantage right now but once she saw me and knew about me things would change. I’d been turned in 1983 at the age of 21 making me close to 60 years old, Rebecca-Rose dissonant her 18th birthday in 1761, making her closer to 400 years old. She had age and centuries of perfecting her skills over my 40 years as a vampire. What I had on her was the hybrid nature that made me stronger, and more advanced in my sense especially in smell and taste but I was also able to use my snake side to lure my prey in, poison them and eventually kill themBeingbe able to walk around outside during the day also helped. She had no idea of my existence or my skills and I had to use it against her as much and long as I could. 

My plan of attack was to learn her habits and see who was around her and when. I did so several times over the years as I tracked her, that was how I tracked her. Her wear-and-tear mentality, when it came to people, became my breadcrumb over the years. It was when I realized that her always changing security and dropping friends and people around her and moving was her strategy to keep herself out of enemies' way that I really made way on my quest of finding her wherever she went. It still took work but if you knew what crumbs to look for it was easier. 

After a few minutes, she moved away from the window but I stayed where I was. Maybe it was the pull, maybe it was just a fluke that she seemed to be looking for something or someone. I was close now, closer than I ever was both mentally and physically to getting my revenge. I had to play it safe and not lose my focus on what was important or rush it. If I did as planned and watched her for another couple of days making sure that the day security she had on now would stay on for the coming weeks I should be able to get into her penthouse during the day and move her to another location far away from Chicago where she would be in no other persons mercy than my own. 

#SL33 #RebeccaRoseInChicago #Vengeance #Hizzy

[crystalelemental]

Following the recent Gauntlet, I felt it necessary to update the Common Grid War listings.  There are...a few changes.

Promotions

Shauntal: A -> S.  Okay.  Shauntal rules.  Shadow Ball, on type, has a pretty easy time hitting 5-digit numbers.  Like, an EX Support taking first sync pretty much guarantees it.  Yes, she has some setup concerns, given Special Attack/Crit needs, but her damage output is outrageous, and they did give her an option to help cap crit.  And like...there are no flaws.  Her best comparison is Bruno, who is similarly heavy on DPS.  Except he’s weaker, has accuracy issues that cut into his energy management for grid, and he doesn’t get to build up his speed until after he’s landed multiple crits.  Which, additionally, don’t add up to as much because he’s a lot slower than Shauntal.  And his offensive stats aren’t as high.  And he’s got a max 90% move multiplier, if you can cap his special defense.  Shauntal has +100% basically for free.  Oh, and she ignores Light Screen by default.  Shauntal is ridiculously powerful, in a type that’s becoming fairly competitive.

Marshal: C -> A.  Not a joke.  Marshal’s for real.  The staggering effect is minor, but it honestly puts in crazy work.  Moreover, Drain Punch’s DPS is legitimate, and even without Master Healer, he’s recovering plenty to stay relevant.  Additionally, he’s able to help with debuffing on many teams.  He’s a fairly ideal partner to Maylene in Gauntlet, staggering foes to reduce the pressure she’s under, and softening up opponents for her Drain Punch at the same time.  I really undersold him.

Marlon: C -> B.  While I will be first to note that Marlon’s issues are in his gauge control, the tradeoff is you have a super good defense tank with Endurance applied, and actual pop healing, alongside a fairly unique trait in Team Pinpoint Entry to solve for units like Cyrus and Ghetsis who otherwise are self-sufficient.  I dunno.  This guy feels like he should be more flawed than he is, but every Gauntlet I’m finding some nice utility for him.  It’s pretty great.

Brock and Grant: D -> C.  I have finally lifted these two out of D-rank.  Because 60% flinch rate, on a move that has decent supplementary DPS.  Which would, in theory, put them up with Molayne and Wikstrom.  Except unlike Molayne, they have poor independent gauge manage, and unlike Wikstrom, they can’t do serious big boy damage numbers when so inclined.  Because of this, I put them below Wake, who is comparably sad on sync, but has better gauge control and self setup, even if it’s worse DPS.

Demotions

MU Torchic: S -> A.  While it doesn’t have its grid yet, and therefore cannot be held entirely accountable...I feel confident on this assessment.  Lack of Endurance, lack of First Aid, and mediocre bulk really hinder this thing.  It’s reliant on an ally sustaining it in Gauntlet, and likely won’t survive three buffs in CS without the opponent using their own stat boosters.  It’s still exceptional as one of the best special attack/crit buffers in the game, but unlike the premium options, it has trouble with survival.

Noland: A -> B.  Noland remains fantastic with self-setup, but this is about all I can say on his behalf.  Gauntlet has been very trying with these longer streaks, as Noland can set up reliably, but can’t often deal sufficient damage to make something work.  Bugsy feels noticeably stronger, and it’s kinda holding him back a bit.

Maylene: A -> B.  Maylene, I want to love you.  Atk/Crit buffer with defense drops should be great.  But much like a Valerie/Kali situation, your only real healing is on your attacking move.  You are a support.  You cannot deal damage.  No Endurance, no healing outside of her attack, which is high gauge cost, and her bulk is fairly lacking alongside lower offenses.  Maylene has delightful utility packed in a unit that struggles to survive.

Sophocles: B -> C.  Sophocles, as a flinch bot, is solid.  Endurance is great for a last-second survival, and flinch is always valuable.  I think my problem is that, unlike the higher-ranked flinch bots, his damage is just poor.  Sophocles does not have a great tech nuke.  Even against Tornadus he routinely struggles.  And his flinch supplies exactly nothing to the damage dealt, really just supplying a stall.  Which is a problem against fights where flinch doesn’t last and you’re desperately trying to make it count.  Like Moltres.  God I hate this bird.

Crasher Wake: B -> C.  Exact same deal to Sophocles but legitimately worse.  Even as a Water-type, Wake’s damage feels atrocious, because his requirement is that the foe be flinching.  It’s too much to expect the flinch to last.

Lucy: B -> C.  And another where damage seriously hinders performance.  Lucy’s got Toxic and Trap as effects, which are delightful and useful, particularly in regards to a fight like Uxie.  But beyond this, Lucy is...kind of a pain.  Her bulk isn’t fantastic, and her damage is outright sad.  Less than half the HP bar against Bulu while supereffective.  Outside of these traits for supplemental damage, Lucy contributes very little.  And last Gauntlet, I got to learn how bad it is that she’s also Psychic-weak.  So that’s just great.

Inter-tier Adjustments

Nanu: Bottom of S.  Honestly, it’s the 40% thing.  If he had a full 60% flinch on Bite, he’d be way higher up.  But because of that limitation, and the fact he is fully reliant on attack/crit support to even get to 40%, I feel like he’s the last winner of the S-tiers.  Fantastic sync nuke, fantastic utility, just...needier.

Ramos: Moved to Agatha.  They’re comparable.  Agatha has better gauge control, but I feel like Ramos provides comparable utility.  I do think Agatha’s decisively better, but I rarely consider her for a sync nuker as it is.  Or as DPS with Shauntal around.

Cheryl: Bottom of A.  Cheryl, while I love her, does have some notable flaws.  Physical attacks can be dangerous for her, and her gauge control is nice but not exceptional.  I think the bigger thing is just...lack of real utility after buffing.  Hyper Voice and Flamethrower aren’t great picks.  I kinda wish Hyper Voice were just Swift.

Wikstrom: Down to Molayne.  Wikstrom’s main issue is frailty.  Even with Vigilance, he gets trucked by AoE moves pretty easily, and it’s a problem.  They’re comparable, with Wikstrom being above Molayne entirely because of his self-setup.  But, Wikstrom also has gauge issues while Molayne...pretty much never does.  So you know.  Roll that into your calculations.

Liza: Above Drake.  Drake, for a defensive buffing, dies constantly.  Liza doesn’t take hits reliably either, but at least she doesn’t need sync to get the bare minimum of healing.  And mixed offense buffing is a nice skill to have, while a one-bar spam means she’s better on gauges.

Hapu and Clay: Bottom of D.  These two suck.  Hapu really only has accuracy debuffing utility, and isn’t even that great at it.  Eggmons do this stuff.  But that’s still better than whatever Clay is supposed to be.  Speed debuffs are notoriously bad, and Toxic Chance 2 isn’t really anything to write home about.  Worse, what should be a defining trait in his sync nuke is woefully poor because he needs attack, crit, and now special defense support, a combination of traits that is ridiculously hard to shop for.  He does get double Endure, which is the only thing keeping him out F, but I have yet for it to matter so get ready to demote, buddy.

Final Thoughts I think running a longer Gauntlet streak and having to really push our tools has made some of the flaws in flinch bots stand out in particular.  Supplementary DPS is pretty required for it to matter.  Moltres will just dunk your ass if you’re not helping push toward the phase change when needed, while Tapu Bulu’s severe flinch weakness only matters if you’re dealing enough damage to take advantage of the delay.  Weaker flinch attacks just don’t add much unless they’re partnered with specifically overpowering strikers.  This is why Marshal jumped so much; the combination of a flinch chance with really respectable DPS that is also recovery is frankly incredible role compression.

That said, this was also a revelation in the inconsistency of flinch as a skill, compared to the reliability of sleep.  There’s a reason the only flinch bots that rank above the sleep bots are Winona and Nanu, two units who also pack insanely good utility in Rain and Screech respectively.  I think we’re also coming into the realization that, especially after the common grid war concluded, most damage dealers have some level of self-sufficiency, and therefore a support needs to be a bit more than just a strong buffing kit.  Torchic and Maylene largely dropped because of their frailty, inability to heal, and lack of sufficient gauge control, while Roxanne remains top dog for having a solid defensive profile, absurdly good buffing including gauge control, and Endurance.  Though admittedly, even Roxanne was challenged.  Bulu was strong enough she needed Potion.  Though I also blame that on Lodge Marnie being kinda ass.

I also need to admit that Norman’s position in F might not last.  Despite my grousing about his grid being so awful that it feels like a joke, the Normal typing means higher general damage, and even with Body Slam, he supplied relevant supplemental DPS in his team.  Reliable paralysis and the ability to heal off AoE hits make for pretty good traits, too.  I’m not convinced he’ll rise, but I am convinced he might not be bottom of the barrel if Clay and Hapu don’t get it together.  Honestly Lorelei too.  30% freeze isn’t great odds and it’s about all she’s good for, so we’ll see.

[kafkaesque-philocalist]

Confessions in April

I can still remember the knee jerk reaction I’d had when a man named Daniel texted me if I wanted to hangout that Saturday. I’d just broken up with my previous boyfriend turned missionary the week before and thought why not date around, it’s not serious or anything, right? Daniel was good looking and we’d had the same interests so it couldn’t hurt; besides he was my exes’ brother’s friend so I should be able to trust him. Even with the knot forming in my gut, I said yes. It was every single day he’d bring me to his house and try to convince me have sex. I was so naive as an 18 year old, I honestly believed that when you say no it meant no. How foolish of me! 

Staring at the stormy carpet in the low lit office of my therapist, I told her about a writing challenge I thought would help me come to terms with that day in November. She said she loved that idea, it’d allow me a good space to finally see where I was with everything. She also wanted to see what I wrote to make sure I didn’t ruminate too much. We both didn’t want a repeat of what happened when hypnosis came up a couple weeks prior.

Like all good things in this modern era, I’d found BookLeaf Publishing’s Write Your Heart Out challenge on Instagram among the selfies and Elf makeup ads. For it, participants had to write a poem each day for 20 days which they would then publish, specifying that they would need a payment of $50 beforehand. Days earlier I’d put in my 2 weeks at FedEx without a backup job in the works at the advice of my family and therapist, and would very soon not have an income. Sitting in the four grey corners of my room on the white island of my bed I thought. My mental health had taken a turn for the worst after a date at a guy's house months prior. With my limited money, was it worth spending that much on such a luxury? Was the thought of showing the world my story worth possibly getting scammed?

Yes.

The last day to register was May 12, 2021 giving me breathing room between my last day and the start of the challenge to think. Days felt like years during that period, forcing my mind to relive the moments I’d blocked off for months for the artistic cause of writing my pain. I thought a lot about the times I told him no and that I didn’t want to the entire week prior to the event. Much like when I’d gotten into therapy earlier that year, I self-isolated. And yet writing during the competition was so much worse psychologically.

That competition was the first time in all my years of writing that I did not want to face my agony. The faces of my cousins saying their last goodbyes to their brother after he’d shot himself, my struggles with self harm, watching my sister’s battle depression, I wrote all of it with a fire only those truly alive have. It wasn’t fiery or venomous; instead it was days of locking doors and abrupt panic attacks. Every time I tried to write it head on, I managed to find myself in the bathtub trying to shut every little thought off.

It was after having a friend of mine review some of them that I really put into perspective what I wanted. For months I’d lived in the shadow of the assault, so scared of this new title I’d now have to adorn. I remember him messaging me, telling me that just because I’d finally opened up this wound doesn’t mean the world was entitled to it, especially if it triggered me to the point of sickness. I knew he was right. With his suggestion I focused on looser and free floating topics. The expression of my mental health as a young adult, pressure to go on and marry, failed relationships, and agency. 

After I’d written and submitted 21 poems, BookLeaf compiled all of them digitally, then asked me what I wanted the cover art to look like and the title. The amount of pacing I did that entire day, I’m surprised I didn’t burn down the house from the friction. Much like the text message, the title suddenly popped into my head: my birthday. April was my birthday month and coincidentally the same month I started therapy that eventually led to me writing the poetry book. 19 was also the age I turned that year, marking yet another chapter in my young adult life; it was perfect. 19 in April became a symbol of my metamorphosis from blind youth to somewhat of an emotionally stable adult. What happened didn’t have to define me, no one thing had to define me in fact; I was free in that moment. 

I like to think that I’ve grown out of my edginess, that I’ve learned how to deal with some of the worst tragedies an individual can in their lifetime. Reading 19 in April even today I can still trace my fingers against each poem and find some semblance of understanding. Every word, every phrase no matter how amateur and flimsy was a testament to a girl finding herself in the wreckage of her life once again. I felt pain, betrayal, a loss of identity and still chose to express it through writing and eventually turn it into peace. I never made money from it- I didn’t expect to in the first place- finally having everything out in the open and bare for the world to see was the best feeling I’ve ever had. If writing has taught me anything, it’s that life is a constant bittersweet symphony of events. When I imagine a stormy carpet, I no longer shed a tear.

[martyrmurdock]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘

♡ pairing: frank castle x gn reader

♡ word count: 1k

♡ tags: fluff, sweetheart used as a petname

It’s the dead of night. Even in the city that never sleeps, there is a time when the vast majority of residents are asleep, peacefully slumbering in the safety of their homes and dreaming of fanciful, far-off things. A time when there is a lull in the typical bustle of New York City, where only a small handful of people are still awake.

You are one of those few individuals. Frank is too.

You’re unsure of what the exact time is. The batteries for the small digital alarm clock you have on your nightstand died a while back, and you haven’t gotten around to replacing them just yet. You keep putting off the simple task. You’re also too lazy to roll over and grab your phone to check the time, but you don’t have work tomorrow morning, so you don’t worry too much about it.

Instead, you take the opportunity to shamelessly admire Frank.

The warm glow of the lamp resting on the old nightstand by what’s wordlessly known as Frank’s side of the bed casts long shadows onto his face. The yellowish light softens the rough angles of his roguish features. He’s propped up on the rickety bed, a fluffed-up pillow supporting his lower back as he leans against the wooden headboard to read the book you recently recommended to him.

He’s forgone a shirt, something that you can’t quite wrap your head around since it’s freezing but something you appreciate nonetheless. The view is rather nice, after all. Your eyes trace over the scars and blemishes marring his skin, lazily following the lines of his abs.

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Frank quips, breaking the comfortable silence that’s blanketed over you both. He must have felt the heat of your gaze on him because Frank’s attention has solely been on the book in his large, calloused hand. You would know since you’ve been watching him this entire time.

A low hum forms in the back of your throat. You take your sweet time scanning over Frank’s resting form before your eyes land on his face. “Maybe, I will,” you respond, fond amusement slipping into your tone.

His eyes don’t stray from the novel, but the corners of his lips quirk up into a hint of a smile. A win, you internally celebrate. There’s nothing you love more than a smile gracing Frank’s face.

“Is that so?”

He lowers the book slightly and tilts his head to look down at you. You shoot a smile at him and your heart stutters at how his eyes crinkle and soften in return. Shifting your position on the mattress, you prop yourself up with an arm and inch closer to Frank.

“Mhm,” you say, dragging a mindless finger down Frank’s firm chest. You revel in how goosebumps form on his skin. Not cold, your ass. “How else am I going to be able to capture how pretty you look right now?”

“Pretty?” A bark of abrupt laughter escapes Frank and his chest rumbles beneath your touch. “You think I’m pretty, sweetheart?” Frank manages between his bouts of laughter, amusement ringing loud and clear in his low voice.

A pout begins to form on your lips at the fact that Frank is obviously not taking you seriously. You sit up, tucking your knees underneath your bottom and folding your arms in front of your chest. His laughter dies down after you toss a glare lacking any real heat his way, but by the expression on his face, Frank is clearly taking enjoyment in your current state.

“Course I think you’re pretty Frankie, have you seen yourself?” you playfully scoff, unfolding your arms to exaggeratedly gesture for effect. Another round of deep laughter rumbles through Frank’s chest at your theatrics. Eventually, you both settle down, and with a soft, fond smile, your hands find their way to Frank’s face, your palms coming to cup his cheeks. The stubble growing along the lower half of his face prickles beneath your skin. “You’re beautiful,” you murmur, almost reverently.

Frank stills under your touch, and you worry that you may have made a grave error. Hastily, you pull your hands away from Frank’s face and place them on your upper thighs. Your fingers nervously fiddle with the bottom hem of your sleep shorts. “Sorry,” you apologize, averting your gaze to look at the thread-bare sheets that cover your mattress, which are all of a sudden super interesting to you.

Silence fills the air. It’s stifling and uncomfortable, and you’re on the verge of opening your mouth again to ramble about something, anything, just to fill the quietness when Frank responds.

He places a large, calloused hand over the back of yours, and you wonder how these hands can be the cause of so much violence when he touches you so gently. “It’s alright,” he awkwardly comforts you. “Just caught me off-guard.”

You snort, raising your head to meet Frank’s gaze. Your eyes widen when you take in his appearance again. “Frank Castle, are you...blushing?”

It’s Frank’s turn to avert his gaze. “No,” he decisively says.

A wide smile stretches across your cheeks because despite what he says, Frank Castle is 100% blushing. It’s not terribly noticeable with the low lighting, but you can make out a slight flush covering his cheeks.

“Mhm,” you nod, entirely unconvinced. “That’s right, I forgot. The big, bad Punisher doesn’t blush,” you tease, leaning in closer to Frank until your nose brushes against his. 

Frank’s eyes immediately dart back to yours after you poke fun at him. A retort lies on the tip of his tongue, but it dies out when he sees the warm, affectionate look in your gaze. He places his hands on your hips, prompting you to rest the majority of your weight on his lap.

“Damn right,” he quietly exhales before closing the small gap between you to slot his lips over yours.

You can’t help but smile against his lips.

Moments like these where Frank lets his guard down even just a little bit and relaxes are rare. They’re the ones you’ve come to cherish the most.

[myuni-moon]

Ohayo or Oyasumi!૮₍⑅˶•▿•˶⑅₎ა

I'm not sure if your requests are closed or opened, so if they are closed then u can delete it ^-^

✨Twisted Wonderland✨

GN!MC

How would Yan!Dorm leaders react if their darling runaway and litteraly fell in love with anither person?

I kinda know what would happen to the person with who their darling fell in love with, but what would they do to their darling, who has litteraly betrayed them?

#grim fairytales

their reactions if you ran away and fell in love with someone else ft. malleus, riddle, and idia

warnings: yandere content, mentions of abduction, violence and threatening, decapitation, blackmail, mentions of force-feeding

note: i can't add all the dorm leaders, so i hope this is okay!

malleus doesn't want to admit it out of his own pride and ego, but he was terrified when he found out that you ran away; however, it turned into fury when he caught wind of that unremarkable mortal creature that had taken you into its clutches. as much as he would love to take you home as quickly as possible, he instead watches from the shadows and sizing up that poor excuse you have as your mate. the moment he sees a frown on your face, he’s snatching you right up— not that he wouldn’t if you were happy. poor darling, you don’t deserve such a irresponsible partner who couldn’t even make you happy!

no, no. unlike them, he treasures you like no one else; isn’t that just proper of him— to promise and give you all the happiness he can give you? (even if it’s more or less to feed his pride rather than keeping you happy) don’t be fooled, however. he loves spoiling you and putting a smile on your face, but the way his claws tap at your ankles is more than enough of a threat of what should happen if you ever run from him again. he’s worked hard to get you by his side, and he won’t let you ruin his happily ever after.

riddle can’t for the life of him keep his temper in check the moment he finds out you’ve left him all alone. the servants in his home are scrambling, trying to get him to calm down, and it looks like a whirlwind passed through his room as a result from his temper tantrum. not even his mother can tell him off from the amount of rage he's exhibited out of her own safety. through some good connections, he's able to track you down in a cute cottage at the very border of rose kingdom and living with your little lover no less. he busts a vein when that lowlife kisses you in front of him, and he's practically dragging you by the collar back home with him where you belong.

he won't let himself be second to someone who doesn't even have half as many achievements as he does. hasn't he been the perfect partner, treating you so gently befitting of a darling like you? hasn't he worked hard to grit his teeth and stop himself from strangling someone the moment they get too close for his liking? and then you go do something like this? not if he can help it! as a proper punishment for your transgressions, how about you watch as he puts your lover's head under the guillotine? maybe then you'll stop behaving like a brat.

idia finds you easily, and he doesn't even get all that mad because of your disappearance for this exact reason. you'd literally have to fall off the face of the earth if you never want to be found his prying eyes and digital prowess. even if you live in a forest where you can live in isolation from anyone and anything that uses electricity, ortho would be hot on your trail who's much too eager to help his sulking brother to get his dear darling back. what he is most surprised and upset about is how you could replace him easily. he knows that he might not be the best of the bunch, but he's more than capable at being your partner despite being so antisocial.

he won't kill your lover; that's way too barbaric for the future ruler of the underworld. instead, he'll dig up anything or falsify information to make your lover hand you over to him. criminal records, embarrassing moments, family secrets-- he'll dig whatever he can find or fake them. he'll appear out of nowhere one day, dangling a document in front of your lover's face and watching their face pale out of fright. once you're back in his arms, he'll whisper how much of a baby your lover seems to be for making themselves more of a priority over you. so much for a love that would last, but don't worry. idia will love you until the end of time! he promises to be the person to love you for eternity as he stuffs food from the underworld down your throat.

[mokutone]

Hi hi! do you happen to have any favourite watercolor artists/ inspirations? specifically ones that rlly influenced your art style? I've tried searching up keywords like "favorite" etc but tumblr search engine is a little iffy, anyways! i adore your art and seeing your process videos make watercolours look like such a fun process and tbh less daunting than what it seems. Your blog is sending me down a rabbit hole of inks and watercolors and aaa its so fun to find gems on this nonfunctional website

OOOOOOH i dont think ive actually been asked this before!!! ty!!!

the truth is when it comes to watercolor im mostly flying by the seat of my pants 😅 but there are definitely watercolor artists that i love even i do not consciously do studies of their work! i should really study more watercolor artists bc its probably foolish to practice a medium while remaining ignorant of the big names within it.

i hope u find these interesting:

This is one of my favorites, it's called The Meeting on the Turret Stairs by 1864 Frederic William Burton. this is WATERCOLOR. good god. help. if you get really in close you can see how he built it up with delicate different colors. Anyway, the solidness of the bodies, the like...the romance in it all, the way the metal reflects the fabric, the detail in the chainmail and the absolute softness in the background...ough. its good. this is a painting which in all ways knows exactly what its about and executes it perfectly

and then there's the watercolor sketches of Hayao Miyazaki obvs skgjhdskgh, i like how loose he is and how clear, and how he isnt scared of the white spaces between where colors meet. i know these arent meant to be final products just like. indications of how the animation should be...but they enchant me so much...i want to be able to do watercolor sketches like that!

Albrecht Dürer does a lot of very detailed illustrations in watercolor, he's a weird guy from the 1500s, look how you can tell how the texture of the hare changes from its back to its underbelly. also, unrelated to his watercolor skills, i just like how he signs his work by putting a d beneath a little A arch. His mastery of textures is delightful and his attention and carefulness with detail is admirable

also i'm gonna mention Akihiro Yamada's watercolor + ink illustrations, specifically for 12 Kingdoms. I haven't spent a lot of my time looking at them but every time i do i find that there's something i want to emulate abt them...something abt the detailed inks and the way he does shadows with watercolor...something abt it rlly speaks to me. i think a lot of my weird shadow experiments are trying to achieve a feeling i get from his work. I think that these are the most like...the most like what I want to do? While also being definitely something other than what I would pursue. Hard to explain. Love to look at them though here's three of them

also

i would absolutely be remiss if i did not mention one of the people who inspired me to get back into watercolor originally, @marina-does-things and here is an excellent example of their work. Here is another (squid game fanart!) They're SO skilled at watercolor and gouache, and especially at conveying light + shadow, highlights and playing with color...when I think of their artwork I think of the light in it the most, u can really tell just by looking at their work that theyre so comfortable with the medium + have put a lot of effort and work into playing with it and gaining skills, theyre also a skilled digital artist too, all around triple-threat. They also do comics and WATERCOLOR comics at that (here is a link to a post of their excellent 80 page watercolor comic piece based on an episode of the podcast WOLF 359) !!! just an extraordinarily cool and talented artist

anyway, i hope this was useful to you!

[midnightsilver]

Drawing Practice

Hi Y’all. 👋🏻 I’ve been a bit quiet recently as I’ve had lots of migraines and I didn’t want to be staring into the computer screen for hours, so instead have been curled up in bed with a sketch book doodling. I’m trying to get back into the swing of things and thought I would share my doodles so you can see the ups and downs 😊.

Pic 1

This first pic is a Dean portrait drawn in charcoal on cappuccino paper. Two things I was working on: (1) being less reliant on the reference. I studied the reference photo to begin with and then put it away to draw from the memory. Trying to capture the feeling of the expression not the technical details. I think that worked pretty well. (2) using mid tone paper. I should let the mid tone work for me and just add highlights and shadows. I failed at that entirely and totally eclipsed the colour of the paper except as a background 🤷🏻‍♂️😂

Pic 2

Next I tried the same exercise with a Sam reference. And my muse said: No! 😂. Once I put the reference away I just couldn’t capture the correct shapes in Sam’s face, and without the reference to compare to i wasn’t having much luck tweaking it. (Looking back now I wasn’t too far off, he is just a bit chubby. He might have been saved if I hollowed in the cheeks and sharpened the jaw. But sometimes you need a few days gap before you see things like that 🤷🏻‍♂️😄). Also I saw that my charcoals are cool tones and my paper is warm tone. So trying to let the warm mid tones of the paper shine through the cool shadows and highlights is going to produce a weird effect. All in all I hated it, and gave up for the day.

Pic 3

The next day I tried again with a different reference photo, choosing an easier more straightforward head angle to study before I put the reference away. This made a world of difference to capturing Sam’s features. However the white and black charcoal are still not working on the warm paper. I think I need a more warm tone highlight and to use it more sparingly. I also think it would have balanced better if I had added sepia tone charcoal into the shadows like I did in the first practice Dean picture. But in an inexplicable fit of madness I added shadow shading with an 8B graphite pencil because my black charcoal was a bit light (the whole thing was stupid because even an 8B graphite isn’t going to be as dark as a pure mid black charcoal 🤷🏻‍♂️🤦🏻 I don’t know why I did it). But anyway there weren’t no way I was getting any more charcoal over the top once I had layered on graphite. So I called this one quits on a half way success.

Last pic

For my last pic I gave up on the charcoal and the cappuccino paper. This one is 2B graphite on white sketch paper. And this picture I just totally made up from my imagination. I wanted to practice drawing anatomy without a reference. (Btw I always use references and I think it’s a great for improving accuracy. Plus it’s much quicker for me because I spend less time moving and tweaking proportions 😁. None of this is a comment on using references. It was just drawing practice curled up in bed with a sketch book and basic supplies. However it will help me to be more spontaneous in my art if I want to be, but I’m not casting any shade at using references 😊.) I also wanted to practice drawing kissing. Ahgggg. Tilted heads and squished up expressions - the bane of my life😅. I really like how the hands turned out😁 (my Renaissance proclivities showing through ����) but I’m not particularly happy with the head tilts. Looks like I’ll just have to keep practicing. 🤷🏻‍♂️😁 (Le sigh 😄)

-o0o-

And that was it for my doodling this weekend. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back to my regular digital art and reblogs next week (🤞🏻), but maybe I should also try to do basic practice like this more often 🤷🏻‍♂️😄.

Anyway hope you enjoyed seeing my ups and downs 👍🏻

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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[lustbile]

Xiaojun wanted nothing more than to listen to what you were saying, and with his friends drunk bodies scattered pass out around the living room, you’d think he’d had nothing to distract him now. But unfortunately for you both, he had gotten a little dizzy so he had chosen to sit on the floor, and after you had taken your pants off while complaining that it should be a crime to be forced to wear pants after drinking, you perched yourself on the edge of the kitchen table with a soft peach stuck between your teeth.

Which should be fine, he had no issue having to strain to hear your happy rambling, but the placements had given him a perfect view of the soft space between your legs.

Your relationship with him had always been a little different, you’re not sure when it happened, but one day you and him started exchanging flirty glances. Flirty glances turned to flirty words, and eventually even suggestive jokes and taunts. And once that threshold was crossed, Xiaojun couldn’t get making the jokes a reality out of his head. His current view, wasn’t helping.

“Are you even listening Dejun?” you ask, the addition of his name pulling him out of his trance and making him jump. Even through your rambling about how you’ve been thinking about finally getting a puppy, the sweet fruit filling your belly had sobered you up enough to notice that his eyes had gone blank right in the middle of your sentence about where you’d be able to fit a dog crate in your apartment.

“Huh what? Yes!” he shakes his head as the words tumble out, his sudden raise in volume making a body that’s laying close by turn. Whoever it was, the darkness of the room making it only a shadow but based on the size maybe Lucas?, only shifted a bit before settling back down.

“Yeah right. I can tell when I’ve lost you,” you state so matter of factly it through a mouthful of peach that it throws him off. He didn’t think you’d be able to tell something like that, “so what is so important on your mind that you don’t wanna listen to me talk about puppies?”

“No no it’s.... it’s nothing,” he shakes his head again before his eyes shift down, the idea that whatever it was would make him not want to look at you making your chest tighten a bit.

“Bull, it’s not nothing. Tell me what’s up.”

‘Easy for you to say,’ he thinks to himself, the idea of having this conversation getting even more stressful when he chances a peak up and sees you had your lips wrapped tightly around the pit of your once existing fruit, your tongue working the get any remaining pulp.

“Do you know how distracting you are,” the breathless what he speaks tells you that the words weren’t said with total intention.

“How am I distracting you, from myself?” you ask with a soft laugh, you hand lifting and your tongue peaking out to lick at the left over juice left on your skin.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” he asks, his voice falling soft again as he sits upon his knees, the skin of his cheek brushing against the knee of your leg that hangs off the edge of the table.

“You can tell me to stop,” he locks his eyes onto yours as his hand begins to trail up your other leg, the gentleness of his touch making a shiver wrack up your spine, “but I don’t think that you’d want me to.”

“Dejun...” you trail off, not interested in telling him to stop in the slightest, but still unaware of what you should say.

“So pretty” he mutters to himself, his lips brushing your skin as his fingers get closer and closer to the warming space between your legs.

Your breathing is shallow, your brain doing leaps as it tries to catch up to its surroundings. Your hand moves without you even thinking, and it only clicks that your brushing the tips of your middle and ring finger over his bottom lip when, at the same moment his middle finger pushes against the wet spot forming on your underwear, he take the digits between his lips and laves his tongue over them.

“So um, ... is this what was distracting you?” you want to kick yourself for asking, but it was hard to get the words structured out in your brain when you have a boy you’ve been smitten with for so long sucking on your fingers and petting at you through your underwear.

“Everything you do is distracting,” he says blatantly and without thought after letting your dampened fingers fall from his lips, “do you think you taste as sweet at the peach on your hand?”

His question makes your heart race, you almost feel like you’re not even still on planet earth as everything happens so fast, the only thing that pulls you back down to earth is a quiet cough from the living room and his teeth gently nipping at your palm.

“I dunno,” you want desperately to play along, be as naturally alluring as the boy knelt between your thighs, but instead your flustered and hot, your ability to keep up with the flirting being thrown in the trash now that your being hit with a reality check.

“Will you let me find out?”

“Yes, please,” you nod eagerly as your hips start to tilt towards him, the stuttering motions making the fabric catch on the wood below you and start to tug them down.

“So sweet asking so politely,” his praises make your face warm even more, your nails digging into the table as he curls his middle finger around the fabric and pull the garment down your thighs, “but promise you’ll be nice and quiet cause wasted or not, their ears still work.”

“I promise,” you squeak quietly before you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, your legs falling apart and bruising against the edge after he shoves the fabric into the pocket of his pants.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, he looks at you with a soft smile. His hand pulls away from his pocket to push his index finger against his lips in a shushing motion, before he leans in a places a soft kiss against your skin.

The muscles of your thighs twitch, a sharp gasp pulling into your lungs at the tingling brush of stimulation. He immediately looks up, a faux look of disappointment on his face at the noise you make, and with a pouting smile, you mirror his shushing motion in hopes to get him to continue.

He only shakes his head in endearment in response before he’s back to the task at hand, his hands grabbing and pushing your thighs open before the flat of his tongue is pushing against you and dragging against your dripping entrance.

“Fuck Jun,” your brain feels like it melts, as well as the muscles winding up your back, but your still aware enough to keep your words quiet so he won’t pull away. But the way he licks slowly over you clit before pulling the flesh into his mouth and sucking, makes holding back even a squeak almost impossible.

The soft wet noises that raise from below you makes you incredibly aware of how quiet the house had gotten since everyone had passed out. You had turned the music down to only a rumble, hoping the soft rhythm would help the guys sleep better regardless of their bed for the night being couches, recliners, and the floor. There was also a soft uneven rumbling of a few of their snores and grunts here and there, but without the whispers of your and Xiaojun’s conversation, it felt like the universe could hear him indulging in your arousal if it would only strain its ear.

The moan you let out is comparable to a purr, and as you rock you hips against his face, your fingers sink into his hair and you slowly lean back until your laying flush on the wooden surface.

He follows your movements with ease, his shoulders raising as he puts his whole body into lavishing every inch of your sensitive skin.

His hands tickle at the skin of your stomach as they trail up your sides, the sensation making your breathing pick up and your body start to squirm. He doesn’t seem effected by any of your moving though, as he welcomes you squeezing his head gently with your thighs with a deep groan and his hands squeezing roughly at your swelled chest.

You whine into the thick air of the room, bordering on breaking your promise to be quiet when he continues to groan into you and scrape his blunt nails down your skin and against your stiffening nipples.

Your eyes begin to roll back as you feel the promise of an orgasm start to crawl up your spine, the flat of your foot pressing into the table top while the other pushes against his back with your toes curling into and tugging at his shirt.

“Please, please,” it’s only a whisper, but it’s enough for him to pinch at your side in warning. Though his disappointment is obviously faux, when you meet his eyes and they sparkle playfully as he silently begs you to let go.

He knows you staying silent is lost cause, and he’s come to embrace it, when you back starts to curve away from the table. A grumbly moan shakes your chest and he only laps at you faster and you start to shiver against him.

Your head is still a bit fuzzy from the night that now lived behind you, but it only adds to the overwhelming amount of pleasure that takes a hold of you. His tongue feels like heaven and the orgasm that rocks through you is one of best you’ve ever had. You can’t help but scold yourself for taking so long to let him take his claim between your legs.

It’s not until you harshly pull at his hair, his thick eyebrows scrunching together in response to the dull pain, does he finally pull his lips and tongue from your skin, a lewd popping noise following as he detaches from your sensitive clit.

You don’t let him speak before your pressing your still glossy lips against his, the taste of your arousal mixing from his mouth with the still lingering taste of the peach in yours as your tongues brush one another’s, and the flavor makes you both happily groan.

“Let me take you to my room,” it’s not a question but a plead that he lets out against your lips. A plead you answer with a fast nod of the head and desperate hands that grab at his clothes.

And with clumsy feet and groping fingers, you run with him to the room, the scattered drunken bodies of your friend tripped over, but mostly forgotten.

[spookyboar]

Into The Night Pt 1

Summery: How Kasumei and Shouta first met.

Warnings: Some cursing

Word count: 841

A/N:

Kasumei refers to the movie Eraserhead, A 1977 American film by David Lynch.

Kasumei is my OC. Heres a quick OC bio

In this story Shouta is 25 and Kasumei is 22. I couldn't find anything on how old Shouta was when he started teaching so bear with me lol.

Music for the end:

----------------------------------

[At UA]

Hizashi and Nemuri were chatting it up in the teachers lounge, teacher stuff, gossip >:3. The door opens and a certain tired banana slug man walks in.

“Hey there Shouta!”

He groans in response.

“Long day?” Nemuri asked.

“When is it not.” Shouta replied, voice raspy. Poor man needs a break.

But before Shouta could make his way to his napping spot Hizashi stops him.

“Sooooo, did you see that girl again while on patrol?” Hiziashi asked while sporting a wide grin.

This man wants the tea!

Shouta raised an eyebrow “What girl? I see lots of girls while I’m out on patrol.”

“Don’t be like that!” Hizashi pouts. “The one you think is a cutie.”

Shouta sighed in annoyance “No I didn’t.”

For past couple years, every now and again, Shouta has been seeing the same girl walking home in the dead of the night while on his patrol. Was this love at first sight?! No lol. But Shouta did think she was cute and wanted to talked to her, get to know her and whatnot.

Not too long ago Hizashi and Shouta were out having some drinks, and Shouta may have let this information slip. Don’t blame him, the man was drunk! Since then Hizashi hasn't let it go. How could he? His best friend is in love! Not really but let the man dream.

Hizashi gave Shouta a smirk. “When are you going to ask for those digits my guy?” Throwing up some finger guns.

“Would you drop it already.” Shouta grabbed his scarf to move it up more, trying to cover his face.

“A lone mistress of the night with a mysterious hero watching over her from the shadows, it’s absolutely divine.” Numeri butts in.

“Shut up” Shouta turned away from both of them.

“oh come on. You should at least try talking to her”

“No. Will you both drop it already”

Hizashi put his hands up in surrender.

“Hey I just don't want my friend to find love”

Shouta groaned and made to way to napping spot, sleeping bag in hand.

What Hisazhi didn’t know was that the eraser hero already spoke to her. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. No way in hell! He’ll never shut up about it.

___________________________

[A few weeks earlier]

“Alright, tonights the night.” Shouta thought to himself while getting ready for his UA job. He’s finally going to talk to her!

But as the day progressed on he started to have second thoughts.

[Lunch time at UA]

*While getting comfortable in his sleeping bag for a nap*

“What am I doing? This is just going to be a waste of time. Even if she likes me she’ll probably just end things anyways”

Poor Shouta has had bad luck with dating in the past. Being both a hero and a teacher keeps him very busy and he isn’t able to give his full attention in a relationship, resulting in the relationship ending.

As Shouta started to drift to sleep he started to think about her, she was so gorgeous. And her style, seeing her all gothed out gave him butterflies.

“Fuck it, what do I have to lose.” Was his last thought before falling asleep.

[That night]

The streets were quite and mostly empty. Shouta was patrolling and waiting. Luckily for him she’s had the same walking route for the last few years. He knows exactly what street to patrol and when she gets off work.

[Some time goes by]

“Where is she?” He couldn’t have missed her, he was patrolling from the top of a building. “She should have been passing by already.”

So she was a little late. He can wait a few more minutes.

But after some time waiting he accepted defeat, deciding to call it a night.

But before he could take his leave he heard a faint sound coming from the sidewalk.

A slow clip-clopping mixed with chains rattling with each step.

It's her! Shouta rushed to the edge of the building and there she was.

He started to feel those butterflies again. She was something! Those big brown eyes, her shiny horns and that cute tail. He loves how it slightly bounced with each step, so cute. She was rocking a band shirt, with a fishnet top underneath, ripped up black jeans, a belt that has O rings and chains, and also holding a duffle bag. A queen of darkness <3

He’s going to finally talk to her! Shouta was nervous and excited at the same time! But wait, what was he going to say to her? Fuck! He hadn’t thought of that! He started to panic. He went over his options. As he was thinking of what to say she abruptly stopped in her tracks and stood still.

Shouta noticed this. But was nothing in front to her. Why did she stop?

“Hey”

Did she just? Shouta's heart dropped.

She then slowly turned around and looked up at him with a blank face expression.

Oh god she's looking right at him! Shouta was taken by surprise. She didn't give any indication that she knew he was there.

“People usually say hi back……especially after staring for so long” She said blankly.

Fuck had he been staring at her the whole time! Say something you idiot!

He jumped down from the building, landing a few feet in front of he . “I’m sorry I -”

“No worries” she cuts off holding a hand up. She then gives him a small smile.

He started to take in her features, he hadn't ever been this close to her before.

Her cute little fangs, her piercings and that mark along the bridge of her nose.

“So Eraser Head right?” she asked.

“Yes” He raised on hand and rested it on the back of his neck.

“I’ve seen you around. So big Lynch fan?”

“Huh?”

Oh he has no idea.

“Uh, nevermind”

There was an awkward pause, she looked down not knowing what else to say to the hero.

“Right, so” She broke the silence, looking back up at him “I should get going, long day at work.”

“Sure”

She waved at him “Goodnight and be safe, Eraser Head”

“You too” He waved back.

She walked off into the night.

[echoalyssa]

Phantom | Dick Grayson

Authors Note: There’s some light language in this, but thats about all!

“Phantom to Nightwing, entering dead zone now. Start the clock and come in if I’m late. I love you.”

You now had an hour inside the base, unable to contact anyone. You were collecting intel and because you were the stealthiest and smallest, (Damian was too young for this particular mission) Bruce had sent you in.

Your boyfriend, Dick Grayson had wanted to come with you but Bruce had rejected the idea because two people was more risky than one.

Dick had been livid, it was more risky for your life for you to go alone. He was your partner even though you were all a team. Ever since childhood, the two of you fought together and somewhat seemed to share the same mind.

You push a vine our of your dace. Your black masks shows the digital map of the quietest places to step. Your hood is pulled up to disguise your features and skin tone that obviously didn't fit in with the darkness of the air around you.

You had left your mottled cloak behind, opting to only have to worry about your body and where you place it. 

Joker was extremely active underground lately, he’d evolved and Bruce had only your mission as a lead. 

Your mask displays your one hour timer on the left hand side of your vision. Fifty minutes to get into the compound and back to safety.

The compound comes into view, a flat stone building that just didn’t fit in with the forest that surrounded it. You creep forward, staying in the shadows and hugging the walls of the building until you reach the only vent.

The stone was practically flat but years of training allowed you to look your gloved fingers into a crevice and wedge a booted foot into the building.

You begin climbing, scaling upwards twenty feet. The screws of the vent are all different and you have to pull away from the wall, your body straining so you can unscrew the bottom two.

You’re small enough that you can pry the vent open enough that you can squeeze yourself in. Forty minutes your clock reads. You were going too slow. You crawl forward on your elbows, you trek forward, you should have asked for two hours. Shit.

You hit the record button on your wrist panel and pull the microphone out.

It’s a tiny one but the quality is amazing. You’re peering through a small vent above a research lab now and you thread the microphone and it’s wire through the vent. The audio feeds into your ear piece and also saves to the hard drive in your panel.

You’re holding your breath, only breathing when you have to to minimize any chance of getting caught.

“We need to move in now! He’s only getting more recruits and it’s only a matter of time before they find us again.” Says a voice.

“If they haven’t already! I say we try the new weapon on some unsuspecting crowd of bystanders now. Then they’ll be too busy trying to save those silly citizens to deal with us.”

“Yes but is it ready..?”

“It needs to be tested again and we need to find a more powerful energy source eventually.”

And then the joker walks into view of the vent. He’s holding a blueprint and he spreads it on one of the tables. It’s the paint schematic for the weapon because of course, the joker being the joker meant that everything needed to be green, purple, and white.

You raise a hand to your mask and tap twice. It takes a screenshot of your view of the blueprint and sends it to the bat hard drive.

“Did you have any luck with batons inner circle? Would anyone snitch?”

“A couple...” the speaker listens. It’s valuable intel and now Bruce would be able to feed false information to the rats.

You begin to tap their names away into the panel and then attempt to wirelessly hack into the mainframes. The firewall were strong and plentiful but eventually they all fall victim to you. Sixteen minutes your timer reads. Shit. The data downloading from their computers and into your drive is only halfway done.

It won’t be very detailed. Just minuscule bits of information because you couldn't connect physically to the computers. It’s a line of script here and there that didn't make much sense to you because you weren't super tech-y. Though every line counted and that you knew. Several addresses also pop up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your panel signals that the download is complete. Seven minutes reads the timer. Double shit.

You scramble backwards knowing that you’ve done all that you can. Somehow managing to turn yourself around in the small space. You’re almost at the vent when you foot clangs against the side of the vent.

You freeze, no alarms go off, but then again why would they? The timer is still ticking and you continue on, sliding out of the vent. You fumble with the screws, attempting to get them back in in case your cover hadn't already been blown. You then plant your feet, push off and flip down to the ground. You land nimbly in a rolling crouch and then pop to your feet and take off, sprinting for the tree line.

They come from the shadows. Dozens of them. All focused in on you.

You suck in a breath and draw your longswords.

“Bring it on Goonies!” You call and they surge forward all at once. Some with guns, electric batons, and swords.

You stalk forward, meeting them in the middle. You begin slashing immediately at arms, legs, torsos, anywhere that wasn’t too lethal. You weren't a killer.

Except there were just so many, the sword in your left hand falls from your grip and you pull out a disc, throwing it into the incomers. It explodes, blinding some and wounding others. 

You yank s taser out from your belt and stab it into an attackers neck while blocking an attack with your sword. And then it happens. A baton smacks into the back of your head and you stumble forward, dizzy. A blade slashes your thigh, splitting skin and muscle. A cry comes fro, your lips and you lash out desperately with your one remaining longsword. You're able to down the foe who had slashed you.

Two more take his place and then a dagger rips through your abdomen from behind. You scream, falling to your knees. Just as it gets put through your thigh, followed by your shoulder. You land in the grass face first and the world goes dark, sound fading out.

‘Dick.’ Is your last thought.

~~~

Dick is staring at the timer that is displayed by his make. 00:00:05. 00:00:04. 00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01. And the dreaded number... 00:00:00. It blares red and he stares at the forest, fists clenched. Where was she?

Tim steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “Give her five minutes okay? She’s smart. You know how these missions sometimes go overtime. She’s got this.”

“We never should have sent her in alone. It was too risky. Damn it!”

His fist rockets into a tree. He considers going after Bruce, giving him a piece of his mind. Then decides that it isn’t worth it and begins to prepare to go in after his love.

He makes sure to grab the miniature cauterizer and some other emergency medical supplies, stuffing them into the pouches on his belt.

“Wait, Nightwing, we’ll go together. We need a plan!” Damian calls.

His heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t breathe. ‘What if he was too late? What if she was already gone?’

He doesn’t want to wait for a plan, time was ticking. He pushes past his adoptive brother.

“Dick wait!” Jason calls trying to grab his arm. But he keeps going, breaking for the trees to find her.

Jason and Tim look at each other, then they both look at Damian. “Stay here.” They say simultaneously/

“No way!” He yells back at his brothers.

The three of them take them off after Nightwing. And Bruce, having watched all his children run into danger, follows them in.

Nightwing is pushing through vines and branches, not caring if he makes noise or not. He knows the rest of his family will follow him, but quietly.

His mail enhances his vision in the darkness. He draws a thumb over his own panel and it activates the heat censor on his mask. Dick Grayson pushes forward quickly, scanning frantically for her heat signature.

And then he sees it. She’s always run cold. Her fingers and limbs always frozen. A small prone figure, running colder than the other surrounding bodies. He kicks up his pace, heading for her because he just knows.

“Phantom!” he yells, followed by, “Robin! I think I found her!”

He skids to a halt and falls to his knees, he can see the stab wounds. The way her blood has soared into the ground beneath her. 

Nightwing rolls her over, jamming his fingers under her neck to find a pulse. It’s there. But weak.

He rips the cauterizer out of his belt and drapes her body over him just as Jason appears. 

“Is she..?”

“Alive.” He grunts, “Not for much longer I need to..”

Jason helps him rip the uniform away enough so Dick has enough room to maneuver.

“Hold her down!”

Jason does as he’s told and Dick places the cauterizer to her skin.

“Only do what you have to, we need to get out of here. And soon.”

He pushes the two flaps of skin together and places the sparking tool to it. The heat melds the skin together. She’d need to be pumped full of antibiotics in case any of the blades were dirty and risked infection.

She only stirs slightly, too disoriented from her loss of blood. He talks to her the whole time he works on her.

He only does her abdomen, knowing that it’s her most serious injury. It might not even hold from the jolting and jostling that would occur in the journey back. Dick stabs a painkiller into her thigh, just in case she were to awaken.

He motions to Tim and Damian, who had been standing guard, to take up the rear. Grayson then scoops up his girlfriend, cradling her to his chest.

“Jason. Take point. Let’s get her home.”

~~~

He sits by her bedside. His hands are covered in her dry blood, along with his suit. He hadn’t bothered to change.

Y/N had needed a blood transfusion and he had offered immediately, hence why there was a needle in his arm funneling blood into girlfriend. Alfred had stitched do her wounds and hooked her up to an IV for hydration and anti-infection purposes.

She’d been changed out of her uniform after she was stable for cleanliness reasons and was now wearing one of his black shirts.

He’s holding her hand, his thumb tracing over the pulse point of her wrist occasionally.

It would be a long road to recovery for her though they all knew that she would bounce back and attempt to get back in to the field as soon as she could walk.

It’s days later when she finally wakes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Dick.” She whispers.

He’s right there, just like he had been, he’d only left briefly to shower but he ate and slept at her side. Jason had covered both of your patrols, with Bruce helping out.

“I’m okay. You’re okay, babygirl.” He places a hand on her face and she leans her head into his touch.