#but also the sleeves and shoulders are perfect length for her measurements | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ronearoundblindly · 1 year ago

Text

The Stark Legacy (21)

Tony Stark's daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slowburn

Under, part of Book II: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: Bucky is sedated while Samantha Stark replaces his arm. Doom shows up in Wakanda just as Tony phones in control of his suit.

Warnings for canon-level self-experimentation/medical testing and violence/action. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY, please. WC 2.8k

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE—February 2039

After every effort had been made to ensure he was relaxed, Bucky still felt uncomfortable. Sam had turned up the temperature in her lab, he was covered other than the top left of his torso and the nub of metal beneath his detached arm, and Sam had let him put on whatever music he wanted. While he would have preferred some jazz, the beat would have encouraged him to move, so he opted for classical instead. The tunes may have been soothing, but Sam’s very light, soft touch tickled.

“The scar tissue surrounding your shoulder…piece,” she mumbled, face close to his chest, “I have to make some measurements and re-graft that skin in the cradle. You won’t be awake for that either because—just sit still.” She looked up over her magnifying glasses. “I’m sure you’ve had enough experience being a lab rat.”

“Yes, I have.” He continued to watch her mark length and width of each scar he’d clawed into his own body in the few lucid moments he experienced before the Hydra brainwashing took hold. No one had ever offered to smooth them, heal them; at this point, Bucky thought his pain a simple, esthetic choice the Avengers could exploit when they needed emotional jaunts. He watched how meticulously she worked to perfect him, only after he’d asked to be made, well, normal. Every detail was calculated and thoroughly planned. She ensured as little need for his presence and time. She wasted nothing. Sam looked down when their eyes met briefly. “Are you nervous?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, her brows tightened, but Sam only shrugged.

Bucky continued to pry, gaging each micro-reaction carefully. “You aren’t exactly a doctor. You’ve never had a patient before.”

Sam’s expression was surprisingly blank before rolling over to type a few measurements, lowering her chin to hide her eyes. “You don’t pay attention as well as you think.”

Bucky balked, furrowing his own brows. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell right away because of the clothes I wear,” she started casually, finger moving across a few lines of her notes, checking every word and formula against her screen. “I told you about the motorcycle accident, and you saw the scars. I also badly burned myself after Cooper’s wedding when Lucas…” Sam trailed off but continued with the clicks on her monitor. “There’s a regen-cradle in my room—“ her hand waved over to the corner “—and now I can replace your arm with vibranium-enhanced flesh, right?”

“Yes,” he allowed, but she said nothing further. She measured and typed intently. His eyes followed her hand back and forth, every movement of her fingers, her tendons, and then he really saw her hand, her arm, her shoulder until the strap of her tank top. No sleeves. There wasn’t a single mark, no faded scars, not a pucker from stitches. His mind had attributed the light clothing to her increase in the temperature for him. Why had he not realized before? “You did it to yourself,” he breathed.

“Well,” Sam frowned, “I didn’t replace my limbs, but I’ve been my own patient…of sorts.”

“Is it why you lost so much weight?” Bucky could see how thin her arm had become, and when he thought back to how full her face had been at the wedding, he saw a large difference in her cheeks and neck. Her collarbone seemed sharp and prominent now.

“Ongoing treatment,” Sam mumbled, still imputing measurements. A whirring noise started inside the cradle, and its mechanical arm ran a test cycle of movements.

Bucky watched Sam, so focused on working on him that she hadn’t touched whatever she was drinking when he’d arrived. The giant bottle contained what looked like one of her father’s smoothies but even thicker and more disgusting. Call me old fashioned, Bucky thought, but that’s not food and never will be. Sam must have seen him sitting with a sour face.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to drink that. It’s not for you.” In fact, it was barely even for her now. The nutrition in place of the nutrient baths was not working. Sam knew her condition was deteriorating, but she kept telling herself she would fix it after Captain Barnes was complete. He was her most important project; he would prove so much to her and to the Avengers.

A few minutes more, and Sam wheeled back over to her patient. “You ready?”

Surprised by the lurch in his stomach, Bucky nodded. He didn’t know it was still possible for him to be anxious, excited even. In a few hours, the last visible reminders of his time with Hydra would be gone.

“Tony, that’s great, but we are kinda busy here,” Bruce prefaced his receiving of the data on Annihilus. The surrogate suit that relayed Tony’s movements from his headset in space squatted awkwardly in front of Dr. Banner because its controller was seated lightyears away. “That threat is on the other side of the galaxy. I’ve just had to send Falcon to Wakanda. It seems without the Fantastic Four, a man named Doom’s terrorizing North Africa.”

“Doom? Seriously,” Tony’s voice projected through the Iron Man suit in New York.

A few seconds later, Bruce shook his head. “Doctor Doom, actually, and this time I agree with you on the name. Victor Von Doom, meaning he is either DVD, or VVD, which sounds like a venereal disease—” Banner sighed, removing his glasses a moment. “Could you get back here, Tony? My brain hurts trying to think like the both of us. Your jokes are—”

“Hilarious,” Tony tried, standing back up.

“Terrible,” Bruce finished, launching an eyebrow up in concern, “and I believe your feed has a lag. Not surprising from outside the Solar System.”

“Then where am I the most useful? I’ve only got about two hours before the relay point has to change,” Tony checked the map on the monitor past his headset, a bright map showing his shuttle’s path in blue and the bouncing relays time coded by F.R.I.D.A.Y. in red and orange. “Then I’m dark again.”

“One-hundred and twenty-three minutes, Mr. Stark,” his system chirped.

Bruce shrugged, blandly ordering, “better hop your metal ass over to Wakanda then.” No sooner had Dr. Banner given him the instruction, Tony’s NY suit powered down, kicking on its automated, robotic return to the storage closet.

“Barnes!”

The banging on the door made Sam jump in her desk seat. “Shit,” she mumbled when Missy brought up the security pinpoint camera to show Princess Shuri in her full war gear.

“Samantha Stark, open this door!” The banging continued.

Sam glanced at the progress bar reading only 89% COMPLETE—it ticked to 90%. The banging stopped. She knew what came next; they’d just break the door down.

“Missy, open it.”

Shuri came in after a moment of hesitation, a suspicious look melting into curiosity. She saw Bucky prone in the cradle first, her eyes following across the messy room to Sam at the other end.

“I thought…” Shuri straightened. “Barnes must come with me now. We will discuss all this—” she waved her hand around, the other wrapping her gauntlets to her chest “—later.”

Sam glanced again at the monitor: 93%. “How about in five minutes?” Sam was not used to being given direct orders and cowered quickly at the Princess’s sharp advance to her corner of lab.

“No, girl, now,” Shuri demanded, trying to get at the console behind Sam.

“Ok, I’ll stop it, just,” Sam scrambled to shut down the cradle and revive Bucky, “he’ll meet you…where?”

“He’ll know,” Shuri squinted at Sam all while her eyes flickered over as many details of the room as she could before leaving. From down the hall, one more shrieked “NOW” rang out.

Trying not to think of all the things that could go wrong, Sam grabbed the small pile of clothes Bucky had set on the dresser. “Damn it,” she breathed. She’d been anxious enough watching the slow pieces of progress, staring in concern between every rise and fall of his chest in the glow of the cradle, and to have her golden opportunity cut short—with so little time left to begin again or think of a new, impressive contribution—Sam was gutted. What if she’d screwed something up? What if Barnes couldn’t fight anymore? What if he got hurt because the arm wasn’t right?

Bucky stirred. Sam’s heart pounded. She choked back rippling tears, so afraid to admit she may be wrong. Before she moved into his view, Sam pressed the fabric of his clothes against her face and screamed. Even on the floor of the kitchen in Massachusetts, covered in scalding water, alone, she had never been this afraid. It felt as if she’d been sitting at a table learning the rules of poker only to blink into the spotlight of world-wide broadcast competition. She was not ready.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered.

“Captain Barnes,” Sam’s voice wavered, “they need you to meet the Princess for a mission.” If she had screwed up, she didn’t deserve to call him a familiar name.

The stimulant the cradle administered was strong with very little grogginess. “Did it work?” Bucky asked calmly. Sam wished he were not so lucid while she admitted their current situation.

“I—I had to stop to wake you. It’s mostly done, but I don’t have time to check anything. Here,” she handed him the shirts as he sat up. “You have to go,” she said, and then quietly, “I’m sorry.”

He stared intently at the door as he jumped off the table. “Ok, I’ll be back then,” he replied monotonously and left. Perhaps it should have reassured Sam that Bucky noticed nothing different, sliding on one layer without a glance to his new shoulder before he was out of sight.

If she’d eaten enough, Sam would have vomited right then. Her stomach whirled about. She felt light-headed. A vicious part of her brain stopped her from rushing after him. What could you do now? What help would you be? You’ve done enough…

T’Challa gave a small nod towards the remote-controlled Iron Man suit that emerged from a storage chamber in Shuri’s lab. The King of Wakanda’s image was projected in rippling nanoparticles activated when Tony’s signal woke the suit. “We are grateful to have your assistance, Stark.”

“What exactly am I helping with?” Filtering out the suit’s vital statistics, Tony’s eyes flickered over the ticker tape of information Friday delivered now.

“Coordinates have been entered for you to meet us.” The Panther stood fully uniformed except his helmet.

“What does Doom want?”

“Vibranium to enhance himself and his followers,” the king responded.

The suit paused, then jerked its neck to the side. “What is he, some sort of cult leader? Where did he come from?”

“Latveria,” T’Challa’s projection fell away to leave the voice speaking through Tony’s suit directly. Iron Man shot out the door and into the sky. “But that’s not where you’re going.”

Tony heard Sam Wilson on the comms demanding, “anyone found Barnes yet? Get him out here. Get—”

“Falcon, you’re fighting again?” Though he trusted the life-long militant man, after such a devastating head injury, Tony allowed himself a fleeting hesitation. He’d work with what he had.

“Stark?” Wilson’s surprise was equal to Tony’s. “Are you topside?”

“It is good to have you back, Stark,” Thor’s booming voice echoed in Tony’s headset, “did you bring the Rabbit?”

“When am I ever gonna be enough for you,” Tony feigned emotionally, then jumped right into assessing the situation, “who else we got?”

“I brought Maximov,” Wilson chimed, “and the Sub-Mariner may show up since Doom is over the Gulf of Aden.”

“Still not much of a team player, that guy,” Iron Man’s comms crackled. Tony hadn’t had a real conversation with Wanda since she stopped offering him his bizarre therapy a few years before. They’d fought together sure, but nothing any deeper was spoken of than the weather. As far as he knew, she’d moved on to spend most of her time teaching mutants at Xavier’s school. Luckily, this didn’t seem like the occasion where lengthy discussions were imminent. “What’s Doom working with?”

“Tech suit and various energy-projectile capabilities, magic—” Sam Wilson replied.

“Strange?”

T’Challa hesitated. “The Sanctum is not answering.”

“Figures,” Tony mumbled.

“On our way,” Shuri sounded off.

“Great, I’ve got a visual from Red Wing,” Falcon hollered, “you guys land at the beach.” The background cut out, and Tony pressed his suit to render-vous faster.

“Is the atmospheric anomaly the target?” Several scans of temperature, infrared, and electromagnetic readings showed for the area where his surrogate suit would programmed to land.

“Tis I,” Thor unnecessarily boomed over comms. Outdoors, the demigod never fathomed the need to adjust volume for sensitive mics. “But I can see the enemy as well. He is over the water.”

“Keep an eye on him. We are almost there,” Shuri answered. Tony shifted the suit’s head to see her and Bucky’s shuttle zipping past at a lower altitude, beating him to the beach. He had to hand it to her: the princess was a remarkable innovator and genius.

The Mark XLII suit landed gently. Shuri stepped out of her shuttle, gauntlets at the ready, and Captain Barnes followed shield on his back, three handguns in various holsters, and assault rifle at the ready. Tony looked curiously on at the hundreds of slender-billed gulls gathering on the beach with more soaring towards them from inland.

“Is this breeding season?” He mused.

Barnes traipsed over in the sand, directing Tony’s gaze towards Falcon’s recon high above. “It’s actually him.”

“Coast is clear of civilians,” Wilson rattled. “Why isn’t Doom advancing?”

“I don’t know,” Thor replied.

“Guys,” Tony said, spotting a rise in sea level from behind the hovering metallic figure, “is he doing that?”

The swell rolled forward, passing just below Victor Von Doom’s feet, and as it grew closer, a pale spot appeared in the middle of the wave. Bucky braced the butt of his rifle on his chest. Shuri lifted her arms at the ready.

A massive, bare-chested being broke from the swell of water as it passed under Thor. A shining, humanoid robot fought to release its ankle for Namor’s grasp, but the King of Atlantis, wrenched the poor pawn down, grabbed it by the neck, and ripped its head off in one clean motion.

Wilson admired over comms, “this dude is cool as f—”

Shots fired on Tony’s right. “They’re coming from the water,” Barnes called out, his attention fixed on the shoreline dotted with dozens more emerging robots.

Tony’s deja vu wrapped him in a vague terror. Just for a moment, Doom became Ultron; the enemy became his fault again. He didn’t know that for sure—whether Doom was born of something Tony started—but all roads always seemed to lead back to him. He’d have to break the cycle eventually. For now, he called back, “light ‘em up,” and flew forward to blow some shit to high hell.

T’Challa clawed his opponents in half like scrap metal. Wanda raised her prey to blossom red fire in between manufactured joints, severing the cables of their insides. Bucky’s controlled burst sniped down target after target. Shuri blew limbs and heads off with shockwaves. Tony played hop-scotch from bot to bot, blasting his boot stabilizers to incinerate where he hoped their CPUs were built in. All-in-all, the pawns were surprisingly weak, but expendability was their purpose.

“Thor, we gotta take out the puppet master,” Tony deduced.

Thunder cracked, Lightning flashed down to Stormbreaker and bolted towards Doom, but their adversary’s metallic shielding repelled the blast back at the beach, and Iron Man barely vaulted out of its path.

Barnes wasn’t as quick. The full force of Thor’s wrath hit him square in the chest.

“Buck,” Sam Wilson yelled, a bazaar of peregrine falcons swooping past him aimed at Doom while the soldier landed to check on his friend. The hunting birds dodged and distracted the floating figure, tossing flying boots off balance. Doom scrambled momentarily.

The sea rose again below him, but this time, it was all Namor’s doing. The king called forth a swirling mass of frothing water to encase Victor Von Doom, roiling his metal body in chaotic circles.

Bucky’s screams rang over comms with crackling force.

“He’s sparking my wings. I can’t get near him,” Falcon called out for help, “we gotta get him off the beach.”

“Stark, take him before we lose your connection,” T’Challa insisted.

The Iron Man suit raced forward, tossed Bucky’s rifle away, grabbing the secured straps holding Cap’s shield and launched them both inland. From Tony’s feed in space, he could tell that Barnes was still dissipating the chain’s force by the flashes of black interference. He had only 25 minutes of connection to return a 40-minute trip. Luckily, if he was right, the super-soldier he carried could survive a break in the sound barrier…maybe.

[Chapter 22: Failure]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the stark legacy #tony stark's daughter #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #slow burn #slow build #epic tale #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

bxbridaltailor · 4 days ago

Text

The Importance of Groom Suit Alteration: Ensuring the Perfect Fit for Your Groom Suit

Your wedding day is one of the most important occasions in your life, and looking your best is key to making it truly memorable. While the bride often receives much of the attention for her gown, the groom’s attire is just as crucial. A groom suit is more than just a set of clothes; it’s a reflection of the groom’s personality, style, and confidence. However, even the finest groom suit may require some adjustments to achieve the perfect fit. This is where groom suit alteration comes into play, ensuring that the suit not only fits perfectly but also enhances the groom’s appearance on his big day.

A groom suit alteration begins with a detailed consultation where the tailor takes precise measurements to ensure the suit fits like it was made for the groom. Off-the-rack suits are designed to fit a range of body types, but no two bodies are exactly alike. Even the most expensive suit can feel uncomfortable or look ill-fitting if it doesn’t align with the groom’s shape. A groom suit alteration ensures that the jacket fits properly around the shoulders, the sleeves reach the perfect length, and the trousers fall neatly to the right height. These small but important changes make all the difference in the overall appearance.

One of the most common groom suit alterations involves adjusting the jacket. A well-fitted jacket should hug the shoulders without being too tight or too loose, and the waist should taper to create a flattering silhouette. A skilled tailor will reshape the jacket to follow the natural lines of the groom’s body, making sure it feels comfortable and looks sharp. The sleeves may also need to be shortened or lengthened to hit just above the wrist bone, showing off the shirt cuffs in a refined and elegant way.

Another key area of groom suit alteration is the trousers. Off-the-rack pants may need to be hemmed or tapered to achieve the ideal fit. The length of the trousers should complement the groom’s shoes, creating a polished and sophisticated look. If the trousers are too loose or too tight, a groom suit alteration can adjust the fit to ensure they are just right. For grooms who want a more modern look, the pants can be tapered to create a sleek, slim-fit silhouette, while traditional cuts can be relaxed for a more classic appearance.

The goal of any groom suit alteration is to make the groom feel confident, comfortable, and stylish. A well-tailored groom suit doesn’t just look good; it makes the groom feel his best as he prepares to walk down the aisle. When a suit fits properly, it enhances the groom’s natural shape, ensuring that every detail, from the collar to the cuffs, aligns perfectly. It also means there is no need for constant adjusting or discomfort throughout the day, allowing the groom to focus on enjoying the celebration.

The right groom suit alteration can transform an off-the-rack suit into something truly special. Whether you’re wearing a classic black tuxedo, a sleek modern suit, or a custom-designed ensemble, tailoring ensures that your groom suit fits perfectly and highlights your unique style. With expert alterations, you can walk into your wedding day with confidence, knowing that your suit is as perfectly tailored as your love story.

0 notes

vijaypandit011 · 4 months ago

Text

Buy School Graduation Gowns in the UAE: Tips for a Perfect Fit

Graduation day is one of the most important milestones that a student gets to go through, in his or her academic career. This is the culminating event of years of relentless hard work and commitment. It is all about celebration and remembering those moments once cherished and will be cherished further; when a student steps into the next important stage of life, he has to make sure that he looks at his best. If you're in the UAE and looking to Buy School Graduation Gown UAE, ensuring that it fits perfectly is crucial.

1. Know Your Measurements

Before you begin your search for graduation attire, you will want to know your precise measurements. Most graduation attire is sized by height and weight, so this will definitely make it a great deal easier when selecting your graduation attire. Measure your length from head to toe using a measuring tape while standing straight. Also, take your bust and waist measurements because some gown styles may require those. Having these measurements accurate will help you in selecting an outfit that fits your body type and looks great on you.

2. Determine the Outfit Length

Graduation gown length is one of the most important factors to note for a perfect fit. It should reach approximately between your knee and mid-calf, depending on your height. An outfit that is too long may get you tripping over it, while an extra short one may look out of balance. As you try on an outfit, make sure the length fits and you can comfortably walk in it. In case you are buying online, refer to the size chart provided by the seller so you can choose the right length.

3. Select the Right Fabric

The feel of the graduation attire can completely make a difference in its fit and comfort. Common fabrics for graduation robes include polyester, satin, and cotton blends. Polyester gowns are lightweight and durable, thus preferred for commencement ceremonies. Silk robes give one a more luxurious touch, although it is not as breathable. Take note that the UAE may be hot, so keep that in mind when choosing a fabric. When you Buy School Graduation Gown UAE, raise your arms and move them around to ensure that the sleeves allow for comfortable movement while maintaining an appropriate length.

4. Check the Outfit's Fit at the Shoulders

The shoulders are an important area where the aggressiveness of the graduation outfit can make quite a difference. The outfit should sit easily across your shoulders, neither too tight nor too loose. Assuming the suit is too tight at the shoulders, it may constrain your movement, while a suit that is too loose looks sloppy. When trying on the suit, make sure the shoulder seams fall in line with your natural shoulder line. This will enable the suit to drape well and present you with a streamlined look.

5. Pay Attention to Sleeve Length

Sleeve length is also a very relevant factor when choosing graduation attire. Specifically, it has to be long enough to reach your wrists but not beyond. Long sleeves would get in the way of your hand movements in case you receive your diploma. On the other hand, too short sleeves may look ungainly. While making an attempt at the attire, raise your arms and move them around to ensure the sleeves account for comfortable movement without sacrificing length.

6. Consider the Color and Style

Graduation gowns come in a variety of colors and styles, based on the conventions and choices of your institution. Besides being fit, you should be cognizant of the color and style of the gown. Most colleges have specific designs for graduation gowns, so be sure to select one in line with what is specified by your college. Moreover, a few gowns include additional elements like hoods, bands, or ropes, adding extra elegance to your outfit. Choose a fashion that describes you and the one you will be proud of when going up the stage.

7. Try the Outfit with Your Graduation Accessories

While choosing a graduation outfit, it is very important to think about how it will look with your graduation accessories like the cap, decoration, and tool. These are parts of your attire on that graduation day, and they should look good on it. Try the outfit with the accessories to ensure they all work well together. Take a look at how the cap fits on your head and how it wraps over the outfit. You will now have an overall view of your graduation-day look.

8. Sop Early

One of the best tips for ensuring a perfect fit is to shop early when you plan to Buy School Graduation Gown UAE. This gives you more than ample opportunity to try your hand at different sizes, cuts, and types without feeling rushed. Assuming that you're ordering online, early shopping also allows for any necessary exchanges or alterations. Early shopping ensures you have ample time to find the perfect fit and get in those alterations expected to get just the right fit.

Conclusion

Buying a school graduation gown in the UAE is an exciting part of preparing for your big day. By following these tips, you can ensure that your gown fits perfectly, allowing you to feel confident and comfortable as you celebrate your achievements. Remember to take accurate measurements, consider the gown’s length, fabric, and fit, and try it on with your graduation accessories. With careful planning and early shopping, you’ll be ready to shine on your graduation day, making it a memorable occasion that you’ll cherish for years to come.

0 notes

shizukateal · 1 year ago

Note

While the tail is perhaps a bit too wide at the hips, I don't really have a problem with it much as I have a problem with how it connects to the rest. As in, it doesn't, the designer just kinda slapped a straight line to divide the top and the skirt and left it at that. Hate that the side profile also has a ruler-straight line where the puff at the hip (there's a correct term for those things and I can not for the love of myself remember it) should bulk up, but that's more of a problem with the drawing itself than the design as a whole. Still, In the end I think I would take it out. If you don't mind, I'm going to compare it with Cure Flora to explain why.

Really, both of these outfits could take the overskirt off, but Majesty's is the one that would slightly be better off without it. Let's bulletpoint a bit:

Flora's fabric is more loose, while Majesty's is stiff. As long as she remains in a static position that stiffness is not a problem, as it still matches the material it connects to from the torso. However, imagining her fighting is even more awkward than imagining Flora because of that restriction of movement, and Flora was toeing that line dangerously already. Of course, the animators can work around this, but they probably have to seriously break the realism of that fabric to make it work out. That's obviously not a sin in on itself, but I still count it as bad design in a "bug, not feature" way. As in, they have to break that realism because of the problem the design poses, not because they deliberately wanted to bend it that way.

Even though I don't think Flora's waist ribbon is a perfect solution (to me it competes with the one on her chest), it is still more natural that Majesty's transition.

There's also the problem that Majesty's hip puffs don't join at the center and show that ugly belt and the fabric below, which looks awful in the front profile. The side profile looks better because the leaves and the sleeves look closer to one another, but at the same time the aforementioned stiffness of the tail doesn't match well with the drape of the fabric above it.

While Flora's hair is big, the weight of it is still focused on her waist, which is where her clothes are already pulling the heavy duty so that he overskirt can flow, and the top knot also helps balance things out. By contrast, Majesty's ponytails drag the whole thing downards, and the fact thay they're the same length as the tail makes them compete. Also her sidebangs cover her really cool spiked earcuffs, which, why would you add them at all then?

Then again, Majesty's hair is probably so big in the first place because otherwise her usual hair length would make the tail look even more oversized. This is not a problem that Flora has, her hair would fit her with or without her overskirt. All the more reason for Majesty to take hers away. Also the effect her tiara gets a bit lost since the ponytails pull the eye down.

And lastly, Flora commits to the aesthetic she's taking inspiration from and has a simple but effective torso, neckline, and sleeves, while Majesty does this weird wrap halter thing that barely hangs on by her choker and also detaches her sleeves for good measure because Lord fucking forgive if any of these girls cover from their shoulders to their forearms, what are we, nuns? In all honesty, though, I could forgive that if the purple part of her torso was a corset holding her waist and not a sleeveless shirt, because at least then the 2 things would compliment eachother.

In summary she has the same problem than Cure Finale from the previous Delicious Party team: she's big without caring about the consequences, and she doesn't even fully want to be what she's imitating. Or, to be fairer, she's trying to break the mold she's coming from in the wrong places.

Have you seen the latest episode of Hirogaru Sky Pretty Cure? If yes, how would you rate Cure Majesty? (She was officially shown in episode 31 first, though)

I don't watch Hirogaru, but I saw her transformation on youtube so I'm on the case!

#hirogaru sky precure #cure majesty #precure #magical girl fashion #magical girl fashion review

3 notes · View notes

jacesbeloved · 2 years ago

Text

prettiest of them all

summary: being rhaenyra's lady-in-waiting ever since your mother passed, it was unfathomable that you and jace spent time with each other. however, until when can he restrict himself to just looking at you and treating you as a friend?

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: mild nsfw, wrote this since i'm kind of hitting a writing slump and i don't want to rn so yea wrote this on a whim again 😭 i hope y'all like it,, my peace offering after "remember me, always"

notes #2: also, if it's sort of confusing, basically ur mother is nyra's bestfriend. you and jace were basically born a year apart (jace is older) so when your mother passed, nyra took u under her wing and u and jace are basically childhood sweethearts <3

"I doubt anyone in the seven kingdoms can match your beauty, princess." You pause abruptly, "Or should I say... queen?" The two of you giggle with each other as you lock the necklace on the back of Rhaenyra's head.

The woman steps back from you and looks at her reflection in the mirror, turning slowly. You watched in awe as the woman, who was once as young as you are now, readied herself for the crowning in front of the masses.

When she finishes looking around, Rhaenyra turns to you.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready as well, Y/N?" She asks.

Your forehead creased, and you took a short glance at your statute before turning back at Rhaenyra. "Princess... I'm already dressed," you chuckle lightly at her.

"That isn't the dress I had tailored for you, Y/N," she playfully glares at you, walking to her drawer before grabbing something. You watched with anticipation as you heard the clanking of jewelry inside.

She pulls a beautiful ruby gemstone from it, beautifully placed in the middle of a Valyrian steel chain. You blink three times, your throat drying, when she starts walking over to you.

Rhaenyra saw the confused look on your face, which made her chuckle. "Calm down, Y/N, it's just a small gift."

"B-but... princess-" Rhaenyra shushes you, showing you the necklace up close. "Y/N, your mother was one of the people I hold closest to my heart."

"And when you were just a babe, you were always with me. When she left the world, I took you under my wing and treated you as my own.... Just as I had promised her." She sighs, pursing her lips as she sees your face drop a bit.

She runs her hand through your hair, "As your future queen, as your princess, I command you to accept this necklace. Wear it later, during my crowning." Rhaenyra places the piece of jewelry softly on the palm of your hand. Covering your hand with hers as she cradled your hand.

You turned to look deeply at the princess, lips apart as you nodded, placing your hand on top of hers as well.

"Very well, my future queen." The light-haired woman tenderly smiles at you before withdrawing her hands. "I... I hope you know that I am forever in your debt, Aunt Rhaenyra."

"It's nothing, really, Y/N. Now go change into your dress, I sent someone that would help you put it on." You nod at the older's statement as you were dismissed, a sly smile on her face.

You had walked quickly back to your quarters, excited to see the dress. The necklace was inside of a box that Rhaenyra had also given you, making sure that it wouldn't move much and cause damage as you were skipping through the halls of the Red Keep.

When you arrived in your room, there was a new hanger by your cabinet. You smile giddily, running to the hanger and pulling off the coat only to see such a beautiful dress in red, with laced red lantern sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline where the ruby necklace would sit nicely.

You didn't need someone to help you; with how ecstatic you were about wearing the dress, you wore it as soon as you saw it.

The dress slipped right on, perfectly fitting in everything. It hugged your chest area nicely, and its length was perfect. You could easily tell that Rhaenyra truly did take note of your measurements and style.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was like the air in your body was knocked out of you. You looked so pretty, so elegant.

As you twirled around the mirror, a voice spoke.

"Pardon me for entering your room, but... the strap's a bit twisted," your body turned quickly, eyes narrowing as you were greeted by the princess' son,

Jacaerys.

He smiled tightly as he walked over to you, closing the door. "May I?"

You watched him with awestruck eyes as you nodded, seeing him dressed perfectly, feeling his fingertips on your skin as he fixed the strap on your dress.

"There," he breathes out. Jace walked forward before looking back at you, getting a full view of you in your dress.

The prince himself was already dressed. Clothed in the finest leather of the seven kingdoms, the sigil of House Targaryen incorporated into his outfit as he looked immaculate. Not much was changed in his hair, only that it was curled a bit like Lucerys'.

"Did you hear what I said, Y/N?" You hear his chuckle as you snap out of your trance.

When he sees the unaware look on your face, he laughs. "I said, you look pretty. Very. Possibly the prettiest in the whole seven kingdoms."

Your cheeks heat up at the sudden compliment, looking away from him and heading to your dresser.

"Your mother's the prettiest, my prince," you reply with a laugh, powdering your face. The sides of Jace's lips rise before he walks over to you.

"Well, I believe that I am allowed to exempt my own mother, don't I, Y/N?"

"Of course," you glare at him, his lips stretching into a teasing smile as his eyes catch onto the all-too-familiar jewelry box, knowing full well what's inside of it.

He unclasps the small lock on it, opens it, and turns to you. The two of you stare silently at the necklace before he pulls it out of the box.

You gulp nervously when you see him walk behind you, keeping his eyes fixated on your neck through the mirror. "Such a pretty neck," he thought.

"D'you know... that these types of necklaces," you hiss as the cold metal is placed onto your neck, Jace's hands feather-like as he maneuvered it skillfully. "Are incredibly strong?"

"They're a staple necklace of my family, red jewels and valyrian steel. Expertly crafted to withstand various things and experience a lot as well. Our ancestors used to wear it amidst battles; Queen Visenya, an example." He explained further. The lock of the necklace clicked upon his movement.

Your fingers touched the jewels on your neck in a cautious manner, not wanting to damage them. You glanced at Jace, seeing him watch you with his arms behind his back, his eyes trailing up and down your figure as his breath hitched when he locked eyes with you.

"Gods, has anyone already told you that you look incredible right now?" He breathes out, mouth agape, as he only registers how you look now.

The compliment makes you giggle like a young girl being teased by her crush.

"Oh, someone already has. It's like he likes me," you frown, faking innocence as you acted like you were thinking. The man in front of you slowly caught on to what you were trying to say.

"I think he does. I think he really, really does." Jace nods, practically confessing his feelings for you in such a discreet manner that it just makes your stomach fill with emotions.

A small smile comes to your lips as you step forward to look the prince in the eye. You beckoned him to lean down to you, Jace's eyebrows raising a bit in surprise before he complied.

You stood on your tiptoes, "I think... I like him as well."

Jace suddenly feels his whole body stop to think about what you just said. He blinks a bit, staring at your face—which basically lit up the room more than any other candle.

His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out; he was speechless.

The two of you have known each other since a child, having been with their family for as long as Jace could remember and being his long-time crush ever since your mother and Rhaenyra had introduced both of you to each other as a child.

And you felt the same. Every bit of feeling that Jace had for you all those years, you had for him as well.

Years of pining, of discreet flirting, of subtle touches—here you both are now.

"So does that mean- I'm uh, I'm your... " You scoff at the man's stammering, pulling him close by his collar and kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, Jacaerys."

He looks at you with wide eyes before he sighs, letting his instincts take over as he pulls you even closer by your waist, softly touching your lips with his. You smile a bit into the kiss, letting him take control of the kiss.

You felt his hands fall from your waist to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before he pushes his body weight onto yours, backing you up until you hit the edge of your dresser.

The way Jace's tongue swiped and moved inside your mouth was skillful, as if he had lots of time in Dragonstone to practice for this very moment. He angled his head, using his hands to caress your face as he licked your lip, biting lightly on it.

Your hands gripped his biceps as you pulled away breathlessly, finding his hands right by your sides. His eyes darken as he opens them; your lips parted, panting for air, and your eyes were just as lust-blown as his; the sight was far from what he had imagined. It was better, much more erotic.

You felt something press against your thigh, something hard. Jace licked his lips before swallowing harshly.

"How much time do we have before my mother's crowning?" He asks, running his hand behind you as he takes note of the strings that tie your dress.

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming onto his chest as you held one of the buckles of his top.

"Twenty minutes, I think." You sighed, shrugging at him. He smirked at that, nodding at you before the strings of your dress suddenly loosened, the prince in front of you descending to his knees.

"Well then, let's make this fast, yeah?"

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen @m4nd0l0r

#hotd #jacaerys imagines #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys x reader imagine #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen #hotd fics #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader fic #jacaerys fic

2K notes · View notes

theroyalsims · 3 years ago

Photo

A TRIUMPHANT ROYAL DEBUT: PRINCESS E AND CROWN PRINCE IBRAHIM’S FIRST OFFICIAL ROYAL OUTING A SUCCESS

Looks like we have a new royal it-couple!

Yesterday afternoon, Princess E and her fiancé, Crown Prince Ibrahim, visited the Al-Simhara Royal Temple, located in the scorching hot, yet picturesque Northern region of the country, along the borders of the Great Desert.

The couple offered prayers within the hallowed grounds of the temple’s inner sanctum. It is not only tradition, but also written within the Al-Simharan Royal Laws that newly-betrothed royal couples offer prayers together at the Temple so that they will be blessed with a happy and fruitful marriage, and to seek permission from the heavens.

(Above: Crown Prince Ibrahim was seen constantly holding Eleanore’s hand throughout the trip. One observer shared that the two couldn’t stop looking at each other.)

Their Royal Highnesses also took (and shared) lots of stunning photos taken during their tour of the beautiful temple. They were given an exclusive look of the iconic mosaics and carvings that adorn the magnificent building by the country’s Head Priest himself.

Princess E, as a Brindleton citizen, was born and baptised into the Holy Brindleton Church. However, given her upcoming marriage to Crown Prince Ibrahim, it is expected that she will be abandoning her old religion, and be baptised into Al-Simhara’s religion. Among her staff, she has a priest who shall tutor her on the Al-Simharan faith and traditions.

(Above: The royal couple was welcomed by Al-Simhara’s Head Priest for their visit. Their Royal Highnesses took in the wonderful sights of the iconic 4-storey temple complex.)

The Princess, who has since relocated to her fiancé’s home country, will be taking on official engagements from now on, albeit not full-time, to give her time to settle in and focus on studying with her tutors. Aside from religion, The Princess is also busy learning the Al-Simharan language and culture, as well as the local royal etiquette. Her Royal Highness has also reportedly been given free rein by both The King and The Crown Prince to oversee the renovations of Palmetto Palace (The Crown Prince’s official residence), to ensure that it is up to her standards.

(Above: A Future King and Queen Enjoying the Beautiful Sights of their Kingdom - Their Royal Highnesses were also given access to the off-limits-to-the-public Dusk Terrace, where they enjoyed the stunning sunset. A clearly impressed and overwhelmed Princess E was seen gasping at the view, as her Prince protectively wrapped a comforting arm over her shoulder.)

Yesterday’s joint outing was dubbed a success by royal critics. One royal correspondent from Al-Simhara’s national paper wrote:

“Al-Simhara has a new jewel in its crown, and her name is Princess Eleanore. Her fiancé cannot take his eyes off her, much like the people of Al-Simhara. Every smile she flashes, and every wave she ever so gracefully delivers make everyone’s heart flutter. She’s witty, beautiful, and charming - a perfect future Queen, indeed! I think it’s safe to say, Princess Eleanore’s a hit!

While it is true that the Crown Prince has dated dozens of stunning women - actors, models, and a-listers - none can measure up to Princess E’s star power.”

(Above: It Matches Her Eyes, and Her Ring - Princess E was decked out in head-to-toe green for the trip to the holy site.)

For the trip to the holy temple, The Princess wore an appropriately modest green dress which featured a high neck, long sleeves, and a floor-length skirt. HRH also kept her hair covered with a matching green silk scarf from couture brand, Chavel. The scarf alone costs a whopping §1,200, while the bespoke green dress is estimated to cost upwards of §7,000. Only the best for the future Queen!

I’m sorry, Crown Princess Anya who?

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 royals #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 simblr #simblr #ts4 story #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #ts4 storytelling #ts4 fashion #ts4 romance #ts4 drama #the sims 4 #brindleton bay #ts4 royal legacy #mystory

66 notes · View notes

fathertaurus · 4 years ago

Text

A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way.

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up.

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway.

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself.

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly.

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her.

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet.

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.”

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered.

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up.

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door.

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars.

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him.

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.”

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.”

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks.

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress.

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck.

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips.

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him.

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing.

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.”

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place at the flank of her bed once more.

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

#nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs imagine #I literally didn’t proof read this at all so I apologize in advance lmao

781 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 5: You Make It Easy

Summary: Steve finally takes Katie out on a date.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! And a whole heap of fluffy fluff fluff.

A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @angrybirdcr for her lovely little edit.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 4

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The elation Steve had felt about actually getting a date with Katie soon evaporated the next morning when he realised he hadn’t the first CLUE about where to take her, what to do or what to wear. He wasn’t naïve, he knew dating had changed since his day but the fact he had no reference point to even start from, having never been on a date before, wasn’t helpful either. So he sought some advice

“A nice shirt and jeans.” Peggy smiled at him, the old woman elated he had finally done it. “Nothing too flash, and pick a restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, women are more impressed by a man who’s paying them attention instead of simply paying for the meal.”

“Okay, right.”

“You know her, Steve.” Peggy looked at him. “What type of food does she like?”

“Italian, Chinese, but we do that all the time.” He shrugged, before he stopped, suddenly remembering something she had said to Evans a couple of weeks back in exercise, “You know, come to think of it she has mentioned a new place in town. La Placa I think it’s called.” “See, there you go.” Peggy patted him on his arm before she smiled at the look on the young man’s face “Just be yourself Steve, that’s who she wants. No one else.”

“Thanks Peg.”

“And make sure you kiss her goodnight…” She grinned, a twinkle in her eyes. “Us ladies do like a bit of passion every now and then you know.” He rolled his eyes at her cheekiness, running his hand through his hair which was in desperate need of a cut. He stayed with Peggy whilst he googled the restaurant number, made his reservation and then text Katie to tell her where he had booked.

Can’t wait xxx

He grinned to himself, and then pushed his phone away and turned back to find Peggy watching him, a sly grin on her face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” she remarked, somewhat wistfully

.He smiled “Been a long time since I felt this good.”

“It suits you.” On his way home he swung into the barbers and stepped in. As he sat in the chair the man asked him what he wanted doing, and he was about to say trim when Katie��s voice stirred in his mind.

“Trying to imagine what you’d look like with shorter hair and a beard…” “Shorn back and sides please,” he said as the man asked him what he wanted, “and take it a little shorter on top.”

******

Katie woke suddenly on top of the comforter on her bed, fully clothed. She’d fallen asleep! She sat up, thinking back to the last thing she remembered before her nap, piecing her train of thought together. Ah, yes, Steve had messaged her to tell her he’d booked a table somewhere which had prompted her to start looking for an outfit. She’d realised she had no idea what to wear so had been debating calling Pepper to ask for advice, but had decided it wasn’t a good idea because she didn’t want Tony to know she was dating yet, let alone who.

But there was someone she could call. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Biting her lip she sighed and picked up her phone, scanning through to the person she was looking for and the cavalry arrived an hour and a half later in the shape of a red-haired deadly assassin.

“There has to be something in here that’s first date suitable…” Natasha mumbled, as she continued to search through the various items in Katie’s closet. Half Katie’s clothes adorned the floor of her walk-in-wardrobe and bedroom as they had discarded everything she’d tried so far. “It would help if I knew where you were going.” she sipped her beer thoughtfully.

“La Placa.” Katie told her after a pause, “Tapas place, but if you turn up I swear to God…”

“I got better things to do with my spare time.” “No you don’t. And I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“If you don’t trust me why did you ask for my help?“ Natasha drawled, still rifling through the clothing racks. “Because Pepper is a four hour drive away…”

“Well that’s just rude.” Natasha mumbled and Katie grinned, shaking her head as Nat placed her beer down on the top of a set of drawers and moved to a rail “Ok, try this.”

She pulled out a knee length navy blue Balenciaga dress with a fitted top half, scalloped neck line and three-quarter length lace detailed sleeves. As Katie shrugged it on, Natasha hunted in the shoe rack, pulling out a pair of mid-height nude Kurt Geiger courts with a stiletto heel and matching bag.

“Not bad.” She mumbled as Katie stepped into the heels and gave her a twirl.

“Better than the grey one?” “Definitely.” Natasha nodded approvingly “I think we have a winner!”

Katie gave her a double Hi-Five and Nat picked up her beer as Katie stripped out of the dress and pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, before she glanced around the large bedroom, sighing at the mess.

“Better tidy this up in case things go well.” Nat smirked, before she pondered “Huh, actually, do you reckon Captain America puts out on the first date? Mind you, knowing Roger’s he’s probably a virgin…”

“I’m pretty sure people had casual sex back in the 40s too you know.” Katie rolled her eyes. “He was on the USO tours surrounded by dancing girls, there’s no way he didn’t do the old horizontal tango.”

“Yeah but…its Rogers.” Nat pressed giving a snort “Imagine if you are the one to pop his cherry.”

Katie groaned, shaking her head. “Shut up Widow.”

She smirked “Okay, so how long have we got?”

Katie glanced at her phone “An hour and twenty. And what do you mean we?” “You asked for my help, right?” Natasha shrugged, “Thought I could do your make-up and hair too…” Katie looked at her for a moment and smiled “Thanks.” She shrugged then drained her beer before turning Katie round and pushing her towards the en-suite “Go shower then we’ll start the transformation.”

An hour later Katie was ready. Her hair was curled in soft waves, and her makeup was done, a bit heavier than normal, but still subtle enough to avoid looking like it had been applied with a trowel.

“Perfect.” Nat gave her an appraising look. “Right, I trust you can get dressed without me?” “I think I’ll manage.” Katie said, standing up as she made her way out of the walk-in wardrobe and followed her into the hall where she picked up her jacket.

“Oh and if you need me to bail you, just give me an SOS call…” Nat made a phone sign with her finger and pinkie by her ear. “I think I’ll be ok.” Katie smiled, “but thank you, for all of this.”

“Have fun…” Nat grinned and then added with a smirk “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t”

“That doesn’t exactly leave a lot…” Katie quipped

“That’s my point.” Natasha intoned as she walked into the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

“Nat, you won’t tell anyone will you?” Katie asked, “I mean, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, just…” Nat paused turning back to the brunette to find her chewing her lip with nerves. She shook her head “I won’t tell a soul. I know how much you two like each other, you’ve been dancing around it for months, so… just enjoy ok? Have a good time. You both deserve it.” “Thanks Nat” Katie smiled. The two girls shared a quick hug and then Nat left

***** Steve had to admit, he liked his new hair. It was much more like the style people sported now, but in a way it also reminded him of how Bucky had worn his back in the Howlies. He picked a light blue shirt, his dark navy jeans and then pondered before settling on a pair of brown boots that matched his jacket and belt. He was ready with plenty of time and found himself pacing as he thought about how the night could go. There was no doubt it was going to be way different to how he had imagined his first date to be. Back in his day it was movies, dinner and a dance. Now there were no dance halls, and they watched movies all the time. But, as Peggy had advised, for once he was going to “go with the flow” and just see where the night took them both.

Finally, after an agonising fifteen minutes during which he had pretty much paced non-stop and drained a good measure of scotch, even though it did nothing bar give him a comforting burn in his throat on the way down, he headed to the cab that was waiting and they set off to pick up his date.

Jesus Christ she looked amazing. Her hair was cascading in waves over her shoulders, the smoky brown eyeshadow she was wearing made the green in her eyes even more noticeable. And her dress…navy blue, knee length with a detailed neckline and sleeves that finished halfway down her forearms. The top half clung to her body where it flared out slightly from her hips and her heels accentuated her shapely calves to perfection. As Steve looked at her he found himself imagining various crude scenarios where said delectable dress ended up on the floor, but that wasn’t gentlemanly. Nor appropriate.

Katie felt her breath catch when she saw Steve. His light blue shirt was tight enough to accentuate his ridiculously well-built top half, and a brown belt with a gold buckle adorned his toned waist. And he’d had a haircut. Gone were his longer locks and side parting, and in its place was a short back and sides with slightly longer strands on the top, tousled into an exceptionally modern style. He looked incredible.

Steve broke the silence between the two, clearing his throat gently.

“You look beautiful.” He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, you look pretty good yourself, you do something to your hair?” Katie teased.

“Thought it was time for a change.” he shrugged it off casually as his cheeks warmed. “Still getting used to it.” “It looks great.” she assured him.

He beat her to her jacket as she reached up to take it off the peg and held it out so she could shrug her arms into it. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out and took her hand and she laced her fingers into his. He glanced down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she flashed him a smile.

Yeah, he’d lucked out, big time.

******

The restaurant was busy but not packed. They were seated at the back in a little booth in the corner. Steve had never had tapas before, but Peggy had explained it to him before.

“So the idea is we pick, what, three or four dishes?” he asked, looking at Katie

“Yeah, they’re like small portions and you share.” Katie nodded. “Although you eat like a horse so we should probably order more.”

He grinned and looked back at his menu.

“You choose.” he placed the card back down eventually, beaten by the list of items. “I literally have no idea…”

“Alright.” Katie grinned. “But you have to try everything…”

“Deal.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Katie ordered a large enough selection along with a side order of olives and different breads with dipping oils before flashing the waiter a smile and he scuttled off.

“I think this is normally the part where we ask each other questions,” Steve said as the waiter disappeared. “You know, get to know each other a bit more.”

“Yeah… think that ship already sailed though.”

“True,” Steve nodded bashfully, there wasn’t many things that they didn’t know about each other, although as he watched Katie was biting her lip, almost as if she wanted to say something, but at the same time didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out for his drink.

“Something Nat said before…” Katie flushed, caught out. There was no way she was asking that question.

“Why does this worry me slightly?” He paused, beer raised halfway to his lips.

Katie looked at him and shook her head, the flush continuing to rise up her neck “Yeah, I’m not, it’s not first date conversation.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Now I’m extremely worried, and a little intrigued.”

“You really want to know?” Katie cocking her head to one side and when he nodded she shrugged. “Alright, you asked for this…” she straightened up in the seat as he did the same, bracing himself. “Are you a virgin?”

Steve groaned and screwed his eyes shut. “No, I’m not.” He sighed shaking his head before he looked back at her. "After I first got the serum there was suddenly all this attention on me and I didn’t really know any better…” “There was no one before?” she frowned slightly, almost as if she was surprised.

He shook his head again. “Girls weren’t exactly interested in me before hand, Bucky was the one who had the looks and the swag. He had a different girl every weekend. I guess when they finally did start looking at me that way I just, I dunno…” He stopped and took a breath. “God, this makes me sound like a right jerk. There weren’t that many”

Three to be exact. And none of them had been anything to write home about. He got the distinct impression they hadn’t particularly enjoyed themselves either, not past the fact they could boast about having bedded Captain America. Plus, he was infatuated by Peggy at that point as well and found he craved the tenderness that was supposed to be associated with the act, not merely the physical bliss. As corny as it sounded, he genuinely wanted someone to be with him intimately that wanted him, not Captain America.

As he watched, he noticed Katie was watching him intently and he swallowed a little as she simply shrugged. .

“We all have a past Steve.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since I came out of the ice.” He added softly, feeling the need to explain that he wasn’t that type of man.

“I haven’t since Grant.” she eyed him. “One night stands are overrated.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged, locking eyes with her. “That’s all I ever had.”

Katie studied him for a moment. She had no idea why, but to learn he hadn’t had a girl that way before he became some kind of war time celebrity, and knowing that the ones he had been with were probably chasing nothing but the kudos of being able to say they fucked Captain America, made her kind of sad. No wonder he was always so self-doubting.

She smiled and reached across the table, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Well, personally, I think all those girls that picked Bucky over you were dumbasses. I’ve seen the photos of you before all this happened…” she raised her free hand and held out her index finger, and gestured up and down his torso. “You were sweet”

He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. “You know I heard that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she leaned back in her chair slightly, “Dumbasses” Steve was aware that her ankle was brushing against his slightly and he felt the warm flush in his cheek at her forwardness, but soon found it disappeared and was replaced instead with simply enjoying the fact she wanted to be so close to him.

As tactful as ever, Katie swiftly moved the conversation on and it took a natural turn to Tony’s renovation of the tower and then New York in general, how much Brooklyn in particular had changed since Steve had left it behind to go to war.

It was through this conversation Steve discovered that in all the time Katie had spent in New York she had never been to Coney Island.

“Maybe I could take you one day, down to the fair.” He suggested.

“I’d love that.” She smiled and his chest swelled even more.

Their food arrived and they continued to talk. And, considering they had started the date off thinking there wasn’t much more to find out about each other, both of them were surprised to see exactly how much trivial stuff there was to learn about the other. For instance, Steve knew that Katie enjoyed baseball but what he didn’t know was that whilst Tony was a Yankees fan, she actually supported the LA Dodgers, having grown up in Malibu. Suddenly her teasing about the fact they had moved made perfect sense. And in turn, Katie knew that the Dodgers relocating was a bug bear of his but, since he would rather go into the ice all over again than support the Yankees, he had started watching out for the Mets results, but apparently it just wasn’t the same and as such he hadn’t been to an actual game since he came out of the ice. Both of them found out the other preferred dogs to cats, cats making Katie sneeze and their ability to hiss and scratch you with no damned warning whatsoever made Steve not trust them as far as he could throw them.

“I can just read the headlines now!” Katie chuckled after Steve had added that if he wanted to he could probably throw a cat quite far. “Captain America killed my Cat.” Steve let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his beer. “Don’t cats always land on their feet?” “I dunno, depends how hard you’re intending on throwing it.” “I’m not intending on throwing any cat anywhere.” Steve shook his head “As much as I don’t like them I couldn’t deliberately harm one.” “Tony did. Well not deliberately, and he didn’t so much harm it as kill it…” “Oh you gotta tell me this story!” Steve grinned, leaning forward, topping up Katie’s wine glass from the bottle that was in the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

Katie grinned, “When we were kids, the first place we lived in was down this huge, posh road with like 3 other houses on and we had this really eccentric neighbour, Mrs Livesy her name was. She had like 18 cats or something ridiculous and one morning, Tony was reversing the car out of the garage and he flattened 2 of them.”

Steve nearly spat his beer back into his glass. “He ran them over?” “Yeah…” Katie said, and by now she was full on laughing “But the best bit is, she comes round asking Dad if he’s seen the cats, dad’s got no idea what’s gone on right as Tony’s moved the cats and bribed me to keep quiet with the biggest ice cream you could imagine, so dad is all like ‘I’ve got no idea Mrs Livesy I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open…” Katie took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes “So then Tony comes back, Dad mentions that Mrs Livesy was looking for 2 of her cats and Tony’s like ‘huh, well you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat’ and me, being the little shit I was at the age of 4 pipes up ‘no that was you this morning, remember?’”

Steve laughed, and watched as she carried on giggling. “He never forgave me for that, Dad made him go round and apologise. And he had to attend a memorial for Mr Whiskers and Bagpuss…”

Eventually after desert and a few more drinks it was time to leave, Katie tried to split the meal bill with Steve but one stern look stopped that in its tracks. This was a date, he was paying. Thankfully she didn’t argue too much. Steve then asked her if she wanted to go for a drink, she gleefully accepted so he took her hand, gently leading her across the road, holding the bar door open for her. They both sat at the bar, Katie turning her seat so she was directly facing him, the pair of them leaning closer to one another as they talked. And the conversation just continued to flow, as did the odd but subtle display of affection, moving their chairs closer together, her hand on his shoulder. Steve was surprised to find how easy the whole thing was. He had no nerves, no awkward moments. The chemistry fizzled and there wasn’t a single moment he was stuck for anything to say. It was for that reason he was disappointed when the bar tender called time and reluctantly stood up as Katie drained the final bit of gin from her glass.

As Steve held out her jacket, his hands gently brushed her shoulders as she shrugged it on, sending a tingle down her spine and the hitch in her breathing didn’t go unnoticed. She turned to face him, all green eyes and pink lips, blinking as her eyes locked onto his and before he could stop them, his hands connected at the base of her spine as she moved closer to him, not moving her gaze from his, hand resting on his chest.

“I’d really like to kiss you again…” Steve said, shyly.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” she replied. Smiling softly he leaned down and connected his lips with hers, the kiss growing slightly deeper until Steve remembered they were in the middle of a public bar. He pulled away gently, resting his forehead against hers briefly, blushing like an absolute moron as a small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“You know, for someone who said they’d never taken a woman on a date before Rogers, you’ve done amazingly well.” she blinked up at him, grinning.

“That’s because you make it easy to be around you.” He shrugged, honestly. He took her hand, curled his fingers round hers and made their way out into the street to hail a cab.

All too soon they pulled up outside her apartment block and both of them found themselves wishing the night would never end. Steve told the driver to wait whilst he hopped out and walked her into the lobby, their hands still twined together. There was a part of him that wanted to follow her in, and a part of her that almost invited him to, but they both wanted to do this right, take their time.

“I think now is the part where I’m supposed to ask you if you had a good time.” Steve turned to face her as they stopped by the elevator door.

“I did.”

“And if you’d go out with me again?” “I already said I would, Coney Island remember?” she replied cheekily, leaning closer to him.

“I meant before that.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’d love too.” She muttered, and then his lips were on hers again and they were kissing, exactly where they had left off in the bar, only this time they were alone. Steve’s hand snaked into her soft hair, angling her head slightly and she parted her lips, their tongues tangling easily as once more the fireworks erupted deep in Steve’s belly.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more Stevie…” Bucky said, nudging him on the arm, winking as they crossed the fairground towards the girls “That’s the trick…”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling he pulled back. Their night was at an end, it was a perfect place to leave it.

“I really did had a great time tonight, thank you.” Katie whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers, giving her lips another quick peck before he stepped back a little and she reached into her bag for her key card, pressing it to the pad by the elevator.

“Me too.” He smiled as the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, turning to face him and flashed him another grin.

“Night Stevie.”

“Night, Sweetheart.” He replied as the doors shut. With that, he turned round and grinning to himself he walked back to the cab. Date 1 down, and it had been a roaring success.

**** Chapter 6

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark #chris evans #chris evans characters #mcu #mcu fanfic

98 notes · View notes

lydiamoved · 4 years ago

Photo

“the mycologist” is a short story influenced by a 2021 news story of a man who accidentally sends himself to the hospital after injecting himself with shrooms. in this story we follow anne, a mycologist who becomes obsessed with the idea of injecting herself with the insides of fungi - an obsession that costs her her job, as well as some of her humanity. you can read it below - i hope you enjoy!

She knew the risks, as did everyone else. Hell, she could still hear them warning her against what she was planning to do, the way their faces contorted in some strange disgust that was foreign to her – and her line of study.

Mycology – that’s what the glass paneling of her building said, proudly and in large bold letters. Mycology, and here she was, the head of the department, the dictionary of fungi for all the others who worked underneath her and couldn’t be bothered to remember certain names or attributes. Really, it moved her, the number of doctors and specialists she oversaw day-in and day-out, who paled instantly in comparison to her; everyone who watched her and clapped for her and worshipped her, all turned to cardboard cutouts whenever she opened her mouth, their own words made into a slurry of syllables until she left and allowed them to go back to their meaninglessness. But also, it annoyed her, how these soup-mouthed, so-called specialists, stared at her when she announced her plans. How they all, every last one of them!, managed to wipe the smile off her face with the way they gawked and waited for her punchline.

“I’m going to inject myself with a fungus,” and? Must it always be followed by an and? It frustrated her, the need for clear-cut results and outcomes, and for once, for once, she would kill to experience a project with a bit of danger! When their reactions greeted her, she became even more determined, the days slowly bleeding into each other as she worked every hour she could, until every hour felt and looked the same. A month had passed, and she had not yet discovered that her eyesight had begun to dim, or that the cramp in her hand was permanent. Her working days, which was every day, were now accompanied by the grumbles of her coworkers, the way they said her name – Anne, in that sighed out way that meant pity. Their sympathy, she knew, was false and forced, a little lie they hoped she wouldn’t detect out of her own desperation.

She saw through all of them, and they knew.

Naturally, after the condolences had gone around, she was asked into the Dean’s office for a short, friendly conversation. The request made her feel cold, and the walk to the office chilled her to the bone. She stared at pale yellow walls that fell into a mossy, moldy green. The chair she sat in scratched at her legs when she shifted, the fur feeling more like torture than comfort. The air felt stiff, the discomfort building in her arms and chest until she needed to scream. She felt her jaw unclench, forcefully, and her mouth pry itself open bit by bit, until her tongue went cold with a flood of fresh air, and –

“Anne?”

Reality flooded back to her, and she looked up. “That’s me,” and the woman in front of her nodded and gave her the go ahead, a shaky smile. Anne got up from her seat and went into the office, where another scratchy seat waited for her. This time, she didn’t sit; her nails slid into the wooden frame of the chair as if they belonged there, and she stood tense.

The Dean was an older woman, kind in her voice and kinder with her actions. She sat behind the desk that shielded her from acts of passion, but she welcomed any warm response, often initiating the hug or bundle of tissues. Today, she hoped, there would be reason to celebrate, and so she began with a smile.

“You’re one of our top professors. I hope you know that.”

She knew. She nodded.

“We don’t want to have to let you go,” and the Dean paused, taking a breath and looking down at her notes as if she forgot something. But, “But, you’re scaring some of the other professors.”

Anne’s chest tightened.

“I can’t begin to tell you how many reports we have, detailing the same behavior.”

Anne’s hands began to shake, her own words slow from her mouth.

The Dean continued, “if you resign, I’ll write you a recommendation letter to anywhere. I will make sure you get an outstanding position, I promise you –” and the rest of her words sounded like background noise. Anne’s ears flooded with static, her nails digging into the chair until they splintered instead of the wood. She heard very little afterwards: something about being transferred, the promise of being remembered, a very short you just can’t work here anymore, and all she could do was nod. The Dean waited a moment, and then stood from her seat behind her desk. “I hope you understand,” and when Anne nodded again, “we’ll be in touch, okay? All you need to do is secure another position and leave the rest to me.” A hand touched Anne’s shoulder, a little slow to deliver the comfort it was supposed to give, and then it was gone. Anne was shuffled out of the building, the door closing behind her, as quick as she had arrived.

–––

The position she was promised came within a month or two of being asked to leave, and within this month Anne had found herself once again. This job wasn’t based around fungi – her old Dean had recommended something less science-based, for fear of Anne becoming knee-deep in her obsession once more, and so she had traded in her laboratory space for a cubicle, the goggles and lab coat for a nice suit and ballpoint pen, and she settled down once more for an occupation that made her fingers cramp and her mind shrink with disinterest. But the obsession never left her mind; it left a stain between her brain and her mouth, forcing itself between every other interest and her work. She found herself sketching down her plans, her desktop now full of searches of the easiest growing mushrooms, of the fastest growing, the slowest, and so forth. Orders were made, buttons clicked, and boxes shipped to where she lived, and her obsession slowly came into fruition. Her home was now a laboratory in its own right, a little makeshift in design, but it worked all the same: in one corner, a long table held six different bottles of various lengths, each filled with some strangely colored liquids; near her door, the lab coat she threw on whenever she got home, waited patiently for her arms to run through its sleeves; on the kitchen stove and counters, where food should have been, were boxes of that were labeled “FRAGILE” on their sides.

Anne got home from work a little later than she had wanted and got to work immediately. First, she was to pick which fungi she would use. Lion’s mane was too loose and willow-like, it would be irritating to touch, she thought. Mealy tooth, Hydnellum ferrugineum, was too ugly for her to even consider. Slowly, she went through a list, Amanita franchetii, Calocera cornea, until she finally found the one she wished to take and inject. A beautiful thing, more beautiful than the others she had liked, Hydnellum peckii, Devil’s Tooth, with droplets that exuded from its pink and fertile undersurface. Not poisonous, but not exactly edible, it was perfect – something safe, something that won’t kill her, something that would change her body, but leave her virtually unharmed and unscathed. The other fungi were unpacked and planted in their own respective pots, and the Devil’s Tooth was left in its packaging, where it would wait until its time had come to be poked and prodded.

Second came the experiment itself. Her hypothesis was written out, I predict that when injected with fungi, Hydnellum peckii, I will gain some attributes of this fungi, and now all Anne needed to do was prove herself right. She grabbed a tourniquet from her table, wrapping it around her arm until a vein was visible. Then came the sterilization of her skin, a little gauze drenched in rubbing alcohol, then her skin was made shiny with the new cold dampness. A syringe, fresh and sterile, was brandished against one of the fungi's droplets, and she pulled the handle towards her. Red, strawberry-blood liquid filled the syringe almost immediately, and she smiled to herself, a mutter of finally on her tongue. Finally, finally, finally, the needle was steadily pushed against her skin, into the vein – Anne winced, a little bit of ache worked through – and the contents were emptied into her bloodstream.

Immediately, there was calm. And immediately, Anne bent forwards over her table, the empty syringe dropping to the floor and her hands slamming on the wood. Pain coursed through her body, uncomfortable, and yet it felt as if it belonged there, and then settled. Her mouth was open, as if waiting for a yell or scream to leave, but it never came. Slowly, she straightened out, and began to clean up.

–––

Three days had passed since her experiment, and disappointment was beginning to set in. There had been no results, or anything visible, so to say, from the fungi, except for a bit of nausea that came and went. Anne had gone to work, the same as any other day, and returned home to check her face, her arms and legs, for any sign of change, and then - same as always: nothing new to log. Quickly, she became frustrated. She considered giving up her profession altogether and committing herself to her new mundanity. She thought heavily about throwing away her syringes and beakers, her notebooks and experiment notes, and for once in her career, she felt uneasy. This failure, if she were quick to call it that, felt wrong. Anne checked her notes. She checked her measurements and rechecked after that. Everything was correct, everything was done in the right order, with nothing left behind or overdone, so why was there no change?

A week had passed since her experiment, a week of mundane living. Nothing but a few aches here and there plagued Anne, and nothing was written down as interesting or special. However, on the beginning of the new week, the normalcy broke. It started faint and almost as nothing, with a bit of red pus oozing from her neck in the shape of a burst pimple. Immediately she was excited for this - something new, something fresh! It was underneath her jaw, the red river that flowed from her skin and stained almost everything she touch, and proved itself to be more of a nuisance than anything. Then the aches and pains started again, this time a bit stronger than before. Soon, she was unable to stand for longer than a few moments without being attacked in her side by a sharp jolt. Within the week, the red oozing spot grew larger, and the pains more frequent, often knocking Anne off her feet and sending her to lay in her bed, where she felt most comfortable and relaxed. Beneath her sheets was warm and soft, the perfect place to house her body just in case any other effects decided to come when she least expected them. Her occupation was forgotten, her mind taken up with how her body finally reacted to the fungi, how her hands shook when she attempted to write in her journal, how her eyes watered when she managed to stand for a mere few moments. Despite these changes, and despite the pain she felt, Anne enjoyed every moment of it. She reveled in the fact that she, herself, had done something deemed impossible and – more importantly – proven her old coworkers wrong. Now, Anne was correct in her experiment. She was correct, and she knew herself to be better than those who shamed her.

After another week, these effects had stopped. The oozing went away overnight, as if it had never happened, and the pains had subsided. She was expected to be at work once more, a duty neglected over the last few days in favor of her own experiments and thoughts. Returning was a dreadful deed, unwanted and frankly unneeded, but she did it anyways. She could barely focus to the words of anyone, to her customers who called or the coworkers who spoke to her or in her general direction. Curiosity had overtaken her, and slight disappointment had replaced the excitement she had felt once again. Why had the fungi’s effects only lasted for a week? She thought, both to herself and to any coworker who would allow her to tell them of the events. Why did they not continue? Why did they stop so suddenly? These questions puzzled her and even troubled her, making Anne scratch her head with a fierceness. Then, a curiosity overtook her: what if she injected herself with too little of the substance? What if she needed more, in order to experience full, more robust effects? Then another thought overtook her: what if she mixed the fungi with another, different specimen? What would happen then? Would she remain as human as she was now, or would she transform entirely into some pain-filled, oozing mess?

Once work had ended, once Anne had reached home, the curiosity took hold of her once more. It seeped into her bones and sat in her skull like some old friend, banging against her brain - the interest, the intrigue, made her dizzy until she returned to the boxes of fungi, returned to the putrid and smelly things, and grabbed the first one that caught her eye: Hygrophorus eburneus, Cowboy’s Handkerchief. Because of the other fungi packed along with it, this one smelled putrid, the scent filling Anne’s nose and making her cheeks bulge. She wretched and gagged as she removed it from the box, the waxy head brushing against her hands and adding more to the discomfort she already felt. But here she was, consumed with curiosity, with want, and so she pushed through it. Again, she remade her laboratory in her home. Again, she sterilized a syringe and needle, and again she wrapped her arm with tourniquet and carefully, slowly, watched as the syringe inhaled the waxy substance inside the fungi. Then, she watched as the needle-syringe expelled the substance into her ready vein. This time, the effects hit quicker than the first. In an instant, a burning sensation filled her arm, and the wound where the needle penetrated spewed some red-white goo. Anne bent over once more, a pain filling her abdomen and then slowly crawling through her entire body; she opened her mouth and spittle dripped from the side of her lips. She screamed, silently, then lowered her body to the floor, and then, something strange happened - she laughed.

Anne laughed, gentle at first, then a bit louder as she gripped her stomach. Her nails dug into her skin, adding to the pain she already felt, and to stop laughing felt worse than anything she’d ever felt. Anne laughed, and from the needle-syringe wound, still spouting red-yellow ooze, grew a new plant. This intrigued Anne, just as the original oozing had intrigued her. Once again everything else was neglected, and this new plant became her only priority; she watched over it, cared for it the same as she would care for any plant. Once again, she found herself sinking back into bed due to pains that afflicted her, and once again the oozing returned, her own humanity thrown away for the fungi she injected herself with. She found herself calling out of work too often, and her supervisor calling her home even more so.

“Anne,” she would always begin with a sigh, “you cannot just abandon your desk.” And she would rant on how good workmanship was required for this position, and she would question if Anne actually wanted this second chance at a normal, mundane job. Anne would laugh at her, sometimes under her breath, sometimes aloud.

“I’m doing great things,” she would tell her supervisor. “I am doing things you can only dream of doing, and I won’t be persuaded into coming back there.”

Her supervisor sighed again, then would hang up the phone without another word or thought. Within the week, Anne received another call that she had been fired, and would be required to pick up her things sooner rather than later.

Finally, Anne thought, she was free to focus on her mission. Finally, she was free to document her fleeting humanity, the plant that grew from her side growing stronger and healthier and more beautiful each day, the oozing becoming almost unbearably putrid as it gushed from her neck. Soon more syringes found their way inside her veins, filled with puss and ooze and gushing stuff from other fungi. She digested the leaves of raw plants, even split them open and drank the water from inside them. Anything she could do to consume them, to speed up the effects, Anne would try, until finally she realized she could no longer. When the pain had become too great, when the way she doubled over caused a permanent stitch in her side, she stopped. When the plant that grew from her broke off and attached itself to her foot, where it grew multiple different children, she stopped. When her humanity had found its final leg, and she was bedridden due to the pain, to the way bile rose and down in her throat whenever she stood up and tried to walk, Anne’s experiment was complete.

Still, she laughed. When she vomited red and white ooze, she laughed. Underneath her warm sheets, covered in a thin layer of sweat and puss, she laughed to herself, until new plant matter and fungi grew inside her throat, and she could laugh no longer.

#my writing.#short stories #black writing on tumblr #this is only the first draft if i hate it i'll edit it but i wanted to share it !!!#black writers on tumblr

38 notes · View notes

fabricdragondesigns · 4 years ago

Text

CW: Discussion of sizes, clothing fit, and patterns v ready to wear (other than the 1st item not really in any order)

1. first of all, if you are new to sewing you need to memorize this *Your pattern size has nothing to do with the size you wear 'off the peg' or 'ready-to-wear.*

0nothing

not at all

no, i don't care if they say something that "sounds like" ready to wear sizing.

2. you need to take your measurements.you do not have any idea HOW to take your measurements if you are not used to buying patterns, because everyone has taught you incorrectly.

2a. UNLESS patterns say otherwise they are fitted for a 5'6 woman with a 'B' cup size. You want to buy the pattern based on your "high bust" (above your girls) if you are larger than a B cup, and then make adjustments. if you do not do that you will buy for the "bust measurement" and it wont fit your shoulders. many patterns have pre-done adjustments for C and D cups, but THEIR idea of a C and D cup may not be yours- check the fit.

2b. for the love of Gd do all your fittings and measurements in the same bra- or same type of bra- that you will actually be wearing the pattern with. a strapless bra v a regular bra will change your fit.

3. worth its own bullet point: all patterns are designed with ease (extra space for it so you can move) and/or 'design ease (how it fits, like a 'loosely fitted' top is not as tight as a 'slim fit')

3a. If you are sewing a skirt with a snug waist, but full swishy gathers... it will fit over a wider range of hip sizes than the pattern says.

3b. you buy your pattern based on the part of the body that is a critical fit. if it drapes off my bust and then is "A" line (flares out) it doesnt matter much if my waist is a bit larger than the pattern.

NOTE: if you have an *extreme* difference of size between your waist bust and hips, you may need to worry about this, but if its just a little off the measure in a loose fitting place? dont worry about it.

4. did i mention your pattern sizes are not your RTW sizes? i did? cool... have i mentioned that your RTW sizing is an arbitrary number that varies widely between brands anyway?you knew that? good.

4a. fit of a pattern can also vary between vastly different brands.CHECK THE PATTERN AGAINST YOUR MEASUREMENTS because while the 'big three' you see in the fabric stores may all be similar, EVEN those have specialty lines that use different sizing... and if you get into ANY of the other designers? Totally different sizes.

5. you need to make a 'muslin' or test fit (pin fit) the pattern at the very least.

5a. no, seriously you do... at least until you have made enough similar patterns that you can check the fit against your existing work.

5b. if you cannot bring yourself to "waste" the sewing on a muslin? at least either buy a 'fun fabric' to make a trial run in, or buy double of your fashion fabric.

5c. ok, but don't swear at me when you find out you need to replace that 'perfect' fabric because the pattern doesnt fit, and now you cant find anymore.

6. If you expect to launder the clothes? you need to wash the fabric before you cut and sew it.

6a. this is also where you keep a close eye on red, purple, blue and other super saturated colors for any sign that they are 'bleeding' and likely to end up making all your white blouses a weird pinkish color in the next wash.

6b. some fabrics (cough linen and linen blends) fray and can generate a lot of lint- especially on the first wash. this is why many people serge or zig zag stitch the cut ends of the fabric before washing.

7. look at the pattern and choose fabrics wisely. That pleated swishy skirt may look really cool in a crisp stiff fabric, but it wont be a SWISHY skirt... it will stand out away from your body... this may be what you want, but it may not.Likewise that crisp jacket detail will look sad and wilted in a soft drape fabric.

8. pattern photos (the models) often show the patterns in fabrics that do not help you understand the pattern at all- look at the black and white line drawing that shows you the seam lines.

8a. also, yes, they choose really weird fabrics for some of the photo shoots- no we don't know why.

9. seriously please get any shame or obsession with "sizes" out of your mind (in general but in sewing especially).

9a. no one will see your size number: it doesn't appear on the back of your dress, but if it makes you feel better put a label in everything you sew with whatever size you like.

9b seriously? sizes are not even consistent in RTW, and they are not the same across different pattern lines. the whole point of sewing is to make the clothes fit you.

9c. honestly you can get professionally made clothes labels and put whatever size you want on them. a friend who made clothing actually named her sizes after the fit models she used, so Roseamund and other names were *sizes*... its cool. your clothes should be YOU sized.

10. pattern making and alteration sounds scary, but even if you dont want to do it at all? some things are really easy.

10a. some patterns come with interchangeable parts, so once you make one outfit that fits, you can wip up a dozen with different necklines, sleeves, amounts of swish in the skirts, length in the pants, pockets...

10b. certain changed are easy- peasy. change the fabric (remember the crisp versus draped fabrics?), make it dressy or casual, changing pleats into gathers (or vice versa) add trim, pockets, embroidery, lengthen or shorten it.

10c. some changes are a bit more skilled, BUT STILL WITHIN BEGINNER capabilities, just take your time!add an over-layer of lace (in whole or in part), add width to a sleeve and make it a dolman or a flutter sleeve, add width to the skirt, changing it from a straight skirt to a full skirt, add a colored insert, or 'slot seams' (not as hard as it sounds, trust me)

you can LITERALLY make hundreds of outfits out of a good basic pattern set by making minor adjustments!

#Sewist #sewing #patterns #beginner #sewing for beginners #things i learned the hard way

47 notes · View notes

echo-of-sounds · 4 years ago

Text

bnha original characters

This is less about the characters themselves and more about their quirks, their strengths, weaknesses, and the like. I only included Ursa and Cujo in this from anxiety bear.

I might make more about Quick Comfort’s reader, some side characters, and villains to explore their quirks further. Let me know if you’d like to read about more characters! I liked doing this!

anxiety bear’s reader

Hero Name: Ursa (Latin; bear)

Quirk: Arctotherium

She can transform into an Arctotherium angustidens (an extinct genus of South American short-faced bear). A secondary effect of her quirk is her enhanced senses.

Height: on all fours, she’s 5’11ft at the shoulder (perfect height for biting people right in the jugular); on her hind legs, she’s 12ft

Weight: around 2,900 pounds

Hero Costume: It’s made out of simple, relaxed, and breathable clothing. To nullify her heightened smell, she has a mask. It’s a small, specialized respirator that filters even the tiniest odor. After she uses her quirks, she needs food, so there’s a small pocket on her thigh that she keeps filled with protein bars. For cold weather, she adds a cloak.

Strengths:

Ursa’s sheer mass and weight benefit her, making her difficult to knock/jar, a powerful hitter, and becomes quite the tank when she gets charging. Running up to 45mph at long distances, she’s easily able to break through walls, catch those trying to escape, and escape herself if necessary. She relies mostly on her senses of hearing (which exceeds frequencies humans can hear) and smell (which is about 2,000 times greater than a human’s).

Her fur, dark brown in color, provides protection against impact and some claws/knives due to its thickness. It is not impenetrable. Enough force behind the weapon can spear through her fur.

For offense, her claws and teeth are her main weapons. Her paws are about 1.2 feet (not including her claws). Her claws are around 4 inches. As with other bears, they aren’t actually that sharp. She just has enough power behind her swing to cause damage no matter their acuteness. It’s enough to knock the wind out of someone.

Weaknesses:

She can’t talk while in bear form. She can hear, but being unable to communicate back can cause difficulties while working in teams.

While Ursa’s enhanced senses prove useful in many cases, they’re also her main weakness. Overloading her senses is a sure-fire way to force her unconscious, incapacitated, or to unshift. Smell is the quickest and easiest to overtax, especially with acrid, bitter, and sharp scents. Hearing and sight are next: with high-pitched noises, inaudible by the average human, and deep, bass sounds that rumble her bones; and with bright lights, flashing ones are the worst.

Because of her sensitivities, she acts more like a powerhouse for brief fights. If she’s in one too long, the greater the chances of her becoming overwhelmed. She’s more of a hindrance than anything if she gets overwhelmed.

Quirk Side Effects/Other Info:

Ursa’s senses are still enhanced when she isn’t in bear form. It mimics Sensory Processing Disorder. Her mask helps with her sense of smell. For sight, she has glasses that block out the wavelengths that irritate her eyes the most. For hearing, she has hearing hampers. They work the opposite of hearing aids; instead of amplifying noises/pitches, they dampen them before sending the soundwaves into the ear.

After exerting a certain amount of energy while using her quirk, her body rapidly depletes its resources. The protein bars in her costume help while she’s on patrol. After intense fights, she needs much more than the snacks, often choosing chicken breast topped with fried eggs on any combination of rice, steak, vegetables, and cheeses (she refuses to eat any type of seafood or beans, hating the smell, taste, and texture in her mouth).

Although she tends to ignore this part, she goes through a sort of ‘heat’ like bears do. It starts around mid-May and lasts till early July. She spends more time inside during it.

Quirk Malfunction:

Shifting in and out of her bear form isn’t always a smooth process. Changing is typically easy as her body is reverting into its natural state; she just relaxes, let’s go, and it happened. It’s quick, and she hardly has to try. Sometimes, when she’s exhausted, injured, or otherwise overwhelmed, parts of her body may not revert properly.

Here’s an example from when she was eight (this is a condensed/slightly modified version of the explanation I gave in anxiety bear):

She couldn’t remember what was overwhelming. Something just hurt. She couldn’t move or do anything. So she started panicking. When she shifted back, her face felt horrible. It felt as if her skin was being stretched and her bones were warped. She screamed. Her dad came outside, wrapped a towel around her face, picked her up, and brought her to the hospital.

Her facial bones didn’t properly shift. In our maxilla, we have an infraorbital foramen which is the opening to the infraorbital canal. It transmits a nerve, vein, and artery. Bears also have this, but their anatomy is different. The important difference, in this case, is their maxilla and mandible length due to their muzzles. Human skulls are relatively flat in comparison.

When Ursa shifted, her maxilla remained long like a bear’s (about four inches). Her upper canines were still large and pointing outward. At the hospital, X-Rays showed her infraorbital canal was shoved forward. Because it was only her maxilla that malfunctioned, her nerves and arteries were stretched almost to the point of ripping as they were still fit for a human. She couldn’t talk or see and could hardly smell.

To fix it whenever this happens, she needs to be given Tizanidine. It’s a skeletomuscular relaxant with antispastic agents. It slows the brain and nervous system’s activity to let your muscles relax. Her body will eventually fix itself.

Kuma (reader’s brother in anxiety bear)

Hero Name: Cujo (From the Stephen King story. He prefers the film because of the more optimistic ending.)

Quirk: Arctotherium

Kuma’s quirk is very similar to his sister’s. He can transform into an Arctotherium angustidens. A secondary effect of his quirk is enhanced senses. However, they aren’t as enhanced as Ursa’s.

Height: He stands at 6’1ft on all fours and 14 feet on his hind legs

Weight: around 3,200 pounds

Hero Costume: Much like his sister, his costume is relaxed and comfortable clothing. He also has a mask to filter smells (but uses it less frequently than Ursa) and a pocket on his thigh for protein snacks.

Strengths:

Cujo shares many strengths and weaknesses with Ursa, mainly thick fur for protection, sharp teeth, and long claws. One difference is that he has more mass and weight to his advantage. It makes him a heavier hitter, able to cause more damage in less amount of time. And since his senses aren’t as sensitive, he doesn’t have to worry about becoming overwhelmed as much as Ursa does. These factors allow him to hit harder, last longer in fights, and take in more sensory input.

He’s willing to fight dirty and bloody to win (though some believe that to be a weakness) With his size, he’s able to sustain quite a bit of damage without it hindering him. A bullet to the side or a slash to his back would incapacitate an average human/someone of a smaller size. He’d barely feel the bullet, let alone have to worry about it.

Weaknesses:

The burden of Kuma’s weight takes a toll on his body. Bones undergoing shifting, sometimes grinding against one another, the sudden and intense weight changes, and stress on his muscles often lead to aches and pains. He’s gotten accustomed to it as he’s trained and grown-up. Some preventive measures are: taking pain medication before going on patrol, wearing compression sleeves under his costume, hot baths, and cold compresses.

Due to his size, he requires a higher amount of protein than his sister. And the longer a fight is combined with how much energy he exerts, the quicker his body exhausts. He’s built for dealing damage as hastily and as fiercely as possible. If a fight occurs while he’s on patrol, he’s done after the fight, needing a great deal of protein before his body gives, typically going for seafood and/or steak. If he doesn’t get the protein in time, he’ll faint, suffering from a sudden onset of severe protein deficiency, and need medical attention.

This doesn’t have to do with the fighting part of a Hero’s career, but he is not kid-friendly, often caught swearing on camera, shoving cameras and reporters out of his space, and sometimes picking fights with other Heroes and interviewers he doesn’t like. It makes his popularity suffer.

Quirk Side Effects/Other Info:

Kuma’s senses aren’t enhanced enough to be considered a weakness, but they do cause significant stress in his daily life, notably touch and feel. Textures, high temperatures, and others touching him are what irritates him the most. His reaction is less distress (like Ursa’s is) and more anger at the cause.

It’s not proven, but his quirk seems to affect his personality a bit. He’s very protective of his sister and very prepared to snap (with his mouth as a warning sign) at anyone who he doesn’t know and/or doesn’t like.

From mid-May till early July, Kuma also goes through a heat. Unlike his sister, who’s timid and resistant when it comes to socializing, he’s very brash, impulsive, and sometimes aggressive, going to bars throughout those months, choosing any man or woman piques his interest enough to go home with.

Quirk Malfunction:

Kuma also undergoes the same bodily malfunction as his sister. It happens to him more often due to the strain on his body and its need for large quantities of protein. The ladder is usually the reason for a malfunction (kind of like biological short-circuiting).

Picture of an Arctotherium for reference:

Link for photo: https://www.theguardian.com/science/gallery/2018/jun/11/when-size-does-matter-big-beasts-last-of-the-giants-in-pictures

#bnha #bnha oc #my ocs #bnha quirks #quirk thoughts #boku no hero academia #anxiety bear

32 notes · View notes

rammaukins · 4 years ago

Text

SHARA - THE NEW LATEX DOLL

IMPORTANTE NOTE: Everything that appears here, in this story, only exists in my mind, anything that resembles reality is coincidence or fortuitous. . . ( hopefully there will be many of these 🥰, or not, who knows 😓 )

( You just have discover this story? I recommend you start read this one: >> Damn! Where is the Zipper? << )

Short Saga: Damn! Where is the Zipper? - Movimento 1

Part 3

The dressing room was spacious and had three big mirrors. There was a vintage armchair on the side. Shara wondered how she could be so easily manipulated into trying on the suit. But at this point she desperately wanted to know how she looked wearing it. She began to undress, taking off her top, skirt, stockings, panties and bra, leaving everything on the back of the cheslon. On a small table next to it was the set she had chosen, the suit, the corset and collar and of course the balletheels with the straps.

When she picked up the suit, she heard a voice from outside reminding her that she should be well greased with the oil gel before putting on the suit. Shara thanked Beky for the reminder as she had forgotten the bottle with that strange sweet smelling substance. Before starting to spread it across her skin, she wanted to know the composition of the lube, but the directions were in a language she didn’t understand.

Shara shivered and blushed when feeling the cold gel on her skin. She had really let herself be persuaded by a stranger to put on a suit, taken from a perverted story, to make her look like a sex doll. And what struck her the most was, the more she thought about it, while she was applying that thick gel-lubricant, the more she wanted to see how the suit looked on her. Its measurements made her doubt that she would really be able to wear it. Judging by the length of the suit, it seemed to be made for a much smaller person than her. Keeping in mind, that also the sleeves, the torso and the legs of the suit, looked too tight.

How at last Shara was completely covered from the line of her face down to her toes with the gel. She told the shopkeeper, Beky, who then indicated that now she had to put some lube inside the suit and then could start dressing. Shara pulled open the zipper of the suit and after she had poured some of the gel into the suit she began to insert her right foot through the opening in the back. Shara’s foot went into the suit, which somewhat mimicked the colour of the inflatable sex dolls. The first thing she noticed was that the suit was really tight, but the material gave way with relative ease to the pushing of her foot, moving to reach the sock. The cold material, together with the gel, created a feeling that, together with the tension of the material on Shara’s skin, made for her a sensual but somewhat strenuous experience. As she inserted the second foot into the suit, the shopkeeper offered to help Shara, but she declined. Even though it was a bit troublesome for her to pull the suit above her knees, there was something about it that was starting to turn her on.

After about twenty-five minutes, Shara was dressed up to the waist. The lower half of her body now looked like a doll, her legs now had the same glow and appearance as those of the sexist dolls of the eighties and nineties. And the feel of the rubber and that look of the artificial skin color, just heightened that idea, because the touch was very similar, but it also felt a little weird. Her hand felt something like rubber, but her thighs almost said she was wearing nothing and what was more curious, she could almost swear she had a little more sensitivity where she already had her body covered in latex. It was almost like having irritated skin, but instead of producing an annoying or unpleasant feeling to the touch, it was completely the other way around.

While pulling the suit up to her waist, Shara had had some awkward moments when she had to insert the tubes of the suit into her private parts. She was not used to having sex that way. At first it had felt strange and uncomfortable but that soon changed into a very pleasant and exciting feeling.

With every touch, Shara felt like someone was pulling her closer to himself, feeling that exciting magnetic contact. It was like that first hand-holding of a couple, a feeling of irresistible attraction, that made her want to feel the breathtaking skin more and more. Which caused Shara to start caressing the surface of the suit without being able to stop.

Shara felt that her heart was speeding up as she dressed. It wasn’t for nothing that she was getting more aroused by the moment. She didn’t realize it, but that lube oil had a special additive that enhanced the arousal and she was already experiencing the heat almost too much to go on getting dressed. She loved that feeling of having a liquid layer between her skin and the suit that made the latex give her sensual caresses in those parts covered. When she moved, when she lifted a leg, when something moved inside the suit when she rubbed it, she felt waves of pleasure. All that just made her uninhibited even more.

That layer of oil created a curious effect when caressed. It was as if the caress spread in waves on her naked skin or as if sensual waves were moving beneath the layer of latex, spreading sensually from wherever she touched herself. That feeling created a chain effect, because if she touched a thigh, she could feel it from her ankles to her abdomen, from her hands to her shoulders. The more she stroked herself the more sensual, the more pleasurable it became and that made her want to look more and more like a doll, sexy and provocative.

Then she looked in the mirror, and saw that she was not complete yet. She needed to see her whole body the way her legs now looked. And she began to pull the suit up, covering her belly, noticing that the suit had begun to absorb the warmth from her body and this seemed to help the suit stretch more easily. But the moment the pull on the material relaxed, it began to contract immediately, but adapting to the body of its wearer. As the suit went up, it stretched more easily and at the same time became tighter and slimmer in the areas already dressed. This was because it was one size fits all and the suit had looked like it was made for a smaller person than Shara, when it had been empty.

After another ten minutes, Shara was slipping her two arms into the suit, struggling to keep it from slipping off her shoulders, and trying to get the gloves well on each finger of her hands. The mask still hung from her chest, which began to feel more and more of the tension that the suit produced, even if the zipper part of the suit's back had not yet been pulled in place. But Shara gradually was making progress, consequently stretching the material onto her arms, until suddenly she instinctively stretched her arms to the sides and bent over backwards. With a slight rubber whisk, the opening of the suit moved to where it already should have been and Shara suddenly felt a tightness around her breasts that was at once constricting and strangely pleasant. She then noticed a detail that she had missed so far. The fingers of the gloves were joined by a short membrane, which went from the flexor to the middle of the second phalanx. Gearing the appearance of a hand of an aquatic being. The membranes would hinder any movement of the fingers, but they were definitely more practical than if they had shaped the hands into fists.

It was obvious that her reflection was a huge distraction, Shara couldn’t stop looking at herself. And with every look she wondered how she was going to make that expensive suit her own. But what she did know was that the more she was wearing it, the more she wanted to have it. She didn’t know how, but it had to be hers. Inside the suit she felt trapped in a sexual world she had never dared to imagine, and now she was intoxicated by it. She wanted more, she needed to explore all possibilities of this suit. But the hard reality was, that the price of that suit, focused on a certain economic level, was something which she just couldn’t afford. She was just hoping that the discount, that the shopkeeper might give her, would make it worthwhile to drag along one more expense every month until the suit was fully paid for.

However, although Shara was still missing the mask to fully take on the figure of a doll, dressing up was far from over. She still had to put on all the complements for “Complete Dillification”. Although she now looked like a sex doll, it was a fairly un-fed image, for her taste. It was like having sex with no foreplay, no lingerie, no adjectives to praise her beauty, no pretty phrases. So Shara picked up the first piece she wanted to wear, the corset. She had used several before, both to look attractive on a weekend with her friends and for the videos she shot at home.

Soon Shara discovered that her hands were now quite clumsy, due to the gloves of the suit. She tried several times, but she couldn’t fit the corset to her waist. So, seeing that she couldn’t put on the corset herself, she peeped out of the dressing room and called the shopkeeper. Beky replied that she would close shop and lock the door so that they would not be interrupted and given any trouble and would come to help her.

Soon a voice asking permission to enter, was followed by Beky. Shara then held out the corset and asked Beky to surround her waist, but Beky told her that she would have to finish dressing and close the zipper of her suit first. Then she wouldn’t have any problems to close the corset she wore

Shara grabbed the opening of the mask that hung over her breasts. She hesitated for a moment, but then she looked at her reflection once more. That semi-transparent suit seemed to fit her better than perfect, it was as if it had been tailor-made for her. It was tight, but very comfortable. She had felt burdened at first, but with each movement the tension of the latex seemed restricting, but at the same time it was like a second skin and adapting to all her movements naturally. In addition, the touch of the suit was changing, now it felt like it was a sensual massage. That seamless suit, made of one piece, exposed her entire body, giving her the appearance that she was an inflatable doll.

She stared at the inside of the hood again, having last doubts for a moment, thinking, with the this mask she couldn’t talk, just make muffled noises and growl. . . she’d be at the mercy of the shopkeeper. Then that last thought made her think that she would be like a real doll. At the mercy of the will of it's owner. . . trapped in that roll. . . being a sex object with no will. . . except to receive and give pleasure. . . "Here we go", she said feeling a blossoming heat beneath her throat and stretching across her chest as she had these thoughts. Bending her head, trying to disguise how eager she was to know how it felt to expirience what she had just thought about.

She opened her arms as her hands pulled the mask of the suit upward, at the same time she tried to insert her face inside it. Shara pulled and Beky helped her to make the latex start to give way and completely surround her face. Then Beky put her hand to the mouth of the mask and placed the snorkel between Shara’s lips and then pushed it into her mouth. And while she felt her head getting lost inside the mask of the suit, the probes entered her nostrils, creating a somewhat unpleasant sensation. Inspite of this and the fact that she could no longer close her mouth, Shara felt good, better than good, very sexy even without seeing completely, it was like being a sex goddess before having sex.

to be continued...

Story by Rammaukin - Correction by KunKlo.

____________________________________________________ You can support me on my >> Patreon <<

If you 😍 it, click on 💗, and we appreciate your comments 👍 , also the criticisms 🤬, although it may and is very likely that, we do not pay attention to them 🧘.

#digital art #tights #corruption #story #catsuit #digitalilustration #dollification #tf #transformation #rammaukin

11 notes · View notes

abizarreyodelingincident · 5 years ago

Text

Linked Universe: Regrets

“Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after... At last, I have eased my regrets.”

Twilight had never forgotten those words. He had carried them with pride. Used them when his hands faltered. Remembered the strength that had been taught to him. Swords without courage meant nothing. With the lessons of the Hero's Shade, Twilight struck down Hyrule's greatest enemy for good.

(He thought. But there would be another after him, long after, but one nonetheless, and he would suffer greatly from the shadow of Hyrule's first enemy.)

Nowadays, it's a white lie that haunts his nights.

“Link... I... See you later.”

He's learned when things aren't meant to be. And he loves his fellow heroes. Wouldn't trade them for peaceful days wandering his Hyrule. He loves them. Like brothers. Like another father. But he knows it can't last. Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. And theirs... through time and space... there will be no reunion after they've completed this quest.

He should shield his heart better, but they slip past too easily for that. One day, they'll go their separate way. He can't change that. Still, any time he looks at the old man, his heart squeeze and he just wants to help. To save him. He can't.

Is it like that for anyone else? Does Hyrule hide something like this from Legend behind all his sweet smiles and his eagerness to learn? Does he also think of a nameless grave by a tree? Maybe a grand mausoleum, because it's Legend, and he's earned at least this much, to hear him speak of his many trials?

He smirks to himself at the idea, but it slips soon enough.

Four? No one's quite sure where he fits in the timeline, but the best guess is 'early'. Wind? No, he's said the legends exist, but the hero never showed. Warriors thinks it's the timelines diverging when Time returned to his youth to prevent Ganon's rise. He's another odd one out. Knowing a bit of everything and everyone's legacy. Does Warriors know how it'll end for me?Wild certainly doesn't.

The truth is Twilight knows that Time will never be fully content despite Malon, despite a future as a father, and he hates the fact that he cannot save his mentor. Cannot prevent that regret from taking root in him. He's only ever known that he hated leaving his Hyrule defenseless, with no one to learn from the hardships he was shoved into as a child.

Twilight hates it so much. Sometimes, Zant's pendant pulsed with the dark emotions that want to choke him up. He almost wonders if there isn't something right in the ranting of the old usurpers. The Goddesses were so many things, but kind?

It's hard to remember their blessings when the people you love most see their fate as cursed. When Hyrule is doomed without that pain.

“Green rupee for your thoughts?” Warriors ask, watching the sun set over the horizon.

“I know I'm country folk, but we ain't that cheap, Captain,” Twilight drawls.

Warriors shrugs, then pulls his sword out to run a whetstone over its edge. “Well, I'm broke. My queen and I hadn't thought it'd stretch out over this long.”

The thought sobers Twilight, who is decidedly not looking dusk painting the sky like a bonfire. “Miss her?” he says, quieter than usual.

Warriors' glance is a bit sharper than warranted, but he makes no comment about it. “Certainly,” he replies easily. “She was one of the few... mhmm, wait, did I never tell you about my situation back in my era?”

He sees the non-sequitur and accepts it with a sigh of relief. Sitting down by the same tree, he settles just close enough for them to touch shoulders. “No, but I sense this is a long story.”

“It's the perfect length, thank you,” Warriors haughtily counters. “So, it all begins roughly ten years ago-”

Twilight snorts, and pushes his brother roughly. Warriors is agile enough he slips back into place without dropping the sword or the stone, radiating smug triumph.

In the end, he joins Warriors on first watch just to distract himself from his thoughts.

***

Lon Lon Ranch is one of his favorite place to visit. Stepping inside feels like being served a slice of Ordon on a platter. It's a piece of home, without the awkwardness that comes from the odd looks here and there. Unspoken questions about every little way he's changed.

Twilight shakes his head. What's he doing? Somewhat forcefully, he pulls back the sleeves of his tunic and spits in his hands. He's got some work to do, and it's not Legend (who is egging Warriors more than he's shoveling) or Wind (who is having the time of his life learning how to ride with Time's Epona) that'll finish the chores for him.

“Here, sweetheart.” Malon holds out a waterskin to him and a towel. “Don't forget to rest and drink every once in a while. With this sun, it's not healthy to neglect it.”

He accepts gratefully, swallowing a mouthful of cool water first. “I will, Ma'am.”

“Oh, hush with that. It's Malon for family,” she corrects him easily, and he ducks his head, pleased. “And I'll be watching you, sweetheart. The Goddesses know my Link's not one to recognize his limits.”

Time straightens and leans against the handle of his spade. “Now, now, honey, you know I'm a reasonable man.”

“Did I tell you about the time my clever husband decided to renovate the ba-!”

Malon lets out a fake shriek when Time grabs her with his dirt-covered hands. Pretends to fight back. She's not fooling him or her husband. They've both witnessed her handling the cattle. It's not from Time's side of the family that Twilight inherited the strength.

(They're the type of couple that teases each other constantly. He wonders what it would have been like if Midna...)

There's something a little different about Malon today. Something under her skin. Like she was holding on to a secret with both hands and it's threatening to explode the whole time. He wouldn't call her nervous. Excited, though? Yes.

He finds out at dinner.

They've just finished another two course meal courtesy of Malon and Wild when she pulls her husband aside during dessert. It gets a glance or two, but the conversation keeps going on the topic of stupidest things they've ever done. Since it's Wild's turn though, Twilight can still focus on the married couple by the sink.

(It's a sad day when he can name more for Wild than Wild remembers. They've got diverging definitions of what constitutes a 'stupid' thing. He will forever argue against the monster masks, especially the lynel one.)

“I was waiting for a chance to tell you in person. I saw a wisewoman last week.”

“What for...?” Time asks, and he sounds a little anxious for once, hands hovering closer to his wife.

Coy, Malon bites her lips and glances at Twilight. Time has to turn to see where, exactly, she's looking, and his breath hitches when he realizes. His mouth twitch as he grabs both her hands, focused on her with such intensity she giggles.

“You mean...?”

She breaks into a grin, nods and whispers-yells: “Yes! We're going to be parents, Link.”

The kiss he lands on her lips is indecent enough to attract whistles from some of the others, who seem to be clueing in to the excitement in the room. When those two come apart, a pleasant blush colors their cheeks, and he tells her, over and over that he loves her. When he's had his fill, he whirls around to face them and their cheering.

“Boys!” Time calls out, exuberant, absolutely unguarded. “Boys! I'm going to be a father!”

The roof, improbably, resists the eruption of screams. Time's pure joy is contagious and it's the best news they've got since starting this quest. Congratulations rain on the happy couple.

“Someone's going to have competition, huh?” Legend nudges Twilight's ribs, wagging eyebrows.

Normally, Twilight would be flattered that his bond with Time is that obvious. Normally, he'd grab Legend and give him a noogie for his insolence. Make him cry 'uncle'. The classic big brother behavior he's used to. But he barely hears the words as it is, his mind bogged down by a sudden realization.

He stalls.

He's a second delayed in joining in the congratulations, behind Sky and Hyrule who are a little less physical in their affections. They've formed a circle around their leader and his wife, offering their best wishes, joking, patting Time on the back, kissing Malon's cheeks.

And then it's his turn.

Twilight remembers to breath. Offers his hand first.

“Oh, come here, you!” she swats away his hand and forces him into a hug that's warm, soft.

“You'll make a wonderful mother, Malon.”

Her expression shifts slightly, more of a knowing smirk, and he can see her laughter in her eyes. 'Oh, now you tell me.'

It's impossible for him not to smile back.

And below that elation, the flare of hope in his guts, is a heart stopping dread.

***

The next few battles are some of the worst Twilight had to struggle through. The enemies' number swell. Their ambushes turn elaborate with unheard of combinations of monsters that never coexisted naturally. The puppeteer behind them has tightened the strings, and Twilight has trouble keeping his head above water when every second he looks away, he fears his mentor (father) will die.

It's sheer experience and a heaping dose of help from his companions that ensure he's not dead. And even then...

“There, good as new,” Hyrule proclaims, slapping Twilight's bicep for good measure. “Now how about you don't pull a Wild and drop your weapon next time? We're counting on you to teach him caution, not the opposite.”

“Heard you, 'Rule!” Wild protests from where he's helping Four hobble back to them.

“Great, because we all saw that thing with the peahat.”

“It was the only way!”

And here goes the bickering, Twilight huffs. Wild and Hyrule get along like a house on fire, which means that it's warm and toasty for a while until everything collapse into ashes for a bit. Then they rebuild it better and stronger than before with perfect coordination. It's impressive, honestly, how they both push in the same direction without a second thought.

At least this doesn't look like he'll need to turn into a wolf to fetch them in a forest on the other side of a mountain like last time (he's still bitter about it, a mountain?).

“Pup,” Time's voice jolts him back into awareness. His mentor's standing right behind him. “Come with me for a minute?”

For a second, he hesitates. He likes to imagine a thousand explanations for it, but he already knows the one. Sky shot him the odd look during the fight. Saw him sloppier than usual. And Time keeps an even closer look on all of them.

The clearing is just far enough to be away from prying eyes, though not far enough they can't hear the others if they pay attention. Both sides could hear and rush at the first sign of trouble. It's a good place for a talk.

“Twilight,” Time begins, voice brimming with concern, “what's wrong?”

“It's...”

Silence lingers between them, with all the things Twilight can't say.

“Does it have anything to do about Malon's pregnancy?” Time asks, and Twilight cringes. “Ah. I figured as much. Are you bothered?”

Twilight fights the flashback to one of those evenings Rusl took him aside for a fatherly talk. He feels about as small as he did back then too. “No, of course not! It's... before, when I met Malon and saw you two didn't have kids, I realized you were safe. Every one of us is risking his life on this quest, but I could hold onto the idea that you'd live through, that it was impossible that you didn't because I'm here.”

“Were you not worried for my safety before this, Pup?” Time teases, a full on smirk on his face.

Twilight's face burns. “I, no, that's not it at all! It's just... Goddesses, I'm being silly.”

The hand that rests on his shoulder feels solid. Grounding. Like Time means to give him back some of that certainty through sheer force of will.

Twilight's relieved that it works on him.

“Pup, I promise I have no intention of dying and leaving Malon to raise our little hellion all on her own. I wouldn't do that to her.”

“Oh, right, the poor gal,” Twilight hears himself reply.

Time blinks. Then hooks his arm around Twilight's neck, an unholy glint in his good eye. “A youngster like you's too ignorant to mock your elders like this. But I suppose I should teach you.”

***

Time's few additions to the prank war ongoing inside their camps gives Twilight chills.

But he joins in the laughs with the rest of them.

And he almost forgets.

***

They have a lead on the object of their quest.

A location they must investigate. No guarantee, but reports seem promising.

It's hard not to get swept right in by his brothers' enthusiasms. He's found more family through this quest than he had ever hoped to get, but it's also been a mess of ambushes, lost directions and insufferable assholes (some of which, he loves because they're his pack, his siblings, his dad).

“I'll cut the fucker's balls right off!” Wind cheers, which gets nods from Legend and Wild, and winces from Sky and Warriors.

Twilight is more in the 'rip their throat out' camp, but he's also got a unique perspective on how to get personal with killing off your enemies.

(If their quest is to end, he will stand between any number of enemies so that his family returns home safe.)

***

The Temple of Souls.

A place of power, of memories. Deeds commemorated here. Statues of the various chosen heroes during their adventures. Honored and immortalized in stone.

Twilight hesitates before the one statue of a beast, and the imp riding its back. It's a testament to how much the other heroes helped him heal that he mostly feels nostalgia looking at his past. The pain, muted by Wild's enthusiasm or Four's more solemn amusement.

They search through the history of the Hero's Spirit together, with Warriors leading them. Their captain's light-hearted jester attitude's been replaced by his battlefield look. A strategist and a soldier, at the head of a battalion of legends. And yet, there's a tightness to his expression. Twilight gets why and he makes sure to stay close. The sorceress had been reformed, so this world's Zelda said. But the fear's longer lasting.

Time lingers near the statue of the Hero of Time. So do the others, with Warriors deciding to keep watch, since they clearly couldn't deal with the idea of Time having once been a child.

A little kid. Probably not even as tall as Colin or Talo. Twilight tries to imagine letting these two go on a quest to save Hyrule and his mind buckles in protest at the knowledge of what kind of monstrosities can crawl up from the darkest corners of Hyrule. Imagines them in the Arbiter's Ground, and he feels acute pain in his left hand, where he is gripping his sword's hilt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Hylia stole Time's childhood, but Twilight won't let her take his future.

***

They found the enemy.

It found them in return. Hyrule is the first to realize, and it's their wanderer's words that ring in their heads during the worst battle of their lives.

'Impaled by a shadow in my likeness. Everything I gave, he returned right back.'

Dark Link. The other side of the coin. The shadow of the Hero's Spirit, grown with each incarnation.

It is not an opponent for any one hero to take on anymore. Dark Link is the sum of every dark turns their minds have ever taken, every moment of fear, despair, anger. Every dirty trick. Every method of handling a sword. It reflects all nine of them, in turn and at once.

And it means that each one of them know a piece of Dark Link as intimately as the back of their hands.

The battle does not end quickly.

While most encounters with monsters last minutes at most and encounters with bosses sometimes stretch twice or thrice that, this battle goes on for what feels like lifetimes. There's not a thing Twilight knows that he doesn't see at some point in Dark Link's arsenal. He's forced to see his journey thrown back at him, and he only went on a single one.

(He loses both his shield and his sword midway through. Has to join in the sniping until that's destroyed. Breaks two more of Wild's weapons. Fought with fangs and claws till he desperately needed healing.)

They came prepared. Armed with every weapon they have. Overstocked with potions and blessings and fairies.

They're still all exhausted, wounded and little more than dead on their feet when Wild lands the apparent fatal blow with a shock arrow. Electricity dances on the shade, its face a mask of silent agony, and it stumbles, shape unsteady, and sinks back into nothing.

“Is it... is it over?” Wind asks, his shirt shredded and an ugly burn on his collarbone.

“Steady!” Warriors calls out. “It might be trying to trick us.”

They watch every corner of the room with the hard earned hatred of a difficult opponent. They're all on their last leg and they can't keep going much longer. The air's so thick with tension Twilight tastes it. His instinct's screaming at him. He knows, in his heart, that this is it.

(It might be why he looked.)

(None of the others have spent as much time as him watching shadows, longing for the way they might waver and twist and become a beloved companion.)

Time's shadow shouldn't be this inky black.

Time's grip on his sword is also looser than his shadow's.

Twilight breaks into a sprint.

For a long time, Twilight had no choice. No matter what, his old mentor couldn't die before he had children.

Somehow, he'd been naïve enough to find comfort in that. Since then, he's dreamed of Time holding his baby, happier than he had ever dared express before. The memories of years that aged his heart faster than his body no longer a burden in his quiet little corner of the world.

There still isn't a choice. Time must go back to his wife and child. Twilight won't accept any other outcome. He'll turn silly images conjured from his resting mind into rock solid visions of the future.

Time's shadow stands up.

Hyrule shouts a warning.

And the blade swings.

“TWILIGHT!”

The taste of copper washes over his tongue. Drips from the corner of his mouth.

He looks down. A blade's shadow is impaling him straight through the chest. And Dark Link's face splits into a savage grin. Triumphant.

Heat bleeds out of his wound too fast. Somehow, he's certain this isn't poison, or at least, the traditional kind. It's climbing up his limbs, through his torso, and squeezes as if it were the coils of a snake. There's something wild, uncontrolled to it. Malicious. Its embrace tightens. Tries to leave him helpless, paralyzed.

It's fine. More so than any other hero, he's used to darkness. Made it a tool for himself in the ways the others haven't dared. And he's suddenly so thankful for it. That it's him. His country doesn't need him anymore, not like Sky who needs to build it from the ground, not like Legend who can never step outside his doors without getting roped into saving another country, not like Hyrule who guards the secret of his royal family, not like Warriors who is working so damn hard to earn back trust and honor amongst his own, not like Wild who wants to serve his Zelda and pay back his past mistake.

He doesn't even have grand projects for the future, like discovering a new land with pirates, find a lost brother, or simply build a home with his wife.

He's just... a farmer who picked up a sword and had help at the right time. Even if he dies, he knows his friends in the resistance could still protect Hyrule in his stead. The kids can look after themselves and each other now. Queen Zelda has always been stronger than him. And Illia... he'll finally let Epona go back to her. He can only hope that will be enough.

Because here and now, he is needed one last time.

Dark Link snarls and grins and begins to pull back his sword.

Twilight's hand catches his wrist. Grips.

Dark Link flinches. Red eyes flickers between his wrist and Twilight's serene smile. The other hand lashes like a whip, dagger's shade aimed right at his face, but that one instead pierces through Twilight's palm. Closing fingers lock Dark Link's arm into place. Neither can escape the other now. For the first time, hesitation flashes on the doppelganger's face. Tilts into fear as it starts to struggle. Each movement is rough, violent and murder on Twilight's battered body. The thing's strength should scare him.

Except Twilight learned to wrestle gorons for fun. He wins every time.

The others rally. He catches them rushing forward in the corner of his eyes.

It tries to slip inside his shadows, but Twilight remembers that trick too. He pulls back, welcomes the darkness and Dark Link's feet blur, fuse to the ground, to Twilight's own shadow. It's oddly fitting.

With a deadly chime, the biggoron sword sails over his shoulder and catches Dark Link's arm. It rams itself against Twilight, tries to stagger him, but his mentor's at his back now, and the battleworn heroes, his wronged family, repay their suffering with interest.

One skewering echoed eight times over. Every aspect of the Hero's Spirit stabbing at their inner darkness, fighting the demon that claimed their faults. It cannot escape this time. Its face shifts with every blow. From young to old to young again, a twin lost at birth. Bitter. Resentful. It's weak and faltering when at last, it becomes Twilight's.

With one last battle cry, Sky executes a point perfect great spin that slices straight through Dark Link's neck. Its head goes flying and dissolves before it hits the ground. The body remains longer. Some of it clings to Twilight, sinks into him. He might have worried about this eventually, but the black sword fades and his tunic become slick with blood.

Yeah... there's no coming back from that one.

Dark Mirrors had always been his greatest weakness. What set him on his journey, what broke him in the end, twice. He thinks... he thinks he managed to pick up the pieces well enough.

“Sorry, guys...” His attempt at a smile turn into a grimace of pain. “I don't think I can walk this off...”

“Hyrule! Heal him!”

Hyrule's corpse-like pallor is all the answer they need. The fight exhausted the last of his magic. He's still stumbling forward like he will put his own life into the spell if he needs it. Sky's the one to pull him back, looking sick.

Legend's bag is upturned over the floor, and three of them kneel amongst the items. Twilight notes with faint amusement that this time, their prickly veteran does not yell at them to be careful with his stuff. Rare items gathered through harrowing adventures just go flying on the sides, discarded as useless. He hopes none of them break. He'd hate that to be one of the last things Legend remember about him.

“Don't,” Twilight says, but it's too weak to get through his family's panic. “It's okay...”

Four, the one trying to help him stand, snaps at him. “Don't say that!”

“I-” His knees give out from under him. Four goes down with him.

“Twilight!”

The others snap their heads in their direction.

It takes one look at Time's face to realize what a fool he'd been. It's almost enough to make him regret it. But no, given another chance, he'd make the same decision over and over again.

“Please...” he tries to say, but it's lost in a gargle of copper and red.

The screaming worsens.

Will Time go to his grave with this on his mind? He can't. Twilight wants to beg him not to. Wants to explain. Free himself of the fear he's clung to for the months they traveled together. But his lungs refuse to cooperate, filling with blood. Every attempt to speak just pains him more and produces mere wheezes.

Not on my behalf, he thinks, a last jolt of strength going through him from frustration and fear and sorrow. He hates the knowledge he'll put his mentor to rest with false hope. That he'll move on, thinking that his training might save him from this fate.

(From Ganondorf, yes, always. Hyrule saved because of the old man. Always cursed not to be known for his heroism, wasn't he?)

High whistling notes edge the confines of his consciousness. Fast notes, frantic, played with the fervor of a dying man, and he almost chuckles thinking he has a much better understanding of this as darkness creeps on the corner of his eyes and heat leeches out of his wound.

He can't see Time anymore. Just vague outlines of all his brothers, the color of their cloaks and hair the best way he can distinguish them by now. Hands push down on his shoulders, lift him gently. Scarred hands. Strands of blonde hair tickle his face.

Wild.

“'M sorry...” he breathes out. Tears prick at his eyes, knowing how much this'll hurt his cub. His little brother who already bears the weight of so many deaths. “Not... f-f-au-lt. Swear,” he tries to sound stern, he really does.

He can't go to his grave otherwise. He'll stay alive just so Wild and Time and the others don't pick up the guilt.

Eh...

She did always call him an optimist.

He's probably in some dying dream, he sees hands the shades of her skin join Wild's, brush his hair away from his eyes. Liquid flames frame a face like hers. The mocking lilt of her voice is broken by a sob though. He's never heard that before.

He wishes he could stop the pain for all of them, but he's tired.

Maybe... maybe Hylia granted him that one last favor. Maybe it's just him and his stupid heart that won't heal right, that makes him see what's not there...

He doesn't have the strength to do more than believe anyway.

“Midna...”

Tender warmth brush over his lips, one last little balm before he goes. It's gentle. So unlike her, so like her too. Eh. He always imagined they'd be cold.

***

Wild sees Twilight's eyes close, and his world snaps in half.

His brother slips from his arms, but thankfully, the woman's grip on him is steady. Familiar. It makes Twilight look at peace, as if he was sleeping in his lover's lap. It's something he always wished for his big brother, from the moment he heard that joke about a princess and a mirror. To have someone who loved him worth the pain he'd gone through.

And he only gets it in death.

It can't end this way. It can't! Mipha! he grapples with the thought and it wins. “MIPHA! PLEASE!”

She'd healed him from the brink so many times. Twilight's even more of a hero than him, so it would only be fair, right? Just this once. Just this once. He can't lose someone else because of his incompetence!

But Mipha has long gone to rest, and no one disturbs their group of heroes from their loss.

Wild feels himself scrap at his old hood, pushes it down over his head. As if that would stop reality from sinking in. He can't look at Twilight's body. He can't. He just wants to wake up in the shrine, like nothing ever happened. Like he hasn't watched-

“It was you!” Warriors snarls at the woman, his tone as biting as a sword's kiss. “All this time! It was you that broke his heart! He said he lost you, but you just left, didn't you?! You could have gone back to him!”

The strange woman – Midna – finally turns away from Twil- from... she turns to Warriors. Tears trail down her cheeks despite the faintest hint of a smile. “I always hoped he would forget me, the sweet fool.”

It's spoken with the sort of affection in one of Twilight's hair ruffling, but the insult feels searing. Wind's on her the next second.

“Don't you dare call him that!” he howls in her face, the shout less intimidated by the snot and tears he can't hold in. “Don't you- Twilight's not- not...”

Somehow, Sky can move. He lifts Wind away from Midna. It breaks the teen's rage, and he curls into Sky's shoulders as if their chosen isn't crying himself.

“He was,” she says, and it strikes Wild that she is just like Twilight had said. Fierce. Powerful. And a bit cruel. Like a jewel barbed in thorns – even if she'd laugh at the description. “It could have been different, if he hadn't been who he was. But he would always make this choice. You know this.”

Memories come to Wild, unbidden, of days in his Hyrule, where the only one he could count on was himself and a wolf. Hordes chasing a beast whilst he picked them off one by one. Enormous monsters fell side by side with his friend. Cold nights buried in fur. Panicked barks getting closer to him as he struggled to stand in the middle of a battlefield.

Goddesses...

The music – when, who, had started, – breaks into a horrible screech that should never come out of an instrument. It's half scream. Half something shattering.

“Why isn't it working?!” Time croaks, hands trembling around his broken ocarina.

“That power was only ever borrowed,” Midna says as if every syllable costs her. “The price would be too high.”

Legend is the next one to move from sorrow to rage. “No! We'll do it again!” He kneels by his bags and he's tossing aside items by the dozens. “We didn't come all this way for this!”

“You did,” Midna's voice falters. “And so did I. It was always meant to end like this.”

An horrible sinking feeling seizes Wild's heart. “You... knew?”

They freeze.

Midna looks down at Twilight's face and brushes a strand of hair away from his markings. “At the very end of our adventures, I was spared by the Goddess. Salvaged, maybe, from the ruins of forbidden power and the home of my dearest friend. Hylia spoke to me then. Told me.”

Wild sees her chest shudder before her voice breaks.

“Told me that Link and I would only be reunited on the day of his death. That I'd be the one to take his last breath. It was the only way Hyrule could be safe.”

“Fuck Hyrule!” Legend shouts, hoarse. “What is the point-? Every time! F-fuck this kingdom and fuck Hylia! What about us?! Why does she hate us so much?!”

Legend's arms fall to the sides, his grief spent. He stares at his feet and doesn't react when his successor hugs him tight. Warriors gets his other side.

Wild feels numb. He had done his best the first time around, to believe that Hylia wanted the best even when she let his Zelda suffer through her silence. He thought, maybe, her late answer had a purpose. But he can't figure it out. A kingdom she claimed to protect, destroyed before she helped.

His chest hurts. He can't breath right.

Ahead, the air tears with a jarring noise and a burst of black particles. He can't help the flare of hope they bring, the very same magic that Twilight used to become a wolf. But his brother's not moving. Midna's arm is raised toward the black portal.

“No, no!” Time finally breaks out of his paralysis, reaching out for Twilight's body. “You can't take him!”

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't have much time left. I must bring him back to his village. I owe him that much.”

None of them stop her from walking back into the shadows, their lost brother in her arms.

***

The greatest threat to their world has finally been defeated. Months of hardship, over. The purpose for which Hylia assembled them, fulfilled. It should have been heralded by a feast, a last evening together before the final goodbyes. The weight of their mission should have been lifted, but now it won't leave them.

They try.

They find the seediest tavern, in the darkest corner of town. They are not looking for a celebration. They want to drown the sorrow in something less painful than grief, be it a bar fight, a hangover or a round of the bard's singing.

All eight of them around a table, nine drinks before them. A toast.

Unshed tears.

Stories. All those times Twilight played big brother to them. Tried to be the reasonable one even when he was smirking under his wolf pelt. Those games of cards he won the pants off Warriors, literally. Those times he teased Legend with his incomprehensible slangs (they'd never know what that one about goat horns mean, would they?). Those nights they woke bundled up under a wolf. Those days he would spend at their bedside, caring for injuries he sniffed out better than most.

They call up more drinks, left the ninth alone, and pour their soul into making themselves almost believe he was still alive. That Midna had taken his sleeping body back where he'd finally get to be in love with her.

For the time of a few laughs, it works. Then they look at the empty seat.

“He died.” Time drops his head into his hands, smaller than they'd ever seen him before. “Twilight died, and I wasn't even holding him! I was playing that goddess-curse ocarina! He told me! He told me he would die for me and I didn't listen!”

“He would have died for any of us,” Warriors says, weakly. “Just like we would have died for him.”

At the end of the night, when they stumble out, unsteady, Wild picks up the ninth drink and empties it outside.

***

The arrow's tip strikes one eye and detonates.

Cracks in the stone spread a little further. But the statue is still standing. It waited for him when he came back. Here. The only thing still standing in the ruins of the temple. Where his first journey began.

He can't hear her voice as he did before. He has no crest to offer, no proof of his valor to receive a blessing. Even now, the thought makes him want to hurl. To carve out the gifts he'd received from the monster that parades as a goddess right out of his chest.

“Why?!” Wild screams at the unfeeling block of stone.

The damage reaches the statue's middle, and a chunk tears off. A piece of her cloak. Dust follows. He shoots another bomb arrow. Almost grins to see a piece of her hair fly off.

“Why? Why WHYWHYWHY?!”

Fingers close on air. He's emptied his quiver.

Glowing bomb runes materialize in his hands, and he can barely wait out the cooldown time between each new explosion.

He switches to a club.

“Why him?!” He wails at the stone. “Why was it him?! Why not me?!”

The shout drains the last of his strength. With a sob, he falls to his knees.

“You did this to him! You killed my brother!” he spits every inch of venom that's making his chest heave, that burns his eyes and that opened this gaping hole inside him. “Why did you do that?! You're supposed to be good! Everyone told me you protect Hyrule! But you don't! You just send the same mortal do your job over and over again! And now he's... he's DEAD! What's the point of you?!”

“Link!”

Zelda's voice.

It rubs his skin raw that she sounds so happy. She should be disgusted to see such a worthless hero! She should have left him to die in that field!

She stops by the broken entrance to the Temple of Time, her gaze flickering to the statue, to his sorry state. The ecstatic looks vanishes and a far more fitting sadness replaces it.

“Link...?”

For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to hate her. Hate Zelda for what she represents. He thinks he won't be able to look at her without knowing what she is. That there'll always be a voice in the back of his mind telling him she shares her soul with the unfeeling thing that lead his brother to his death.

“What happened?” she asks, gentle.

“T-Twilight... he's... ”

The club hits the ground.

Zelda closes her arms around him, and he clings to her like she's going to disappear.

***

“It's a boy!”

The wisewoman presents the small squirming body to Time.

Wisps of strawberry blonde hair crown his son's mostly naked head. Not dark enough to be...

He banishes the thought from his head. It's unfair. It's cruel. He can't compare them. His son. His son, he repeats to himself when the little bundle shifts against the inside of his elbow. Malon was right. That button nose is far cuter than his.

He's perfect.

His heart is threatening to jump right out of his chest. He doesn't think he can express all the love he has for this little hylian boy properly. He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone that much. For years, he'd feared a pauper's grave, a hole on the side of the road. A monster getting lucky at last and no one to mourn him. And now he was holding his firstborn child.

Malon had pushed past that fear and the walls he'd built around his heart. Twilight had shown him without a doubt he could have a family.

Twilight had...

It could have been different. But he would always make this choice.

Always choose to save Time at the last possible moment. For Malon. For their son.

Time dabs the corner of his eyes, and loses himself in the feeling of his son's skin against his own. He's so lucky to be able to hold him. To kiss the top of his head. To look at the beauty of his wife and child together. He doesn't know if he deserves it. Doesn't feel like he does anymore. But he can't throw it away. The price was so high. He wants every moment spent well. A full life to shower his child with love, for all the children he might have on the ranch.

I promised you.

Twilight is his successor, his son. A strong, kind young man that died too soon for Time's mistake. If he'd been stronger, if any of them had been a little stronger, perhaps...

He's never resented the lack of recognition over his deeds so ardently before. Never felt the bitterness take root this deep. Everything he was, everything he did, forgotten, lost. Accounts of his deeds, his prowesses, gone. Sword techniques. Tricks. Items. Twilight had been a farmer before Hylia had pushed his fate onto him. How could his own descendant have nothing of Time's knowledge and treasures passed down to him? If he had...

On the Triforce, he swears. He will pass on everything he knows to his children and his grandchildren after them, make them promise to perpetuate that tradition, so that Twilight might live longer. He couldn't fail him again.

He swears.

He will do anything to help Twilight survive their last quest.

In this world or the next.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Time

143 notes · View notes