#do you like my nonsense? hit up the ko fi......

[musashi]

god i hate spending money but i finally bought myself a pin board because i. no longer have room on my franmaya bag for anything and its a fucking mess and i want to collect all the cute aa merch on etsy without seeing it and being like 'ah... but i have nowhere to put it...'

I DO NOW BITCH

[yanderemommabean]

Hey Beans-

Hey beans, I have a bit of a hellish update. 

Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. My grandma made a huge fight happen while I was on call with a friend, and things just escalated between me and her so badly I had to leave. When I came back home, my family was also on my ass about it all, despite knowing how she lies and how she instigates. 

She threatened to hit me, she threatened to kill Sammy, she hurled insult after insult at me and this all started because I didn't get up in time to do something she asked (Which was locking the door. I waited three seconds too long and she went off). 

When I came back after trying to let things cool down I was berated and told I had no right to be so “selfish” in the house, so on and so on, and the fight got so intense I had to just physically walk away, leaving the home and going two miles up the road because I did not feel safe. 

They made me so sick I began to pee blood again, as well as my sugar spiking and causing me to have palpitations. My heart cannot take this stress anymore, and neither can my mental health. I wish I could explain how bad the situation was. I had tears down my face, gasping for air, chest heaving and in pain, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. 

I got in contact with some good friends of mine, who say they can help get me out of not only that home, but the entire state i'm in. But I need money to do so, for travel and gas and so on. As much as they can house me, they need me to pull my weight. 

I hate having to ask for help, I hate that I'm even in this situation, to the point I'm so sick I might have to be seen in the ER or sent to ICU. 

I need to come up with 700 dollars, and I'm willing to do some commissions, but with how sick I am I may take a bit to get back with you. I plan to leave by early June, if not the beginning of July, as that's when my friends are able to drive down and get me. 

Donations are greatly appreciated, even if you can only afford a single dollar, it’ll be more help than you know. 

If you’re wanting a commission, please don't send money and then ask, for your sake and mine. I’m incredibly overwhelmed, and I’ll do my best to get with you and explain rates. 

And if you’re willing to donate anything, here’s my Ko-fi link. 

Again, I can’t thank you enough for if you donate or even spread this post around, even well wishes mean the world to me because I know you beans care and want to help however you can.

This post was incredibly hard to make, I’m still all over the place and trying to figure everything out, so I apologize if this sounds like rambling and nonsense. There is a silver lining however, as I actually have a way out this time, and I pray I can get out before things can get worse.

-Mommabean 

[gilverrwrites]

I love your sex dream hcs and was wondering if you could do Lucifer having an F!reader erotic dream, please? 😁 @tocastielandback

Lucifer/Reader, ≈800 words

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

I must apologise that this is not as explicit as the previous ones, but this just felt right. Rated: M

>[TFW Version Here]<

CW: Body worship, (hints of) powerplay, Dom!Lucifer (if you squint)

Please remember: You are allowed to love yourself.

The feel of your body against his is simultaneously unsettling and highly pleasurable. Your soft lips pepper kisses up and down his chest, warming his cool skin with every touch. He bites at his lip, holding back shivers of appreciation as you work your way upward pressing your own lips against his collar, throat, and jaw. You’re almost at face level, and you incline upwards, pursing your lips, ready to connect them with his own. Instead, he places his hand against your collarbone, splaying his fingers to stretch either side. Forcing your body backwards, his lips spreading into an amused grin. “What’s so funny?” You peer at him quizzically through heavy lids. “You.” He teases, enjoying the way you pout in response. “What would your precious friends think if they saw you like this? Worshipping ‘the devil’?”  “I wouldn’t care.” Your voice, and especially your words, are music to his ears. He promptly releases his hold on your neck, sliding his hand around your back and pulling you in for your reward.

You’re sat, hunched over a desk, nose buried in some dusty old tome when he finds you. Without thinking or caring, he leans over you from behind, planting his hands against the table on either side of you, confining you as he breathes in your scene. He has no idea if it's au naturale or artificial, but it is intoxicating nonetheless, and completely synonymous with you. 

To your credit, you keep your composure, but he can sense the increase in your heart rate.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is slow, deliberate, guarded. He wants so badly to strip away your armour.

“Can’t I just want to see my favourite human?” He chimes.

You don’t respond, refocusing on your book. A pang of petty jealousy? Rejection? Some nonsense ape-like emotion hits him, and he huffs as he pulls away from you. He relocates to the chair beside you, smug at the side eye you shoot him when he haphazardly kicks his feet onto the table.

When your silence persists, he feels the need to fill it.

“Well, since you really want to know, I truly am here to see you.” Still nothing. “I wanted to tell you about a dream I had.”

“Angels don’t dream.” You reply matter-of-factly, and he relishes in knowing he’s about to school you.

“Actually, yes, we do. As an Archangel, I would know.” He enunciates his point with the wag of his finger. Your eyes follow his hand, and he can’t help but wiggle all four of them, knowing he’s caught your attention. “We just have no practical need to sleep, so we don’t do it often.”

“Right.” You sound sceptical, and your sweet, sweet, attention is short-lived as you refocus on the desk. “And what does this have to do with me?”

Keen to draw you back to him, he taps his finger on the desk beside you. When you look at it, he points to himself, guiding you.  You sigh and roll your eyes before you look to his face. He might have been offended, but there’s a playful glint in your eye and growing warmth in your aura that tells him you’re enjoying his company more than you’d like to let one.

“Because you…” He gestures back and forth between you both. “Were in it.”

You blink once, twice; processing. When it settles, you proceed to stare at him, waiting for him to go on. He pointedly stares back at you in silence, folding his arms to display his new authority in this little dynamic. He’s piqued your curiosity, but now you’ll have to ask him for satisfaction.

You’re undeniably cute. Watching your expressions and mannerisms play out as you process his statement, as you realise your predicament, amuses him greatly. You turn back to your work, then to him again, and back and forth as you deliberate between your primary two options. To ask or not to ask. Eventually, the temptation wins out.  

“And?” You raise your brows expectantly. “What happened?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to ask nicer than that.” He’s pushing his luck, and he knows it, but he’s confident you’re already too hooked to back out now.

You purse your lip as you calculate your next move. The image is unintentionally charming to him. He wonders if you’ll bite now, or if you’ll take the hard-to-get route, pretending you don’t want to know. Either is equally appealing to him, because he’s certain he’ll win out in the end.

Dropping his feet to the floor, he places an elbow on the table just inches from your arm, he uses it for balance as he leans in closer, keeping his expression as straight as possible. “Well?”

The beat of your heart is picking up again; you’re on edge, and he loves it.

“Okay, fine.” You concede. He feels his face twist, like the cat that got the cream, as you continue. “Please, Lucifer?”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Project Blue Book

Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info •

Summary: It's time Nathan gave you some answers.

A/N: Look, this is just me being silly and having a giggle.

Warnings: overuse of italics, swearing, not beta read, typos, talk of aliens and alien fucking, kisses, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 978

“So when are you gonna tell me about the aliens?” You lean back in your chair, your heels on the table, your laptop perched precariously on your thighs. 

Nathan gives you a look over the top of his glasses, glancing up from the circuit board he was soldering. He eyes your comic slippers for a second, seemingly giving the frog designs an individual glare. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He sighs.

“The aliens.”

“The what?”

“Aliens, UFOs? I’ll look up a dictionary definition for you if you’ve never heard the word before.” You tease and he scowls. 

“I know what the word means dumbass.” 

“You sure don’t seem like you do, or is this part of a test?” 

He sighs. “What?” 

“A test? You know, keeping stuff top secret? Deep throat? Cigarette smoking man?”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his work, “You watch too much X-Files.” He grumbles.

“Yeah, but you got the reference.” 

He smiles in spite of himself. 

“So, when are you gonna tell me about them.” You put your laptop on the side, your feet on the floor as you roll your chair closer to him. 

He doesn’t look up. “I say this with all the energy I have: what the fuck?”

“Blue Book.” You lean closer. 

He pauses soldering, an unimpressed look crossing his face. But you know he loves the attention really. 

“Aliens. What’s the deal?” 

“Are you high?” 

You snort.

“Because if you are,” he gives you another glare, “I want some.”

“Project Blue Book, it’s a code name by the American air force about UFOs.”

He gives you a blank look.

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know?” You pause, “you’re such a sci-fi nerd, I highly doubt it.”

He puts the soldering iron down. “Did they breach my copyright? Have I got to send a cease and desist?” He sounds sincere, but you know Nathan. What he sounds like doesn’t mean anything. 

“It was like a term in the fifties, I doubt you’d be able to sue.” 

He shrugs, “I could try.” 

You groan and flop back into your chair, “Are you for real? You really didn’t know? I was so sure you got some secret alien communications.” You pout playfully, “I was hoping for some nonsense about your androids really being made so you could send them into space to talk with extra terrestrials.”

He frowns, “And why would I send androids?” 

“Because they wouldn’t age when you gotta travel like, 50 million light years or something.” 

“What’s the point in contacting aliens if I don’t get to meet them and fuck them?”

“Nathan!” You snort, despite trying to keep a straight face. 

“What?” He shrugs again.

You tut. 

“If there’s aliens I’m gonna fuck them.” 

You laugh, “What if they’re like Aliens aliens, trying to lay their eggs in you?” 

“Sounds hot.” He grins. 

You giggle and shake your head.

“Plus, the tongue is like another mouth, which I think,” he swivels around in his chair, giving you his now full, undivided attention. “Would give an amazing blow job and-”

“She’d bite your dick off.”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he shakes his head, “my dick’s too hard for that.”

You burst out laughing, “What?” 

“What I just said.”

“Nathan-”

“It’s rock hard at all times, could deflect bullets, it has in fact.”

“It has?” You can’t get over the silly expression he’s pulling. It’s stubble, a little glimmer in his eyes and a smile at his lips, but it’s so very endearing. 

“Sure, it’s saved my life, saved other people’s lives. Just,” he mimics hitting a baseball, “smacks the bullets right outta here. In fact, it’s super dangerous, because when it deflects them it actually makes the bullets go faster in whatever directly they’re hit, so,” he breathes in deeply, like this was a serious issue, “could hurt bystanders.” 

“Are you having fun?” You laugh, resting your elbow on his work table, your chin on your hand. 

He nods. 

“Fucking nerd.” You tease, grinning.

“Says you.”

“Says me?”

“You’re the one talking about UFO conspiracies.”

“Okay first,” you sit up, wriggling a little in your seat as you raise a finger, about to start on a shpeal. “Project Blue Book wasn’t a conspiracy, it really happened. I was just being a shit about the aliens bit, UFOs don’t mean aliens, they mean-”

He leans forward quickly and kisses you. 

The action takes you by surprise, how his lips feel against yours, how his beard brushes against you. He tastes a little of that stupid fennel toothpaste he uses, the one that he proclaims is the best for your gums but tastes like an overload of aniseed and salt. The one that you tried once and never again. The one that you tease him for using at any given opportunity.

But now you lean closer, your hand on his cheek as you lick into his mouth, trying to swallow down any essence of the taste. 

He groans a little as your tongue strokes his, his hum is pleasant as it vibrates into you. He slides his hand to your waist, pulling your chair even closer to him. The heat from his palm permeates into you, soothing your muscles, making you ease even further into his touch. 

When he pulls back after a long moment, he sighs. It’s the smallest, sweetest sound through his nose, a low grumble of contentment in his chest. He presses his forehead against yours for a second.

You swallow and he opens his eyes at the sound, moving back a fraction. 

“If I’d known that would shut you up, I would have done it ages ago.” He grins. 

You mock gasp, playfully pretending to hit him on the shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

He giggles, scooting his chair closer to you whenever you move away, “Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it better.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[zoeykallus]

Hm? *gets hit in the face with a note* GAH- *opens the note* another request? But it’s with- *ahem* “I request Reader x Crosshair but make it with Pheromones please-” Oh no…

Aloha!

You are getting a lot of those notes, aren't you? 😁 Well, as it happens, I actually have an idea for a scenario like this, I'm telling you I gathered the wildest ideas in my fever dreams 😅

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-shot -

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Warnings: 'Good old' Pollen Trope/ Smut/ 18+/ Bondage/ Dubious Consent/PiV Sex/ Dirty Talk/ Strong Language/ Oral/ Feral Crosshair/ Graphic Description Of Sexual Actions/Overstimulating

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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

______________

AC: I feel like I've not written anything like this in years. Which of course isn't true, but it still feels like it. But I think I like what came out of this.

Crosshair keeps sneezing as you make your way back from your little expedition. The rest of the group is on an errand with Rex and his shuttle. You and Crosshair have stayed behind. Curiosity has driven you into the surrounding landscape of the Marauders' landing site. Even though Crosshair has no interest in the surrounding flora and fauna, he reluctantly came along, saying, "I guess I can't let you go off on your own. If anything happens to you, I will never hear the end of it when the others come back" You take off your gear when you get back, at least the things you don't need at the moment, as he sneezes again. Crosshair sighs and rubs his temples. You frown critically and say, "You should have used an air filter, like me" "Nonsense," he grumbles. "Well, I don't have to sneeze," you reply, shrugging your shoulders. He rolls his eyes and waves you off. "Just some pollen, nothing more, it'll be over in a minute" You pick up your data pad and say, "Some pollen can be dangerous, Cross"

When you call him by the pet name you're the only one to use, he rolls his eyes again, but he doesn't complain. He doesn't want to admit it, but somehow he likes that you've given him a nickname. It shows that you like him, and he likes the idea, but he won't admit that either. You browse through some information about the planet, especially the fauna, and suddenly stop. Something you've discovered makes you nervous. "See," he says contentedly, "it's stopped already, I don't have to sneeze anymore, it's all half as bad" When you don't answer, he turns back to you after taking off his armor. "Since when are you so quiet?" Again, you don't answer, you're engrossed in the information about a particular plant you've found. "Hey, Kitten," he says impatiently, "are you even listening to me?" You look up and ask him critically, "Why did you take off your armor? It's the middle of the day" Crosshair shrugs and says, "It's warm in here, and it's more comfortable without it" You say critically, "I don't think it's warm in here" He grumbles, "Well, I do"

"Any other symptoms?" you ask, a little alarmed. Crosshair reaches for your holopad, takes it from your hand, and skims the article you've just read. Depending on the amount of pollen inhaled...Heat flushes, sneezing, headache, followed by extremely increased libido, sexual desire bordering on animalistic proportions, loss of control... High probability of becoming a danger to yourself and those around you. If left untreated, the condition ends in extremely high fever, which can lead to brain damage or even death. No medical treatment options. Only treatment option is sexual relief (sexual intercourse/sexual acts that lead to repeated orgasms) "What the hell are you reading? Is that a guide to one of those dirty little stories you sometimes write?" Startled, you stare at him. "What?" Crosshair smirks, shrugging his shoulders in a suggestive manner. "Well, you fell asleep writing the other day and your pad was still on, just lying there. I took a quick look over it. It was pretty clear quickly what you were writing" You feel hot and cold, you're not sure exactly how much he's read, and you wonder if he realizes that you're imagining him as you write. But another thought outweighs your shame, your worry.

You scroll back up a bit on the pad that's still in his hands, point to the picture of a flower and say, "No, that's an article about this plant. We walked through a field of these flowers earlier while you weren't using an air filter. You're already showing symptoms" Crosshair blinks, skims the text again. "Oh," he says quietly. He tosses the holopad onto your bunk, rubs his temples again and looks around. He can feel it now, slowly at first, gradually but steadily increasing. His body temperature is getting higher, his thoughts are getting mixed up, there is a penetrating buzzing behind his temples, and there is clearly a very physical desire. "I need you to cuff me, for your safety. Where are my handcuffs?" Crosshair hears a click, then feels cold metal. You've cuffed his own wrist and chained him to the weapon rack. "I'm ahead of you," you say softly. "Clever girl. But that won't be enough. You have to tie me up properly"

„Properly?“, you ask, frowning.

Crosshair nods and says, "Yeah, I can open handcuffs without a key if I have one hand free" You mumble with a grin, "Sneaky bastard" "Shut up, kitten," he says calmly, with a little smirk, pointing to the other bunks, "Better find something to tie me up before the symptoms get worse" Unsure, you go to the drawers and side compartments of the other bunks. You find some more handcuffs and chain his other wrist to the weapon rack on the wall. Crosshair groans softly, a bulge has already formed in his Black's pants. He is far too warm in his skin and his cock is as hard as a diamond.

For a second you just look at him, his slender, wiry but stealed figure chained to the weapons rack at the wall. His shoulders down to his hips forming an apetizing V-line. "Okay, so far so good," he says tensely, "But that's not enough" You frown, but finally get two more cable ties and tie his legs to the frame on the wall. Crosshair stands there, as if nailed to a cross or pilloried, except that it is a weapon rack that is firmly anchored to the wall. "Fuck," he moans softly. Automatically, he writhes in his restraints, his clothes, the pants of his Blacks rubbing over his hard cock, eliciting another soft moan. He is extremely sensitive at the moment.

"But what now?" you ask anxiously, straining not to look down between his legs. "I can't hurt anyone now," Crosshair says and swallows. He means you, he can't hurt you now, he can't do anything against your will, you realize. "But... We have to do something, you could die or suffer permanent damage from this condition," you say nervously. You can see that he can barely think straight, that he would love to tear himself away if he could. But he smiles at you and says, "You're not worried about me, are you?" "Of course I'm worried", you say, almost indignant he might question this. He licks his lips, his mind a jumble of images of nudity, physical contact, of him sinking his cock inside you, in pretty much any of your holes that would do. Crosshair blinks a few times, trying to collect himself. "Well, you can help me now, but on your terms. I can't force you to do anything, that was important to me. Hence, the shackles. It was clear to both of us long ago that I still need your help now. Unless you want me to die, or my mind to turn in to a vegetable" Heat rises in your cheeks. You've imagined being with him so many times, but not like this.

He laughs softly as a drop of sweat rolls off his forehead. "Now you can live out some of the fantasies you love to write about. Honestly, I always knew you had a naughty spirit in you" The thought, the question of how much he has really read of your stories and perhaps even diary entries that are on the same data pad, comes to mind. You swallow and look at him, chained there. Your gaze does wander down to the enormous bulge in his blacks. You hear him purr, "Okay kitten, your attention is already going in the right direction" He strains against his restraints, automatically wanting to reach for you, but to no avail. A small frustrated growl comes out of his throat as he realizes once again that he is not able to touch you right now. No matter what you do now, no matter what you're both about to do, this isn't going to be romantic, nothing loving, that much you both realize. But contrary to your expectations, the thought doesn't repel you, actually, there's something appealingly wicked about it. As you sink to your knees in front of him, a shiver runs through his body in aroused anticipation. He can barely move, only his pelvis has a little room to move forward, and he stretches out towards you in invitation. "Be a good girl, help me"

You look up at him uncertainly, in his gaze you not only find confirmation of what you are about to do, it is a feverishly hot gaze, full of expectation and challenge with which Crosshair looks down at you. You reach for the waistband of his Blacks' pants and slowly pull them down. As the fabric brushes over his skin, over his hard cock as you free it, he trembles excitedly. It stands right in front of your face, thick, veiny, with a slightly reddened, swollen tip. His testicles are bulging. His cock twitches with every breath you take, because he can feel every waft of air. "Do it," he demands in a smoky voice, his eyes glazed over with desire, "suck me good" You wonder how he would talk to you at a moment like this if he wasn't under the influence of the pollen, but only for a second. You've always been curious about a sexual encounter with Crosshair, and his cock looks gorgeous. Your hand reaches for it automatically, and you're almost shocked at how red-hot it feels. His temperature is rising, no time to hesitate. Your tongue twitches over his velvety, swollen tip, catching a salty drop of pre-cum. "Fuck," Crosshair growls, his pelvis twitching, "come on, kitten, it's getting unbearably hot under my skin"

You don't think about it for long. Your lips open, your tongue outstretched, pressed against the underside of his cock, you take him into your mouth. Your head moves back and forth, bobbing back and forth with his cock between your lips. At first, you're so far back that, despite his relative freedom of movement with his pelvis, he has no control over how deep he penetrates your mouth. But it feels surprisingly wonderful, the sounds he makes, moaning, growling, whimpering. You can feel your panties getting wet and a tingling sensation between your thighs. Your pearl swells, pulsating gently at first, but demanding, longing to be touched, stimulated. On impulse, you move closer, giving him more room to move. As soon as he realizes that he can penetrate deeper on his own, he greedily pushes his cock deeper into your mouth, down your throat, almost to the hilt. Your eyes immediately start to water, but you don't pull back, you let him have his way with your mouth. He pulls his pelvis back and forth, thrusting deep again and again until your face is wet with tears and saliva drips from your chin because you can't swallow everything around his thick cock. Crosshair stares down at you, his gaze full of fire, glassy and dark.

He gasps excitedly, "I knew there was a dirty thing somewhere inside you, look at you eagerly sucking my cock. I wish I could record this, so I could watch it over and over again, how perfect this image looks" You don't have the time or the opportunity to object, nor do you want to. Your hand automatically slips into your pants and under the fabric of your panties. You can feel the heat emanating from your pubic area on your fingertips even before you touch your clit. There it is, finally, the touch, a shiver runs through your body. The touch your pearl has been longing for. Your fingertips glide over the sensitive bundle of nerves, faster and faster, as Crosshair's cock pushes up to the gag reflex again and again. You keep sucking at him, almost hungrily, like there is no tomorrow. Crosshair fucks your mouth restlessly, his pelvis shaking with every thrust, his arms tugging at the handcuffs again and again. Then he sees your hand in your pants, something about the sight pulls him over the edge, with a low growl, he spurts his load down your throat. You swallow hastily as he leaves your mouth and take a deep breath.

"A good little dirty thing you are. Look at you, not only did you suck my cock like an addict, you touched yourself" His gaze is still glassy, feverish, full of heat, a dangerous, knowing grin on his face. "Untie me, kitten, and I'll give you what your little pussy needs," he coos. His words roll over your skin and down into your pussy, where they trigger a pulsing, demanding twitch. Contrary to any fear or uncertainty about his condition, you cut the cable ties on his ankles. Then you grab the key for the handcuffs, you hesitate only briefly, barely noticeably, but then you unlock the handcuffs. You don't even have time to be surprised. Crosshair immediately peels you out of your clothes, partially tearing them as he loses his patience. He pushes you towards the bunk in front of you until you automatically climb onto it on all fours to avoid falling over. "That's it, keep sticking your gorgeous ass up, show me your little pussy," he growls in a smoky voice.

With the flat of his hand, he gives you a gentle pat between your legs. "There it is," he coos contentedly, "soft, warm and wet" One of his fingers slides along your velvety folds to your heated opening and sinks greedily inside. You moan as he sinks a second finger between your slick walls. "You're hungry for my cock, aren't you?" You moan a yes as you thrust your buttocks towards him. All you hear from him in response is a growl. You feel him pull his fingers from you and as you look over your shoulder, you see him licking your juices from his knuckles. "Actually, I'd love to lick your little honey pot, but I just can't wait, I can't," Crosshair says a little breathlessly as he parts your wet folds with his tip and with a smooth thrust fills your pussy to the brim with his cock. The sensation is intense, his hard, thick length filling you up, stretching your wet hole.

His fingers claw into your hips, not exactly gently, as he begins to move, pulling his pelvis back only to thrust into you again. He moans and curses, the feel of your wet heat enveloping him so incredibly intense, his cock so incredibly, unusually sensitive. His grip, his nails, are sure to leave a mark, but you're far too horny to mind. His thrusts are short, he never pulls far out of you, but he thrusts into you quickly, panting, clutching at you. His pelvis slaps your backside again and again, the sound fills the room, accompanied by moans, growls, whimpers. Crosshair doesn't feel like his temperature is dropping, he's more in control than he expected, but his hunger hasn't abated one bit. He growls, gives you a slap on the ass and murmurs, "You like that, you've always wanted my cock inside you" You are so lost in your excitement that at first you don't even realize what he is saying. When you don't answer immediately, he grabs your neck and pulls you towards him so that the back of your head is against his shoulder.

"Say it!" he growls, his hand still on your neck. Crosshair doesn't really squeeze, just applies enough pressure to make it clear that he wants your attention. "What?" you ask hoarsely, the feeling of his cock thrusting into you again and again taking over your entire mind. "You've always wanted my cock inside you. Say it! I want to hear it," he moans urgently. You gasp. "Fuck. Yes, I've always wanted your cock inside me, deep inside me," you croak, moaning. You yelp as he gives you a particularly hard, deep thrust and pauses in this position for a few seconds. His thighs tremble for a moment, a half-suppressed moan comes from his throat, then you feel his semen shoot into you. You're both breathing heavily, Crosshair growls softly. "Still feverish, still hard, I guess I'll have to make your wet dreams come true a little longer"

He pushes you off him, onto the bunk you're kneeling on, and turns you around, gripping your hips. Crosshair grabs the back of your knees to hold your legs up and apart. The next second, he's thrusting his cock into you again, accompanied by the dirty, wet sound his hard length makes in your pussy filled with your juices and his seed. Each thrust makes that lewd, wet sound, you feel his seed and your juices partially dripping out of you, onto your buns and onto the sheet beneath you. After all, you're in your own bunk. But this fact startles you all the more as Crosshair reaches purposefully to his right and pulls open a small drawer. He pulls out a small object and grins with satisfaction. "I knew you had toys here, I heard them vibrating under your blanket the other night" He moves his cock slowly inside you as he looks at the toy, and the heat of shame rises in your face. "What exactly does that thing do?" he wants to know, his gaze fascinated but still feverish, glassy. You swallow and say meekly, "It sucks the clitoris into this little opening and vibrates as it does so"

He raises his eyebrows and looks past the toy at you. "Is that good?" "My favorite toy," you say, still meekly. He looks down, positions the toy so that it can suck your clit perfectly and turns it on, turning the power up quite high. The toy sucks in your clit and vibrates on the sensitive bundle of nerves, immediately sending a pulse through your whole body. You let out a startled squeak. In combination with his thick cock inside you, the additional stimulation from the toy is very intense. Your hands claw into the mattress and sheets as he starts to thrust into you again. "Fuuuuck," you moan out. Crosshair takes you again faster, harder and growls, "That's more like it"

Your mind dissolves into nothing, the thought of how he sees you right now, that he knows about the toy, that he knows you've been secretly masturbating here under the covers, all swept away in one swoop. The stimulation is too intense, your whole body vibrates, trembles, tenses with arousal. "You're close," he moans, realizing, "I can feel your sweet pussy contracting" The stimulation, his words, the sound of his voice, all at once your climax washes you over the edge, and you fall into a pulsating tangle of over-stimulation. Automatically, you want to reach for the toy to remove it, but Crosshair's hands shoot forward, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. "Fuck! Crosshair, that's too much, the toy!" you gasp breathlessly, twitching and writhing, the sensation far too intense.

He pushes himself deeper into your lap, takes you faster, with shorter, firmer thrusts. He stares at you, something about the way you squirm and twitch, the thought that you are helplessly at the mercy of this over-stimulation turns him on. It doesn't take long, his thrusts become irregular, his lap trembles between your twitching thighs, and he cums inside you again. You're still whimpering and squirming, finally he lets go of you, and before you can remove it, Crosshair releases you from the toy. You breathe heavily, sighing with relief. You look up, his gaze no longer glassy and feverish, more scrutinizing, brooding, as you know him to be. "Sorry," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "but it was incredibly hot to have you under me while you were twitching under the over-stimulation, one hell of a turn on." You roll your eyes and sigh, "I'm glad you enjoyed it" "You had your fun too, didn't you?" he growls sarcastically, "Or did you just get me untied to see what would happen?"

You can almost feel an argument brewing, but you don't want to argue, especially not now. You try to distract him. "How are you feeling now? Headache, fever?" Crosshair senses that you're trying to avoid the discussion, but he answers you anyway, "I'm fine, I think, no fever, no headache, no other symptoms either." You nod, climb out of the bunk and say, "Good, I need to use the refresher for a while, I need to clean myself up" But Crosshair blocks your path to the refresher. You hastily grab your bathrobe and put it on as you realize you're both still naked. "You haven't answered me yet," he says stubbornly. "What?" "Whether you had fun"

You clear your throat and say, "I had an orgasm, if that's what you mean" Crosshair frowns. "No, that's not what I meant, at least not exclusively." You lick your lips and avoid his gaze, but he gently but firmly grabs your chin, yet your eyes continue to avoid his. "Kitten? Look at me." His voice sounds so unusually gentle that you automatically look at him. "I just want to be sure that I didn't overstep any boundaries and that you didn't come away unsatisfied, as you know I didn't really have complete control over what happened." You look at him wide-eyed, then feel heat rising in your cheeks as you say meekly, "I had more fun than I want to admit"

A smile creeps onto his face. "I knew that. Good girl. Come on now, let us go wash you" You raise your eyebrows questioningly. "Us?" Crosshair grabs your hand and pulls you into the refresher with him. He winks at you, "We made the mess together, so let's remove it together. Come on, don't act like you don't want to be sponge-washed by me"

@rintheemolion

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[wonderfuldeath]

.o| Bad Temptation : XXVI |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

Taehyung felt very small in Damarro's home. The new mayor, or rather king, as he now wished to be called, had bought himself a magnificent house over the years, a veritable palace that easily made you dizzy just looking at the interior. The place was gloomy, and several portraits of people the new angelic vampire had never heard of seemed to judge him with every step he took to reach the small sitting room he was shown. Jungkook had made it very clear that he didn't approve of this interview. But Taehyung had insisted. After all, what could Heisukei do? Everyone knew he was there. The journalist had returned to work a week earlier, so he simply couldn't refuse to come and do it. Heisukei would suspect something, or worse, might take a dislike to them. Besides, he was curious: why would he want an exclusive interview now, rather than anywhere else in town? Obviously, Heisukei must have a plan, something dangerous, but Taehyung knew deep down that he wouldn't do anything, for one obvious reason. He cared about his job. After all, killing a journalist in the middle of his work would be frowned upon, and it would jeopardize everything he'd built up in just two weeks. Impossible, not for someone as full of himself as he was.

“- Mr. Kim, punctual as always. Take a seat, I'll be with you in two minutes.

- Take your time, Mr Damarro, I'm in no hurry and I've cleared my schedule just for you.

- How generous.”

Damarro was gleaming, looking a good dozen years younger, which made Taehyung wince. But he made no comment, remaining rather upright and professional, his new state-of-the-art tablet in his hands. Jungkook had insisted on giving him one, since he was so stubborn about taking notes with a pen. Heisukei joined him, offering him a cup of coffee, which Taehyung politely declined. He had promised his over-protective husband that he wouldn't take anything offered by this being he found repugnant. Quickly, they both got to work.

“- I'm ready to start.

- Perfect. Tell me, Mr. Damarro, may I call you that?

- Of course you may.

- Well, Mr. Damarro, how does it feel to be taking over?

- Well, I accept my role as best I can, you know. I was as surprised as you were when I took over. Monsieur Choi had it all planned. The poor man… Who'd have thought he'd take his own life?

- Aren't you afraid that the locals might find your methods a little too… brusque?

- No. And even if they do, there's not much I can do about it. This town needs order, needs someone willing to do the wrong thing, you understand?

- Is that why you've introduced this new zombie law? All zombies must be chipped and can be used for personal purposes. If I understand correctly, they won't have any rights?

- Yes, the right to stay where they are. Nobody likes zombies, they're slow and even more useless than humans.”

The wine glass Namjoon held between his fingers shattered with a crash, startling even her husband as he read aloud their new mayor's nonsense about his race. His fingers ran angrily through his pink hair, as he resumed a more natural posture, trying to calm himself so as not to send the tablet he'd just bought flying. Seokjin watched him in silence, before finally joining him, hoping to help him regain a shred of calm. Taehyung apologized half-heartedly. The interview had been a load of garbage. Mr. Damarro was a cold man who had no qualms about talking about the executions he himself had ordered. In just one week, he'd taken power and already forty-two people had lost their lives, for trifles. He wasn't a king, he was a tyrant.

“- Getting angry won't change anything, we have to wait for a breach to knock him off his pedestal.

- Before he turns me into a poodle, that would be welcome.

- By the way, I think that collar looks great on you.”

The comment seemed to hit the nail on the head, as Namjoon rolled his eyes, letting Seokjin come up and tenderly kiss his lips. The couple whispered things to each other that no one wanted to hear. Taehyung turned to give them some privacy, while Jungkook rolled his eyes, obviously more upset that he couldn't do the same thing because of the table between them, than by the couple setting each other on fire in the corner of the room.

“- Anyway, at least we know what Heisukei wants.

- He didn't weigh his words, as if he were convinced that no one could stop him.

- And he's not necessarily wrong.”

Elyzabeth raised her first glass of alcohol in a long time to her lips, before sighing in an attempt to calm herself. Her store had become a veritable battlefield, since her ex-husband had forbidden anyone to employ zombies. The exhaustion of having to manage everything alone could be read in her gestures. Heisukei was a veritable open wound, gaping and festering. An evil being who thought she could do anything. She bit her lips before resuming her tirade.

“- Right now, he's got the whole town to himself. Few dare to rebel.

- To avoid ending up as fodder for those… things he has at his beck and call. They're just humans who think they're Mystics. Nothing more.

- But they have the strength of Mystics, there's no denying it.

- Finally, Yoongi was able to kill one of them with his bare hands.”

This information had eluded them until now, and Elyzabeth wrinkled her nose as Namjoon finally returned to the table, much calmer. Seokjin sat on his lap, and nobody seemed to want to ask about this sudden change of mood. Namjoon was the first to speak, stroking his lover's hips to soothe his nerves, already ready to explode again at the mere thought of their new leader.

“- If they're this fragile, it means he hasn't managed to transform them completely. They're just guys who think they're us.

- But in this case, we can prove that Heisukei lied too.”

All eyes fell on Taehyung, who was rereading the articles about Mister Choi's death. In truth, nothing in the report stuck. The state of the body was inconsistent with the alleged hanging Heisukei had seen. Yet he was certain that vampires couldn't die like that. Jungkook had already taken a bookshelf to the head because of Kiyeon, and he hadn't even had a bruise. So a vampire cut in half by a hangman's noose…

“- Okay, but he'll fight back. Even if he did kill him, it doesn't prove anything. Just that Choi was pretending to be a vampire when he wasn't.

- But it's a start. All we need to do is find evidence to incriminate him in his own lie. And convict him of the same crimes he condemns.”

Jungkook nodded, accepting this plan, since it was her wonderful husband who had decided it, and everyone eventually parted, too tired to refuse anything. Taehyung looked out of the car window, playing with his fingers, before Jungkook's hand came to reassure him tenderly. His red eyes burned, a pleasant yet unfamiliar burn.

“- Pull over, Jungkook.

- Pull over? Why?

- Just do it.”

The car pulled into the woods near the house, the vampire turning on the warnings to try to figure out what was taking his husband, before seeing him throw himself at him. The kiss was far from tender, let alone superficial. It was as if Taehyung would die within hours. His body was seething, he wanted the vampire to devour him right there, right now, and he didn't mind. The act was wild, completely animal, leaving the windows fogged with their shared passion. When he and Taehyung had eaten their fill, the heat in Taehyung's belly vanished, and he felt as if he'd eaten a full meal. He put his clothes back on and resumed his proper place.

“- I hope this happens more often.

- Don't talk nonsense, will you?

- Never.”

The car set off again, and the vampire gave little glances to his husband, who was now feeling a little cramped in this car. He was sure that Jungkook hadn't finished his meal. And for sure, Taehyung would have trouble talking in the morning.

[sugarmasonmearii]

[C] Mond, Knight Umbreon

---

Ah, rare case of commission where I draw armor. Usually a hit or miss experience, but when it's up to me to recreate or create armor design with, or without references, it's usually fun. I try not to go too ham with the armor since it's all about providing the character protection, not to look like something from an MMORPG where equipment can go almost nonsensical with design.

Client had already premade a picture for his OC Mond, which is more like an emblem, and using that as a base reference for her armors. Took some inspiration from Dialga and Palkia (for some reason I designed it like that anyway), while still keeping the Umbreon aesthetic (the yellow ring positions on the mask and body.

---

If you're interested in a commission from me, [do check here] for details. Or you can check my [Carrd art commissions.] Or you can DM me too.

You can support me via [Ko-fi] and/or [Patreon] too!

---

Client: RedLionZero from Discord

Pokémon belongs to Nintendo, Gamefreak and Creatures. Art done by me.

This is a paid commission and the only the artist and client have the rights to repost this art. Do not trace, copy, use, steal or distribute!

[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 9 - Leavetakings

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Flame icon) In which it's time to hit the road, for real this time, right after one itsy bitsy assassination attempt.

PERSPECTIVE: Rand's finally done packing, and the courtyard's crowded with the Aes Sedai retinue. He finds his horse and Ingtar's group in a corner. Loial rides up, and when Rand says he thought Loial would have had enough of travel, he replies that he can't pass up the chance to see history weave itself around ta'veren.

Mat and Perrin ride up behind Loial, Rand apologizes, they whisper to each other and ride off. Rand looks down and notices the gold embroidery on his fancy coat, and thinks he realizes why they think he's still putting on airs,(1) but when he looked in his wardrobe everything was at least as ornate as this coat, and the servants claimed his plainer garb was already on packhorses.(2)

Lan appears at Rand's stirrup, and asks to speak to him alone. He has one lesson left for Rand: Sheathing the Sword.

“You’ve spent an hour every morning making me do nothing but draw this bloody sword and put it back in the scabbard. Standing, sitting, lying down. I think I can manage to get it back in the sheath without cutting myself.” “I said listen, sheepherder,” the Warder growled. “There will come a time when you must achieve a goal at all costs. It may come in attack or in defense. And the only way will be to allow the sword to be sheathed in your own body.” “That’s crazy,” Rand said. “Why would I ever—?” The Warder cut him off. “You will know when it comes, sheepherder, when the price is worth the gain, and there is no other choice left to you. That is called Sheathing the Sword. Remember it.”(3)

The Amyrlin makes her way across the courtyard, speaking to Agelmar. Rand overhears him trying to convince her to stay another day to rest and feast, but she can't. By the time Rand looks away, Lan's gone. 

Loial returns and says he heard a rumour that the Amyrlin is sending someone to Almoth Plain, to see what the fuss is about down that way. Rand remembers that Toman Head is next to Almoth Plain, and the words he barely wiped off the wall after Fain's jailbreak: We will meet again on Toman Head.

The Amyrlin approaches and wishes them luck, saying that the fate of the world rests with them. The heroes will fight for whoever blows the Horn, for Light or Dark. Rand gets distracted from her speech, feeling someone watching him, the same presence he felt before.(4) He turns his horse, looking on the guards' catwalks and windows, when suddenly something flashes across Rand's face, and the Amyrlin looks down at a tear in her gown, where blood is beginning to stain the silk. The Amyrlin tells Leane to see to the man who took the whole of the arrow's hit, and remarks that it was poorly aimed, if they were aiming at her. She looks at Rand as she says this, but looks away before she can draw attention to the glance. She knows it was meant for him.(5)

Leane says that the man is dead, was dead before he hit the ground. The Amyrlin says she did what she could, then, since death cannot be Healed.(6) She makes a final bit of speech to the Horn seekers, and sends them off. A man on horseback rides through the crowds outside, waiting to see the Amyrlin's procession out of town. Ingtar introduces him as Hurin, a sniffer. They didn't want the Aes Sedai to get worked up over nothing, his talent is nothing to do with the Power,(7) but Hurin can explain it himself. Hurin says, of course, my lord. Rand insists he's not a lord, and wonders if he can escape that nonsense now.

Hurin blinked. “As you wish, my Lor—ah—Rand. I’m a sniffer, you see. Been one four years this Sunday. I never heard of such a thing before then, but I hear there’s a few others like me. It started slow, catching bad smells where nobody else smelled anything, and it grew. Took a whole year before I realized what it was. I could smell violence, the killing and the hurting. Smell where it happened. Smell the trail of those who did it. Every trail’s different, so there’s no chance of mixing them up. Lord Ingtar heard of it, and took me in his service, to serve the King’s justice.”

All the smells fade with time, depending on the intensity of the violence. He once met a Brown Aes Sedai who practically kept him hostage for a month trying to figure out how his talent worked, but he doesn't do anything, he just smells it. At any rate, this trail is as clear as anything. You can't tell Darkfriends by smell, but Trollocs, and Halfmen (Myrddraal), and there's something even worse with them, which upsets Hurin to no end.(8) He can tell they definitely went south.

Rand hopes that Nynaeve keeps Egwene safe, and thinks he hears a mocking laugh on the wind.

PERSPECTIVE: Bayle Domon(9)  is in Illian, where they'll start the Great Hunt in a few days. There's festivities galore, fireworks and all. Domon pays them no mind, he's out to meet people he thinks might be trying to kill him. Plus, he's never felt comfortable in Illian, for all that he was born there.

He enters an inn by the name of Easing the Badger. There's always been an inn by that name, though not even the innkeeper knows what it means.(10) After overhearing some talk of all the false Dragons, and thinking how he doesn’t care much for false Dragons or the Hunt for the Horn, Domon spots the people he's looking for, their fancy clothes standing out against the plain dress of other patrons. Cairhienin, this time. They have someone who must be transported from Mayene to Illian. Domon says the Spray is a river craft, it doesn't have the bottom for sea travel. They thought he was giving up the river trade, but he hasn't decided yet. Well, he has, he won't go back to the Borderlands for love nor money, but he won't tell them that. He does wonder how they knew when he hadn't told anyone.

The stranger in charge offers him a thousand gold marks, and he goggles. Two hundred now, three hundred in Mayene, and the remaining five hundred when he returns, if he's taken no action to discover his cargo's identity.(11) It would almost be worth it just for the two hundred. And if he probed more, he knows he'd have hints that Illian is working with the First of Mayene, to act against Tear somehow. He might fall for it if he hadn't seen three such snares in the last month. He reaches for the pouch and the parchment that would mark him to his contact in Mayene, agreeing to sail at first light. But he knows Darkfriends have been after him since before he left Marabon, and he knows someone wants him to sail east toward Tear or Mayene. 

When the men have left, he gives one of the coins to the innkeeper, telling her to take everyone's drinks out of it until it runs out, and he'll give her another. She remarks that it's a Tar Valon coin, and asks if he's dealing with the witches. He bristles, but knows she won't say anything. Tar Valon marks. Dangerous coins, in Illian.(12) He's still sitting there, worrying, when his second mate enters to tell him another crewman is dead. There's been one every time he turned down a deal, but he accepted this time. He tells the second to round up the crew, the Spray sails as soon as there are hands to make her move. He's barely settling into his quarters on ship when the second comes back to say he's got all but three, and Domon says fine, they sail this minute, the others be damned.

When he's alone again, and sure to be so for a while, he heats a knife and cuts open the seal on the parchment. It reads that the bearer is a Darkfriend, wanted in Cairhien, and appears to be signed by the king of Cairhien himself. Real or fake, it makes no difference. In Tear or Mayene, it would be accepted as truth.(13)

He almost burns it, but instead hides the parchment in a secret compartment behind his desk, concealed by a panel nobody else knows how to access. He has a few other treasures in a chest nearby: a lightstick, a relic from the Age of Legends which glows like a lantern when held, but is fragile as glass; a small ivory carving of a man holding a sword, which is supposed to make you feel warm if you hold it long enough; the skull of a cat as big as a lion with teeth a foot long;(14) and a thick disk, about the size of a man's palm, marked with what Domon knows is the ancient Aes Sedai mark, not a safe item but not something he could pass up, when the shopkeeper didn't know what it was, not even that it was cuendillar.(15)

The second mate knocks, giving Domon a chance to cover his items with some other parchment, then pops in again to say they're past the coast. Which way from here?

West, says Domon. The second asks which city they're headed to, and Domon thinks none are far enough by half, but says maybe they'll go trade with the Domani and Taraboners. The second says there's rumours of war, and Domon says they've always squabbled over Almoth Plain and Toman head, but you can always find trade.(16)

When he's alone again, he puts everything but the cuendillar disk in the chest, and places it next to the parchment in the cubby. Darkfriends or Aes Sedai, he won't run the way they want him to. He heads up on deck to help them go west.

=====

(1) Mat and Perrin aren't just angry at Rand for putting on airs, imo. I think they also don't necessarily want to hang out with someone who's gonna brush them off when it's convenient, and come running back when it's not. Nobody likes a fairweather friend, Rand. (2) It makes sense they would assume you'd want to look your best to start a journey on a high note, especially if someone like Moiraine hinted that Rand should be at his finest because he has appearances to keep up. This was also written in the time when you'd still be expected socially to legit Dress Up to go, like, fly on an airplane. There are still some older folks who grumble about how nobody respects air travel anymore over that not being the standard these days. Whatever he felt about it, I think this might have been a loose reference to the practice. (3) RJ had the worst way of phrasing things sometimes to make anyone keep a straight face. "allow the sword to be sheathed in your own body" indeed. But, recall that swordfight training pose, Heron in the Rushes, that leaves one open to attack, from chapter 1 or whatever… hmmm, nah, can't mean anything at all, right? (4) My guess then was that Fain was watching in his odd way, but could it have been something else? (5) Why would someone try to kill Rand? Who knows how much about him to spur that on? (6) So there are some limits on the magic system, huh? I mean, if there weren't limits, then one or more of them probably would have rampaged and done all the things people accuse them of wanting to do just because, there are bad apples in every bunch. Even so, interesting. (7) So, this walking Tolkien reference has something like Perrin's wolfing? Elyas didn't show any particularly wolflike traits besides caring less about personal grooming and the eyes, and Hurin's eyes aren't described. Though, he must have the singular worst luck in the Borderlands to get his particular talent. (8) The only other thing we know of with them is Fain. Could he be THAT corrupt? Well, he does have both the Dark One evil and Shadar Logoth evil. (9) Re-enter Bayle Domon from book 1, who seems to want to be a recurring character for the series. Someone's trying to make him sail east and get himself killed, maybe even start a war with Illian and Tear while they're at it. Or are they? I have to wonder if they want him to sail west and know he's stubborn… (10) Cue thirty years of people joking about what "easing the badger" might mean. It's definitely a sex move though.

(11) So, we're getting a bit of a sneak peek at world politics here. Mayene is on the world map, right at the VERY bottom right corner, a wee peninsula next to Tear but which doesn't seem to have any roads connecting it to the continent, just mountains. Only, as he points out a bit later, Mayene is also very reliant on good relations with Tear, because Tear is their door to the rest of the continent. Not unreasonable to assume they probably have a bit of a longstanding beef with Tear, a beef which Illian shares, from indications we get this chapter as well. Are the people trying to get him killed from Tear, Cairhien, Mayene, or somewhere else in the end? How could this be used to further anyone's political plots? Why would someone have it out for Domon specifically? (I'm not suggesting we have answers to all these questions yet, just that it's worth chewing on them.) (12) Dangerous coins in most countries, it would seem. (13) Someone REALLY wants him dead. (14) The lightstick feels like an allusion to both neon lights and lightsabers from Star Wars. Moiraine carries a small robed woman carved from ivory, her angreal, which amplifies her power. She mentioned it not too long ago, in reference to using it to Heal Mat. Could this little man be a male angreal? It explains why some men (those who could learn to channel, maybe) feel warm holding it, but Domon feels nothing. And the skull… You know, I'm not sure "as big as a lion" means the same thing to Domon as it does to us, if a sabertoothed tiger's skull could fit in a little cubbyhole like this, but he DOES mention the fangs being a foot long. How big is this hidey hole behind his desk? (15) He has a fondness for collecting, does old Bayle, and getting his hands on ONE OF THE DARK ONE'S SEALS is a side effect of this being three thousand years past relevant, I guess. Nobody would recognize them, that far removed, when they're supposed to be in the White Tower's protection. At least this one's still strong, it's not cracked like the one Moiraine found. (16) Fate's drawing an awful lot of strings to one little nowhere town.

[void-ink-studios]

Well, it's New Years eve, so now would probably be a good time to post this!

My Art vs. Artist for 2023! I actual drew enough variety of stuff this year to actually make one of these for the first time, so, enjoy!!!!

Also, for anyone following me, I have several announcements Under the Cut. So, if you're curious, keep reading!

Me, October 2023: Wow, I'm really close to 100 followers, maybe I'll hit it before the year is over.

Me, Now:

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE????

But, in all seriousness, I cannot express how thankful I am to each and every one of you! You all have given me a level of hope that, to be frank, I haven't really felt since spring of this year. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, all of you.

To the people who like, to the people who reblog, to the people who comment, and to the people who just like my stuff enough to stick around, Thank you.

So, what might be expected for 2024?

Well, first and foremost, I would like to make one big announcement:

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!!!!

That's right, I am opening commissions, for the first time ever. I will be posting a more detailed sheet about how that'll work, prices, and what to expect tomorrow, so if you ever wanted customized art from me, now you can!

But that's not all!

I have a Ko-Fi now!

If you want to support me monetarily, that is now an option! If you want access to WIP sketches and early access to projects, check out my Ko-Fi here! But don't feel like you at all have to do that to support me, your kind words are more than enough.

Not done yet though!

I will be selling PRINTS and ADOPTABLES this year!

I'll be making art specifically for Prints this year, for you to purchase on Redbubble. The Ko-Fi page is where you can see WIP sketches of the prints and early access to finishes products! You can also purchase digital copies of those prints from the Ko-Fi.

Also, you read that right, I'll be selling adoptables periodically throughout the year! So, keep an eye out for those!

Alright, I think that's all the big stuff (For Now, lol)

But there's some other general updates!

I will be doing the drawing challenges again, so yay! Mermay, Smaugust, and Apoctober will most likely be making their return, so that's something to look forward to!

Fanart and fanfiction will most likely continue, both with known fandoms on my blog, and hopefully some new ones!

Original work, art and writing, will continue, both for sale and not, I'm looking forward to that.

My worldbuilding nonsense will most likely continue.

My general nonsense will most likely continue.

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

Once again, I'd like to thank you all for the support. It means the world, and it makes me smile every time.

The Rebubble store, the Ko-Fi, and Commission Sheet will all be in one post, tomorrow, and will be pinned to my blog.

I'm hoping to get some cool stuff cooking for y'all this year, both for those already here, and hopefully anyone new who turns up. I hope you all have a wonderful New Years, and let's hope for a calm 2024.

[ladyyatexel]

Have you been thinking that there's a real lack of hopeless strangers on your dash asking for help lately? ☆Congratulations, I have arrived!☆

I feel obligated to a certain level of jesterdom while doing this, like perhaps I can earn my keep by entertaining people. It's bleak and humiliating, but we're gonna Have Fun With It! :D This is perhaps more a note to make to self and to a therapist rather than note here, but it segues well into the important point of:

~.•°¤.°•○~☆ I Can't Afford Shit ☆•*.°○.•°*×

let alone a therapist

I'm currently stuck in a weird position, both physically and situationally, because I have some sciatica scoliosis spinal bone spur nonsense that decided that now was its time to shine. I'm in pain all the time at every angle and position, so I'm not doing Great?

I'm in the middle of the process of filing for disability and if you've ever applied for a job and been frustrated that you gave them all of your information and then the application asked you to give them the same information all over again, applying for disability is like doing that, but times 40, and with information you don't have memorized the way you have your phone number and home address. They also insist on doing it through the mail. My next step is to be evaluated by some kind of impartial physician. My appointments are in mid to late July. I am unsure what they want me to do with myself until that time.

The work I'm trying to do is not enough. I'm making buttons like crazy but in the end they are just buttons and they sell for 2 to $4 and so you really need to be someone who is absolutely psyched about buttons and buys 40 of them or I need to tap into a market that is Larger in order for this to be reliably sustaining. I do not know what that market is. I was the weird kid in school - what is popular, I don't know, I was never meant to know, it is a mystery.

Do not get me wrong, I am currently holding my face above water because of some really enthusiastic fans of buttons.

But I can't sell a month's rent worth of buttons. I don't even think I have the supplies to make that many.

My rent is USD$670, which is hiked up an extra $70 from where it was last year because my landlord wanted to bleed me dry while the world is on fire. Despite how poorly insulated and badly maintained this house is as a structure, I do enjoy having even a badly insulated roof and a place to put all my shit.

If you've got a need for $700 worth of buttons for some reason, hit me up.

If you don't, then hey, I'm another artist in crippling pain on your dash hoping people in better situations than I can help out. I would love to cover my rent to remove that anxiety for myself for another month, but Every Bill keeps happening, so more beyond that it going to my electric which hasn't been paid since February, and my internet which will keep me afloat in nearly every way possible. I'm also almost at the bottom of the bag of Science Diet food that keeps my beloved cat, Onyx, healthy. I do not know how best to keep a ticker tape of a goal, because there isn't one? I need to survive until at least July. It's June 17th as I write this. Two months rent and some cat food? Don't know, I'm five minutes from a phone call which will determine if they will still allow me food stamps.

SO.

Ways in which I can dance for your amusement so that you may throw coins in my direction:

Art Commissions! I can paint like a motherfucker! I have an extremely ill-advised expensive piece of paper saying I can do it!

Check it out, man. There are COLORS and everything.

Radical.

I have a Patreon where you can see Secrets!

And a Ko-fi! I sell buttons on Ko-fi, in case you were wondering when that plot point would come back. It's not very satisfying narratively, I am sorry. Thinking about offering prints there, as well!

I have other options in my sidebar - RedBubble, Society6, etc!

There is also paypal.me/ladyyatexel if you just want to give money to my literally actually broken ass without getting a cool item in return.

And yes, if you're thinking this all looks and feels kinda familiar, I had to dance and beg on the internet in Dec 2021, and I made that go as far as I possibly could. It's six months later and everything I'm trying to do to better my situations is just taking Forever. I'm trying to come up with a way to stay afloat while rescuing myself takes its time.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far, friend. Even just knowing someone listened to you yelling for a minute is helpful.

No need to feel obligated, especially if you don't feel I deserve a second round of help, I understand. But if you wanna spread this around and let me 'Will Art For Food' on someone else's dash, that would be sick.

Take care of yourselves, friends, it is brutal out there.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS BLOODY BOUQUET Animate Tokuten Drama CD “The Secret Behind a Demon World’s Wedding Reception ~Vampires’ Hospitality~”

Original title: 「魔界的披露宴の極意～ヴァンパイアのおもてなし～」

Source: Diabolik Lovers Bloody Bouquet Animate Tokuten Drama CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke, Kaji Yuki, Hirakawa Daisuke, Kimura Ryohei, Suzuki Tatsuhisa, Morikawa Toshiyuki

Translator’s note: I found this CD to be incredibly informative and interesting because it really does teach us more about the Demon World and its traditions. I genuinely had a lot of fun hearing them talk about the three different household’s various customs when it comes to parties and ceremonies. :3 Rejet should definitely make more drama CDs like these which combine light-hearted comedy with lore.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

*Rattle*

Yuma: Ahー As if practical lessons for home economics aren’t a pain in the ass already, I just had to be put into a group together with these fuckers…I couldn’t have gotten any unluckier…Geez. (1)

*Thud*

Yuma: Damnit! I would totally skip this shit if Ruki wouldn’t be on my case for it…!!

Shuu: Calm down…This really is a drag. I’ll be over there snoozing in the corner so you guys do as you please. Pwaah…

Laito: I genuinely don’t care about my grades either, but I don’t want that guy to give me an earful. 

*Rustle*

Laito: …But still. I wonder if the teacher wants us to fail by asking this group of people to come up with a menu for a wedding ceremony? Nfu~ 

Kou: My thoughts exactly! Yuma-kun’s still fine, but half of the Sakamaki’s and Carla-kun? That’s just outrageous! Haah…Ahー My motivation has hit rock bottom. Where is M-neko-chan…?

*Rustle*

Carla: Hmph! I believe that would be my line. I do not understand why I - the King of Founders - must work in the same group as a bunch of filthy Vampires. I fail to comprehend. 

Carla walks towards the door. 

Kanato: Where are you going? We are supposed to do a brainstorm session, remember?

Carla: I will only go and give an official punishment to the teacher who came up with this ridiculous idea. 

Yuma: Ahーah. Be my guest. Go ahead and throw away yer points by arguin’ with the Teach! I bet Mr. ‘All and Mighty’ Founder over here doesn’t give a flyin’ fuck ‘bout grades anyway.

Carla: …!!

Kanato: …Hm? He froze in place.

Kou: Fufu…Fufufu~ Could it be, you’re scared of losing points? 

Carla: …Silence, you lowlives! It appears that you wish to experience the extent of my powers first-hand. 

He begins to charge up an attack. 

Laito: H-Hey…! What are you going to do here at school…!? 

Carla: …As you wish, I shall eradicate you off the face of this earth…!

Laito: …O-One second! If you do that, you’d cause a much bigger issue which will result in much more than losing a couple of points!

Carla: …Ugh…Che…

He ceases his actions. 

Kou: Seems like Carla-kun’s actually pretty desperate for points, huh? Maybe he’s just as much in danger of failing this class as we are?

Carla: …Did you say something?

Kou: Oh no~ Just talking to myself~

*Rustle rustle*

Shuu: Pwaah…God…You guys are all so noisy. Can’t you be a little more considerate towards the guy trying to sleep and lower your voices? 

Yuma: Haah…? Why would we be considerate? Towards a NEET like ya!?

Kanato: Exactly. Pull yourself together and participate in the discussion. I would like to get this uncomfortable situation over with as soon as possible. 

*Rustle*

Shuu: Hm? …Kanato, do you have a fever, perhaps? 

Kanato: Haah? What nonsense are you spouting? That literally makes zero sense?

Shuu: Just the fact you actually said something reasonable for once…It’s kinda making me gag. 

Laito: Ahー Good point. Kanato-kun is known for being the ‘crazy’ one after all. 

Kanato: Haah…? What do you mean by that!?

Laito: Eh~? I mean, throwing unreasonable anger tantrums is basically your area of expertise at this point, no? So…Get it? Nfu~ 

Kanato: …

Kou: Ahー I think I get what you’re saying! When someone like that is actually willing to cooperate, it’s a little unsettling, isn’t it? Makes you wonder what happened for them to suddenly become so serious…Right? 

Kanato: Kuh…

Yuma: Oi…Aren’t we headin’ into dangerous waters right now?

Kou: Eeh~? But we’re only speaking the truth, right?

Carla: One does not change one’s inherited character and behavior so easily after all. Too late to try and deceive us now.

Kanato: …

Carla: Hmph…Just give up. 

Kanato: I never…meant it like that…

Yuma: …O-Oi!! Calm down, ‘kay? 

Kanato: …SHUT UP! I was only trying to be the voice of reason, wasn’t I!? Uuu…Uuu…!! So what exactly did I do wrong!? Uu…~~ Uuweeh…Uu…

Yuma: Ah, god…Ya guys really are a big pain in the ass!!

Shuu: You’ve only just noticed that now? 

Carla: You did not realize it at all? 

Yuma: Aah!? If you’re aware, then try and do somethin’ to better yerself, goddamnit! Ahー Fuck! We’re gettin’ nowhere like this…All of ya wants those damn points as well, right!? Then let’s stop wastin’ time on bullshit and just get on with it!

Carla: I do not like others telling me what to do. 

Yuma: Is that so? So you’re gonna take the role of moderator upon you?

Carla: I will kindly decline that offer. 

Yuma: …’Course…Anyway, imma hold the reins so all ya guys need to do is gimme yer input! Got it!? 

*THUD*

Kou: Ooh~ Look at you, Yuma-kun, actually showing us your best side for once!

Yuma: Che…Did ya really have to add the ‘for once’...? 

Laito: Well, I can’t wait to go home and do all sorts of things with Bitch-chan so I’ll cooperate. Nfu~ 

Shuu: Pwaah…So, what’s on the agenda? Hurry up.

Kanato: Uu…We’ve said it a million times by now…Haven’t we…? Uu…We have to come up with…a menu to be served at a wedding reception together…cook it…and then have somebody try it for us!!

Yuma: Why lash out at the very end!? 

Kanato: It’s your fault!!

Yuma: Ah!? Mine!? That must be some kind of misunderstandin’...?

Kanato: Shut up!!

Kanato continues to rage in the background. 

Kou: Oh well, leaving those two to do their own thing, you can always count on your quick-witted idol Kou-kun since I’ve actually thought ahead and invited over M-neko-chan to be our official taste tester! Oooi~~! M-neko-chan! Come on in!

You enter the room. 

Carla: …Oi, you. Weren’t you the one asking where she was earlier?

Kou: Oopsie~ (・ω<) (2) …I mean, where’d be the fun in spoiling the surprise beforehand? Besides, having me introduce her as my idol persona works way better from a commercial point of view! …I guess you could say that’s just how things work in this branch? 

Carla: …I do not understand. 

Laito: Well, Kou’s just shallow like that. It’s nothing for you to be worried about, Carla. …Well then, Bitch-chan, you can take a seat right next ・to・me~ Come here? Nfu~ 

Kou: Haah…? You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Also don’t you dare steal her from underneath my nose the very second she walks in!

Shuu: Oi…Both of you are getting way off-topic…

Kou: Ah…Whoops, my bad~ Slip of the tongue~ 

Yuma: …Ah, my bad. I guess I shouldn’t bother with this guy and just keep goーー Uwah!? Sow!? When did ya get here!? 

Kou: I called her over while the two of you were wasting your time arguing. 

Yuma: I guess you’re not wrong. …Anyway, let’s finally get to business. 

Carla: A menu centered around a wedding reception, was it? Well…In short, we should simply make something which you’d find served at the celebration? 

Shuu: And since this woman over here will be our taste-tester, we’ll have to base ourselves on this world’s standards. ーー Oi, you. What are wedding receptions like over here? 

You explain. 

Laito: Hmー So you gather around the table with close relatives? 

Kou: The food is often a mixture between traditional and Western cuisine!? W-What does that mean? 

You elaborate. 

Kanato: It has to be enjoyable to eat for the grandparents as well, you say? …So we actually have to make a wide variety of dishes? 

Carla: Scratch that.

Shuu: Agreed. 

Laito: Yeah…

Kou: I feel like trying to overachieve will only hurt us in the end. 

Yuma: Gotta agree that I don’t get the point of it. 

You frown. 

Kou: Hmー Now don’t look so troubled. For starters, we do have somewhat of a solid idea of what a wedding ceremony is like here in the human world. In short, what’s important is that the food conveys the feeling that you’re trying to please everyone to the best of your ability right? So if we manage to achieve that with our menu, it should leave you satisfied, right? 

Laito: Well, since we’ve got five Vampires and one Founder here, why don’t we try adding the element of human hospitality to our world’s dishes? 

Yuma: I mean, she’s the only one who’s gonna try it, so we can just make some minor adjustments to our cuisine to better suit her tastes, right?

Carla: Oi, please do not group us together simply because we both hail from the Demon World. Founders are their own distinct group. Obviously, our culture and customs are different as well. 

Yuma: Do ya founders even have wedding ceremonies? 

Carla: What do you take us for? Of course we do!

Kanato: Then teach us what kind of dishes are served at those. We only know the ways of our own family after all. 

Carla: Haah…While I do not like having to expose our culture to you fiends…It is for those sweet, sweet points. I have no other choice. Allow me to teach you. 

Kou: ‘Hooray’, thanks. 

Yuma: (mumbles) …Just tell us already instead of beatin’ ‘round the bush.

Carla: First of all, our celebration lasts three days and three nights in total. 

Kanato: …A whole three days and nights!? 

Carla: We congratulate the bride and groom through a ‘never-ending’ banquet!

Laito: No…But if it lasts three days and three nights, it isn’t endless, is it? It will end at some point.

Carla: …

Shuu: Laito…Keep those unnecessary remarks to yourself. 

Laito: Ah, sorry~ Couldn’t help myself~ Nfu~

Carla: Anyway, during those three days and nights, one must never have an empty plate. Once something has been eaten, it will immediately be replaced by a fresh batch. 

Kanato: So you could keep on eating, but the amount of food will never get less? 

Carla: Exactly. It is meant to symbolize that the celebrations will never come to an end. 

Kanato: That sounds wonderful…You can keep on eating and eating, yet never run out…Of course, that goes for the desserts as well, right!? 

Laito: Once again, it’s only for three days and three nights so it won’t last foreーー

Yuma covers his mouth. 

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Mmphー!? Mmh…!!? 

Yuma: …You’re doin’ this on purpose, aren’t ya!? Keep yer damn mouth shut, seriously! You should know that guy is a tickin’ time bomb!

Kanato: What was that you said~? 

Yuma: Ahー Um…Well…Y-Ya know…T-There’s this legendary mushroom often referred to as ‘time bomb’ (3) which we found growing over at Karlheinz-sama’s castle, ya see!

Kanato: Oh, I see. That’s news to me. 

Carla: Oi, you two! If you refuse to take my story seriously, then…

Carla begins to charge an attack again.

Kou: C-Come on, calm down…! I-If not…You know, think about those points…!

Carla: …Tsk…Ugh! 

Yuma: …Anyway, we get the gist ‘bout it bein’ long with lots of food to feast on, but tell us somethin’ ‘bout the actual food itself! 

Carla: One of our traditional dishes is called the Founder’s special ‘Four Species Pudding’. 

Laito: F-Four species…? I’ve got a bad feeling about this…

Carla: We mince and combine wolf, snake, eagle and bat meat, bake it all together and then pour a special sauce on top.

Laito: …Bweh. 

Kou: Is that really good though…? Besides, don’t you have DNA of all of those four species yourself? 

Carla: That is exactly what makes it so delicious. It signifies the eternal bond with those four bloodlines. 

Shuu: Just having to listen to that made me sick to my stomach…

Carla: Also, ever since I came here to the human world, I’ve had this idea…

Laito: Yes…?

Carla: I believe the dish would work very well when paired with dry cured ham. 

Kanato: Dry cured ham…?

Carla: Of course, a luxurious kind such as Iberico ham. I’m sure they would go well together.

Kou: However, that’s something you came up with just now and not the traditional version, right?

Carla: …

Kou: Okay, let’s go to the next one!

Carla: You’ve heard enough already? We have plenty more traditional dishes. I would not mind telling you about them. 

Shuu: We’ve heard enough. 

*Rustle*

Shuu: ーー Oi. Mr. Violent and Mr. Annoying. How about you guys?

Kou: Are you calling me annoying? Geez, how rude! …Oh well, I’ll let it slide. We’re half Vampires, so we’ve never had to organize such an event.

Kanato: No parties or such either…?

Yuma: Aah…? Party? Did we?

Kou: I don’t think we’ve ever held any official ones but you know…Remember how we held a potato party the other day because we harvested way too many from your garden? 

Yuma: Ahー When we made all sorts of potato dishes? That counts as a party as well? 

Kou: I’m not sure but I guess it kind of does when you think about it…?

Shuu: A potato party?

Kou: Exactly! All of dishes down to the dessert were made using fresh potatoes! Even though everything was made from the same main ingredient, it never felt repetitive thanks to Ruki-kun’s amazing cooking skills! Right, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: Yeah! I put blood, sweat and tears into growin’ those taters so seein’ others enjoy them really made me feel like it was worth it!

Carla: …Sounds shabby.

Yuma: Haah!?

Shuu: Exactly. Who serves potatoes at a party?

Kou: Hey, don’t say that! I guess rich kids wouldn’t know, but it’s common all around the world!

Laito: Hmー I mean, sure? No point in fussing over the small details. Let’s just say that’s how the cookie crumbles over at the Mukami’s. Nfu~ 

Kanato: I suppose there’s big differences even amongst fellow Vampires. At our house, parties are much more grand and lavish. 

Shuu: Thanks to the Old Man who loves imitating human traditions. 

Yuma: In other words, you don’t have yer own traditional dishes? 

Kanato: Hm…For us, it would be…No, we do. I remember. …You know, the one Mother would make at every party.

Laito: Ahー I just remembered…Now that you mention it, I guess that would be the Sakamaki Household representative dish. …Hehe.

Shuu: Ah…That thing.

Carla: …What was it? 

Laito: How should I put it…You wouldn’t really call it part of our culture. If I had to explain it, you could say it was specific to our house’s situation? 

Yuma: Oh come on! Just explain it to us already!? 

Carla: If you say A, you have to say B as well. Now stop beating around the bush and explain!

Kanato: At every party, our three mothers would compete over whoever could make the best dish. 

Laito: Yup, exactly. She had never once cooked in her life though, so she should have just given up.

Kanato: I don’t want to speak badly of Mother but…I’d rather not have to eat that dish ever again.

Laito: Ahー I feel like my mouth is sticking together just from remembering it. Hehe…

Kou: S-Stick together…?

Kanato: It was oddly slippery…and sometimes grainy… 

Yuma: Slippery? Grainy?

Shuu: Some parts were rock hard as well. Even though it barely tasted of anything overall, at times it’d suddenly hit you with a kick of spice…then at the end left you with a bitter aftertaste. 

Carla: What kind of dish was that…!? 

Laito: …Good question. 

Yuma: ‘Good question’!? But you ate it, right!? 

Kanato: We did not choose to eat it, we were forced to. 

Laito: Exactly! Besides, we wouldn’t have even realized it was food if we hadn’t been told to eat it!

Shuu: I was left wondering who had put their trash on the dinner plate. …Haah.

Kou: Ahー I’m kind of starting to feel bad for them.

Yuma: Yeah…I guess even rich kids…don’t always have it easy, huh? 

Shuu: I don’t need your pity. …So. What dish are we actually going to make now?

Kou: Hmー If we put together the traditional foods from all three of our households, we’ll end up with a dish which looks like trash, consists of four different types of meat accompanied by side of potatoes all of which have a slippery, grainy and sometimes rock hard texture with a kick of heat to it and bitter aftertaste…?  

Carla: Oi! You forgot about the dry cured ham!

Kou: Ah, right right. Add some dry cured ham in there as well. …The expensive kind made from iberico pork…

Carla: …Perfect!

Kanato: That sounds…revolting.

Shuu: Well, we need to ultimately make it appealing to this woman too. I guess we can just randomly put some flowers on top to make it look all bright and colorful? 

Laito: I didn’t expect such a well thought-out idea from you. Girls love everything cute and pretty after all! Nice thinking.

Shuu: …Being praised by you gives me the creeps. …Haah. 

Kanato: Yes…

Kou: Roger!

*Rustle*

Carla: With that settled, I shall contact my Familiars right away to arrange the dry cured ham.

*Rustle*

Carla: …Hm? What’s the matter? 

You protest.

Carla: You want us to reconsider? Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to? 

Yuma: What’s the problem? We’ll make sure it looks appealin’ to ya!

You explain.

Shuu: You want to know what wolf and eagle meat tastes like? …Laito, do you happen to know?

Laito: Nfu~ Not・a・clue~

Kanato: Carla knows, right? Teach us?

Carla: Why would you ask me? 

Yuma: I mean, you’re the one who brought it up.

Kou: Exactly! You introduced it to us brimming with confidence! 

Carla: …I never did such a thing. All I did was mention it as part of Founders’ traditional cuisine. 

Laito: In other words…You’ve never tried it?

Carla: That does not matter! …Besides, I do not need you lot to make remarks about my dietary choices! You are all getting way ahead of yourself!

Yuma: I guess so. …Anyway, ya heard the guy. All ya need to do is eat the food we serve ya.

You beg them to be considerate.

Laito: Nfu~ You want us to make it taste normal at least? …Then would you please teach us what you understand by ‘normal’~? 

You frown. 

Laito: The concept of ‘normal’ is a tricky one to grasp, you see? It highly depends on the individual after all. …For example, you could walk around the manor stark naked and I would think it’s the most normal thing in the world. However, you wouldn’t feel the same way, would you? Nfu~

Kou: Excuse me!? You better not try to abuse the situation to get your sticky hands all over M-neko-chan! She belongs to me after all!

*Rustle*

Laito: Haah…?

Kou: Why are you getting mad over it now!? She’s been mine since forever, remember!? 

Yuma: …There they go ahead. 

Kanato: Ahー God…What is you guys’ problem!? I want to just get this farce over with already!

Yuma: Ahー I’m honestly ‘bout to lose my shit as well…Guys, cut it out alreaーー

Carla: I expected no less but I suppose that with this group of people, we will truly never get anywhere. …It cannot be helped. I believe we should fight it out after all. 

Yuma: How did a normal cookin’ class lead to all of this anyway!? 

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: Bitch-chan obviously belongs to me…! I mean, we can easily find out by asking her body, right~? 

Kou: Haah…!? That’s what I said first though!

Yuma: Oh come on!!

Shuu: Oi, Yuma. Just give up. At this point, you’d just be wasting your time and energy. Pwaah…

Yuma: …Oi! Don’t be throwin’ in the towel and goin’ to sleep!

*Rustle*

Shuu: You really think I’ll keep up with this? I realize that no matter what I say, it’ll just fall on deaf ears. Why don’t you take a nap too? Pwaah…What a drag…

Yuma: Oi…! Wake up!!

*Rustle rustle*

Shuu: Zzー... Zzー...

Yuma: He already fell asleep…!? 

Kanato: Uu…Hic…And what would you know…!? Uu…Just melon would obviously be better…than wrapping dry cured ham around it…Sniff…

Carla: Hmph! It’s the combination of the two flavors which makes it so sublime. That is a truth which has existed since the dawn of time!

Kanato: I prefer melon by itself, okay…!???

Yuma: Ahー This is a lost cause…For some reason those guys are on an entirely different topic now. I can’t follow at all…Okay, what ‘bout the other two?

Laito: Heeh? I assume you know the exact number of panties she owns then?

Kou: Seven~! …Right, M-neko-chan!?

Laito: Y-You’re right…How!? That information is only meant to be known by a true pervert such as myself!

Yuma: There’s no point tryin’ to reason with them…Ahー What a pain in the ass…

Kou: Isn’t that obvious? As I’ve been trying to make clear this whole time, she belongs to m…Wait, huh!? Where is M-neko-chan!?

Laito: Bitch-chan, where did you go!?

You run over to Yuma.

Yuma: Huh? Sow? When did ya get heーー

*Rustle rustle*

Yuma: Oi, don’t tug onto my arm! Where are you takin’ me!? Ah…Ya wanna make a run for it? Guess that makes sense. Gotcha. I was just ‘bout to dip as well. …Heh. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: Come on, let’s get goin’.

The two of you run away.

Kou: Ah, Yuma! Wait!

Yuma: In yer dreams! Honestly, I don’t give a flyin’ fuck ‘bout my grades at this point! No way I’m stayin’ with this annoyin’ bunch any longer!

Kanato: Wait!

Laito: Bitch-chaaaan~ 

Carla: You are a hundred years too early to attempt to run from me!

Yuma: Shut up! You guys just fix this mess by yerself, goddamnit…!!

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes 

(1) Yuma uses the term 貧乏くじ or ‘binbou-kuji’ which literally means ‘poor lottery’. I assume they used some kind of lottery system like drawing straws or numbers to decide which students would be in the same group together. 

(2) Kou says ‘てへぺろ’ or ‘tehe pero’, which is a typical comical expression often seen in cartoons and manga consisting of a character winking while sticking out their tongue. → (・ω<) It’s often used when someone makes a mistake and tries to kind of cover it up. (or as a way to feign innocence/ignorance)

(3) Yuma referred to Kanato as プチ切れボーヤ which literally means ‘young lad which is easily irked’. I translated this as ‘ticking time bomb’, not realizing that he would then later try and make up a whole story about it. I don’t know where the connection with mushrooms came from but let’s not question it. 

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[creweemmaeec11]

Would You Replace Me?

"So, I'm just curious," the villain mused from where they lay next to their hero, examining their lover's hand in theirs.

"Hmm?" The hero hummed, turning their head.

"Are you ever going to let me meet some of your other hero friends from the league?"

As if on command, the hero next to them immediately tensed.

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll happen at some point," they replied, trying for a sense of casualness-, and failing miserably.

Their lover suddenly sat up on the bed, turning to look down at the hero next to them, "you've been saying that for weeks,"

"What-! I have not-!"

"Are you worried I'll embarrass you?" The villain joked though the worry was evident in their tone.

"I feel like I'd be more worried if we *weren't* embarrassing each other," the hero laughed, trying to dodge the question.

"Is it me then?" The villain asked quietly, "Ashamed to tell your hero buddies your dating a villain?"

"Of course not! The hero gasped, jolting upright to look at their lover in shock, "The other hero's already know all about you! I talk about you all the time!"

The villain blushed, eyes widening in shock, "really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Then why are you so against me meeting them?"

The hero hesitated, looking down and fidgeting nervously, "The other hero's are just a lot and I don't know if you're ready to meet them yet is all, it's just...-"

The villain raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Their lover deflated under their gaze before sighing, "The other hero's are just so much cooler than me in comparison! I mean what if you end up liking them more than me?"

The villain's face morphed into a shocked and baffled expression, but the hero was too busy rambling to notice.

"They are all so charismatic and good looking and funny and, like, their powers are so much cooler than mine and I'm just so lame in comparison what if-"

Their thoughts and words were abruptly cut off as the villain suddenly jumped on top of them, pushing them down onto the bed and straddling their waist. The hero didn't even get a chance to ask before their partner had leaned down to kiss them- hard.

"You're an idiot," the villain said once they pulled away, "I want to meet them to get closer to you, not to replace you," they explained, "I don't care how good looking, or funny they are, or if one can crush a boulder with their bare hands or breath underwater. If you think I'm with you because of such simple nonsense then I'm afraid you're terribly wrong,"

"W-what do you mean?" The hero asked, eyes wide.

"I'm with you because your laugh is addictive and it always makes me want to laugh. I love that you always kiss me goodnight, even if I'm already asleep,"

"How do you-..."

"I think it's the stupidest, most endearing thing that you named your black cat Snowball and you always cook an extra chicken nugget just for her, or how you hate tomatoes, but somehow like ketchup. It's adorable listening to you practically perform in the shower whenever you think I'm not home,"

"Wait what!? When-" the hero tried to interject, but the villain wasn't stopping.

"I love that you always bite your lip when your deep in thought, or how your blue eyes look green when light hits them from juuuust the right angle in the morning. I adore your smile, and the way your hair never seems to behave, yet somehow always looks perfect,"

The villain sat back, suddenly blushing slightly, "and I love that you can make me feel special, like I'm worth something, even when I'm just a lowly villain,"

Support me on BMAC and KO-FI, and don't forget to check out my Redbubble

Master Taglist:

@llamaly @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway @larinzz @sharraus @asrasmysoulmate @kaiwewi @akawrites000 @sunflower1000 @aroacewitchyacademic @seppycup  @lbelle0527 @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @freefallingup13 @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @homosexual-having-tea @friiday-thirteenth @chocomarsgalaxy @ravenshadow17 @daydreamed-snippets @stankyt0es @jinx1365 @rainy-knights-of-villany @fromtheo-withlove @maybe-a-cat42 @the-sky-writes @watercolorfreckles @noirewaves @digitalart-dwa @itsleighlove @chibicelloking @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @daedae127 @wish1bone1 @ilikebooksbuttheresnousernames @defectivehero @vpow @dog-in-a-bog @hstoria @canigetanamenforbritney @forgotmyoriginalname

[chimeracreations-art]

Some of my painted sketches as i call'em of some redesigns i did of some of the project phoenix design from BattleTech. basically if you didn't know, BattleTech has had some legal nonsense and fuckery with some art and design as for the first edition of the game they got some art to use from thing like macross or dougram, ect and robotech also had some of those thing. thus legal battle raged for a while leading to some mech being call unseen were they just didn't have official art or models for a while.

until after a point they decided to do some of the first re seeing of mech way back with project phoenix TRO, that game a bunch of mechs new art and what not.

Most of the art and design were great, the model not so much as they kind had some proportion and posing problems with a few of the sculpts or just them not hitting the vibe of the art all that well in my opinion. fast forward to now with another set of updates and me really digging the old design and wanting to just be like oh this would be cool if they brought them back but did this to bring them in line with the art style or comparable to the current looks.

So here some of my "CHIMERIA CUSTOMS" battlemechs, namely the phoenix hawk and shadow hawk rendered up in my own styling.

Really want to get back to my project of ether resigns or drawling up the project phoenix stuff that still work super well like the marauders look from it is super good.

[tortilla-of-courage]

Blog Intro/Master Post

Hi! I’m Tortilla (or Tort or whatever you wanna call me), any pronouns/gendered terms are fine but i default to she/her, local SkSw nerd

I periodically reply to a bunch of asks in a row, so... yeah, be aware lol.

i try to tag TWs if possible but if you ever need me to tag something just hit me up! (i usually do it in “#tw thing” format)

like/reblog spam are more than welcome! go wild, don’t be shy, you’re not annoying me at all /gen

i’m currently in college so i’m not posting as much but i usually try to setup a queue

i swear. a lot. i say the Fuck word Everywhere. i usually only tag “#swearing” on art posts, otherwise it’s free real estate

please don’t get overly NSFW in my asks or i’ll block you

i tag spoilers for ALL Zelda games, in case you don’t want to get something spoiled! format is “#game subtitle spoilers” (like, “#skyward sword spoilers”)

i also do post reacts of zelda games whenever i play! in that case i tag them as “#tortilla plays acronym” (ex. “#tortilla plays sshd”, “#tortilla plays oos”), so just assume those have spoilers AND will be spammy sometimes, so if you wanna block them go ahead. general tag for these will be "#tortilla plays" if you want a block all lmao

On Art Usage, you CAN use my art as: 

profile pictures/headers (with a link to my blog if possible)

discord emojis/stickers

reaction pictures

for translation into other languages, please DM/send in an ask first!

please DON’T:

repost my art (with “repost” meaning saving the picture, then uploading it yourself somewhere, like say Pinterest, Twitter, Tumblr, etc - reblogs are NOT reposting, and those ARE encouraged)

LU Master Post (oh my god. the links all broke. i need to fix this. eventually. sorry.)

Zelda Master Post (needs updating)

Fast Food AU Master Post (needs updating)

For navigation tags and more info check the read more! <3

Other blogs:

main: @amamillalatortilla

fast food AU (WIP): @tortilla-of-wisdom

theories/language analysis/translations (WIP): @tortilla-of-power

AO3 Account: TortillaKun

normal art account: @tortillakun

english isn't my native language (it's spanish), so if i ever make a mistake I'm sorry in advance. i dont really need you to point it out unless it's like smth bad lmao

About asks/DMs: PLEASE don’t send in asks with overly NSFW content (xILF jokes and similar stuff are okay, but nothing explicit). I am 23 but i have no interest in getting that kind of message, fandom related or not, from anyone. Also please don’t objectify me in any form??? Overall don’t be an asshole. If you do that stuff I won’t hesitate to block you.

related but id prefer if you dont send me several paragraphs of fanfiction. if you really want me to read smth you can just post it somewhere and let me know where it is and I'll probably check it out

as for tags, here’s the main ones i use for original content besides fandom-related ones:

#tortilla rambles: just me saying whatever nonsense in a text post

#tortilla thinks: theory posts, or just pointing out coincidences between the games

#tortilla asks: asks i reply to 

#tortilla posts: most of my original posts (art / theories / writing / etc), but lately i’ve been using it to tag stuff that doesn’t fit the art/writing tags

#tortilla reblogs: for, well, reblogs. in case you want to block that since i sometimes reblog a lot of stuff.

#tortilla writes: my writing (don’t write much but.. it happens sometimes lol)

#tortilla arts: all my art (will mostly be mspaint doodles but there might be something nicer thrown in every once and then)

#tortilla queue: queue tag

#Zelda art: my Zelda art (no AUs - besides maybe my own every once in a while)

#linked universe art: my Linked Universe AU art

All purely Zelda content (both original and reblogged) will be tagged #legend of zelda, with Zelda games tagged by their subtitles (”#Skyward Sword”, etc). The spoiler tag for each game is the title followed by Spoilers (”#Skyward Sword Spoilers”). will use #tortilla’s zelda tag for asks to not clog the main tags

All Linked Universe stuff (both original and reblogged) will be tagged #linked universe. Will use #tortilla’s lu tag when it comes to asks relating to LU, to try and not flood the actual tag with all that

LU stuff won’t be tagged with the main games’ tags, to keep stuff separated, unless under very specific circumstances (mostly in reblogs). if any of my original posts do mix the two it was probably an oversight, as i try not to do it, both at request of LU’s author and to respect the Zelda fandom’s space as a whole. The one exception to this might be my post about the Hylian Written Language, where I only included LU at the end for a brief conclussion regarding the entire thing

also, very rarely i’ll reblog something that’s not Zelda, like, at all. but if I do it’s almost 100% because it reminded me of a Zelda/LU character. anyways, if you dont wanna see those, i’ll tag them as #not zelda

feel free to @ me in anything! you can also send in asks or a submission, but please note that currently i have almost 200 asks, so it might take me a while to reply, or i might not in the long run if i end up deleting them if i feel it’s too late to reply to them. sometimes i overlook stuff since i can get a bunch of asks a day, so if you think it’s of utmost importance i look at it right that moment, feel free to send in another ask asking about it

Additional tags you might wanna check out/block/silence/etc:

#tortilla cries over animals: asks with pics of people’s pets - not sure how they started but they still come every once in a while, so if you wanna block it (or browse it) here it is. will usually be tagged along “#animals” and the respective animal in the pictures

#loftwingsona time: the craze about what SkSw Link would name his loftwing that slowly evolved into people making loftwingsonas. yeah oddly specific

#the linkceler saga: what the title says. look in it at your own risk

#tortilla plushie world: people shared plushies with me so?? yeah

#translation shenanigans: me and other people talking about translation differences in SkSw (at the moment, might cover other games later on)

#fav tag: very recent, but i’ll use it for posts that i really want to go see again from time to time c:

#tortilla plays sshd, #tortilla plays oos: my live-react posts about stuff that happens while i play the games. will add more as i play them. they WILL have spoilers so be aware

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| Horror Island: Jungkook. |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, self doubt, murder, graphic depictions

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi !

It was cold, this kind of cold where the wind seems like a millions of little needles getting in the fingers. The thick white mist going out of his lips doesn’t seems to bother him anymore as he sinks as he can in the snow. The cold of the water gets in his veins as ice and his legs gives up yet another time, making him rolls like a rock through the dense forest. 

He was lost, it was undeniable. Lost and tired. His body wasn’t shivering anymore, dressed in a summer outfit at the middle of winter. A dry cough escape his lips when he mets the cold of the water at the end of the cliff. He doesn’t has the time to think that the cold is already inside his lungs, searching for air that comes in an ice cold puff. His arms doesn’t search to move, his body not responding anyway, before the painful darkness laces with the terrifying anguish. 

« - Jungkook, be quick to get up would you ? »

The hot air of summer violently comes in his lungs, so much he feels them burning. The young man straighten up, a bit lost, looking at the surroundings like an afraid animal trying to remember where he was. Before he takes in the stupidity of his anguish: his warm bed under his fingers and the habitual smell of his home hits him as hard as the nightmare he witnessed and a deep breath escapes his lips. 

« - I’m coming father. One minute. »

His voice is only a chirp as he jumps out of his bed for grabbing something to wear over his body, still confused by his strange dream that was yet so realistic. Jungkook gets to the family meeting in the big living room that his two older brothers and parents had joined for waiting him. A polite smile form on his still sleeping face when he sees the unpleasant sight of the man sitting over the wooden chair. 

« - Sir Damarro, you surely already mets our younger son, Jeon Jungkook.

-The small Jungkook, you had grow well from last time I had seen you. How much time ? 10 years ?

-15, sir Damarro. To what do we owe the visit of the village priest ?

-Well… Sir Damarro had comes in person to told us about some… Gossips.

-Oh, so our man of god has the luxury to listen what the village’s crows are storytelling ? »

The ironie palpable in Jungkook’s voice is only making the man of god smiling more, lifting his cup of tea to his lips in a dramatic way, tasting the first leaves of summer with delight. The silent break is making Jungkook shivers, and he hesitates to open his mouth numerous times to talk before he get cut in his trail of thoughts by the soft visibly sad sigh of the priest.

« - I would have paid no attention, if only the crows hasn’t bring up things as obnoxious as what I come to told. 

-So speak, come on don’t make us wait. If times are as bas as you might as well told us. Don’t you think ? 

-You’re truly right Sir Jeon. You see, it seems your son was spotted in the arms of another man of the village. 

-Oh, and who is it ?

-The young Kim, the son of the merchant. »

The sentence leaves the cold fall on the room and everyone looks at each others. A fickle moment that Jungkook seizes: moving quicker than the others, his little nose frown and his eyes sending lightning. He looks at his family then at Damarro as if he was a sick snake needing to be ended with the help of one’s boot. 

« - Nothing but nonsense. How dare you come to our house to make such accusations, you, a man of god ?

-Jungkook. Calm down, would you. Do you have any proofs to bring sir Damarro ?

-No. They are visibly only running rumors after all.

-So we will ask you to leave, and to shut this kind of delirious thoughts. At no time my son would had this kind of thought for another man. Am I clear ?

-It goes without saying. Excuse my misplaced curiosity. »

The usuals politeness are done as Jungkook stay silent, waiting for the wave to come by, for the information to make its place in his family. Looking at his feet like a children caught in the act. It’s only the gentle presence of his mother, passing against his red from angriness and maybe guilt cheeks, that make him calm down a bit. 

« - Come on, they’re only gossips. Nothing more. All these vipers are surely dead from jealousy that our marvelous son didn’t choose them already.

-We need to shut down these gossips. We need to marry him, quick. If the priest knows about it then the whole village talk about it. We can’t let the people whisper in our back, our reputation is at stake. Imagine that they think our son is marked by the devil ? 

-Come on… Jungkook is only sixteen. What are you talking about ? 

-I don’t care about it. Let’s organize a wedding, the daughter of the chief is still available, no ?

-But father… 

-No buts. You will be her husband by the end of the month. No objection authorized. »

Sad and bitter, Jungkook lowered his head, murmuring his ‘yes father’ under the devoted gaze of his mother who kept silent her rancor. 

The new ringing the bells the morning next to Damarro’s visit, under the cheers of the people and the surprised gaze of both parties. Impossible, Jungkook was devastated, every emotions going by his fingers were terrifying. He wished to see them burn, disappear in the flames of the intrepid hell. In whose name love between two men was so bad ? Who up there has enough voice to step on his feelings with so less guilt ? What can it change he was loving so much another man ? Deep in his thoughts, lost in the forest he knows better than anyone, he was surprised by the thing rolling around his wrist like a snake. Jungkook moves quickly, ready to end the threat until softening when his gaze meet the being buried in his thoughts even in major crisis. 

« - Taehyung… What are you doing here ?

-I come to congratulate the groom, as is customary. 

-You shouldn’t have…

-Why not ? You don’t want me to give you your gift in advance ? »

He lets himself be kissed, accepting without a word the love submerging him in only one embrace. Time once again seems to freeze, and their two bodies laces in the intimacy of water. The lake and waterfall the only witness of the passion devouring them. When they let go of each others, finally, their sweaty bodies don’t let go, and their lips meets. 

« - Let’s run away.

-Jungkook, what ?

-Let’s go far, from everything. From here. Let’s marry in our way. Let’s spend the rest of our days together.

-And our families ? Your money ? Your glory ?

-None of these can prevent me from being with you. I love you Taehyung.

-Where would we go ?

-Anywhere, beyond the forest, beyond the sea. Where the wind will get us. »

Joy is sharing through the kiss, both embracing each other. The passion rise over again until the night caresses their faces. 

They didn't get the time to escape. By the beginning of the end of summer, a week prior to the wedding, the couple got call at the priest’s temple. Only Jungkook gets out of it, covered in his own blood, snow running along his bruised body. The nightmare becoming reality. His body sink in the bottom of the lake. As the only witness the round moon, crying with cold crystals his death. 

-x- 

« - Taehyung ? »

A jolt, as his body leave the desk the man visibly fall asleep on. His gaze felts on the flying papers, visibly spreads around. In front of him the cold lake he had seen himself died two times. The unpleasant sensation taking him by the throat as his gaze turn to the man who comes to wake him up. 

« -Still on this article ?

-Yes, I want to be sure I understand everything perfectly.

-Don’t over do it, we doesn’t want you to have a burn-out. Who would I wake up otherwise ? »

A gentle tired smile get on Taehyung’s lips as he retrieved the various papers in front of him. A polite movement before he disappears to get to his small home: a very small apartment with two rooms in top of a building allowing him to look at Séoul. A deep sigh escape his lips as he holds at the notebook freshly bought, writing inside the strange dream he remembered, seeming terribly realistic. His hand stuck at the last sentence he heard before waking up. Circling with the red pen the writing. 

« - The poison first spreads by the water. »