#i just think first is neat

[lost4pandora]

Posting another fic, same concept with the Lucario but a human and they're gonna rescue First because I said so. This is kinda more of an oc insert type of deal because writing X Readers is much harder than it looks. Either way, I hope you all enjoy!

____________

See This Link Right Here? Yeah This Is Mine Now

Frail. Weak. Despondent.

An energy unbefitting of one who should be free.

That's what you thought.

You were chased by the enemy into yet another portal, confused by sudden screams and shouts, the blur of different auras zooming across your vision. Before you knew it, you had been launched to a different place via the mystic swirl of crimson and ebony. And now you stand before a castle, so tall did its walls of stone loom over you, casting a long and dark shadow as the sun moves slowly across the sky.

You never truly liked castles, you didn't like how cold they felt. How it restrained the free, repressed the wild, ridiculed the wayward. It was just a prison, to you. Harsh and unforgiving.

So when you felt such a helpless aura from beneath the icy stone, you couldn't help but follow it. The closer you drew towards it, the more familiar it felt. It was as if you knew this soul yet didn't, a sense of deja vu in some sense. Buried underneath the despair and weakness, this soul burned with courage, armed with a mettle not seen in many.

That's when it registered in your mind. It felt like your friends, the heroes that have guarded Hyrule for centuries to millennia. Knowing this, it only fueled you to want to find the hero faster. You must.

So quietly did you sneak through the cracks in the castle's walls, so swiftly did you pass the guards who were none the wiser to the intruder that slipped past their defenses. Silent and agile, hiding in the shades of the privileged and the foolish. It didn't take long to find what you were looking for.

A thin and fragile body, wrists held up by shackles of steel as the man hung limp. One would think him dead if not for the shallow and slow breaths he took. His ankles were shackled as well, bare feet standing amongst a cobblestone floor soaked in water and mildew. He wore a green tunic that had seen better days, the fabric ripped in various places, exposing parts of his belly and ribs, skin a sickly pale as his bones showed through thin flesh. His pants fared no better, one leg half torn and the other ripped partially at the hem.

The poor soul had been here a while, the scent of emaciation becoming abundantly clear. You didn't hesitate to pull the hairpin out of your hair, placing the end of it into the cell door lock and twisting it. The mechanism clicked, and you pushed the door open, the hinges nearly screeching in outrage as metal scraped against metal.

The man didn't look up, but did seem noticeably more exhausted, if that were even possible. You slowly approached, equally bare feet stepping across the damp floor. A set of feathers and charms adorned your left ankle, held by a string of leather, the edges dragging across the ground where you walked. You peered below the man's downcast face, blonde bangs obscuring his face from your sight.

You raised your hand up, placing it on the man's cheek. He raised his head, feeling a warmth he hasn't experienced before and the coolness of the silver rings on your fingers. Cold blue eyes met a mask of white, depicting a jackal with lavender and rose gold.

Your mouth hung open slightly in shock, and you wasted no time moving your hands down to the shackles around his ankles and channeled a substantial amount of power into the metal. The metal gleamed with blue cracks before it burst in a flash of light and fell away, the shards ringing as they hit the ground. You did this to the ones around his wrists as well, preparing for when he inevitably fell forward and into your awaiting arms.

You readjusted his body so that his back leaned against one of your arms, moving down to hook your other arm underneath his knees and lifted him up into your embrace. You could feel his bones through his tattered clothing, finding you were both furious and alarmed at how light the man was. You were quick to leave the moldy cell, quietly padding through the hallowed halls of the dungeon as you secure your escape route.

Nobody knew you had taken the prisoner, and they wouldn't until the next guard rotation to feed him. You internally smiled at how outraged they would be when they would find their prisoner gone. But right now you were focused on something else. You were focused on him.

The man hadn't moved much since you took him out of the cell, though that was to be expected. You had no idea how long they kept him locked up, but he was very weak, hence why you needed to carry him.

But once did you notice him blearily open his eyes to look up at the sky, the passing trees, and then you. An assuring smile found its way on your lips, as you looked down at him through the white jackal mask you had on.

"It's okay, you're safe now. I'll take care of you."

And his eyes closed once more, leaning his head on your chest as he was lulled into a dreamless sleep.

__________________________________

Link woke up to fresh air and soft bedding.

He could hardly move without feeling some sort of pain, his body was too sore to do so. It didn't stop him however, from sitting up to try and examine his surroundings. That's when he felt it, the bandages wrapped around his limbs and body, the subtle scent of a medicinal salve rubbed into his wounds and the tender scarring around his wrists and ankles.

When he finally got the chance to look around, he could see that the sun had begun its descent below the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful shades of tangerine and heliotrope. He was hidden in a small grotto of sorts, if the stone hanging over his head was anything to go by. The ground was covered in moss and grass alike, though he himself sat among a soft fur pelt. Draped over his shoulders was a large coat, white in color whilst the inside was lined with velvety fur.

A fire crackled and burned some feet away from him, close enough to keep him warm but far enough so the embers wouldn't sear his already fragile skin. In a wooden bowl before him was a small loaf of bread and warm food, the scent of cooked beef and potatoes flooding his nose and making his mouth water. He wanted to reach out to take it, but hesitated.

No, this was another dream again, wasn't it? Link would get those every once in a while. He'd dream that he was finally out of that dingy cell below the castle and could wander the world once more.

Link shook his head, and gingerly wrapped his trembling hands around the bowl, savoring the warmth that emanated from the wood. He plucked out the loaf and took a slow bite, tearing a chunk off and started chewing. Sweet, the bread was sweet. It's been so long since he's tasted anything even remotely sweet.

He bit into the beef next, soaking his tongue in the flavor it had. The potatoes had the same amount of taste to it, and Link swore he could almost cry. If this was truly a dream, then he wanted it to last for as long as he could manage it. The feeling was too nice to let go of so quickly.

"Sweet astrals, if I didn't make that myself I would've thought that you were eating Wild's cooking."

Link's head snapped toward the origin of the mysterious, smooth voice. He was met with bicolored eyes of silver and umber, gazing at him in amusement. Snowy curls bellowed around the newcomer's head, spilling over their shoulders and back like clouds rolling across the sky. A few braids here, some feathers and charms there, but what caught Link's eye was the white jackal mask that hung from the side of the belt on their hip.

"It's you…!"

He flinched at the sound of his own voice, hoarse from years without use. The stranger's smile never faltered though, they tilted their head at him.

"Hello there, my name is Compass," they introduced, before adding. "Well, it's not actually, but it's what my friends of the minute have taken to calling me."

They continued to speak. "And if you hadn't already guessed, I'm the one who got you out of that moonblasted cell they had you in."

So you were the one who rescued him. The soothing voice assuring him he was safe, the tranquil energy that made him feel so very warm. You saved him.

"Your name is Link, right?"

He slowly nodded his head, not really questioning how this stranger knew his name. He moved to sit up more as the coat over his shoulders shifted forward and covered his thin frame.

Compass hummed and pressed their forefinger and thumb against their chin thoughtfully, propping their elbow against their other arm tucked underneath their chest. They looked like they were trying to decide something, their eyes closed in contemplation. They seemed somewhat troubled, over what he didn't know.

"Well, I know we just met and all, but I don't really like the idea of leaving you alone, especially in your current state," Compass said. "It also doesn't help that the situation I'm about to explain to you is going to make me sound like I've gone off the deep end. So, please, if I'm ever going to ask something of you, it's going to be that you bear with me?"

And he didn't see any reason why he shouldn't.

[inkiedraws]

Practicing drawing fat and muscle anatomy.

Starring Jinbei!

[totally-here]

dpxdc twins au except it's no-pulse flavored

Bart’s new roommate looks a lot like Tim. 

Like, suspiciously like Tim. 

Danny’s the same height, has the same shape of nose, same shade of hair, and even frowns like him. He would have been a perfect copy if he acted more like Tim, but Danny definitely holds himself looser than Bart’s ever seen Tim. 

But he still has his face. So, obviously, Bart has to investigate. Maybe he’s a clone, or a shapeshifter, or maybe one of the Gotham rogues decided to get facial reconstruction surgery to look like him, and this was all a ploy. 

Okay, probably not that last one. Bart doesn’t think Tim’s enemies know his identity. 

Anyway, investigation! Bart’ll figure this out himself, and deal with it if Danny needs to be dealt with. And the investigation will start right after he comes up with an excuse as to why he’s back in their third floor apartment when he passed Danny in the hallway a few seconds before. 

Danny stares at him, and Bart stares back. 

“Must’ve been a doppelganger!” Bart blurts out. 

Danny’s silent for a second before nodding enthusiastically and noting that everyone's supposed to have like seven in the world anyway and wow what a wild coincidence that there’s one in their building. 

Bart extends the same courtesy when a week later he walks in on Danny with an iced over pan on the stove. Danny says they should really get their freezer checked out and Bart agrees and asks if he can use the ice for a painting study. 

(They never get their freezer checked.)

Bart finds that Danny’s great at setting up fun things for him to draw, whether he knows it or not. Like the ice, or his collection of rocks, his astronomy textbooks with the pretty covers, his gestures as he rants about his classes, the excited glint in his eyes when he’s talking about his next repair project and how his eyes almost look like they glow in the right light. 

Hm. A good portion of his sketchbook is drawings of Danny, and yet he’s still having trouble with getting the right blue for his eyes. At first glance they’re Tim’s shade of blue, but when he keeps looking they seem to get lighter. Maybe greener?

He should probably stop staring into his friend’s eyes. 

Well, maybe not. Danny doesn’t seem to mind. 

Just like he doesn’t mind when they started regularly sitting very close on the couch, or falling asleep together, or Bart borrowing some of his jackets, or-

Okay, Bart’s kinda seeing a pattern. He and Danny should really have a conversation about if this is platonic behavior or not. 

But not right now, because Bart brought Danny across the river to raid Wally’s board game closet in Keystone. 

And Wally, who’s used to this, just passes by them with a, “Hey Bart, hey Tim.”

“Danny, not Tim,” Danny replies almost absent mindedly, then looks back at Wally, who’s also staring at him now. “Wait, you know Tim?”

“OhmyGod I was supposed to investigate!” Bart says, face palming. It just slipped his mind! And Danny was distracting him with his pretty face that he totally wears better than Tim!

“You know him too?” Danny asks. But he doesn’t look suspicious of them, more amused. 

“How do you know him?” Wally squints at Danny, eyes briefly catching Bart’s in question. 

“He’s my twin,” Danny answers easily. “The Drakes only wanted one kid, so they gave me to their friends the Fentons, who wanted a second one.” He shrugs and goes back to digging around the closet. “Tim and I were always in contact, though. Letters and phone calls and texting, you know?” 

He says it all so casually while Wally and Bart are sharing increasingly concerned looks behind his back. 

Do the Waynes know about Danny? Has Tim never brought him up? Why? Does Danny know about Red Robin? Does Tim-

“Holy shit does this mean Tim has ice powers too!?” 

Or: Tim and Danny are twins. Through a series of coincidences, the first people to find out that aren’t Fentons or Drakes are the flashes.

(This post was brought to you by me recently finishing the 1995 Impulse run, and wanting an excuse to share this panel:

Look they both got called twinks clearly they're soulmates)

[formulaonedirection]

Messing about at work for the past decade 👬

[cayliecoltrane]

Another etho thing. Gonna call these kinda things redraws now though; muah muah heart. This one was so much fun omg

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[strobbylemonade]

let sleeping dogs lie / let loyal dogs die

[iojun]

Song: Partners In Crime by Madilyn Mei

I like this song and I hadd to draw ‘ese guys

[luckyjorabbit]

Soooo... I started reading One Piece again teehee *twirls hair* ( 6w6)

[trans-zag]

i don't think im going to post this one to my main blog but i don't want it to rot in my folders either. so woe waxwitch be upon ye

[ominouspuff]

Son of Dathomir

——

My sister, looking upon the first Maul of my career, quoth “he look lika chicken”

[nonpoppie]

tianjiu (food 4 me specifically)

[lxdymaria]

[thief-of-eggs]

Yes, the idea of Sokka kissing Zuko first and leaving him bewildered is cute…

But imagine- Zuko just going for it and kissing Sokka in the middle of a conversation. Quick and over before he can even process it, Zuko’s ears turning red as realization sinks in. For once shutting Sokka up, leaving him breathless, his jaw dropped, his heart pounding.

And before Zuko can apologize or pretend he didn’t just kiss him, Sokka grabs him by the front of his shirt and is returning the kiss, drowning him with his affections.

[wizardsimper]

Honestly there was a real missed opportunity for a scene involving Gale reading the player some of his poetry

[mxntjam]

So,,,, I may or may not be obsessed with trolls