#and he wants to be this power machine all the time

[angelesca]

d d d d dddd d DATING ANAXA HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ bc im proper insane, bonkers even (oh blimey she escaped the asylum again)

full art plug here😎

did i draw this and imagine a million scenarios during it? yes. yes idid. this post is the result. btw havent played 3.1 so here are my wrong headcanons (more mischaracterisation? love that) (w/ gnreader as usual!) bc i love my men bratty and smart. WARNING!! i broke my sfw rules for anaxa LMAOOO💔💔mix of sfw + NSFW ahead guys look OUT ITS NOT A DRILL THIS IS HAPPENING AAAAA😭🙏

starting off strong. i ant hold it in anymore ANAXA'S EROGENOUS ZONE IS UNDER HIS EYEPATCH🗣️🗣️🗣️ I HAVE SPOKEN MY TRUTH‼️THIS IS WHAT MADE ME QUESTION MY SFW STATUS I CAN FINALLY RELEASEMY DEMONS

i imagine he lowkey loves it when you have your finger under his eyepatch and. penetrate it. into his cosmos space thingy. and like he breathes really heavy, flushed cheeks, some tears, def some stifled moaning, and will hold your wrist to nudge your finger further in. basically bro is getting off to it. will clean your finger with his tongue after the session, but you have to help him walk around since his legs are deffo jelly after that DO YOU GUYS SEE WHAT IM SEEING PLEEEEASEEE SOMEONE WRITE THIS DONT MAMKE ME DO ITTT😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏

EDIT: ANAXA HAS A "G-SPOT"/PROSTATE IN HIS SPACE CHEST🗣🗣🗣

WILL TAKE OFF HIS RINGS AND PUT IT ON YOUR FINGERS RAAAAAAAAAAH and he def teases you by sliding it on your ring finger, gauging your reaction as he smirks (that sly sod omggg)

"hmm, this finger looks a little lonely... i could change that."

interlaces his hand with yours to stretch it, like a massage. knows all the pressure points to help de-stress you

uses his wind powers to do fun magic tricks and play with you like imagine he only has to flick his finger and the wind pulls you closer to him HUUUUUUUUUUU SICKCCKKKK. will also blow a calm, soft breeze if you need to relax and take your mind off things.

literally gets a kick off of flustering you (it's his love language) every time you ask him why his response is: "so? don't like it?" mans not embarassed💔

if you have any texting habits, like sending cute stickers or kaomojis, anaxa will copy it bc he thinks its cute and amusing. always replying to your messages, although the same can't be said with the chrysos heirs who nag at him for ignoring theirs

anaxa: where are you? i've been waiting for ages ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ you: ??? that's my kaomoji??? anaxa: ours now anaxa: (҂` ﾛ ´)︻デ═一 you: ＼(º □ º l|l)/

idk why i feel this so strongly but anaxa just does many smaller kisses, like pecks to the cheek. kinda playful, fleeting but always returning. i also feel like he's a neck kinda guy, always brushing his fingers along it or placing kisses. will secure you in place with a hug just to kiss the nape.

even though you two are together, anaxa will still give you stinky side eyes. loves to hear your gossip for sure, he doesn't say it but he loves chatting shit about others. will be the quietest ever when you have juicy stories.

will flame anyone who has made you upset to bits and pieces. bro's mouth is like a machine gun

likes to tilt your chin, moving it so you face him whenever he wants your attention.

he likes it when you take control, that brat taming typa shiii brooo00 he likes it when you rough him up, always a cheeky grin on his face. prods you as well, like "is that it?", "c'mon, harder my love..."

loves when you give him hickeys, or any markings like scratches. its like staking your claim on him and he fw with that😎

one sure way to get him flustered is straight up telling him "i love you". it forces him to confront his feelings head on and anaxa can't deal with that. will lightly flick your forehead, or anything to stop you from staring at his reddened face.

a/n: so. this is what happens whne im menstruating. how we feeling guys. it was jsut a few very insane headcanons tbh, the rest were fine, bit of an overreaction looool this is tame in comparison to my ao3 works. my god i need my daily cuppa where is it. this reminds me of when i was a wee teenager and experienced akechi from p5 for the first time. changed my trajectory fr. thanks akechi goro u saved ruined me

[eclipse-msoul]

BELONG TO ME IN OBLIVION

Reader X Romantic yandere Batfamily

chapter 6 :

You yawned as you stretched your arms back to release the tension.It was getting late now, seven o'clock you noted was the time. At Most a few minutes remained before you clocked out.

Your eyes flickered to the figure resting on the bed – an oxygen mask on his mouth and the ECG machine gave you his heart beat.The beeping sound was the only thing other than your breathing that sounded in the hospital room. 

The boy slept under your gaze. His black hair was dark like the night sky. They resembled the familiar ones, making it all the more painful for you. His heart beat had gotten stable in the few hours that he stayed here in rest and unconscious.

You heard the nurse call out to you, giving a Pat on your shoulder with an understanding smile.

She spoke softly with a tender gaze. “ Dr. (Name), you've been tending the patient for several hours. Go home and take a rest. I'll stay with him and make sure he's fine.”

You didn't decline. You nodded and bowed your head before walking out. “I'll leave him in your hands.” You said and walked out – not before passing another glance on the boy.. Few minutes passed before you saw a bright blue car and softly scoffed

The car parked in front of you while the large and brimming hospital stood at your back. His night sky-like hair came into view as he got out and blue eyes scanning for your familiar form darted back to you. He grinned with his known generous smile. 

“ (Name).” He called so tenderly that you felt your heartbeat. He walked closer to you not knowing how quickly and took your hand. He gently held it closer to his lips and stared into your flushed eyes with a knowing smirk. 

He could be so much when he wanted to. 

“ Thomas.” you replied under a giggle before his large muscular arm pulled you closer. You could feel his heart beat so loudly, It was strong yet strangely calm.You remained in his embrace till the twinkling rain began to pour. As always Gotham could never have a clear sky for long. 

He and you quickly rushed to the car and took a seat. Both of you grinned at each other's wet state before driving off. 

      ________________________________

Four hours before you clocked out

It was about to strike three o'clock, Gotham was full of clouds preventing any sunlight from reaching its people. In the vast and dangerous city of Gotham lies the central Gotham hospital.

Inside patients were constantly being rushed in – someone got stabbed during a fight, others got robbed and had a bullet in their head while some very unfortunate souls got taken victim by one of Gotham's most notorious Goons. 

You walked down the dark and barely lit hallway. After spending almost seven hours in the ER, you needed a break. Deciding it was time, your junior was given your duty and you went out to take a breath. 

The Hospital being almost thirty years old hadn't renovated itself in certain places. Despite WE enterprise generously donating millions of dollars, not much changed. You hadn't bothered mentioning it to Thomas or Bruce – because knowing them….. Sigh, you didn't feel like pondering over what they would do. 

Suddenly while walking through this dark and creepy hallway, you felt a hand pull you. It was slim and petite and was over your mouth. You struggled to breath and you felt your heart beat increase. Has some Goon gotten in? Were you about to get killed? Were you going to be held in ransom? You really hoped it was the latter. 

The hand remained on your face as you tried to listen to the grip of your holder. ‘When someone tries to attack and hold you, try to calm your mind first and keep on struggling. Then when you find the opportunity hit on their foot by applying the whole power of your body on the sole of your foot. Your predator might scream or be put off guard. Hit him or her in the solar plexus and run.’ Alfred's words during your self defense class rang in your head. 

Your eyes which were blinking with tears began to dry. You did exactly as you're taught and finally got out of the hold of the figure you presumed to be women. You turned your head back and halted. 

“...what are you doing here?”

The women with the brilliant golden hair and blue eyes looked at you amused. She smiled brimmingly and grinned. “ Honey Pie! I came to see my favorite junior.” The women with a jolly tone voiced. 

You did not believe it. She may have been your senior, perhaps a very good friend but now. You tightened your jaw and spoke with spite hidden underneath. “ Senior Quinn state your business.”

She suddenly paused and looked at you with her deep blue eyes. Her voice that was previously lased with joy changed, “ (Name)...” she held your hand and this time no matter how hard you pulled you couldn't get out. 

She intensely gazed into your eyes and said, “ I want you to do me a favour.” your wrist which was under her hold tightened up in pain. She pushed your hands up and pulled you against the wall. 

Her mouth got closer to your face which distorted uncomfortably while you struggled. “ So… will you do it for me my dear junior?” She asked like she had given you any choice. You skimmed under her gaze. Before finally giving up, “ I'll decide after you tell me.” And you turned your head away as a last sign of resilience. 

She let you go and you fell to your knees. She gave you a hand to get up and when you decided not to take it. She forcefully took you up. You glared at her as she sighed. “ Follow me outside.”

“ Why should I ?” you hissed. 

She laughed, “ Aren't you a little feisty thing~” she turned back at you and flickered her finger to your forehead like she did in your house job days. ( she had no right to be so familiar yet so different) 

 "Stop worrying I'm not going to eat you..” You held your head in pain even if it didn't hurt. Your heart still felt pain. 

You reluctantly followed her steps. She took you to a dark and hidden alleyway. With every step you took, you wondered if it would have been better to run. But you kept your breathing stable – at least on the surface – and took each step with caution. 

Harley Quinn – the woman who was considered to be like a sister to you before she changed and went to the side of the joker – finally stopped. Your eyes squirmed as you tried to see what her body hid and as she moved. You felt your heartbeat quickening. 

You rushed to the side of the ground where her feat stood. A boy you assumed to be a teenager was heavily bleeding. His stand of several white hairs stood out on his bleeding head. You quickly assessed the situation and tried to stop the bleeding. “ Harley, help me!” You screamed and she inwardly smiled. 

So no more pretending to ignore her huh? How cute. She bent down and helped you. 

When you felt the bleeding had stabilized a bit,you decided he could be taken to the hospital through the stretcher. You were about to tell her to call the hospital staff but she must've thought it was too much work. So she disappeared. 

“ The kid's name is Jason Todd. Take care of him for me Honey pie~” Her voice rang through the air. And she vanished like the clear sky in Gotham. 

TBC… 

Firstly I would like to say 124 FOLLOWERS ?!!! You guys are the freaking best ! Thank you so much for the love and support.Secondly, Love you guys 🤌🏻❤️❤️❤️

P. S : if anyone wants to be added to the tag list for this series kindly message me or inbox me.

Also this series is going to have them all going romantic on y/n aka the reader. So if you're uncomfortable with it. You've been warned forward. ( though no romance start before they turn twenty or at least eighteen)

Another I'd Like to add is I don't support these behaviors in real life. This is a work of fiction and has no relationship to my real life values. So please be respectful and kind.

Love to you all amazing people 🩷🩷🩷🩷

( Please comment 🥹 it took my whole brain power to write this. I really want some feedback and getting it from you guys that like to read yandere Bat family fics as much as I do. Would bring me great joy ❤️❤️❤️❤️ ) But NO hate

[mrderofcr0ws]

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter solider was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter solider who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr— but this one is long... (roughly edited)

<- previous part

PART THREE —

— GREAT ADVENTURES

it was snowing.

outside the walls of hydra’s siberian facility, it was snowing. the snow glimmered like millions of diamonds under the glow of the midnight moon. you stomped through it like a toddler stomped through puddles. you kicked it up at you walked, bearing your teeth in a smile that was all too feral as they escorted you both to the chopper.

the last time you had gone outside it was barren. it had been summer. and although summer was nearly just as cold as it was now, there had been no snow.

you liked the cold.

the real cold.

not the stale cold of the hallways or your bedroom.

not the cold of the cryochamber.

you liked the cold of winter.

“keep your head down,” he said, grasping the back of your neck and dipping you with him as you climbed into the chopper.

a team of three was dispatched with you. handpicked by the head captain, the heavily armored soldiers stood a chance against everything except you two. you did not know their names. you did not see their faces. they were nothing but extra hands on the job.

you could kill them all in an instant if you wanted to.

it made you grin to think about.

he noted the line curled across your lips and pressed his leg against yours. you looked up at him. to others, the blank expression on his face meant nothing— but you could see what others could not. every micro expression was as loud as if he were to have shouted at you.

‘behave.’

you turned your head away and stared out at the open sky. it had been a long time since you had flown anywhere. you used trucks on most missions. they loaded you into the back together — usually in handcuffs — and you would stare at each other and brace for each rattle on the bumpy, unpaved roads down the mountain. you were loaded into underground trains. choppers were only used if you were going somewhere far, far away.

and that’s exactly where you were going.

far, far away.

the chopper landed at a small airport controlled by hydra intelligence responsible for monitoring the airspace along the mountain range where the siberian base was located. as you climbed out of the chopper, you were each sent to change. while this was an assassination attempt— it was an recon mission, too.

your group was joined by two more hydra agents.

officers.

these faces you knew. you knew their names, too: karov and nikta. two nasty rats that spread disease everywhere they went— and for the last two months, they had been following the unlucky shield agent you’d be taking the head of.

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered. you tried to tug the brown skirt down lower but it wouldn’t stay put. despite the fact that you had thick winter stockings on, you felt exposed.

“it looks fine,” he said with a glance your way.

“you get to wear that,” you gestured to his outfit that consisted of plain blue jeans and a nice winter jacket with a red and black flannel below. “and i have to wear this…”

you stared at yourself in the mirror and scowled at what you saw. a skirt. a blouse. earmuffs! you looked like an office secretary. you looked ridiculous! the fur-lined coat was nice but you wanted your gear. your leather padding and bullet resistant armor. you had never gone anywhere without it— and now you were in furs and…tights.

you did not like this whole going undercover thing.

you turned away from the mirror without looking at your face.

the small office room was quiet as the two of you finished getting ready. you slipped on chic winter boots and pulled on velvet-lined gloves. looking over your shoulder, you watched as he pulled a beanie over his head.

with a gentle hand, you reached up to straighten a piece of his hair. it was strange to see him in clothes like this. he looked like a lumberjack. you weren’t quite sure what you thought lumberjacks wore these days — you still had no idea what year it was — but you felt like it was close enough.

he looked…normal.

if only he were normal.

if only you were.

the plan was simple.

you would take a small passenger plane out of one of russia’s major airports to new york city in the states. while each one of your team members had different roles to play and backstories to go along with their reason for travel, you and the winter solider would pose as a married couple on their honeymoon. you had been issued fake passports with the same last name. you were given fake wedding rings. the suitcases you carried with you had the same tags.

an easy cover for the two of you to keep, all things considered.

you toyed with the ring on your index finger as you recited your script in your head. in the back of the cab with him on the way to the airport, you had never felt so claustrophobic.

‘the year is 1983. my name is natalia andreev. this is my husband, ivan, and we are on our honeymoon. we have been together for five years. i am twenty-seven years old. my name is natalia andreev,’ you told yourself over and over again in your head.

my name is isla constantinescu.

you could see yourself in the reflection of the window.

you looked as though you had seen a ghost.

it had been a long time since you said that name to yourself— and it made your stomach lurch.

you kneaded at the edges of your skirt and squeezed your eyes shut. being in the warm, wobbly taxi made you nauseous. you bit the inside of your lip and tried to focus on your breath.

you were going to be sick…

you looked up at him as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. one at a time, he kissed each knuckle on your hand. each one on your fingers. the tension in your shoulders dropped and you found your breath. as his eyes met yours, he nodded once.

you nodded, too.

when you arrived at the airport, whatever nerves that had come over you in the taxi were gone. you slipped your sunglasses over your eyes. the sun had not risen yet but it was habit to cover a part of your face. you took his hand as he helped you out of the car. he tipped the taxi driver the minimum before taking ahold of his bag and guiding you inside.

you couldn’t recall the last time you were at an airport like this. the crowded, noisy place was exhilarating. you never saw more than a group of twenty people at a time. right now, you saw hundreds upon hundreds.

“this way,” he said with a soft tug of your hand.

you felt a bit jealous as you watched him do all the talking. your script was so minimal. hi, my name is. this is my husband. and yet here he was talking all sorts of nonsense to the worker at the counter as you both handed over your passports and luggage that would go underneath the plane.

“honeymoon, aye? are you both excited?” the lady at the desk asked. she looked at the two of you with a beaming smile.

“very,” you said, a bit tenser than you meant to.

he hooked his arm around your waist as if you were his most prized possession and smiled between you and the lady at the check-in desk. “it’s our first international trip together. new york has been on our bucket list for a long time. what better place to go to celebrate us being in love than the big apple?”

you kissed his cheek but couldn’t muster the courage to say anything.

you don’t know why it made you sad.

why it made you mad.

it felt like they put you both through this on purpose— like they were rubbing normalcy you’d never have in your faces.

as you walked with him through the airport holding nothing but each others hands, you could see on his face that he was thinking something the same.

“when we get to new york, we will have to wait for karov and nikta to arrive. they are landing at a different time and in a different airport in the evening. the strike team arrives in the morning. we will spend the night in a hotel alone together and tomorrow once the strike team arrives, we will kill nick fury.” he whispered into your ear.

to those passing by, you were a couple giggling and murmuring a quiet conversation to each other as you shared an orange. you picked a piece free and offered it to him, “lucky us. no cameras watching. no guards hawking over us. how will we spend our night of freedom?”

“i’m going to fuck you.”

you shoved the orange slice into his mouth and he laughed as you scowled. he grabbed your wrist and tugged it down away from his mouth before you could swat at him. you shook your head and scrunched your nose— but you couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“you’re not funny.” you whispered. your face was unhelpfully hot.

“you’re laughing.” he said, chewing the orange slice you stuffed into his mouth.

you rolled your eyes and turned away. “am not.”

“are to.” he said, pinching your cheek.

you leaned against him and tucked your face down into his chest. he let you stay there. he rested his lips against the top of your head and pressed soft kisses to your hair. all the tension you held within you dissipated entirely. for the first time in a long, long, long time, you felt like you could breathe.

— ☆ —

you didn’t like flying.

helicopters were something you had grown used to, but you had never been on a airplane for longer than an hour or two.

you grew more and more restless on the long flight to new york. he didn’t seem the most thrilled either. while other people napped and talked amongst each other, the two of you stared at the seats in front of you and didn’t say a word.

what was there to say?

what did you two ever talk about?

nothing.

you talked very little to each other despite spending nearly every waking second in the same room unless forced apart. you didn’t know how to talk to him. there was nothing to catch up over. no future plans to fill each other in on. there were very few fond memories to discuss— but out of habit, you never spoke of anything fond out of fear that those memories would be stripped from you.

if hydra knew you kept anything close to your heart, they would grind it down to dust so fine it would be indistinguishable from all the other black gaps in your memory.

“try to sleep,” he said softly.

you looked up at him but his head was tipped back against his headrest. his eyes were closed. you doubted very much that he’d be able to sleep. he hardly slept in his own bed as it was. he hardly slept ever. you were supposed to be the nocturnal monster, not him.

you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to potentially pass the time though.

you hooked your arm through his and rested your head down on his shoulder. when he didn’t nudge you off, you let your eyes fall closed. the closer you were to him, the harder it was to let your guard down but it was an itch you couldn’t help but scratch. a festering wound.

he was the most dangerous thing to you— and yet you clung to him, seeking some semblance of normalcy between you both.

it was too warm.

it was too noisy.

it was too bright.

he was the only familiar thing.

not even the clothes you wore were your own…

you couldn’t keep your eyes shut for long. you tried. you really did. you squeezed them shut as hard as you could but it felt like invisible fingers pried them open.

you were bored.

for the first time ever, you were bored.

on base camp, every single move you made had to be calculated. you could never let your guard down. not ever. there was no time for boredom. you focused on training. you focused on what the cameras may see if you did something out of line or said something you weren’t supposed to. you spent time in bed with him, drowning out any downtime the two of you had at night until you were exhausted.

you looked down as his hand slid over your thigh. you realized then that you were squirming in your seat. you were so tense you could’ve broken your own bones if you didn’t relax.

you watched as his warm, calloused fingers danced along the edge of your skirt.

your chest stilled as he slid his hand underneath it. you looked up at him as if he were crazy. in a way, he was. the bastard hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes and check if anyone was around.

that’s because everyone was already around.

the plane was full. the people in front of you were smoking and chatting about business deals and money. the people across the isle were sharing snacks and reading separate books. the people behind you were arguing under their breaths. one of them was a lair and the other was a fool.

his palm pressed against your thigh and you spread your legs out of habit. grasping ahold of your arm rests, you held your breath as he traced circles onto your clit through your fleece-lined tights. you had never wanted to moan more. you bit the inside of your cheeks to keep quiet. when you looked up at him, he was finally glancing around to make sure no one was paying any mind to the two of you.

“winter,” you breathed his name against the warmth of his shoulder.

“shh,” he murmured. he pinched your inner thigh and made you squirm. he smiled to himself. “be a good girl and i’ll make you cum as soon as we’re alone.”

you didn’t make a peep the rest of the flight.

— ☆ —

from the moment you stepped off the plane and out of the airport, you were smack dab in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world. cars honked and people shouted vulgar words at each other. the streets were congested with hundreds of people. thousands of them.

the world was so much larger in real life than you could ever remember it being.

and the sun was so unbelievably lovely.

but american’s were so noisy.

as the two of you stood in line to call for a taxi, you were curious if people in new york knew they didn’t have to yell to speak to each other. the two of you couldn’t help but stare as a loud group of men passed by. one of them pursed his lips and blew a kiss at you. you grabbed ahold of winter’s arm as his faced pinched with disgust.

“easy,” you whispered.

winter hooked his arm around your shoulder and tucked you into his side. “pig…”

you smiled to yourself.

you couldn’t help but close your eyes and tip your head back, resting it on his shoulder. the sun felt good on your skin. it felt good on your face. you could’ve spent hours basking in it. it was warmer here than it was back in russia. it was noisy and crowded, but you were comfortable on the sidewalk despite the commotion. you did not shiver the way you did outside the airport back home.

even your companion was tilting his head from side to side to catch the sunlight on his face.

the taxi ride took longer than you thought it would. it was longer than the drive down the mountain did when you left the basecamp for internal ground missions. there were so many streets in new york and not one of them had a steady flow of movement. too many cars. too many people. the two of you stared at each other as honking and swearing sounded off all around you from outside.

it was hard not to laugh.

it was hard not to be amazed by the city itself.

you never imagined buildings could’ve been built so high. the two of you stared up in disbelief at the size of the skyscrapers as you drove by. you pointed at all the flashing lights and dazzling signs. there was so much to see. so much to smell. but not all of the smells were good…

“thank you,” he said in english as he reached over to slip the taxi driver the american money he kept in his pocket.

it was strange to hear him speak anything other than russian. it was strange, too, to finally hear a language that wasn’t russian.

that was all you two spoke day to day.

that is what the guards spoke.

the doctors.

the overseer.

sometimes, you forgot that you even knew english.

the hotel was…standing.

you hadn’t expected anything lavish. you had not known what the world was going to be like when you stepped foot back into it. you were assassins on a mission to take a man’s life. you weren’t expecting a pool— but maybe something more than a grimy old building that smelled like dust and mold.

you really, really hated this undercover shit…

it was easy enough to find your room. third floor, third door on the left. he twisted the key into the lock and pushed it open— but it wouldn’t budge. he bumped his shoulder into it. nothing. he rammed into it a bit harder and the door popped open with a stickier sound than either of you would’ve liked to hear.

“after you,” he said, gesturing his metal arm.

you pulled your suitcase inside and tried to keep the facial expressions to a minimum. “hm…”

the room wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. whatever cleaning services the hotel employed, they employed one’s that at least kept the rooms to a healthy degree of cleanliness.

it was a small room. obnoxious floral wallpaper matched god awful floral bedsheets, but the bed was comfy. you sat down on the edge and bounced a bit. it was much comfier than your mattress in your cell.

there was a large mirror across from the bed. a desk with a lamp that didn’t turn on. a small ice box that had nothing inside it. a large window with white curtains drawn open. a bathroom off to the side with a bathtub and shower all in one.

“this is something, eh?” he sat down beside you and tested the mattress for himself. he cocked an eyebrow. the bed was the redeeming quality of the whole hotel thus far.

“definitely something,” you agreed.

it grew quiet between you.

painfully quiet.

you couldn’t help the way you brought your hand to your mouth and chewed on your nails. you never bit them off. they were too long for that. they were weapons no one could take from you— but you did chew and click them against your teeth when you felt on edge.

when you felt nervous.

“look at me,” he said.

you couldn’t.

“look at me, isla.”

you stood.

turned away from him, you cringed at the sound of him standing, too. you cringed at the way that name sounded. you could feel him behind you like a shadow. looming over you. he stared down at you. his fingers twitched at his sides.

he’d chase you if you ran.

you’d run away so many times…

the first mission you ever went on, the reason you bit him was because he got between you and the only thing that mattered to you.

blood.

you’d run away each and every time they let you out. you never ran with the intent to go away. you knew nothing but your cell in the facility. you knew nothing but chains and following orders. you knew nothing but him— which is why you always came back.

and he would wait for you.

he would wipe your bloody mouth once you’d had your fill of whatever you could find in your small moments of freedom.

“i need to shower,” you said under your breath.

he said nothing.

you could hardly hear the spray of the shower head pouring down onto the tile. you could hardly hear anything that was not your blood ringing in your ears. you stared at yourself in the mirror as it began to fog. you leaned forward, your fingers brushing against the reflective glass.

is that really me?

you looked up as he caressed your face in between his metal fingers. he pursed his lips and tipped his head, a silent warning not to slip down into that rabbit hole. he’d be forced to pull you out of it— and he didn’t want to do that. not now. not after your neck had just finished healing.

you weren’t allowed to look in mirrors.

hydra feared that if you looked at yourself, you’d get lost trying to find the woman in the mirror.

for him it was easy. he was fractured into thousands of pieces that made it impossible to see himself as anything at all.

his reflection was nothing but that.

your reflection was every question you didn’t know how to ask— that you could never have answered.

you watched as he stripped himself of civilian clothes with a bitter taste in your mouth.

you wanted to shower.

but you went nowhere without him.

it drove you mad sometimes.

he drove you mad.

always him. always you both. always together. never apart. never alone. never not beside each other.

even now, with no one forcing you to stand side by side or be in the same room, you were still together. still right next to each other.

everything you did he had to do, too.

you wanted more than anything to hate it. you wanted to hate him. you didn’t like him. he was a parasite at your side. a collar around your neck. you could’ve hit him right now it made you so angry to see his face. you wanted to.

you wanted to want to be alone, too, but that was a feeling that had never once come.

if he walked out that door right now and decided to lay in bed and watch shitty cartoons instead of shower with you, you’d follow after him without a second thought.

there was no where he went that you did not go.

there was nothing you did that he did not do, too.

you stood together in the shower close enough so that the water could spray down over the both of you. your soft, warm breath fanned across his chest as you both soaked in the heat of the scalding hot water. you’d never taken a shower so hot. it hurt— but it felt so damn good.

you took turns under the stream once you began to clean yourselves off. you washed away the airport air from your skin. you washed away the cigarette smell that had clung to you from the taxi. you washed away the chill under your skin that living in the lab put inside you.

you wished you could wash more off you— but the hotel would run out of water before then.

you sat on the floor by the bed in nothing but a towel as you watched him struggle to work the tv. the small shitty box was fuzzy with static that made an awful noise. he pressed all the buttons at the bottom. only more static. he slammed his hand on the top of it, hoping to rattle something into place.

nothing.

you made him turn it off and he obliged.

he sat down beside you on the floor in nothing but a towel, too.

you whispered it like a passionate confession, like it was something sacred, “i hate you.”

but it was a lie.

you both knew it.

and he said nothing.

“i really, really hate you.” you finally looked at him, wanting to see his reaction. you wanted to see him angry because you were angry— but he just stared at you. like he always did.

he narrowed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, tilting his head. “i hate the color of this room.”

for a long moment, it was quiet.

“i hate the tv.” you said, your lips twitching with the urge to frown.

“i hate the way those jeans felt.” he said.

“i hate the clock. it ticks at an off time.” you said.

that was true. every three seconds, the little red second hand would stall. it would miss a beat.

you glanced at him as he reached over to grab something out of sight. your eyes widened as he threw his boot and shattered the clock. glass fell onto the floor and the clock broke into bits. you looked at him, eyes blown wide.

the corner of his lips twitched.

yours did, too.

and the two of you laughed.

he watched you as you crawled over to the mess he’d made. holding your towel to your chest with one hand, you picked up a large shard of glass with the other. you admired it. he’d broken something and there was no one to scold him for it.

you looked up as his shadow swallowed you whole.

his palm lay open. waiting.

you placed the piece of glass in his hand and expected him to toss it away. he would clean up the mess. he didn’t like mess.

your eyes widened as he pressed the glass into his skin and cut a line down his lower stomach. dark red blood trickled down his toned belly. it stained the towel.

“what the fuck are you—”

he grabbed you by the roots of your hair and shoved your face towards the wound. a wince escaped you. you glared up at him as he forced your lips against the cut. red smeared across your chin.

“drink,” he said softly.

“i— i don’t want it.” you whispered, his blood spreading across your lips with every word.

“you always want it.” the way his voice sounded made you feel small. “you fool the others— you may even fool yourself, too, but you don’t fool me, little monster. i see the hunger in your eyes. i hear you breathe in the smell of me in when i’m near. i feel it in every kiss.”

“now drink.” he commanded.

a soft cry escaped your lips as you gave in. your hands curled around his thighs and you sat up on your knees to reach the wound. you wrapped your lips around it and sucked the red into your mouth.

his blood burned on the way down like whiskey did.

the frenzy of bloodlust did not consume you whole as you swallowed mouthful after mouthful. you were too well trained to feel that when it was he you drank from.

but you felt euphoria.

he gripped your hair between his fingers and groaned as you sank your teeth into him. sharp and quick. you licked at the hurt. you kissed it. you suckled at the weeping injury and swallowed everything it had to offer, clinging to him as he spread across your tongue, slipped down throat, and warmed your stomach.

“fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his thumb across your hairline. “that’s a good girl.”

“more,” you pleaded, your breath hot on his skin.

“more.” he whispered, nodding his head.

you dug your nails into his thighs and bit him again. he groaned at the sensation— at the sight. your mouth was covered in him. your teeth. your tongue. and you were looking at him. staring up into his eyes as he stared down into yours.

he wanted you to eat him whole.

he wanted to be inside you— apart of you.

you were eager to have him.

you dipped your head down and grazed the edge of the towel around his waist with your mouth. he let go of your hair slowly. you bit down on the damp fabric and tugged.

the towel fell.

his long, muscular legs were covered in dark hair. his waist was outrageous. the V-line of his naval was covered in blood. it made your mouth water. you ran your eyes along the dark trail of hair matted with red that went from his belly button to his cock.

you’d never put him in your mouth before.

not really.

he had every right to be reserved about it.

sharp fangs weren’t exactly ideal for such a sensitive place. you knew part of him was always worried that you’d bite it off.

“kiss it.”

you looked up at him. an emotion you hardly ever felt squirmed within your insides. a furious blush colored your face and it became hard to draw a steady breath as he wiped his blood off your lips.

humiliation wasn’t something you ever felt.

but you did right now.

and you liked it.

“kiss it, isla.”

the tip of his cock was soft against your lips as you kissed it. once. twice. three times. once you began you didn’t want to stop— and he let you cover him in kisses.

you kissed down the curve of his shaft. you grazed each pulsing vein with your lips. the heat of his erection burned your cheek. it weeped sticky, pearlescent tears from the slit— and you caught them on your red-stained tongue.

he pulled you off the floor by the back of your neck and consumed you in a hungry, feverish kiss.

your head hit the mattress with a thump that didn’t hurt. you grabbed him as he crawled atop you. he tore the towel around you open. his human hand grasped your breast as he bent down to kiss you. he could taste himself on your tongue. the metallic twang of blood and salty sting of precum.

that’s what he wanted.

he wanted you to consume him so he did not have to feel guilty for consuming each and every bit of you.

it was a mess of red between you as you hooked your legs around his waist. the cut on his stomach and bite marks beside it dripped with blood. it smeared between you both. it was hot on your skin. it spilled onto the duvet and stained the sheets as it slipped off you.

you squirmed helplessly as he grabbed ahold of his cock at the base and angled it down towards you. ragged, broken breaths escaped you. you dug your nails into his shoulders as you felt the tip at your entrance. he grabbed ahold of your chin with his cold, metal hand and stared into your eyes as he pressed the head of his cock into you.

a low sigh of relief escaped you both.

you reached up to caress his face and you pulled him down into a desperate, wet kiss. he parted his lips to taste your moans as he began to ease himself inch by inch into you. your eyes pinched shut and you whimpered into his mouth. he let you have it all— and you took the whole of him, settling for nothing less.

you hooked your arms around his neck and clutched him to you as he began to thrust. hard. so hard that it stung the skin of your thighs as he snapped his hips into you. he buried his face down into your cleavage, grunting against your skin. your hips rolled in time with his, grinding down onto him at just the right angle that his pelvis hit your clit.

it was so easy for him to make you cum— and he fulfilled his promise on the plane.

your eyes rolled back as you tipped over the edge. sharp, breathless moans spilled through your lips as he watched you come undone below him. he smiled. he always did when you came. he kissed down your neck, making you tremble as he placed warm, savory kisses to your sensitive skin.

a sudden strangled cry escaped you.

you looked down as his teeth pressed into the skin of your chest, right above your left breast. you smashed your palm against the side of his face, trying to shove his mouth away. he caught your wrists and stole the other, pinning them above your head with the metal arm.

tears wet your lashes. it felt like fire. like terrible, awful fire that kept growing and growing.

he did not have sharp teeth— and it hurt far worse to be bitten by him than it did to be bitten by you.

you felt your skin give way and his teeth sank in.

you swallowed the cry at the tip of your tongue and watched as he pulled his mouth off you. his eyes widened. blood began to rise out of the marks his teeth had left. a tremble ran through you as his lips curled up into a smirk.

you tasted like sweet cider.

a quiet moan slipped passed your lips as he thrusted his hips forward and fed off you.

it was a sight you never wanted to forget.

he picked his head up and licked the bright red blood off his lips. the sound of his pants made you squirm. he did not try to hold you down as you reached for his face. he let you— and he let you kiss him.

he let you on top.

his head tipped back and his breath shuddered as you bounced above him. the wet, sloppy sound of your movements mixed well with the thump of the headboard against the wall and the squeak of the bed springs. his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your waist, eliciting a wince from you.

you liked that it hurt.

you liked that you were a mess of red and sweat that dirtied a bed that didn’t belong to you.

you liked that you were raw, weeping wounds.

he did, too.

“enough,” he rasped, entirely breathless. “get up.” his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “i’m close.”

“finish,” you whispered, dipping your head down. you ghosted your lips across his and stared into his eyes.

he laughed lowly, “don’t piss me off, kúkolka.”

you frowned at him.

his brows drew together in a small expression of sympathy. he patted your bottom and gave you a soft kiss as he nudged you, insisting you get off.

you did as you were told.

you laid down on the bed and kept still as he slid behind you. he pressed his face against your back and let out a shaky breath as he reached down to stroke himself. the tip of his cock slid over your ass as he worked himself to the edge of his release.

“kiss me,” he breathed against your ear.

you turned your head over your shoulder and pressed your mouth onto his. he grunted against your lips. his hand move furiously, chasing the climax he had been cresting.

as the seconds passed into minutes, he grew frustrated.

“you witch of a woman,” he hissed through his teeth. he pressed his forehead down against yours and growled under his breath. “fuck…”

a small purr escaped you as he grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his cock. he looked into your eyes, pleading for your help. you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

all you had to do was tease the slit with the pad of your thumb and he crumbled into a mess of tremors, moans, and ribbons of cum that painted your belly.

you watched as he rolled onto his back. his chest rose and fell wildly. a flush of blood to his face colored his cheeks pink and sweat beaded on his hairline. his stomach and waist were covered in dark, dried blood— but so were yours.

“so much for a shower…” he whispered.

he turned his head at the sound of your laugh.

a real, genuine laugh.

it made him smile— and then it made him laugh.

really laugh.

it was deep sound that came from his belly.

you crawled beside him and giggled as you placed kisses to the scar where flesh met metal. “let’s clean up. i don’t want nikta or karov to come knocking and find us like this.”

“in a moment,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you. he tucked his face in between the warm, soft nook of your breasts and closed his eyes. “let me catch my breath.”

— ☆ —

karov and nikta brought pizza.

you sat on the floor by the window, eating your second slice as you watched the three men huddle around a map that nikta had spread out on the bed.

the mess you and your companion made was no where to be found. no glass on the floor. no blood on the bed. not a single thing looked out of place which gave neither officer anything to hold a grudge about.

officer karov was a short, doggish-looking. he barked like one, too. his voice was gruff and deep. a low bass that rumbled across the room even when he did his best to whisper. he wore nothing but his uniform every time you saw him— except for now. he was wearing a hawaiian shirt and tan cargo pants.

office nikta was a tall, brown haired man with bright green eyes. he had hundreds of freckles on his face and the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen. he wore a nyc sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing all the bite marks and scratches that usually stay hidden under the layers of his uniform.

you knew nikta well.

he had been on the team that looked over you when you were first created. he had been the one to break you in. to teach you hydra’s version of right and wrong. it was his job to make sure you followed orders.

the only man who scared you more than the winter soldier was officer nikta patrova— and the bites on his arms were all accidents.

most of them, at least.

“it will work.” nikta said, crossing his arms over his chest. his voice was a buttery rasp that sent chills down your spine. “you have never missed a shot.”

the winter solider dipped his head.

but you noticed the deep crease between his brow.

“you don’t think so?”

all three men turned to look at you as you asked the question. you stood up and brushed any lingering crumbs off your shirt. karov and nikta made space for you as you wiggled your way between them.

the mission was to kill agent nicholas fury.

nikta and karov had studied the agents whereabouts every day for two months. like clockwork, agent fury would enter the shield agency posing as a bank at 7am for work. he would leave at 1:13pm on the dot every day to get himself a slice of pizza three streets over on his lunch break. he would return to work at 2:33pm without a second to spare.

the plan was to shoot nicholas fury on his walk back from his lunch break at 2:22pm when he passed by the ironwork offices where the winter solider would be perched in the window ready to fire the shot accompanied by officer karov and one of the strike team’s guards.

if the grace of god blessed nick fury and winter somehow missed the shot, you would be waiting on that street for him and take a shot of your own. if all went the way it should and winter hit his target, you’d be sitting a cafe with officer nikta and the remaining two strike team guards ready to confirm the kill and take the agents remaining eye.

a request from the overseer himself.

“you don’t look confident, solider.” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

his jaw tightened and he forced a smile. “i guess i’m a bit butt-hurt there’s a plan in case i miss.”

a beat of silence passed as you two stared at each other. if you had knives, you would’ve been digging them into each others guts.

the officers stiffened beside you before they bursted into fits of laughter that felt painfully out of place.

“you are a funny guy, soldier.” nikta said, clapping winter on his metal shoulder. “don’t be so hurt. i don’t believe you’ll miss, but someone does have to be down there to take what we need.”

winter dipped his head once more and let the tension from his shoulders go.

“do you understand the plan?” karov asked as he looked up at you.

“mm,” you grunted before returning to sit by the window and watch.

— ☆ —

karov and nikta overstayed their welcome.

you were grateful they got your tv to work and brought the best food you’d eaten in stretched out decades, but you were happy to shut and lock the door behind them as they left.

you did not mind that he turned the tv off as soon as they left.

he could feel you staring as he cleaned up the mess of greasy napkins they had left behind on the desk alongside the empty pizza box. “what?”

“truth. now.” you demanded, plain and simple.

“i find it odd,” he said as he tossed everything in the trash. he glanced over his shoulder at you. “the fact that they would separate us.”

“we have done missions like this before. the murder of chairman kruger and his son is one that comes to mind first. the virus plant in…tch…what was it again? 1957?” you asked.

“1956, actually.” he said passively. he hook his head, “but this is different.”

“it’s no different. you kill. i confirm and clean up any mess that you make on the ground— most of the time by killing everyone else.” you said.

“not when shield is involved.”

you closed your mouth.

you had killed shield agents before. it was always an ambush somewhere quiet. somewhere they couldn’t be reached by help in time.

and yet agent fury was going to be only a street and a half away from a covert shield agency.

he was right.

“maybe there is more to this than we know. we are deployed with officers, after all. they must know more. there has to be more.” you said softly as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

you looked over at him and shrugged, trying your best to ease his worry by being rational. “there are always secrets they keep from us, winter.”

he said nothing as he walked over.

you felt your lips twitch with the urge to frown as he kneeled in front of your legs and rested his head down on your thighs. you ran your fingers through his hair and leaned down to kiss the stubble on his face.

“we will do what we came to do and then we will go home.” you said softly, assuringly.

he could only muster a nod.

you nudged him and he picked his head up. the look in his eyes made your heart tremble in your chest. those deep, blue eyes were full of unease.

what you did, he did.

but not tomorrow.

“come to bed,” you whispered, scooting yourself back onto the mattress. you pulled down the covers and slipped underneath them.

he clicked the lights off before he crawled into bed beside you. the city outside the window was bright with flashing signs of all kinds. it was easy to see his face as he laid his head next to yours on the pillow. your hand curled around one of his metal fingers rested on the mattress between you both. he stared into your eyes as you burned this moment with him into your memory.

“tomorrow,” he said softly. he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. “if i miss—”

“you won’t miss.” you interrupted.

“if i miss,” he said again, sternly this time as he met your eyes. “you run.”

your brows drew together and your lips parted in protest— but protest did not come. not when he pulled you in by the waist and ran his hand over the curve of your cheek.

not when he looked at you like that….

“promise me that you’ll run,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “and that you’ll run to me.”

you nodded, hardly able to find your voice. it was tangled in your throat. “i’ll…i’ll run to you.”

he smiled. it was soft and sweet on his face and you wished you could’ve stared at it forever— but he pulled you into a kiss that tasted tender and devote.

you had little time to worry anymore about what spooked him so badly as he pulled you on top of him and slipped his hands under your shirt.

tomorrow would happen as it would.

for tonight, you focused only on him.

hope you enjoyed. next part ->

tags: @aegonshusband @homiesexual-or-homosexual

[spacenintendogs]

I haven’t found a straight answer, so-

How old are Wolf and Fox?

depends!

the first game from 1993 listed fox's age as 25. it was in the official ost book

it also lists peppy as 36, falco as 28, and slippy as 19.

sf 2 was never released but it was supposed to be a continuation, a true sequel.

then sf 64 came out, redid the entire story, and changed everyone's ages. on the official star fox 64 website, through the wayback machine, you'll see fox and the team's ages listed and that they have changed pretty dramatically.

fox is now 18 years old, so is slippy, falco is 19, and peppy is 42. these ages are also reflected in the nintendo power star fox 64 trading cards.

now, what about wolf? arwingpedia lists his age as 27 during the lylat wars. does the official sf 64 website say anything if we click star wolf?

no, it doesn't. does the star fox assault page say anything about wolf's age?

no it doesn't. neither does star fox 2, or star fox zero. star fox zero didn't even list star fox's ages, so people assume their ages are the same as sf 64.

now, back to fox. his age in adventures is 26, since eight years have passed since the lylat wars. assault is a year or two later so he's 27-28, and command is a year or two after that, so he's 28-29.

wolf's never had a real official source for his exact age, but what we can go off of is his dialogue. "you'll be seeing your dad soon, fox" (64), "looks like you ain't your father after all..." (assault), "i'm impressed, i haven't had this much fun since i fought your father" (zero). the only other folks that consistently bring up james are peppy & pigma & andross. if wolf fought james, he'd obv have to be old enough to pilot and be a merc/pirate prior to being hired by andross. sure he could have been a scrappy teen, and it's rlly fun to think abt! but wolf is likely older by the time fox joins the skirmish in the lylat wars. esp by assault with wolf mockingly calling fox "pup" (so does leon, panther calls him "runt") basically shoving in his face "i've got more experience than you" also calls fox "boy" in assault. but no direct answer left a lot in the air.

and then takaya imamura said this

so, wolf during the lylat wars would be in his early 40s if not late 30s when fox is 18. when fox is 27-28 in assault, wolf would be in his late 40s, early 50s. command prob early 50s.

of course, lots of ppl toss whatever sf lore they want to make their own aus, myself included. the world is your oyster... go... be free, my scarab

(gifs are from @/bouncyenvos!!!)

[somerandomcockroach]

Talking with myself about Brave Police J-Decker, 11 episodes so far, giving these series my congratulations since they managed to get a drip of tears from me and I love EVERY character there, it isn't logical for a cartoon Spoilers included

In the 2nd episode paparazzi asking Deckerd about what kind of women he likes and how his dream wedding might look. I literally fell off because. Is it some kind of mocking? First ai robot appearing and first questions are these? Yes for mass media it might be interesting "Oh look this is the dream wedding of the robot eheheh fun". He only recently went online what is wrong with this question, and let me precise do they mean with a human?

Deckerd got the build-team but they don't have emotions programmed. Because they don't trust Deckerd's program, they don't trust the kid. Oh well can't blame them for being afraid of a more new AI robots who technically operate on their own and might disobey their orders and a 4 or 6th grade kid as their boss pffht

Deckerd playing wrestle with robot of their neighbor: "He is so weak I could break him, I'll give in to him" Makes dramatic "AAaaa" and falls on the side DECKERD, I LOVE YOU AHAHAH

That's interesting. They gave build-team an AI only after they understood that it is harder to hack them if they don't resist with developed willpower. They wouldn't have allowed them to have AI too unless there was a chance of such situations.

Their AI was surprised by Yuta's kindness. They had the mind of "if can't make your job - useless" already sewed inside them. Or did they develop such thinking from the people in their basement? Because there literally only Yuta and two other men who treat them as machines with heart.

I am SHOCKED. I am SO shocked. This is the first time when I don't cringe from possible human x robot shipping even if not in a romantic way? But here? They fricking give the development to their mind and relationships. Mccrane, a pacifist, always hoping to the end and trying hard ways with more persistence. A Captain Seia Onoue, woman who doesn't allow the heart to get on her way. Mccrane acting more human-like compared to her and showing her other ways. WOW. Wow okay I look at you two I like this combo. Then? Dumpson, robot with a strong will and opinion, and Ayako, headstrong woman who doesn't believe in AI bullshit since these robots definitely just imitate emotions but don't have their opinions whatsoever. BAM look at Dumpson ahah. I look at you two too they make me giggle when they drum on each other's brains XDD And then Power Joe teeeeheheheh Kids looove him, no wonder, three bozos fighting over so that he would live with them. Yuta is just their Boss I suppose they don't find him as close friend as Deckerd did, but I'm happy they found the friends of their own

10-11 episodes.

Kagero is dead, even when his A.I. was changed to obey new owner, it didn't obey, because what was making this A.I. so strong were exactly memories with Shadowmaru. He wasn't a coward, but the person who mixed his brain with his is, and human's life is bigger compared to little data of his own Kagero managed to gain, so it isn't surprising human's side overpowered A.I. Shadowmaru wanted to die with Kagero, but Kagero, the little pieces of him remembering Shadowmaru, wanted him to live.

Kagero was built as Shadowmaru's shadow, prototype to develop Shadowmaru. All his memories are of him, his life literally has no meaning without Shadowmaru since that's like erasing your birth days itself. And Shadowmaru didn't want to leave him, he didn't listen to no one, he is pretty independent and even wanted to just die without fuel after he lost Kagero, let's specify killed him by his own hands. He doesn't have any strong connection with people, he has it only with his only friend. Kagero told him to live his life some more. Kagero, who was clenching to his memories since he learnt what is the meaning of life, by his own, no A.I. has a "value of your own life" data, only "humans' lives are vulnerable" data, and I'm sure Kagero would have had life so much bigger than just an attempt to keep the little pieces he have from being deleted. He told Shadowmaru to live his life a little more, to Shadowmaru, who wanted to just die because his only strong connection was with Kagero and I think he didn't learn how much he wanted to live the hard way Kagero did, but Kagero gave him an easy way to keep learning what it means. I wish they could get brain chip back and fix it, i wish they could, because now I'm sure even if they recreate everything, it will never be Kagero again, he is dead for Shadowmaru and I know Juuzou understands it better than anyone.

[alligaytorswamp]

Please tell me about the cane user in grimm parade (I’m a cane user)

aughhghgh okay!!!

hiding this in case i rant too much first of all - link to his toyhouse where i wrote everything semi-decently

a not very good recap of what is written in there:

ryunosuke basically a local villain B)

he is pretty eccentric, true theater kid, has a very specific way he presents himself (elegant, mysterius, lowkey evil) loves to add drama to any conversation, loves messing with people (a lot)

extremely confident, even if some people may think he is doing too much he legit does not care (that helps with fanservice btw, his stans are feral)

while he has his little calmer moments, those are reserved to the times when he is way too tired and hangs out with the people who are very close to him

anyways, the way he acts started as kind of coping mechanism (see: his background)/a persona he put on, now it is pretty much what he is

he is genuinely this overly dramatic person, born to be a leader and to be on stage !!

real ice king skjhjkhsjfk the coolest guy around with a lot of charisma !! rahhh

and while he is very creative (with the way he talks, acts and how he deals with all grimm parade music/content), self-assured, decisive, but also caring and considerate-

i would say his worst trait is his hatred for expressing any weakness, like he refuses to bring up his lowest moments. and when he feels unwell he is the type to just force himself to continue working

which connects to his condition (atherosclerosis) while he for sure exercises and eats well it doesn't exactly remove the pain/tiredness that comes with it, and he just- works through it 90% of the time the cane should be used properly to help him walk when he is really not doing well, but even then he will act like he doesn't need it

so he is a silly stubborn guy who refuses to accept his own weaknesses... but do not fret he has great people around him who help him with that

he is a vocaloid stan, who enjoys singing songs about some crazy romance drama and/or muder (lmao), he is lowkey a cosplayer, can argue with managers easily, will kill you on sight if you disrespect rokuro or shouhei, hates going out if he doesn't put makeup on and doesn't wear some sick outfit (catching him in actually casual clothes is a rare event), he is crazy popular, plays into fanservice... like he totally has stepped on people because they asked, he wants to be treated like a scary villain, be called ryunosuke-sama, but in reality despite the way he acts he is really sweet and caring hmm ... i think this is about it !

[lemongogo]

viktor prev 🤖

[diino8081]

swap au or something

ekko -> viktor

viktor -> jinx

jinx -> ekko

i read this fic and got inspired. it doesn't follow the canon to it but it inspired me (do check it out though it's really cool)

if you got any au questions then throw em at me (i've only watched arcane once tho so i might not have answers)

(more in the tags)

[squidsinashirt]

The abrupt end to the dial tone was so foreign that Gordon stared at his comms in utter confusion for a solid two minutes, before finally trying to turn the cogs in his brain. His hand hovered over the dial, trying to work out his next move, but for once, Gordon Tracy was utterly outmanoeuvred.

The still-sensible part of him said he should call John - it could be a communications error. It could be an equipment fault. Thunderbird Five, either man or machine, would know, should know. It could mean Penny was in trouble; when she did not answer a call after all, when did any of them not answer a call?!

But this was Penelope. Careful, clever, capable Penelope who rarely got anything wrong enough to merit a true emergency on her part. If he invoked John, then he would need to explain the circumstances behind this (of all people, his elder brother was the least likely to be satisfied with a brief, detail light summary of events), and if there truly was nothing the matter, Penelope would be irritated by his involvement. Which left the alternative answer, and Gordon wasn’t sure it was any easier to contemplate - she was ignoring him.

On reflection, the quieter part of his mind came to the conclusion that he would have likely felt the same way had she left him hanging for an entire nigh after hanging up on him. If Penny had decided to give him the cold shoulder, it was hardly for no reason at all.

But the very idea of it still re-lit the smouldering embers of their previous argument - she was ignoring him?! It seemed a rather below the belt hit, given the rather unusual chances that there was actually something incredibly, awfully wrong at the other end of the line, and it stung.

She was ignoring him. That spelled disaster for any chance of her feeling anything other than sheer frustration toward him. Well. Shit.

Gordon swung his legs over the side of the lounger and with a rather irritated, defiantly not in pain huff, took himself down the lined path to the waterfront. The quiet lapping of the waves against the shoreline was the only noise as the last of the evening light shone across the water, and he picked his way along the sand he knew so well, entirely lost in his own mind.

If she wanted to be so unreasonable, then two could play at that game. He would leave her be, not attempt to contact her again. Ignore any message, decline any call and he could-

His watch lit up once more, and with the pink ID he had been desperate to see dangled in front of him, it turned out Gordon had no very little will power at all as he slid the call open without even letting it ring a second time.

So much for playing her at her own game, Gordo. Check.

And there she was, lit in blue holoform - all soft blonde curls and the gentleness of morning that seemed to wear so well on her and Gordon wondered if he would ever stop feeling the same tug in his chest at being allowed even just a moment of her so off guard, so personal. The inward sigh of relief was enough to buckle him - she was okay. For a moment, nothing else seemed to matter, to hell with any notion of disagreement - she was safe, and she was okay.

Which meant, a moment later of course, that she had indeed been ignoring him, and it was with this realisation that Gordon gave a rather stiff greeting, a prickle of irritation running up his spine to smother the words he wanted to say.

“Lady Penelope. Nice to see the comms are working after all.”

:COMMS BEGIN:

Lady P,

Sorry for the early morning comms, hope this doesn’t wake you too early - I make it just after 5 your time.

We’re just finishing up a mission in the Persian Gulf - a luxury hotel collapsed overnight, on an island just offshore Doha. Only built two years ago, whole place is pretty new and shiny.

Been a rough night, Pen - fifteen we were too late to help, including two kids. Just families on vacation...

Anyway, victims are saying they felt tremors, it certainly looks like a quake from the debris now the sun is up and J is absolutely confident it came from beneath the sea bed (absolutely being a rather irritated direct quote, so I’m not asking again).

But… this isn’t a quake hot zone. It doesn’t make any sense, and there haven’t been any aftershocks either while we’ve been working. Five can’t get a good read because of the debris and mineral interference underground. The whole place is on top of the enormous old oil fields, and it sends the scanners haywire.

The company that owns the hotel has set my squid sense off though. Name’s Fulcra, I’ve sent you the profile on them. Ran by a guy named Randall Price. He’s a venture capitalist from Houston originally, but the company’s HQ is a London address. That’s as far as I’ve managed to get.

They own a couple of the small artificial islands around here that are being used as tourist hotspots. Think luxury waterfront villas on stilts kinda stuff, the hotel that’s collapsed was the biggest. Nice place, high end, lots of good dive spots.

This area’s all under a World Heritage protected marine environment permit for a biosphere reserve. They’ve spent decades trying to replenish the mangroves and coastal vegetation after what the oil fields and production did to the waters here, the aquatic populations are only just starting to rise comfortably. I didn’t understand how they even got permission for this sort of work but…

They’ve got a giant platform further out in the Gulf that’s supposedly ‘cleaning the sea’ and helping to replenish the sea bed. Seems to be some sort of agreement that they can build these resorts, in exchange for what appears to be green work. I tried to get a proper look at the platform in Four, out of interest, but they’ve got laser nets up. I got an autoturret my way for trying to go any further in the exosuit…

I’d like to think they’re just really protecting that biosphere, but I don’t get a nice eco-friend impression.

My gut says I’m getting Hydrexler vibes, and you were right about that oily CEO last time. I’m not sure I want to be right, but I do want to know what’s going on here… and I thought you might too, as our resident top agent with a passion for all things Earth-saving.

So, I thought I’d hand it over to you, and let you do what you do best - cosying up to the billionaires and getting them to spill the tea.

Lemme know if you know or find anything on them. We’re going to be here another couple of hours, finishing up stabilising the debris field and having another run through, and then heading back. S managed to get the Price guy on comms briefly, but he wasn’t much for talking. Maybe you’ll have more luck.

G 🦑

:COMMS END:

FIRST DATE?

The flickering light and the soft buzz from her compact device caught her off-guard. Penelope, who had positioned herself in an armchair beside her tall windows after giving up on sleep half an hour earlier, sat herself up a little straighter. The blanket which she’d wrapped around herself was pulled tighter to her frame as her eyes read the message.

The hour might have been earlier and, on any other day, Penelope might very well have still been sleeping, but today was different. She rubbed her tired eyes as they scanned Gordon’s words. At first, she’d hoped it had been something akin to a social call. She rather enjoyed those, especially when they came from Gordon, but the more she read, the more Penelope realised it was anything but that.

Her interest peaked as she reached Gordon’s conspiracy.

Her mouth grew dry when she reached Gordon’s information.

The blanket was thrown off her body and Penelope stood. With her comms device still in hand, her eyes still darting from left to right as she continued her reading, she crossed her bedroom and gently tugged on the bell. 

Minutes passed before a very sleepy Parker knocked on her bedroom door. Penelope, having only just finished Gordon’s message, opened it.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Parker, but it seems we have a situation. I need you to cancel my schedule for today and then get me all we have on the company known as Fulcra. CEO is a man named Randall Price.”

“But, m’lady, that’s—”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, Parker. See if you can arrange a meeting of some kind, if that’s at all possible.”

Parker nodded, still more asleep than he was awake, before he trundled off down the hallway to make good of his ladyship’s requests.

Penelope returned to chair by the window and curled herself back up. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as she typed out her reply.

COMMS BEGIN

@squidsinashirt, Thank you for your concern — I shall look into this and get back to you when I

Penelope ceased her typing and sighed. She knew it wasn’t fair to lie to him, not after her sent her looking. A moment or two passed before Penelope deleted her previous sentence and began to re-type it. 

COMMS BEGIN

Gordon,

This company?

I shall look into this as you requested but, I must warn you, you may not like what I find. Randall Price is… let us say a man I am already familiar with, or rather his business is. What I can tell you is that, for the most part, Fulcra is celebrated as a rather clean company, but that doesn’t always mean much — you were right to mention Hydrexler. The Persian Gulf was supposed to remain a protected marine environment, at least that was how I understood it. I’ll ask some of my World Heritage connections what they know too, see if I can get a bigger picture for you.

Give me a couple of days. I’ll try and, what was it you said? Cosy up to the billionaire? Get him to spill the tea? Parker is going to try and get me an appointment but, if that fails, I do have an alternative plan.

Do try and get some rest once you’ve finished up. The mission in Doha sounds like it’s been a terribly distressing situation for all involved. You know I am always here if you need to talk about it. Any of it.

I’ll be in touch once I hear something.

Stay safe, 

Penny x

COMMS END

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

Once upon a time, names held weight. Penelope had thought that Scott’s name had simply been too tied up with International Rescue for Randall Price to give him the time of day… until she too was ushered away once the more difficult questions were asked. From her other sources, Penelope had heard only rave reviews of the company. Yet something felt… off.

It was just after dinner when Penelope began her second message to Gordon.

COMMS BEGIN

It's too clean. Not sure what’s going on but I definitely sense something. Plan B is in operation. Randall Price might not have wanted to speak to me today, but he did invite me to his Charity Ball this weekend — I’ll see if I can find out more then.

I’m hoping you returned home safe and sound and that you managed to have a good rest. I suppose it’s my turn to apologise if this message wakes you. 

Penny x

COMMS END

[viric-dreams]

Title: The Geriatric Geodian

Name: Graham

Age: ???

Occupation: New Sequencer (Probably... no one's ever seen him do any actual work)

Main Skills: Dreaded, Persuasive

Main Quirks: Ruthless, Heartless

-Nobody knows how long Graham has been on Grand Geode. He's simply always been there.

-Most Dreaded Man in Zelo's Town. Not because he's scary, but because he's absolutely exhausting and unpleasant to deal with.

-Has been around for seemingly every historical event, and always has the most rank take on it.

-Not even dawnpilled, just believes in the Dawn Machine's goals.

-Spends his days sitting on his porch in Zelo's Town and judging you personally.

-Once had a companion, who's since moved on to the Tomb Colonies. If you try to express sympathy at his loss he'll call you a sentimental ninny and hobble off. His companion is probably wreaking equal havoc in the Tomb Colonies.

-Has personally victimised each and every sequencer on Grand Geode at least once. (stories welcome)

Graham has been Roberts' nemesis on the Geode since the 70s. Roberts enters every encounter swearing he'll put the old man in his place. He usually ends up apologising and assuring him that of course he'll ensure that the zailors stay off of his lawn in the future. He then spends the next several hours after the encounter kicking himself for it. He's personally repaired Graham's roof at least twice. He tried to suggest delegating this task to another officer, but was immediately insulted and told "not to faff about and get up on that ladder." Roberts was utterly furious after the fact that he actually did it.

[mrderofcr0ws]

HEADLOCK

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

that was the name written on a gravestone in brooklyn with no body below it since the sergeant had been pronounced dead in 1945.

the body that once belonged to that name was now hydra's most prized possession— but the winter solider was not the only danger locked away down in the remote siberian facility. you were there, too. a monster made from horrors most refused to believe could be real.

two trained killing machines.

one bound to commands and trigger words.

the other bound to instinct and bloodlust.

it had been a long time since either of you had seen the sun. you could get out with his help in the brief, painful moments of clarity he had. when he answered to that long forgotten name, you could escape together.

but bucky was often buried under that brooklyn headstone-and the winter solider who slept in the bunk below you nearly every night was a danger to even you.

this is a fic that explores bucky's time in hydra. the content warnings are as follows: torture, manipulation, angst, pain, psychological horror, graphic descriptions and language, poetic comparisons to cannibalism, hurt with minimal comfort at times, stockholm syndrome, smut, degrading, power imbalance, canon divergence. 18+ fic.

bucky x fem!reader (you have a given name in this fic for the sake of making writing easier, but it will be used sparingly)

word count: idk i write on tumblr. (roughly edited)

<- previous chapter

PART FOUR —

— LIKE MACHINES DO

the winter solider was awake before the sun began to rise because he hadn’t slept.

he could not lay still. it was a bad habit of his that you learned to coexist with having to share a room with him. he would rattle the whole bunk tossing and turning as he tried his hardest to settle. his footsteps against the cold stone floor of your bedroom cell were an ambiance that you grew to find soothing.

in the hotel room now, it was no different.

as much as he wanted to lay beside you — cupping your waist in his hands, tangling his legs with yours, and keeping his face tucked down into the warmth of your cleavage — he couldn’t.

he tried.

he really did.

he focused on the way your heart sounded below his ear. a steady, even tempo. he was grateful to hear it. it meant you were here— that you were real.

most of the time, he didn’t know what was real.

he rose out of bed as quiet as a mouse. he pulled on his boxers and pushed his long hair out of his face. the room was dark and he intended on keeping it that way as to not disturb you.

he wouldn’t let anything ruin the time you had to rest.

so he watched you from where he sat by the window in complete and total silence.

when you finally stirred in the sheets, the sun was cresting on the horizon. when you rolled over onto your side and stretched out your limbs, you saw him. he was a shadow in the corner of the room dressed in his gear.

the leather was snug. the padding he wore accentuated the muscles in his arm— the curves of his waist. the straps of his harness hugged his figure and held every piece of weaponry that he would need out on the field. extra clips. extra magazines. bombs. too many knives to count. guns by his thighs. a gun behind the back of his neck. a gun on the back of his belt. his gleaming vibranium arm with the red star had never looked more intimidating.

and that mask.

all you could see of his face were his icy blue eyes and those dark, brooding eyebrows.

you had seen him in his gear too many times to count but it never seemed to lose its glamor.

he scared you down to the marrow of your bones and yet you wanted to tug him over by his belt and lay yourself bare for him despite it.

the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen as you got out of bed. neither of you said a word. he didn’t bother looking away as you got dressed into your own gear. despite being assigned to the ground, you’d be suited up, too. it mattered little who saw you once you were there. the worst thing that could happen on a mission was that either of you died.

murder was never discreet.

it was always messy.

you wouldn’t be deployed on the street until after agent fury was already done enjoying his pizza, anyways. by the time he saw you on his walk back—he wouldn’t.

winter did not miss.

you slipped on your gloves and tightened them around your wrists. you smirked as you felt your guns click into their holsters. you looked up as he slid the last one into place behind your back.

he brushed the side of his face against yours and murmured, “remember what i told you.”

“it wont come to that.” you leaned back into him and kissed the mouth of his mask. “but i remember.”

you’d done this countless times.

this would be no different than the rest.

you’d be on a plane home before sunset.

and the two of you would be cold on ice before tomorrow ended.

— ☆ —

the ironwork offices consisted of an entire floor of cluttered, abandoned workrooms on the top level of a building soon to be torn down. the offices had been moved closer to the factory district where the company had their main warehouses located. the building was a street over from the cafe on the opposite side; but the top floors towered over the building in front of it and overlooked the cafe perfectly. it was a far enough distance to keep the high-rise team out of sight.

when you and the winter solider arrived, the officers and the strike team were already there.

but there were more.

many, many more.

the room was full of hydra guards in bulletproof armor and masks that covered every inches of their faces. karov was handing all of them ear pieces and synching them onto the same channel.

you looked up at him. “always more…”

“always more,” he agreed.

the members of the strike team stood lining the back wall after they were given their ear pieces. the sunlight spilling in through the windows stopped right before the tips of their boots. nikta was hunched over a laptop in one of the cubicles, flipping through the real-time surveillance footage of the streets in the area.

his watched beeped.

“ten minutes.” nikta announced.

you placed down the duffle bag you carried around your shoulder and he kneeled beside you. unzipping the bag, winter pulled out his sniper. he handed it over to you. you popped in the magazine as he tossed it to you and switched the safety off. you planted your feet and raised the scope to your eye. you tweaked knobs to align the elevation.

you handed him the sniper and he took it as he stood. he raised it, looking through the scope.

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

you could feel his smile through his mask.

“solider.”

he strapped the gun over his back and turned on queue towards karov. “ready to comply.”

“fangs,” nikta said.

your jaw tightened.

you didn’t like that nickname.

you never had.

but there were worse things to be called.

“officer,” you said as you approached.

“this is where we will be positioned.” nikta said, handing you the laptop. he pointed to the screen. the cafe had a line out the door. it must’ve been well known. that many people meant for more cover. “when nick passes the light post, the winter solider will take his shot.”

you glanced at the officer as you handed him back his laptop.

“come get your ear piece, pet.” karov said, waving you over before nikta could say anything further.

you grimaced under your mask.

that was the worst name.

“go,” nikta said, turning back towards the desk.

you stood still as karov placed the metal piece into your ear. you asked softly, “why so many?”

karov knew what you were asking. “this is no stroll in the park, pet. hydra would never step against any shield agents without heads to replace the fallen in our ranks in the case of a misstep.”

“but the solider won’t miss.” you said, looking down at the short, doggish officer.

he said nothing. he didn’t bother to meet your gaze. he tapped the metal in your ear twice and you heard soft static crackle. you clicked the button on the inside of your collar twice.

“solider,” karov said with a nod his way.

winter raised his hand to his throat and pressed the button inside his collar. his voice buzzed in your ear, “test. test. test.”

“copy,” you said.

winter nodded to karov. your ear pieces were synched. you’d be able to hear each other within a range of ten miles. any more than that and you’d lose connection.

it was how he always know where to find you when you came to after one of your bloodlust spells.

nikita’s watch beeped.

“it’s time.”

— ☆ —

the streets were crowded with people moving in every direction. trying to track one person was like looking for a needle in a haystack to most.

nicholas fury could have been beacon of shining light to the two of you.

you stood by the corner window together and watched as he passed by the cafe. dressed in a navy suit with sunglasses on, he was keen on enjoying his lunch break at his favorite pizza place. most days he had the pizza. today was different. he planned to order one of their italian subs.

it was the last time he would visit russo’s pizza.

he would not make it passed the cafe once the clock struck 2:22pm.

“alright,” nikta said. “ground team, let’s move.”

you and winter met each others eyes and shared a fleeting look that gnawed at what lay cold and beating behind your ribs.

he pulled a knife from his baldric and twirled it between his fingers. he slid it into place into the strap across your chest. you grazed the handle with your fingers without looking away from his eyes.

“don’t miss,” you said. he could hear the smile in your voice. “you owe me a hundred bucks if you do.”

“i don’t have a hundred bucks.” he said with a smug roll of his shoulders, “and i won’t.”

you grabbed his arm before he could kneel at his perch and ready his gun. he dipped his head instinctively as you pulled him in.

“we are compromised.” you whispered into his ear. you spoke in romanian and you spoke fast. “i can’t tell you which of them is the rat but i know its one of them. thats why there are extra guards. one of them doesn’t trust the other.”

“shoot who needs to go down, winter, even if that person in your sights is not agent fury.”

his brows pinched together as he looked down at you. he tipped his head, eyes flicking passed you at the two officers before landing back on you.

you nodded once, searching for any hint that he understood.

he loaded his gun. “good luck, doll.”

you turned away without another word and slipped on the long, black trench coat that would hide your gear as karov held it for you.

your mask hid your smile.

you made sure your ear piece was on one last time before you followed officer nikta and the — now four instead of two — strike team soldiers out of the room.

“eyes up,” nikta said as you descended the steps behind the strike team. “and stay on guard.”

it was incredibly bright outside. with the sun just passed it highest point, the glare took your unaccustomed eyes time to adjust to. the six of you crossed the street at different times. nikta first. the strike guards in pairs after him. you last.

you could feel him watching you through the scope of his gun as you took your spot by the lightpost.

nikta was to your left, rummaging through the newspaper box. he opened it up and began to read. the strike team guards sat spread out at the outdoor tables lining the sidewalk.

the minutes ticked by.

“look alive, little monster.”

you lifted your gaze just enough to catch sight of the window he was perched in, but he was impossible to see. he was shrunken by distance and cloaked by shadow within the building.

“one hundred bucks if you blow it, winter.”

you heard him scoff out a laugh through comms and it made you grin under your mask. you glanced down at your wrist and pulled the edge of your glove down.

{ 2:20 }

“two minutes.”

“copy.”

you pulled your sleeve down and turned. you scanned face after face as they passed by. with each second that ticked by, you felt your heart start to race. your hands were sweaty in your gloves and you could feel your blood rushing through your veins.

you could feel his gaze shift from behind the scope.

“target sited.”

your eyes jumped from face to face.

and then you saw him.

with a half-finished bottle of coca-cola in his hand and a toothpick in his mouth, he was entirely and completely unaware of the danger that he was ten steps away from.

as nicholas fury approached the point of no return, he reached up and pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.

ice shot through you as he looked into your eyes with his one good one— the other scarred and white.

time came to a crawl.

bang!

you flinched as the gun went off right by your head.

the smoke from the barrel wafted off the gun in nikta’s hand. you could taste it in your mask. it burned your eyes.

you turned, following the straight shot of his arm.

nikta aimed for the window.

pop! pop! pop! pop!

nick fury pulled his gun from the back of his belt and and shot the strike soldiers in the chaos unfolding on the street.

it all came rushing back to speed as nikta turned his gun towards you. you pulled the knife from the strap on your chest and threw it. he fell like a bag of sand as it struck him in the chest.

you reached back to unclasp your mask from your face, teeth bared for the kill as you turned towards the one-eyed agent who had you in his sights.

the clasp refused to come undone.

panic shot through you like a bullet.

nikta tampered with your gear.

“go, go, go!” shouted voices from above as shield agents descended from the rooftops.

a hale storm of bullets thundered with fury and whizzed through the air. screams of terror pierced your ears like knives as the shield agents on descending lines went limp. blood sprayed like rain across the street.

“hostile up top! twelve o’clock!” fury yelled, diving down out of sight.

you looked up.

and you saw him.

with two guns in his hands, the winter solider was raining hell from the rooftop of the ironworks office with the guards of the strike team.

karov was nowhere to be seen.

“i told you to run.”

at the sound of his voice in your ear, your muscles sprang into action and you took off.

bullets shot passed your head as you ran straight into the street. cars honked and breaks screeched. in the chaos of the city under fire, you ran into the commotion of the traffic filled street interrupted by the running crowd.

“nikta! it was nikta!” you shouted over the noise. you pulled your guns from your thigh holsters and glanced behind you. “he screwed up my mask! i can’t get it off!”

“i know.”

“he shot at you!”

“he missed.”

you pulled the trigger and a bullet flew into the shoulder of one of the shield agents hot on your trail. he dropped to the ground but you didn’t see. you shoved passed people as you turned the corner.

round the street and get to him.

that’s all you had to do.

once you were with him, the rest would make sense.

tires screeched and you turned to see a massive armored truck block the end of the road. agents came spilling out of it like a broken damn.

there were too many agents on the ground and it was only you facing them head on.

but you had eyes above.

“left!”

you extended your left hand and pulled the trigger.

another agent down.

“two behind you!”

you spun around and popped two shots. they were dead before they hit the ground.

“get down now!”

you hit the deck and rolled underneath an abandoned car. you looked your your right and watched the shield truck blow. fire and rubbled shot out everywhere as it exploded.

you crawled out from underneath the car and you shot off into a sprint.

and so did the bullet from nick fury’s gun.

you stumbled into the street as the bullet struck you through the lower back.

you touched your stomach and felt the hot, wet mess begin to spread through your gear.

car breaks whined and hissed at you like a feral cat. the smell of burned rubber suffocated you in your mask. the car tapped your hips and you stared at the driver through your wet lashes. you slammed your bloody hand onto the car as your core weakened, grasping for any leverage you had to stay standing.

“i’m hit…” you whispered.

you grunted as you looked down again. blood was pouring out of you like a bubbling faucet. it ruined the front of this poor lady’s yellow punch buggy. you glanced around you as shield agents swarmed the street and circled you with their guns drawn.

“james,” you breathed his name. “i’m hit.”

“i know, baby. im coming.”

the explosions sent you toppling over and you hit the ground hard. one after the other they went off like crackling fireworks. agents and civilians alike were blown back— blown to pieces alongside cement and stone as he shot grenades into the crowds. the strike team above picked off agent after agent despite the bullets flying back at them.

the plan to kill nick fury had failed.

the mission now was to retrieve you and go.

it was like watching lucifer fall from heaven.

the winter solider jumped off the rooftop and he landed atop one of the burning cars. he walked through the flames and off the windshield with his eyes set on nothing but you.

you reached for him as he kneeled down— but you saw the shadow behind him.

“watch out!” you screamed.

he whipped around and grabbed the nozzle of the gun with his metal hand. the shot fired— but the bullet flatted against his vibranium palm.

winter’s eye twitched and nick fury’s chest fell.

“well, shit…”

you pushed yourself away, clutching your wound as winter grabbed the shield agent by the collar of his shirt and rammed him down into the street. you lost sight of him behind the car. you could hear his feral, tight grunts and the whirr of his metal arm.

pop! pop! pop!

the windows shattered and you raised your arm to shield your face. the car rattled as one of them slammed into it.

you needed to move.

right now.

you cried out as you were pulled to your feet. panic shot through you and you reached for your knives, but the sight of his face drew your brows together in a hard line.

“hurry now, pet, now is not the time to freeze.” karov said as he slid your arm over his shoulder. he brought his hand to his throat and pressed the button on his collar. “weapon-v secure. evacuating to your position now. she’s hit. ready aide.”

you cried out as he pulled you along step after step. you tried to look up— look anywhere that wasn’t your feet — but the world was spinning. tears and sweat wet your face. with each step, you groaned.

“bucky…” you looked over your shoulder to try and see him.

blood splattered across the side of your face as a bullet struck karov through the throat.

you tried to catch him.

you tried to hold him upright.

you fell to the ground with him and landed on your back. you screamed in terror and he choked above you. he clawed at his throat, gasping and suffocating on blood. you titled your head back squeezed your eyes shut as blood sprayed across your face and burned your eyes.

“fuck!” you yelled, trying to shove him off you. “oh, fuck! fuck!”

you felt the weight of him get shoved away. your hands flew to your face— but you were grabbed by the arms. a guttural cry of anguish tore through your teeth as you were dragged blind through the street.

“target acquired!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

you blinked as hard as you could to clear your eyes. you struggled as hard as you could. you thrashed— but you only hurt yourself more. you forced your eyes open and all you saw was red.

and then nothing at all.

— ☆ —

death was a warm, welcoming hug.

but all you knew was the cold, cruel kiss of life.

white.

you could’ve been dead. all around you was white. white lights. white walls. white sheets. a white ceiling and a white floor. you cringed at all the light— at all the white. you squeezed your eyes closed.

a soft grunt escaped you as you breathed too deep. you could feel the tender, angry wound wrapped under layers and layers of bandages.

“winter,” you murmured through chapped lips and a dry mouth. you turned your head towards his rickety old chair. “winter, i’m thirsty…”

“i don’t speak russian, i’m afraid.”

your head snapped up and your eyes shot open. you bared your teeth at the agent who stood at the end of your bed.

“easy now,” said nicholas fury. he raised his hands and spared you a sympathetic smile. “you don’t want to tear a stitch.”

you grimaced at the reminder of the pain— at the way english sounded. it was a mess of words you had a hard time putting together. it was slow coming.

“you should learn.” you muttered as you glanced around the room. the scowl on your face must’ve amused him because he laughed. unless he found what you said funny.

the plain, empty room was as much as cell as any other. you were in handcuffs, your hands tied to the bed. you were prisoner. cared for, sure, but still a prisoner.

“where am i?” you asked softly.

“you know where you are.” nick said.

you grimaced. although you weren’t fond of his answer, he was right. it didn’t matter where you were exactly because you were in shield’s custody.

“do you remember what happened?” nick asked.

you nodded once but said nothing.

“your wound will heal if you let it.” he flicked his head towards your stomach. “i’m a good shot. i made sure not to paralyze you.”

“i won’t thank you.” you muttered.

“no, i figured you wouldn’t.” he chuckled.

you did not laugh. you did not bother to look at him.

only one thing mattered to you now.

“where…” you stopped yourself.

you had to maintain the secret.

“where is your friend?” nick asked for you. he walked over to the white metal chair beside your bed and turned it around, sitting backwards on it. “we don’t know where your friend with the metal arm is. he fled the scene.”

your brows pinched together and your chest caved.

relief or pain, you did not know.

“he…he’s not here?” you asked in a voice far too soft. you looked at the agent sitting beside you, searching for any hint of a lie.

“no,” nick said with a shake of his head. “sergeant james buchanan barnes is not here.”

your face paled. “how do you…” you almost didn’t have the words. your mind went numb you weren’t sure if you could’ve spoken russian if you tried. “that name…how…”

“shield knows more about you two than you could imagine, miss constantinescu, and we’ve been searching hard to find you both since we got wind of your…creation.” nick said lightly.

you squeezed your eyes shut. “don’t call me that.”

“that’s your name isn’t it?” nick asked.

“i don’t have a name.” you whispered through your teeth.

“now that just ain’t true.” nick sighed as he got up. he walked behind you somewhere and you tried to turn your head and see him. “you have many names.”

it was hard to focus your eyes as he held the folder in front of your face. the brown folder had your name across it in bold red letters.

ISLA E. CONSTANTINESCU

“THE VAMPIRE”

“WEAPON-V”

“shall i open it?” nick asked.

you said nothing.

you couldn’t find your voice.

you didn’t exist.

before hydra, you hadn’t existed. that woman did not exist. isla constantinescu was story. a dream. that person was not real.

you were real. a weapon. a machine. a monster. a pet.

that girl did not exist.

that girl was not you.

but if she had not been real then how was he holding a folder full of her?

a folder full of you.

nick placed the brown folder into your hands and stepped away. you looked over at him with tears brimming on your lashes. this was poison. it burned your hands to hold and yet you clutched it between your palms tighter and tighter.

“if i’m going to talk to you,” nick said with a small tip of his head, “then it looks like you are going to have to meet yourself, miss constantinescu.”

hope you enjoyed this installment of headlock. action scenes are always hard to write and i hope i did alright at keeping the intensity of the moment rampant. part five coming soon. as always, let me know if you want to join the taglist.

tags: @homiesexual-or-homosexual @carbonnite-copy @aegonshusband

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

I haven't read all of these series, because I want to wait until the series is complete in English before I read it, but this is my ranking of the books I've read:

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): It's my favorite for so many reasons! I'm so attached to Mo Ran and Chu Wanning. Meatbun is an amazing writer. It's crazy how many emotions I felt while reading this series. I read fan and machine translations of the book first and am rereading it as the official translations come out. It's even better (and infinitely more painful) the second time around! The foreshadowing and big reveals are more impactful than any other book I've ever read. Also, I am so glad I got to read the whole thing without stopping, because if I had to wait for the next book to come out that would have been far too painful! 2ha destroyed me emotionally in ways nothing else ever has. I refuse to read any other series by Meatbun until all the books are out because I've heard they are also painful, but brilliant, books! I have a feeling that Remnants of Filth and Casefile Compendium are going to be high on my favorites list when I do read them.

2. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): My first danmei, and my favorite by MXTX. The drama and the anime are also wonderful, but because the adaptations had to be censored, the books are definitely the best! The relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is absolutely perfect! The side characters are endearing, the humor is witty, and the action/suspense scenes are done very well. This book is also has my favorite confession scene of all time! I got into the series for the romance, and was blown away by the writing and the mystery plotline. However, it can be a little confusing when it comes to switching between timelines.

3. Thousand Autumns (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): The author basically thought, "What would happen if a man with no flaws and the worst man ever were to meet?" And then she wrote this book. Shen Qiao is the most perfect man ever. He's kind, gentle, beautiful, strong, intelligent, forgiving, and is basically the ideal Taoist priest. Yan Wushi is a demonic cultivator who is the exact opposite of Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi is arrogant, cynical, harsh, violent, mercurial, and is so strong that no one could oppose him if they wanted to. The book begins with Shen Qiao laying almost dead, blind, and amnesiac at the bottom of a cliff where he is found by Yan Wushi, who takes Shen Qiao home because he wants to try and influence him to become evil just for fun. As their paths meet and they travel together, Yan Wushi shows Shen Qiao parts of the world he had never known existed and they do end up influencing each other, just not in the way either of them expected. Yan Wushi is quite the character and Shen Qiao is absolutely perfect. They may not seem to be made for each other, at least not at first, but they were. I love the two main characters of course, but I also love how realistic the historical setting is and the power struggle between the three main Chinese philosophies, Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Thousand Autumns is thought provoking while also being exciting, suspenseful, fun, romantic, and downright silly at times. It isn't the most well known danmei series, but I think it is one of the best written.

4. Heaven Official's Blessing (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): This is probably the best writing from MXTX. It has beautiful symbolism, which helps to make the official artwork and donghua look spectacular. The whole series is like a work of art. Xie Lian is one of the most intriguing protagonists because he is as simple as he appears on the surface but is also equally complex deep down. He never changes throughout the series, either. You just learn and understand more about Xie Lian as his past is revealed. The same can be said about Hua Cheng; his character is straightforward and unchanging, but he is also an enigma. For me, Heaven Official's Blessing is amazing because of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's relationship and how they have influenced each other. The other characters and side plots are interesting and well written, but the whole draw for me is Hualian. Even during the moments when they are not the main focus in the plot they are still my main focus, if that makes sense. The world of Heaven Official's Blessing and the entire cast of characters are well written, and with Hualian at the center of it all this series is spectacular.

5. Scum Villain Self-Saving System (⭐⭐⭐⭐): This series is so much fun. There are so many stories where the main character dies in real life only to wake up as the villain in a story, and I thought this would be more of the same. But SVSSS is very satirical and pokes fun at the overused genre cliches. It is so easy to relate to Shen Qingqiu and to love Lou Binghe. I really enjoyed how the series is so entertaining at first, but it becomes so dark and realistic despite being an over the top stallion novel setting. The whole book is a wild ride and I enjoyed every moment of it.

6. Guardian (⭐⭐⭐): I think it was a fun choice to choose a modern supernatural detective setting and include Chinese mythology. It made the cast of characters unique and fun. I also really enjoyed the humor in this series. The character development and plot weren't as deep and impactful as the other danmei in this list, and I think part of the reason is the author gave a lot of hints and help for the reader. As a result, it felt like this series was written for a younger audience. It's not bad, but it made the series a lot less engaging for me, even though I do love the two main characters.

7. Stars of Chaos (⭐⭐): I wasn't really a fan of this series. It had so much potential, but ultimately the plot boiled down to a paranoid emperor, greedy court officials, an underfunded military, and the two main characters who are so perfect that they turn literally every situation around and everything goes according to their plans. The politics and military issues were realistic, but they were explained so thoroughly that there were no surprises. The main characters are amazing, but their backstories aren't explained even half as well as the politics were so we don't really know much about how they got to be that way. In the first book the main character travels for four years and changes from a snotnosed kid to the impressive and skilled protagonist who can take on literally everything. His godfather/love interest is astonished and wonders what he was doing for those four years. I was also curious, but the author never told us. There was so much emphasis on world building, political intrigue, and military strategy that I felt the characters took a backseat to everything else. Which is a shame, because the characters are so cool! I actually enjoyed the extra chapters more than the main story because we got to see more of the characters and how they interact with each other. (Whenever I talk about Stars of Chaos I sound like Shen Yuan talking about PIDW from SVSSS. I know and I'm sorry, so please remember this is just my opinion. Please don't hunt me down for revenge.)

To Be Read:

Remnants of Filth

Casefile Compendium

Peerless

Ballad of Sword and Wine

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish

You've Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post

Danmei novels but they are Pokémon to collect so yeah. Show me your collections and favourite series I’ll show you mine

I’m loving these so much. Erha is my favourite at the moment, but I need vol 3-9 to complete the collection. And I’m super excited to get through the rest of tgcf since I watched the anime and read the comic so IM EXCITED FOR MORE MATERIALLLL

[runawaymun]

Man what a horrible way to wake up.

[danidoesathing]

"Talis literally fist fought the narrative and archetype he was assigned to be with Viktor and won." YES. YES, YOU GET IT! JAYCE TALIS FOUGHT THE NARRATIVE AND WON!!

RIGHT!!! LIKE!!!! one of the reasons i love Jayce's arc in s2 is because of the his role in the lore and the fact that he actively pushes back at every turn. the fact that s1 set up this arc for him where he'd turn against the Undercity, where the his bias and ignorance and the arrogance he got while working on the council would come out full force under the threat of war, and that + the tempering with the hexcore and the death of sky is what would destroy his relationship with viktor. and given how his and vik's relationship functioned in the lore, where they always choose their own moral stances and ideals and pride over any understanding they could have with each other, it would make sense for it to follow that. all the pitfalls for Talis's fall from grace were right there. everything needed for him to become Giopara were right there

but then s2 drops and he IMMEDIATELY throws all of it away for Viktor. fuck his morals, fuck his pride, fuck all the unethical bullshit viktor did and all the unethical bullshit he's about to do, his partner is dying (dead) and he isn't going to let anything get in the way of saving that. he doesn't care what he has to do he IS going to save viktor's life and he DOES NOT CARE if Viktor is human or not. all he cares about is his partner. like all of giopara's core ideals thrown out the fucking window because it came at the cost of his partner and Jayce decided it wasn't worth it. none of it means anything if he cant have Viktor.

and then the finale. first off obligatory none of this shit wouldn't have been possible without ekko everyone say thank ekko our boy savior. but like still jayce like. grabbing Viktor by the fucking shoulders and going "WE DONT HAVE TO BE THIS!!! WE CAN BE MORE THAN WHAT WE ARE MADE FOR!!!" once he saw the astral expanse he understood. he understood what viktor was trying to do and why. and he understood what to say to get through to him that and the best part is all of it is TRUE. he meant every word he loved every part of him no matter how "weak" or even how changed they were. he's going to chose viktor over and over and over again no matter what and it literally changed their fate. hes so fucking insane what the fuck

[pageofheartdj]

Partly inspired by that possession post xD I mean, I was already playing with Technodrome!Donnie idea a lot xD

But seriously, it’s such an angst gold mine!! Technodrome particles that stayed in Donnie’s shell and fell dormant, so they weren’t detected by Donnie’s tech and their mystic nullifying powers didn’t allow mystic spells to detect them.

The brother is dead, the sister is locked away in human realm(no longer needed, a threat, an intruder) and the prime is locked away in prison dimenstion with all the dead technodromes and krangs.

Technodrome’s body and flash are destroyed... almost. The last bits gained some energy back and started merging with Donnie, not a conscious being, not really. A living machine that wants to be rebuilt. A machine that gained just a bit of sapience by merging with a very eager mind that sponges everything new, everything that Technodrome can offer.

They(it and he) find the bits of techndrome that are still salvageable. They build a new battle shell. They are more aware of themselves now, of who they are(of what halves they are made from), of what they want.

They are evolution. The progress can’t be stopped.

[chiarrara]

so yeah, what happened to ash is super tragic and unfair, but what happened to Shorter, is like, the most horrifying thing that could happen to anyone and the only thing worse is the entire rest of the narrative where ash survives it