#buy oh yes capsules

[after-witch]

You Never Come Back, Not All the Way [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: You Never Come Back, Not All the Way [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You haven't thrown up in months, but all you want to do is eat. Part of the It's My Party series.

Word count: 2500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, graphic eating disorder behavior including internal thoughts & actions

Outside, the world is moving and shaking, or so you hear. Villain attacks, media censorship, frightened people that don’t want to stay out late at night.

All of this is told to you by Tomura, who murmurs these things at an almost lullaby pace at night. Like it should lull you to sleep to know that he is (or he thinks he is) closer to his goal than ever before.

Inside, none of that matters. Attacks, heroes, villains, none of it makes a dent. All you can think about--all you know for certain in this capsule of a room you’re kept in is--

You want food.

No, not just food. You want something rich and hearty. Something you can dip into chili or stew, something that will pair well with watching a cooking challenge show or a scene from a restaurant in a movie. 

Bread would be nice. Nice bread would be even nicer. 

Not stale sandwich bread found in dumpsters or last-chance cheap brand pre-sliced white bread that was priced down to practically nothing (and it was stolen before it made its way to your plate, anyway).

But real bread, the kind you buy in loaves, the kind you can rip into hunks before spreading rich butter on it. The kind you stick on top of a bowl of stew so that it gets soft and the butter melts into the bread a little bit. 

The kind you dip into a stew, sopping up all the delicious rich beef and hearty vegetables before taking a big, chewy bite. 

Oh, fuck. Just one loaf of that kind of bread, please. 

It would be bliss.

If you asked, Tomura might try to get it for you. “Try” being the key word. You’d probably get a dented can of beef stew and one of those pre-sliced loaves of “French bread” that was always too soft and tasteless to really be satisfying. 

That’s what your life is, at the moment. Always having to settle for not-quite-the-same; settle for things that aren’t what you wanted but you’ll take them because it’s as close as you’ll get.

It’s not fair. None of it is. 

For another more pertinent example, you would also really love to throw up right now. 

Yes, yes, you’re supposed to be recovering. You’re not supposed to want to do that anymore. Tomura sits on you and distracts you and tells you that he likes you, so you don’t need to worry about things like weight. (He doesn’t get, no matter how much you try to tell him, that it’s not about how you look. Not really. It’s about what’s inside, literally, and you want to rip it all out.)

You think it’s the hunger that makes you want to throw up. Ironically enough. You’re not starving, exactly, but Tomura doesn’t exactly have an abundance of food. It’s not just you that needs to get fed, but the rest of the “League,” too. 

So those little hunger pangs that used to make you crow when you achieved them on purpose are now, instead, frustrating you. Making you sad. Making you feel weak.

Making you want to eat.

Right now--

You’d love to stuff your face with as much food as possible (the thought of ordering multiple pizzas comes to mind, or making a vat of something rich, spaghetti or a stew, and devouring it one night) and puke it out into the toilet. 

You’d love to feel the rush of adrenaline when you’re mid-session, the lightness that comes from emptying the contents of your stomach and watching it flush away. That feeling of power (however fake, and you know it’s so fucking fake, you’re not in control and never have been) that flushes your chest while vomit swirls down the toilet. 

But you can’t, for various reasons.

One, the toilet here is very unreliable. It clogs sometimes with just a little pee and paper, never mind what it might do with thick clumps of carb-heavy vomit. You’ve had to convince Tomura regarding the concept of a “courtesy flush,” something you never want to relive again on pain of death. 

Two, you don’t have enough food to actually binge and purge. There’s no abundance of food like there used to be, before he kidnapped you. So the act would just leave you empty, empty, empty--with nothing to fill it with later. Whether you keep it down the second time or not.

You just have to settle for not-quite-the-same. Which, at the moment, means chewing a muffin topped with possibly just-about-to-turn butter as slowly as possible. Savoring it. Imagining that you’re back home and you have an entire tray to eat.

In reality, you have just three, and they’re supposed to last you all day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Combined with pre-cooked egg cups that taste smelly when you microwave them, and a few scattered bags of chips. But chips and eggs aren’t great for this not-quite-the-same activity. The texture isn’t the same… chips get stuck in your teeth, and there’s nothing satisfying about chewing an egg.

So a muffin it is.

You chew slowly, licking at your teeth with every bite so that the muffin doesn’t stick as much to your molars. The slowness, the solitude, gives you too much time to think.

 How long has it been since you threw up, anyway? Tomura (a small part of your brain says: you’re calling him Tomura? This nasty villain who has kidnapped you and wants to destroy life as you know it--you’re calling him Tomura?!”) went from positioning himself in front of the bathroom door to laying on you to keeping a watchful eye whenever you eat a decent meal. 

But even his watchful eye had more or less vanished, since you’ve been eating and… doing nothing after. 

And now, he trusts you to be alone. Even with food. Even with meals. Like he doesn’t even consider the idea that you’ll do it, because you haven’t, and you haven’t really wanted to, not in the same way, not-quite-and-all-that.

He trusts that you’re getting better. And some part of you is, but not in a way that leaves you feeling good. It’s a way that leaves you feeling--what? Pathetic? Like you’ve lost? Like you gave away something about yourself that made you better (it didn’t--it doesn’t) and now you’re just some good little moron who eats and keeps it inside. 

And it makes you feel empty. Not in the way you like. 

You just feel so hollow, whether he’s here, whether he’s not. Whether he watches you after you eat or doesn’t bother to look or leaves you alone, trusting that you’ll be fine. 

You’re alone right now, in fact, aren’t you? Until late tonight, if he comes back when he says he will.

The thought hits you too hard, and your hand pauses, half-eaten muffin trembling in mid-air.

He’s not here. He won’t be back for a long time. You could eat this muffin. You could wash it down with sink water, then eat the rest of the muffins, and all of the microwave egg meals, and every bag of half-eaten chips in this messy room, and then lean over the toilet and--

Before you know it, the heavy temptation has you sitting in front of the toilet, knees pressed hard against the tile. The half-eaten muffin is still in your hand, and you hold it up, tasting the clumpy crumbles stuck to the bottom of your front teeth.

The familiar scent of the bathroom, the feel of the hard tile pressing against your knees, almost makes puke come up on instinct. 

But, fuck, it’s been so long since you did it. You’ve been so good.

What if…

What if you just don’t puke? That would be okay. It would be safer. You wouldn’t get dizzy, and he wouldn’t be able to smell the vomit, there’d be no chance he’ll find the splashback under the rim and get pissed off afterwards.

Because you’d just be chewing and spitting it out, right? No biggie. 

So--you chew. Chew and chew until the crumbs are all wet and stuck together. Then you lean forward, open your mouth, and push it out with your tongue; the clumpy mess slides into the toilet with a splash. 

It’s a comforting, familiar feeling. The scent of toilet water, your knees pressed against the floor, the splash of technically undigested food hitting the water.

You take another bite. And do it again. And again. 

You don’t even hear the door to his room unlocking--the thunk of the lock covered, perhaps, by the splash of another lump into the toilet. You don’t hear him call your name. You don’t hear him walk, slow then faster, to the bathroom--

You don’t see his expression when he first stands in the doorway, seeing you kneeling before the toilet, mostly-gone muffin in hand, small mounds of food resting in the toilet bowl.

You only see his expression once he’s got four fingers wrapped around your upper arm--his pinky flies out at the last moment--and he yanks you up so hard you drop the muffin to the ground. He doesn’t waste time tugging you out of the bathroom, your socked feet slipping on the floor, and he doesn’t let go until he’s got you flung onto the mattress.

There are a few moments where the world feels topsy turvy, all buzzing and strange, before Tomura begins to pick at his neck and spits out the words, tinged with months of worn-out patience--

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It makes your guts feel weak; it drains every ounce of high you got from spitting down to your toes, where it fizzles to nothing. Really, truly--

You wish he would have just slapped you, instead.

Tears sting your eyes and you sit up straighter on the mattress, pretending something like dignity.

“What’s wrong with you?” His eyes widen and his fingers still at your tone. Not angry, like he might have expected. But worse than that: low and guttural and hurt. “You kidnapped me! You don’t let me--you don’t let me do what I want, I can’t talk to anyone, I can’t even…” And the words go unsaid. You can’t even puke up your own damn food. 

Whatever words might have come next are lost when you simply begin to cry. Low, stupid, whimpering cries, the kind that choke up anything else you’d like to say.  A nasty, ugly cry that you know makes you look awful. 

And just like that, his own attitude clicks and shifts, and he’s kneeling on the mattress at your side. Rough knuckles rub against your tears and he mumbles apologies that all blur into one big “Hey-shit-I’m-sorry-I-was-too-rough-you’re-okay-fuck-hey-calm-down.”

It’s not until he pulls you close to his chest, forcing your cheek against it, that you can begin to calm down. It’s a ritual. Something done before, earlier on in your kidnapping. Not for a while, not until now, when all your awful thoughts come rushing back like a wave on an abandoned beach.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you,” he says, quietly, when you’ve stopped crying enough to let him be heard. “If you’re here, no one can hurt you. So that’s why…” He doesn’t finish, and he doesn’t need to; he’s told you all this before. 

If he hadn’t caught you throwing up, maybe he wouldn’t have kidnapped you at all. Or maybe he would have but a month down the line, or two months, a year. You could’ve enjoyed freedom just a bit longer.

Doesn’t matter, because he did catch you, and you are kidnapped, and you’re here now, on his mattress, getting comfort from his touch and words. 

Sniffles are childish as hell, you think, even as you sniffle and rub your nose.

“I didn’t throw up,” you mumble. Against you, he stills. You move your head back to look up at him and he looks at you like he’s about to say “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Before you can actually say it, you lick some food from the back of your teeth and move back a little more, intent on the truth.

“I was just chewing it. And spitting it out.” Somehow you keep eye contact with him--maybe because it feels right to explain it. To try to make him understand that it’s not like you were throwing up. He should be happy, even, that you were doing something like this instead. “It’s not a big deal,” you throw out, almost lightly, a half-laugh catching the edge of the last word. 

Tomura looks at you like it is, in fact, a big deal.

Which means you won’t be able to do it and I mean, fuck, you didn’t really think he’d be okay with it--you’re not that stupid. Not that naive. Just desperate, you think. Desperate for something to make you feel better when your mood takes this inevitable turn down food-control-food-control-food-control road.

All of it makes you want to cry again. It makes those stupid tears come back to the corners of your eyes, making your eyes feel all bulging and warm. It makes your mouth quiver, as you begin your pathetic complaint. 

“It’s not fair. I can’t do anything--I should be able to do this.” You gesture towards the bathroom, towards the mess you’ve left in there. Towards your chewed-up food in the toilet bowl. “I can’t live where I want or eat what I want or go to a movie or talk to my friends or--or--” There is an endless list of things you can no longer do, but Tomura doesn’t let you list them. Instead he gets off the bed.

It makes you stop crying, at least. If only out of surprise.

“That’s enough,” is what he says, voice strained, tired. The edge of patience is a thin one, apparently. You watch from the mattress as he walks into the bathroom; hear the toilet flushing, the sink running.

He comes back into the bedroom with a damp towel. There’s no gentleness as he, without an ounce of warning, straddles you against the mattress and wipes up your mouth.

“Tomu--” you begin, spluttering between wipes. “What--I don’t--you can’t--” 

But he ignores you until your face is cleaned, until it feels refreshed if not scrubbed a bit raw. He drops the wash cloth on the floor--you cringe, thinking about how you’ll have to pick it up later--and keeps you pinned against the bed.

His hair falls towards you, framing his face, ghosting against your scrubbed skin. He’s tired. You’re tired. It shows in the way he speaks now, in the way you give in without another struggle.  

“You gonna do it again?” 

You bite your cheek, tasting a bit of leftover muffin glob, and shake your head. 

--

“What game do you want to play?”

You blink at Tomura and don’t have an actual answer. He doesn’t usually let you pick the games. Especially when it’s a two-player game, and he’s usually picking the ones that make him look the best. Or so you assume; he’d denied it, when you felt lighthearted enough to make the jab once before.

“Why?” He frowns, and you press. “I mean. You usually pick.” 

He shrugs. “Just decided you can pick it tonight. Tomorrow, too. If you want.” 

Oh. It all slides together, like a children’s puzzle. 

You don’t have a lot of choices in your life, anymore. You don’t pick where you live or who touches you or who you talk to or what you can eat. But tonight--tonight you get to pick what game you’ll spend the next few hours playing, before you tell Tomura it’s late and you want to go to bed. 

Your choice.  For a few hours.

He’s throwing you a lifeline, or he imagines he is. 

It’s not much. 

But you have to take it for what it’s worth--which is, in the grand scheme of your little world, is a lot. 

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

".... Y/n?" You heard a voice on the other end of the phone. A familiar voice. It's three in the morning and instead of sleeping you're sitting and watching a movie. You grab the TV remote to turn down the background noise, because the voice is surprisingly quiet. "... I need your help."

∆∆∆

The fact is, the only reason you have a job supporting the jujutsu sorcerers is because your uncle is a Yaga. Your cursed energy is so small it's practically nonexistent. Sometimes you see curses, sometimes you don't. However, in situations where there aren't enough people in the field, you're sprinkled in in a support role... More like support for support. It never bothered you though. Your talent for being a person with curse energy is that you are almost normal. Almost sometimes makes a big difference.

But hey! Work is work and as long as they pay there's nothing to complain about. So when you were running through the streets of Tokyo in the middle of the night to the apartment of none other than Gojo Satoru, it didn't even cross your mind what was going on.

He's probably craving something sweet again, or come up with some stupid idea like - "So if you put more capsules into the washing machine, won't the wash be done faster? Damn. Okay, clean up this mess y/n." Or "I'm out of hair gel, I'm not leaving the house like this! Go y/n and buy me some." - being an errand dog defines your position more. Especially since one of the weakest of the weak in the world of the strong, you are a subordinate of none other than the strongest sorcerer. The Chosen One.

Meh... Could be worse. Right?

Right?

∆∆∆

You punched in the code to Gojo's apartment, breathing heavily. Fuck, why is Ijichi always the driver? Oh yeah, you failed your driving test.

"Gojo? What is it this time?" You asked with a slight note of irritation in your voice. You turned on the light in the living room, looking around the room for any sign of Satoru. With his height you usually had no problem finding him. But this time, all you were greeted with was a dark room. As if no one was here. "Gojo? If this is some kind of stupid joke..."

"Believe me, I would like to..." You heard his voice, strangely quiet but not weak. However, when you turned in the direction it came from, no one was there. "Listen... First, promise me that what you see will stay between us." Gojo continued talking, or rather his voice came from the side of the table in the living room.

"Um... Ok?"

"Secondly... swear you won't laugh."

"Did your students play some stupid prank on you? Did they shave you bald?"

"Promise me, fuck."

"ok ok I promise..." You slowly approaches the table, his voice getting clearer, but you still can't see him.

"Third... Fuck... Help me." His voice was a mix of anger, shame, and humiliation. You never thought you'd ever get to hear it. Ever.

"Okay Gojo... I'll help you, but where are you?"

After he told you to turn on the light and go to the table, you still didn't see him. Finally you heard some rustling and Gojo climbed onto the table top. Yes, he climbed it.

"you won't believe what happened to me..." He said, trying his best to protect his dignity by masking it with an amused tone of voice.

And so, before you on the night table stood the strongest sorcerer of modern times. The Chosen One. Except... He's the size of a doll now, with cat ears and a tail.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Next:

[thylacines-toybox]

i love love love love the chimera character in your icon!! did you make them? if you did, do youve detail pics and/or wip pictures? i really want to make / modify a sensory plush for myself so i love the addition of things like the teether tail and would love to see all the little beastie's features and learn more about them if youre ok with sharing!! and in general, do you ever post WIPs or tips abt sewing?? thanks for your time and sharing your amazing work with us!

First off, yes I do have a few bits and pieces of sewing advice in my plushie advice tag! There could always be more, though…

I’m glad you enjoy my chimera, I love him too! He was such fun to make and come up with all the babyish details for, and I’m very proud of him.

I don’t really have wip pics of the chimera (since I was kind of in The Zone making him) but I can take you on a, uh, short tour of his features, that sounds fun!

The baby boy himself… lots of pictures and words under the cut!

Here are the first doodles of him as I came up with his design! I was trying to make a cute lion/lamb (the meanings of the two parts of my irl name!) which is basically a chimera already, and the combination of primary colours, rainbows, and a cloud-like wool mane made the weather theme just happen.

Obviously I just had to sew this! He already looked just like a colourful baby toy.

Here is his lovely little face. I took style inspiration from a lion toy I had already, and to keep him accurate to a baby-toy style, I used embroidery stitches to make his face rather than any “choking hazards” like plastic eyes. I’ve not really used embroidery before so it was pretty hard to do neatly!

He’s also got ribbon loops for whiskers (or are they sun rays?) and you can also see a bit of star-textured minky fabric on his face and ears. Fun textures are important!

His mane is made with a super soft and fluffy fur fabric. Maybe not strictly “baby safe” since it can slightly shed fibres, but it’s very nice, and I’m not exactly a real baby lol. His horns have a nice ridged texture, you’ll see what those were made from in a moment…

Oh, I also added a banana scent chip from Build-a-Bear into his little head, because I love that smell. He’s a multi-sensory plush alright.

His front paws have some noises in them! In the red one is a squeaker, and the blue one is a rattle. You can buy these especially for putting in toys, but the rattle I used in him was actually just a little plastic capsule with a few beads inside like pictured!

All four paws have a bumpy rubbery texture on them. Rather appropriately, they are made from actual baby socks! I found a multipack of different colours that matched my planned colours perfectly by sheer luck.

The ridged horn material came from the top of the red sock!

Here is the tummy, also made with a star textured fabric. It has a cylindrical chime inside which makes a lovely musical jingling sound when he’s tipped around.

While bean filling probably isn’t baby safe either, I did put a beanbag in his bottom because I like a bit of weight and it helps him sit nice.

The wings have matching dimple textured minky on one side and smooth minky on the other. I feel like dimple minky is a must if you want to make a babyish toy!

Inside the wings are some pieces of (clean) cereal packet to give them a light crinkle sound. You can buy crinkly material especially for this too, which can be a lot noisier! He’s actually very quiet as crinkly toys go, but I’m okay with this.

He’s got some little raindrop patches made from dotty cotton, with more embroidered edges which I recall having a lot of difficulty with… looks good though! As well as textures, you gotta include some fun visual patterns in a baby toy too.

And finally, the tail! A thick rainbow ribbon holding a cloud shaped teether - another lucky find in a baby shop! It came attached to a squeaky sun and crinkly rainbow, currently held by another toy.

Originally I’d simply stitched the end of the ribbon in place around the teether, but then I got some plastic snaps (for making bandanas with!) and found they gave it a much nicer finish.

And that’s about it! Hope you enjoyed getting to know the little chimera and his features!

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Tasuku Takato SR: A Rare Drunk Day - Part 2

Tsumugi: Tasuku, we're here. Put your arm around my neck.

Tasuku: Uuu...

Taxi driver: Will you be okay?

Tsumugi: I'm sorry, we'll be okay. Thank you very much.

Tsumugi: Hup...!

Tsumugi: Y-You're heavy... Tasuku, we're almost home, so do your best to walk a little...!

Tasuku: ... Yeah.

Fuyuki: Woah, I thought I heard talking out here...

Tsumugi: Fuyuki-kun...! Tasuku got drunk...

Tasuku: ...

Fuyuki: How did he get so wasted...

Fuyuki: He's heavy, isn't he? I'll take him.

Tsumugi: Thanks...!

Fuyuki: Up you go.

Fuyuki: Thanks for bringing him till here, Tsumu.

Fuyuki: Your club had that drinking party today, right?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Tasuku didn't look drunk at all, so our senpai made him drink a lot...

Tsumugi: He looked fine the whole time, but he was actually quite drunk. I brought him back home because he started acting strange.

Fuyuki: Haha, Tasuku's an actor even when he's drunk.

Tsumugi: Geez, that's not what you should be taking out of this!

[Flashback ends]

-

Tsumugi: ... And that's what happened.

Itaru: So just now too, he was pretty drunk even though he looked fine.

Tsumugi: I think so.

Fuyuki: Hey, Tsumu. You got any hair ties?

Tsumugi: I don't have any. But you can probably find some on that shelf over there...

Itaru: I have one. I went to the convenience store to buy capsule toys and one of them had a hair tie.

Itaru: It has a KniRoun character on it, but if that's fine with you...

Fuyuki: Is it okay if I use something that belongs to you, Itaru-kun?

Itaru: I've got about 13 of them, so it's alright.

Fuyuki: Haha, that's a lot.

Itaru: It's the result of my daily gacha pulling.

Tsumugi: What are you going to use the hair tie for, Fuyuki-kun?

Fuyuki: Oh, I was thinking of tying Tasuku's bangs.

Itaru: Eh, his bangs?

Tsumugi: Won't Tasuku get mad when he wakes up?

Fuyuki: That's my goal.

Fuyuki: Tasuku will hate it, so I'll tie his bangs to show him he shouldn't drink to the point of passing out...

Itaru: I see. I'm good at tying bangs, so would you let me do it?

Fuyuki: Huh, you're good at it?

Itaru: Yes, I'm used to it.

Fuyuki: Then, please do.

Itaru: Leave it to me.

Tasuku: *Snore*...

Itaru: ... How does this look?

Fuyuki: Haha, that's good. When he wakes up and realizes his bangs are tied, he'll probably hate it. He'll learn from this and be careful for the time being.

Itaru: He kind of looks like me when I'm in the dorm.

Tsumugi: Hehe, he does.

Fuyuki: Well then. I'll carry Tasuku back to his room and then go back home.

Tsumugi: I can't let you do that when you're our guest, Fuyuki-kun.

Tsumugi: Itaru-kun, let's carry Tasuku together.

Itaru: Nah, I think that's impossible for us.

Tsumugi: Let's not think like that and do our best!

Itaru: Eugh...

Tsumugi: I'll take the left side, so you get the right side, Itaru-kun.

Itaru: Are you fr....

Tsumugi: Ready? One, two...!

Itaru: Ugh...

Tsumugi: H-Heavy...

Tasuku: ...

Itaru: Damn,  h-he's not budging at all...! Could it be... Tasuku's a rock?

Tsumugi: More like he's nothing but muscles...

Fuyuki: Haha, I'll just carry him after all.

Itaru: ... I'm sorry, please do.

Tsumugi: Sorry, Fuyuki-kun.

Fuyuki: It's okay. He's my precious little brother, leave him to me.

Fuyuki: Then, I'll take Tasuku to his room. Hup...

Tasuku: Mh...? ... Aniki?

Fuyuki: It's okay, just sleep.

Tasuku: *Snore*...

part 1 | part 2

[luffysprincess]

Helloooooo Amira my princess! I am here to play your game if that’s alright?

For Kiribakumarq?

Three fun facts:

Eiji can instantly make me laugh no matter what by doing a near perfect Swedish chef from the muppets impersonation.

To relax, Katsu likes to rake his fingers through Eiji’s long hair. It’s like petting a cat to him I guess lol.

I’ve trained our dog Rex to greet the boys at the door by Giving them high fives. They cannot enter the house until they high five the dog.

Umm three things I love about me? Blahhhhhh ok

My humor. I’m funny as fuck.

My dimples. They are my favorite thing about me.

My fashion sense. My outfits slay. Daily. Lmao

OK BYE LOVE YOUUUU💖💖

a/n: text is color coded (sorry) and bolded for an easier reading experience (bc i was too lazy to properly write the dialogue)

“Before we start, I want to remind you two, Bakugo especially, that prior to this you signed a contract to not harm the interviewer, correct?”

“Great!,” the interviewer continues with a grin after seeing both heads nod in agreeance. “So first question: Who loves Marquie more?”

“THIS FUCKING BITC–”

“ –Woah hold it Kats,” Kirishima grits through his teeth, using his strength to pull Bakugo back down to his seat. “Keep it cool, man. It was probably meant as a joke.”

“Well…”

“Shut up. We both love Marquie equally.”

“Yeah, we used to fight about it in the beginning of our relationship, but we realized we’re both too whipped for her to care about fighting about it.”

“That’s sweet! What a lucky woman.”

“I’d say we’re,” Kirishima points his finger between him and Bakugo, “the lucky ones.”

“Hard agree, I’m jealous–”

“What? You better not make any moves on my woman.”

“Our woman, Kats.”

“Right.”

“–Anyways, next question: What do you love about her the most?”

“Oh I can go on and on about her. First, have you seen her smile? She’s got the cutest dimples. And when she wears glasses I just wanna kiss her so hard. Then there’s the way she bosses people around when she needs to. But she’s also so kind and warm–”

“He’s gonna talk your ear off for an hour. So I’ll keep it short. There’s really no one else like her. She’s got it all, looks, humor, strength, ass–”

“Wait sorry did you say ‘sass’ or ‘ass’ at the end there?”

“Both,” Bakugo smirks.

“Kirishima, are you with us?”

“Huh–oh sorry! I started thinking about her and got distracted ha ha.”

“Does that ever happen when you two are on patrol or fighting a villain?”

“Only a couple times”

“For who?”

“For the both of us.”

“Would you care to elaborate? When did this happen? Give us details!”

“It happened to me while I was patrolling. Was supposed to be walking around the Nakagin Capsule Tower but I saw a little girl dressed in a sunflower dress and I couldn’t help but think of Marquie, or rather a future with her. Found myself subconsciously walking to the flower shop four blocks down to buy her some flowers for when I returned home to her.”

“Aww did some baby making happen that night?”

“None of your damn business,” he replied. Meanwhile Kirishima had discreetly nodded his head yes.

“And what about you Kirishima?”

“For me, it happened when I was fighting that one ice villain. That battle took place in the mall, if you remember, and I happened to see a lingerie ad. Now those don’t affect me but then I started thinking about Marquie in that–I know, so not manly– but next thing I knew I was frozen in a block of ice.”

“You’re missing the best part of the story.”

“What part?”

“When they found him in the ice block, he still had an erection.”

[mothmothm0th]

Consider: You’re at a space port.

The bustling kind, of course. Folks buzzing about, people chattering interminably. You hear languages you’ll never be able to comprehend. You just lack the organs. In the distance, the rumble of short range engines coming online. Some cocksure pilot brings their craft real close to the terminal’s glass pane wall. You know the ship would lose in a fight against the station architecture but you’re not really eager to have that knowledge put to the test. Oh, but it’s a long ship. 

You glance down at your fob watch. It’s just under a thousand units till boarding, which means time to muck about. Grab hold of your suitcase. Walk down the corridors. On either wall, covering the faux-oxidised faux-copper adornments, advertisements in faux-neon buzz-hummed away. You can’t even read the text on any of them. The borgyloid seems happy, though. Might be a borgiakin, come to think of it. Are those teeth? Maybe they’re mouth claws. Oh, oh! That font’s actually kind of interesting! It’s made up of human arms! How quirky! And that must mean the red accents on the letters are... yes! You look closely and realise that really is blood! Oh, rather makes sense now, does it not? The borgyloids are humanity’s closest extrasolar trading partners. Figuratively closest, of course. But no one wants to linger on those centaurite nerds when there’s borgyloid culture to admire! How exquisite! You will admit, it’s a little unnerving at first how their primary expression of joyful communion translates to something like “let us eat your arms in a non-metaphorical way, may we have your arms to eat.” It’s just something you have to get used to, like the slight lag of a robot arm. Ah, but it’s time to move on. 

Your trilby expresses relief. You’re at your platform. When did your hat learn to express emotion? It’s been such a long day, such a long day indeed. You dream of laying down in bed planetside. Here on the station, there’s too many different kinds of humming. The life support systems, your room AI, the handheld generator for your robot arm charger... It’s too much! You want to go back home! Back home, where the only humming you hear are the AC, your PC, and your hand-holding robot arm charger. Besides, it’s much nicer to be kept up by roadworks or your neighbours than sub-audible pressure cavitations. It really is!

Oh. Your ship’s been delayed. Kessler cloud in low orbit over Europe. How silly of them, those pre-commercial space travel humans. People used to be so silly. They shot too many sharp bits and bobs in space. Entirely too much. How silly. Still, it’s generally considered the smarter option to avoid making contact with sharp bits and bobs, especially when they’re travelling at orbital speeds. So, you entirely understand. But your arm charger waits for you at home. It so beckons, waving at you. Oh, if only it could... oh, but that would be naughty. It might not be best practice to have thoughts like that. Not just because you’ll have to go buy a ticket for a capsule bed this evening, it seems, but because people generally do not have thoughts like that about their home appliances. Well, except for the ones that call you husband and or wife, hoh hoh!

There, the capsule kiosk. Its yellow extravagance is a poor match with its plastic construction. Still, what can you do? Well, the bored teenaged girl on the pixellated screen tells you you can pay up or shut up in between her two-frame chewing animation cycles. You do, but you promise to give the girl a bad review. She does not respond. You pick up your suitcase, which the lil kid with the Dickensian accent promises should weigh exactly the same as before you left it out of sight for thirty units of time. What a lovely lad. Lass. One of the two. Or maybe a third thing. Kids these days with their organs.

No one’s called the capsule corrals “hotels” in thirty cycles. The brochures might, but not even the big sign at the entrance does. Some clever clog had gotten to the “t” and the “l”, it seems. Or perhaps it was just the slow decay, the passage of time. Regardless, you clamber to your capsule. Into the compartment your suitcase goes and with a press of a button, your capsule enters bath mode. The pod fills to the brim with water before you can say “claustrophobia” (which is only a good thing since you wouldn’t want to be caught with your mouth open) and flushes itself before you can think the words “fear of drowning”. You swap your now sopping wet clothes with your suitcase. If you cannot have your hand-holder, you would at least be able to enjoy your handheld.

You open your suitcase. A large stone approximately the size of a small handheld robot arm charger falls in your lap. Attached is a note: “Fanks, guv’na!” At least they said fanks.

[postgamecontent]

Party Quiz Mega Q 2022 & Party Quiz SEGA Q (MD Mini 2)

Ah, quiz games. They can be a lot of fun, especially with people who don't normally play video games. Party Quiz Mega Q is a decent one, doing a solid job of mimicking the Japanese TV quiz shows of the era. Of course, there's always that one little problem when you decide to reissue them: the topics are well past their expiry date, and few of them tend to remain in the collective consciousness. Questions that were simple in the 1990s might be very difficult today as a result. That also makes them interesting time capsules, but if you really want to play them as intended it's better to have something newer, yes?

I suppose SEGA thought so too, because it put not one but two versions of Party Quiz Mega Q on the Mega Drive Mini 2 as bonus games, both of which having been modified to offer different questions from the original. Also, the fake ads show more modern products. Oh, and SEGA Q has the host replaced with Takenobu Mitsuyoshi for some reason. You know, the guy who sings "DAYTOOOOOOOOONAAAA". It's a cute guest appearance, especially since he has some voice clips in the game.

Party Quiz Mega Q 2022 simply opts to change the questions for more modern ones that cover a similar spread of popular topics. Though it is a little funny playing it now, because even here just a couple of years after release, some of these questions feel a little bit old. Perhaps more timeless for a certain bunch is Party Quiz SEGA Q, which replaces all of the questions with SEGA-related trivia. Now that's more my speed. Of course, all of the questions are in Japanese, and if you can't read it fairly fluently you're going to be in big trouble here. Time is not on your side. It's a quiz show, Jake.

It would have been nice to see something like this on the Western Mini 2, but I suppose this level of work is not inconsiderable. Still, SEGA Q alone would have been very welcome. As bonuses on the Japanese unit go, these are a good excuse to buy the USB hub Buffalo was selling for four-player action, and fun games to play with a mixed group (in the case of Mega Q 2022) or your fellow Megadrivers (in the case of SEGA Q). Just, you know, make sure everyone understands the language.

[naturallygoals]

Discover LeanBiome's Special Offers and How It Can Help You Shed Stubborn Fat

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LeanBiome Is Backed by Science

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Clinically-Proven Ingredients in LeanBiome

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How LeanBiome Ensures Maximum Effectiveness

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"Ah, that makes sense. So how soon can I expect to see results with LeanBiome?"

How Quickly Will You See Results with LeanBiome?

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LeanBiome Special Offers and Discounts

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"That’s a pretty generous offer. What’s in the bonus eBook?"

Free Bonus: 21 Gut-Friendly Smoothie Recipes

"When you purchase the three or six-bottle package, you get an eBook with 21 gut-friendly smoothie recipes. These smoothies are designed to help boost the effectiveness of LeanBiome by feeding the good bacteria in your gut. It’s not a requirement to drink the smoothies, but it could speed up your results!"

"Nice! I love smoothies. Is LeanBiome easy to take?"

How to Take LeanBiome for Best Results

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"That’s good to know. I have a few friends with allergies, so I’ll be sure to mention that. Are there any side effects?"

Are There Any Side Effects to Using LeanBiome?

"Since LeanBiome is made from natural ingredients, side effects are rare. However, if you have any pre-existing medical conditions or are pregnant, it’s always a good idea to consult your doctor before starting any new supplement."

"Okay, I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Can I place an order online?"

How to Place Your LeanBiome Order

"Yes, you can order directly from their website. The process is secure and straightforward. Plus, they use 256-bit encryption, the same technology used by major banks, so your information is safe. You won’t be automatically signed up for any subscriptions, and there are no hidden fees."

"Awesome! Is LeanBiome available in stores?"

Is LeanBiome Available in Stores?

"No, LeanBiome is only available online. They’ve kept it this way to cut out the middleman, which is how they can offer such deep discounts directly to customers."

"That makes sense. One last question—how long will it take to get my order?"

How Long Does It Take to Receive Your LeanBiome Order?

"Shipping times depend on your location. Most U.S. orders arrive within 3-5 business days, and international orders can take a little longer. If you order the six-bottle package, you also get free shipping!"

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FAQs

How long does it take to see results with LeanBiome? Results typically start to appear within two to three weeks, but for best outcomes, use the product consistently for 90 days.

What is Greenselect Phytosome®? Greenselect Phytosome® is a caffeine-free green tea extract designed to enhance fat burning and absorption, making LeanBiome more effective.

Are there any side effects with LeanBiome? LeanBiome is made from natural ingredients and has minimal side effects. However, consult your doctor if you are pregnant or have a medical condition.

How should I take LeanBiome? Take one capsule daily with water. It can be taken at any time of day that suits your routine.

Is LeanBiome suitable for vegans? Yes, LeanBiome is vegan-friendly and free from gluten, dairy, soy, and nuts.

Can I get LeanBiome in stores? No, LeanBiome is only available for purchase online, directly through the manufacturer.

What if LeanBiome doesn’t work for me? LeanBiome offers a 180-day money-back guarantee, so if you’re not satisfied, you can return the product for a full refund.

How does LeanBiome target belly fat? LeanBiome repopulates your gut with lean bacteria that help curb hunger, reduce cravings, and fire up your metabolism, which can lead to the loss of belly fat.

Is there free shipping with LeanBiome? Yes, free shipping is available when you order the six-bottle package.

Do I need to subscribe to get LeanBiome? No, there are no subscriptions or hidden charges. It’s a one-time purchase.

[bigbrainkatrina]

Operation: Save Byleth! - a Black Eagles Spy AU fic

Agent Byleth Eisner is kidnapped by Those Who Slither in the Dark after a mission to destroy nuclear launch codes is botched. Thankfully for Arundel, Byleth knows the codes and he intends on selling those codes to Rhea.

But the Black Eagle Strike Forces leaves no one behind. Edelgard will do everything in her power to save her beloved.

At 1400 hours, the high speed bullet train will depart from Garreg Mach Academy Station to Enbarr. The journey takes thirty minutes. In this time, Arundel (Codename: Thales) will meet with Rhea (Codename: Immaculate One) and make a business transaction. Rhea’s buying nuclear launch codes, Arundel is just taking money. 

But it’s not that simple. Never is. 

One month prior, Agent Byleth Eisner was captured by Those Who Slither in the Dark. From insider intel, Team Leader Edelgard von Hresvelg has determined that Byleth is still alive and will be onboard the, sealed off in a capsule that can only be opened by a passcode.

What Rhea doesn’t know is the launch codes were destroyed. The only one who knows them is Byleth. Rhea thinks she is buying a stack of papers when really she’s buying a human vessel. The stakes have never been higher.

Edelgard gets up from her seat at the back of the train. Brown wig and sunglasses. High waisted suit pants and a red blouse to her black blazer. She makes her way through the train. “Is everyone in position?” she whispers.

“ Yes! ” Bernadetta squeaks, crouched besides Byleth’s container surrounded by mission gear.

“ Affirmative, Lady Edelgard  ,” Hubert coos into his mic. “  Dorothea and Petra accounted for as well .” They are a mile out, prepared to steal a helicopter at any given moment. 

“Don’t move until my signal,” Edelgard mutters. “Linhardt?”

“ Yes,  ” he feigns a yawn. He’s the guy in the van. “  Caspar’s practicing his punches but he’s with me .”

“He doesn’t need to practice,” Edelgard snips.

“ You tell him that .”

“Fine,” Edelgard rolls her eyes and then narrows them. “Ferdinand?”

“ Yes  ,” Ferdinand says and there is a heavy pause. Everyone waits with bated breath. “  I’ll admit though… ”

And everyone groans.

Ferdinand continues, “ I do not understand why I cannot work on the field. I’m very good and —”

“Ferdie,” Edelgard hisses between her teeth. “You are superior to driving a bullet train when compared to me. Please.”

Another pause. “ So I am! I shall add this to my list. ”

“Good,” Edelgard mutters and steps forward. She almost calls for Byleth’s confirmation out of instinct but she knows it’s futile. 

Soon my love. Soon .

From afar, Edelgard can see the tops of Arundel’s balding scalp and Rhea’s elegant, emerald hair. Their heads bob up and down, deep in conversation. Quick round of poison darts and it’ll look they’re sleeping like the other passengers. Edelgard steals the briefcase and mission accomplished. She steps forward and something grabs her by the hand. Her shoulders retract like bat wings and she whirls around. 

“Edelgard?!” Dimitri decrees. He leans back, a fake mustache under his nose. With the thick glasses, he looks ridiculous. “What are you doing here? Can you believe it, Claude?”

Edelgard looks back. Arundel shifts to get up and she swipes off her wig, kicking it under Dimitri’s chair. “Compromised, Code Red,” she whispers. 

Claude raises an eyebrow playfully. “Ooh, Big D, why’d you do that?”

Dimitri blinks. “I don’t understand.”

Edelgard could rip his face off. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Dimitri looks to Claude. “My good friend, Claude, just asked me to wear this silly outfit and get on a train with him.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “We’re  working . And so is Edelgard, apparently separate from us.”

Dimitri lets out a hearty chuckle. “Well, there you are. So what’s the scheme, friends?”

“I’m not working with you,” Edelgard snips.

“Be calm,” Claude grabs Dimitri’s thigh as Arundel appears from behind.

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite nephew,” Arundel says with that usually oily slick that hardly passes for anything kind. “And Edelgard. What  are  you doing here?”

Edelgard catches Arundel’s side eye fast. “Just visiting my father in Enbarr.”

Arundel doesn’t flinch. “With your Academy friends? Last I heard, the three of you had a big fight.”

Claude leans, blocking Dimitri out of view. “It be like that sometimes. We just bumped into each other, and it’s pretty awkward.” 

“ Edelgard, nooooo! ” Bernadetta screams so loud into Edelgard’s radio she’s afraid Arundel will hear. But if he does, his face stays as smooth as ever. 

“Uncle, we should catch up!” Edelgard smiles. “We land in ten minutes, it shouldn’t be too much of a strain on you.”

Arundel shakes his head and swats at the air in annoyance. “Fine.”

He trails ahead and Edelgard follows, silently praying that Berandetta can come up with something —  anything  — else. 

“ Edelgard,  ” Bernadetta. “  X-Ray glove. Back right pocket. ”

Thank God. Bernie’s best when alone and surrounded by her gadgets.

Edelgard smiles to herself and discreetly reaches for it. It’s a thin screen that fits across her palm, and like an X-Ray, it can see through the surfaces of things it’s on. Powered by heat. She slides into the booth besides Arundel and locks eyes with Rhea, a briefcase on the table between them. 

Rhea’s baby soft face twists into harsh lines immediately. “Edelgard.”

“Yes, yes,” Arundel drawls. “Edelgard. Don’t lie to me.”

Rhea leans back with a pleasant smirk, harsh lines already gone. “Did Edelgard used to work for you, Arundel?”

“Yes, for a long time,” Arundel coos, playfully scratching Edelgard’s chin like she’s a cat. “She resigned after she fell desperately in love with that former ward of yours, Byleth was it?”

Rhea looks like a child sitting on Santa’s lap. “You have bad taste in partners.”

Edelgard sticks her tongue out. 

Arundel continues, “And in my mercy, I let her live with the request she leaves the country and yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Rhea repeats. 

Edelgard sighs. 

“ Tell him you want to work for him again,  ” Dorothea says pointblank. Dorothea: Master Masquerader. Perfect partner in crime to Hubert. “  That you realized in your isolation that it was a mistake to walk. ” 

Edelgard can hear choking in the background of the call. Definitely Hubert chloroforming without the signal. 

Edelgard looks to Arundel and places one hand on his knuckle and tells him just that. 

Arundel cocks an eyebrow in amusement. “Is that to?”

“Oh please,” Rhea crosses her arms. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for that.”

Arundel glows. “Rhea, you don’t know Edelgard like I do. She’s quite proud of herself. Tell me about your friends. Have you kept in touch and are you ready to kill every last one of them?”

Edelgard double takes. “Why are my friends targets?”

“Because I  detest  you,” Arundel presses his teeth together. “Tell me you’ll kill them.”

Edelgard nods and stretches her arms high in the air, it’s incredibly awkward. She yawns and wow, it almost makes her cringe. What a horrible performance.

“ I am also a better actor than Edelgard! ” Ferdinand chimes in with inspiration.

Roasted. Edelgard rests her elbow on the table, hand falling onto the briefcase. She keeps her body open and vulnerable to Arundel, so he could shoot her if he wanted to. 

Rhea slaps Edelgard’s hand away from the briefcase. “Don’t touch that you awful girl!”

Edelgard retracts her hand, hoping that gave Bernie enough of a reading. 

In the backroom, Bernadetta drops at least five things as the code flashes on her reader. 

6-1-9-5-8-0.

She runs to the capsule and begins mashing buttons.  Please be it, please be it…

Mid speech about her new allegiance, there is a soft  click from underneath the table. Only one of Rhea’s hands is visible. She cocks an eyebrow. “Arundel, you take Edelgard back to Those Who Slither, and we don’t have a deal.”

Arundel turns to Edelgard and laughs. “Well, then. Poo poo to you then, my child. I assume you are about to poison her with that gun.”

“Any sudden movement and yes, I will,” Rhea might as well lick her lips at this point. 

Edelgard leans back, eyes frosty. “Rhea, do you know what’s in this briefcase?”

“It’s paperwork,” Arundel answers, a little too fast. Ha, Edelgard knew it. She knew Rhea didn’t know.

And Rhea notices Arundel’s haste.

Out in the backroom, the code flashes red. Every single time she tries it. 6-1-9-5-8-0. 6-1-9-5-8-0. 6-1-9-5-8-0.

6-1-9-5-8-0.

6-1-9-5-8-0.

6-1-9-5-8-0.

Red red red red red RED RED RED RED.

“ Edelgard, I need a second read, ” Bernadetta squeaks.

“ Hold on  ,” Linhardt cuts in. “  Let me take a look, hold it in front of your cam please. ”

Edelgard smiles to herself, and speaks very slowly. “I’d explain Rhea, but unfortunately we’re about to pull up in Enbarr.  Oh, if only we had more time. ”

Up at front, Ferdinand repeats that to himself. “If only we had more time… oh no, she doesn’t mean…”

“ Yes,  ” Hubert says fast, always first to criticize Ferdinand. “  Miss the stop .”

“But I practiced so hard!” Ferdinand whines. “It’s my landings that make me superb at—”

“ I will   burn  your tea collection. Oh and Lady Edelgard will die if you don’t. ”

“...very well.”

“In the backroom,” Edelgard starts with a coy ass smile. “Is Byleth. They’re alive, trapped in a capsule, and they have the nuclear codes. Arundel is merely selling you the code to open that capsule… you will need to transport Byleth and get the codes from them.”

Rhea looks to Arundel very slowly and her voice is sharp as icicles. “Is that so.”

“ Bernie  ,” Linhardt says, jolting Bernadetta back to reality. “  You had the code upside down. Try again. ”

“Oh,” Bernie’s face goes so red, at least no one can see. “Don’t tell anyone.”

0-8-2-6-1-9.

The capsule opens and Byleth flops forward, landing in Berandetta’s arms, knocking the two of them to the floor. 

Bernadetta rolls over and looks at them. They’re pale, skin sweaty and clammy. Just black slacks and a loose white blouse that looks very lived-in. It’s what they had on when they got captured. “Byleth…”

Byleth’s wide eyes snap open and their limbs move like noodles. “I’m drugged,” they croak, reaching out with their hand. “Adrenaline. Now. While you set it up, explain what happened.”

“ Ooh, Caspar, get ready,  ” Linhardt chides. “  Welcome back, friend. ”

Byleth smiles through the pain. “Operation Uppercut?”

Caspar then proceeds to blow out everyone’s ears with a mighty “ OPERATION UPPERCUT HUAAAAH!”

Everyone on the train starts screaming at once as Enbarr station zooms past in view. Both Arundel and Rhea turn to see the commotion, and that gives Edelgard the chance. She slips halfway under the table and wraps her ankles around Rhea’s calves, yanking her under, Rhea’s chin smashing against the table and drawing blood.

“Okay,” Bernadetta winces as she prepares the adrenaline shot. “Caspar, stop swinging! I need them to stay still.”

“ Sorry. Excited. ”

Byleth’s hands drop to their thighs, encased in iron gloves synced with Caspar in the van. He swings, Byleth swings in sync with him.

It gives Byleth the fighting prowess they’ll need when drugged like this. Even the adrenaline can’t help that. 

Needle goes in and Byleth howls like a Wall Street tycoon reeling from a bump. They pat Bernie on the side and sprint out the door.

Bernadetta goes to a crouch again. “Hubert… we need the helicopter I think.”

“Of course we do,” Dorothea laughs into her walkie, standing over the dashboard. “Sorry, Hubie’s indisposed.”

Besides her, the final security guard is making out hard with Hubert’s poison lips, and then slumps. 

“I hate leading people on,” Hubert groans, looking out the window. Petra’s already on board and lifting off. “ETA five minutes.”

Byleth runs like Hell, stumbling through absolutely everything. But they have speed and they blaze ahead. Even if it takes grabbing onto passing seats to stay afloat, they do it.

It’s El after all.

Byleth sees Edelgard going hand to hand with Rhea — who of course is an expert grappler — and with Arundel who only knows how to look cool like he’s fighting hand-to-hand. 

Caspar swings so hard that the punches literally propel Byleth forward, and they make such short work of Arundel, Byleth is embarrassed for them. The guy just bounces around like a ragdoll and hits the floor, bleeding from everywhere he can. People are screaming and backing off as the fight with Rhea gets wild. 

“Byleth!” Dimitri calls out from the back. “Byleth, do you see me? It’s me, Dimitri!” 

“D,” Claude whispers. “Even if Edelgard gets what she wants out of this, a shit ton of people are watching. Black Eagle Strike Force is compromised… and the jobs go to us.”

Dimitri shoots Claude a look. “Claude.” He holds this gaze for a long time and Claude looks away.

So Dimitri grabs Claude by the chin and makes them lock eyes. “I’m upset with Edelgard too, for refusing to collaborate with us. But she’s our friend and was under a lot of pressure back then. Have a heart.”

“God dammit,” Claude says in a tiny voice, and pulls out his briefcase from underneath, and hands Dimitri a gun with a satellite dish on the end. “It’ll knock everyone out and wipe memories. Move fast.”

Dimitri holds the gun to his face and nods.

Byleth gets between Rhea and Edelgard, clobbers at Rhea. God they hate Rhea.

Their fists match and crash into each other, and even though Byleth has iron on and Rhea is bare fisted, she just doesn’t seem phased. 

Byleth is pretty sure the woman is on some kind of steroid — and it’s killing the circuitry to the gloves. That becomes obvious when one of their arms just loses all sense of direction and flops over, with the rest of Byleth. 

Rhea yanks Byleth in by the blouse and trains a regular gun on Edelgard’s head. She smirks. “What’s your exit?”

Edelgard doesn’t say anything. 

Byleth coughs and looks over to their beloved El. A long hard look. No tears, just a quiet nod.

“Helicopter,” Edelgard grunts. 

“Good,” Rhea backs up. “You follow me. No funny shit. And tell your driver to slow this train down so we don’t fall off.”

“Ferdie, did you catch that?” Edelgard asks. 

“ Yes,  ” Ferdinand tells her with some sorrow. “  Edelgard, you are the superior field agent and you will make this work. ”

Petra flies over the train, kicking out the rope ladder to run along the carts. She dips down and God this is dangerous. She is  just  skimming the trees but that is what it takes to save Byleth.

She doesn’t even know if they’re coming with her; walkie died when she hit the air. 

So she sighs with some relief when Byleth stumbles over the top of the train. They all expected Byleth to be drugged up, so that makes sense that they can barely stand.

Though it does fill Petra with rage. 

And it makes her even more angry when Rhea climbs onto the top, holding something that is almost certainly a gun. She kicks Byleth in the stomach and they roll over, fingers feebly gripping onto the metal plates to hang on. 

And then Edelgard comes on. The gun is on Edelgard. 

 “Stop hurting them!” Edelgard screams, lunging at Rhea, backing off when the gun levels with her chest. “You’re awful.”

“Eh,” Rhea snarks, lifting Byleth up by the hair. 

Edelgard winces, fists curled up. There is nothing she can do here.

The rope ladder lowers and Rhea hurls Byleth into it. “Climb, you idiot.”

Byleth hangs there for a second, corpse-like, and then finally starts moving. They climb slowly, but Rhea doesn’t seem to mind. She’s got the gun, she’s got the power, and she can still have one hand on the ladder so there’s no easy out for Petra.

When Rhea feels good, she latches on and waves Petra off. 

The helicopter pulls away, it’s up to Petra now to save Byleth. It’s out of Edelgard’s hands.

Fuck that’s not fair.

Rhea still has a gun, and she catches up with Byleth fast. Petra can’t even cut the ladder before Rhea makes it.

A good agent would just crash the helicopter and kill the three of them. That’s how Arundel runs his ops, it’s how most people do it. 

But the Black Eagle Strike Force is different. Petra is different. 

Edelgard sprints down the train, fighting the velocity that wants to throttle her into roadkill. She uses everything she has and leaps off the train, grabbing onto the bottom rung of the rope ladder, dangling from it as it pulls hundreds of feet into the air. 

Don’t look down , she says as she does that very thing. Her whole body waves in the wind but she is not dying here. She reaches up and grabs the second rung. She pulls up and she moves. 

Rhea hasn’t noticed yet. 

Edelgard moves far faster than recommended, nearly slipping off five times. But she moves faster than a normal person would and it’s not long before she catches up with Byleth and Rhea, all three of them at the top of the ladder.

Edelgard grips Rhea’s ankle hard, and pulls really fucking hard.

Rhea screams and falls off of Byleth, flying off the ladder—

—and grips onto Edelgard’s ankle, taking her with her.

The wood burns and shreds Edelgard’s palms as she is torn down the entire rope ladder, but she manages t hold the fuck on. Bleeding palms and all, Edelgard hangs from the bottom rung again, Rhea holding onto Edelgard’s ankle, Rhea’s entire body weighing down on bleeding hands that are about to tear into two.

Edelgard doesn’t know what to do. She can’t move, her whole body is at capacity. This is it. She looks up, Byleth makes it into the helicopter at least. Good. They deserve to live. 

And then Byleth leaps out of the helicopter and throttles towards them.

It’s a massive drop, but Agent Byleth Eisner pulls it off with splender, dropkicking Rhea in her stupid face. Rhea’s scream is ear splitting and can only be heard for a half second before she drops out of range. 

Byleth catches the final rung at the last minute and that’s it. That’s the mission.

Edelgard glances down. She can’t help it, she wants to see that body hit the ground—oh no, maybe she doesn’t. That’s gross. Don’t do that.

She looks to Byleth whose face is twisted in agony.

“I just broke my fucking foot,” Byleth moans. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…”

Edelgard feels the pain too. She grits her teeth and throws her arms through the rung and hooks in by the armpits. It hurts like a bitch, but at least that area of her body isn’t torn yet. They’ll land soon. 

Edelgard looks to Byleth. “Focus on my eyes, my love.”

Byleth nods through the tears. “I always am, El.”

“I’m here with you,” Edelgard rasps. “We’re…”

Byleth doesn’t let her finish, they just go for the kiss. 

This is the Black Eagle Strike Force. They do missions that no one else can. Fuck the other spy groups, none of them have regrets. Wait. No. Edelgard… does, yeah, she has a regret.

Edelgard looks at the rolling green below, looks at the train. Thinks about the corpse that will be found in a few days. This was Plan  B . 

There was a Plan A that was so easy and simple. But  someone blew her cover.

Byleth kisses Edelgard again and it makes it hard to think. 

But Edelgard knows that next time, she is going to text Dimitri and Claude in advance not to show up at her ops.

[nutriherb]

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[dreaming-roses]

°˖✧ playtime ✧˖°

Tentacles: Sub!Childe x gn!Reader (NSFW) - Request

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

SUMMARY: You purchase some tentacles and experiment on Childe.

WARNING(S): Tentacles, degrading, name-calling, overstim, exhibitionism, bondage, anal, dacryphilia

CHARACTER(S): Childe

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The idea of buying tentacles was inspired by the 18+ manga series "Your Neighborhood Tentacle Shop" by Okunoha!! Go check it out~

"Childe, come here~" you sang. "I have a surprise for you, darling."

You heard him come down the stairs. "What's up, (y/n)?" He appeared in the doorway, as handsome as ever. "What's that you're holding, dear?" He nodded at your hand.

You smiled. "Remember how you said you wanted to try out some tentacles?" Childe's eyes widened. "Well, I bought some." He came closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he peered at the fist-sized bag, gently tugging it from your hand.

"Whoa. This is a thing? Thank you, (y/n)." He kissed you on the cheek. "So... how do these work?" Childe asked curiously, reading the instructions on the bag of little red capsules. "Oh wait, here we go. 'Dissolve capsules in hot but not boiling water and wait until tentacles begin to squirm. Starting with 3 or less is highly recommended for beginners.' I didn't know these were real. Why three, though?"

"Probably because, y'know, beginners. But maybe you should use more than that," you teased. Childe raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes sparking with amusement. "What? You have pretty good stamina." You flicked his nose playfully.

"You kinky bastard. You just want to watch the show." Childe ripped open the top of the bag and shook at least ten pills into his palm. He picked one up and rolled it dubiously between two fingers, examining the shiny red gelatin shell. "You sure I'll enjoy this, (y/n)?"

"Yep." You smiled at him as you filled up a small cooking pot with heated water. "And so will I."

Childe blushed furiously as he dropped the handful of capsules into the water, avoiding your gaze. "Whoa—" He leaned in, watching the capsules dissolve in the water, revealing little pale pink tentacles that began to absorb the water and grow in size. They began to writhe in the pot, splashing water around as they expanded. "O-Okay, that's actually pretty... big..." He shifted his legs, biting his lower lip. "T-That would probably feel... really good..."

"Are you looking forward to this?" you asked him, smiling as you saw the tent in his pants. Childe nodded, his face adorably red. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Then strip."

"H-Here?" he said incredulously. "In the kitchen?"

"Yep. It's easier to clean up," you explained. "And why not? Look, they're already raring to go." On the counter, the tentacles squirmed around eagerly.

Childe didn't need any more convincing. He began to pull off his jacket and pants, letting them fall to the floor and revealing his cock, already hard and throbbing slightly.

"Good boy," you said approvingly. "Go sit down over there." You grabbed a tentacle with both hands, marveling at the slimy-slick texture as you lifted it out of the bowl. You walked toward Childe, smirking as you saw how his cock was already dripping with precum. "Such a horny little slut." You dropped the tentacle onto him.

"Mmm—ahh—AHH?!" Childe cried out as the tentacle wound itself around his cock, stroking his slit and pumping his length. "Mmmmh—ah—fuck, that's good, that's good—AH—(y/n)—" He moaned, shuddering as the tentacle stimulated his cock.

You sat down on a nearby chair, lounging in it. "Look at you, so fucking pathetic. You want more, you needy whore?" you mocked, already reaching for the pot on the counter.

"Yes! More! Please! Please! Yes..." Childe begged, squirming on the floor. "More!" He arched his back, moaning as the tentacle pumped him. "Hah... more... please, (y/n)..."

You laughed, reaching into the pot and dropping a couple of the thicker ones onto his thighs. "Have fun, slut." The new tentacles wound around his thighs, holding them apart and gently sliding up and down the sensitive skin.

"Ah—nnngh—AH—hah—AH—" Childe wailed as the tentacle rubbed the tip of his cock, his legs trembling. He thrashed on the floor, arching his back. "Gonna cum—gonna cu-um-mmmngh—" Cum spurted out of his cock, landing on the floor between his legs. He threw his head back, panting. "Mmm—ah—ah—more... please..."

"You fucking slut. Begging already aren't you? Begging like a dog," you sneered, tossing the rest of the tentacles onto his shuddering body. "Well, here you go." They began to move over him, making him moan loudly.

"Ah—fuu-uuck—ah—" Childe groaned, his knees shuddering. The tentacle pumped his overstimulated cock, making him wail. "Nngh—just came—ah—" He squirmed on the floor.

"Well, this is a good view," you noted, idly twisting the bag of tentacle capsules between your fingers. "Maybe I should add more. How many is that? Ten? Oh my, you're such a dirty little slut."

"Y-Yes, your slut, I'm your little toy," Childe whimpered as one of the tentacles wound around his wrists, holding his arms in place. "I'm just your—ah—hah—WAIT—" He jerked around the tentacles began to lube up his hole, trailing over his rim before dipping in. It slowly pumped in and out of him before speeding up and brushing his prostate. The tentacles began to pump his cock again, using his cum as lube.

"Ah—mmmh—AH FUCK YES RIGHT THERE YES MORE MOREMOREMORE—" Childe screamed in pleasure as the tentacles began to overstimulate him. He sobbed and thrashed, tears running down his flushed face. "MORE MORE FUCK YES PLEASE—" he cried as he came again, his eyes rolling back in his head as white spurted all over his thighs. "FUCK YES MORE—" He looked at you with crazed, pleading eyes.

"Maybe I should just leave you here for a bit," you mused, getting up from the chair. "Have fun, dearie."

"No! Don't—ah—AH—go," Childe begged. "Play—nnngh—with—me—ah—please..." He squirmed over to you, clutching your leg and looking up at you adorably. "Please... I'm your little toy... look at me, please..." He gasped, doubling over as he came again, his face softening as the pleasure surged through his body. "More..." His eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed against you, his legs twitching.

"Aww, so cute," you murmured, scratching his chin. Childe whimpered, curling up against you as the tentacles overstimulated him without any sign of stopping. "Such a good boy, letting me play with you." You settled back into the chair, watching Childe squirm on the floor, his thrashing growing weaker. He cried out, cumming all over the floor, sobbing.

"More—ah—more, please—" Childe threw his head back, babbling and sobbing incoherently as he came again, his body shuddering. "More—more—more pleaseplease—pleasepleasemore—"

You sauntered over and gripped his chin, lifting up his head and admiring his desperate fucked-out expression. "I'm far from done with you, Childe. Playtime isn't over yet."

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 16

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

List of OCs for this series

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: Mystery letters, Video games, and snow ball fights.

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings:

You looked at the letter again, it was addressed from Lieutenant colonel Robert Hucklebuckle. Why would a lieutenant colonel be sending you letter? Sure you know him, your husband used to serve with him. You're friends with the lieutenant's wife but he has your number so this letter just irks you. You just saw him a few months ago, him and his sons helped you and your sons move the larger furniture to the truck when you moved off base. So what could this letter possibly be.

A part of you thinks it's like the letters Butler sends you but he never was one for that. You reach for the letter opening it...

"Hey Y/n! It's Hucklebuckle, but you probably saw that on the envelope. You're probably wondering why I'm sending you this letter. Well I'm back on deployment. I'm on the same base as your husband last was and I wanted to tell you that Butler gave me the coordinates of a time capsule him and Senior buried right before they went into the field... and Butler is going to bring it home with him in a few weeks. Me and Butler both think you'd like to have whatever it is Senior out in the box. So he'll be personally bringing it to you." You just sigh shaking your head. That's what you got so worked up over?

"I'm going to slap him." You muttered but were confused what your husband could've possible put in the box. And why? Was he afraid someone would take this stuff? You'll have to ask Butler.

———

"You suck!" Was heard through the house you sighed.

"Play nice or no more ps4!" You shouted.

"Yes mom!" Your youngest two sons shouted back.

"Thank you!" You shook you head looking out the window, it was a snowy day today but you had forgotten to buy a snow shovel, so you were ultimately snowed in despite the clear roads. Luckily it was Sunday so the boys didn't have school.

You sigh knowing it would be best if you borrowed a shovel. You pull out you phone before you texted Chris. Since you really hadn't talked to the other neighbors.

He says he'll be over in a second. And just a few minutes later Chris walks over with two shovels. You had already put your winter clothes on so you just walk out with a smile.

"Thanks Chris." You give him a grateful smile.

"It's no problem." Chris assured handing you a shovel before he starts shoveling the snow.

"Chris you don't have to." You assured him.

"Sweetheart it's fine, Scott and Steve are watching June. I have time." Chris smiled. You sighed but started shoveling. "So why don't you have a shovel?"

"I gave it to some private and his wife before I moved." You shrugged.

"Oh why? You moved to boston." Chris nodded.

"Because I was already lugging a bunch of furniture and shit I couldn't fit the shovels. I thought I'd have enough time get a new one but I forgot."

"Oh okay. So for our date on Tuesday I was thinking a movie maybe dinner? We missed all those romantic lights shows so we have to have a boring date." He teased.

"Yeah that works."

"Great."

"What movie?" You asked.

"We'll figure that out later." Chris chuckled.

—

Caspian looked out the window noticing you and Chris shoveling the snow. He smiles as he sees a very bundled up June come around the corner, followed by her uncle and a man he hasn't met. He smirks he wants to cause some chaos. He goes into the living room where his brothers are "peacefully" playing PS4.

"Hey losers who wants to cause chaos?" He asked with the same mischievous smirk he had upstairs.

"What kind of choas?"

"Mom and Chris are outside shoveling so we're gonna start a snow ball fight. We just need a way to get June, on our side. She came out with Scott and some random guy. So we're also gonna get them." Caspian explained the plan.

"What do you mean random guy?" Jace asked.

"I mean some random guy. He walked over with June and Scott. So you in or not?"

"In." Jace smirks.

"Definitely in." Connor agrees as they turn off their game.

"Okay here's the plan I'll get June to come over to the porch and convince her to help us. Then once she agrees we'll start."

Once agreeing they all got into their winter gear Caspian stepped out onto the porch after making sure the adults were busy talking and none of them were looking toward the door.

"June." He whispered waving the toddler over. "We're gonna have a snowball fight okay? So go throw snow at them."

"Okay!" June smiled picking up some snow. And so it began. All four kids began to hit you, Chris, Scott, and Steve with snow.

"Hey!" You exclaiming looking at the kids. "Stop." You warned jokingly as you dropped the shovel onto the driveway with a thud.

"You're gonna regret that." Chris smirked at them.

The kids shrugged and continued hitting you guys with snowballs. You and the other adults began to hit them with snowballs too as Chris picked up June tossing her into a pile of snow. Laughter and screams of joy filled the front yard.

After a little while you guys finally "surrendered" you invited them all inside for hot cocoa. The driveway can wait a while.

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @stillthatbetch @queenofthepouges @dontbescaredtosingalong @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @food8me @cedricdiggorysimpp @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan @lharrietg @liecastillo @denisemarieangelina @wisepeanutlady @unicornblueberry @stitchattacks @milacolibri @spooky-stoner @marvelmenwhore @saahmi @boldlypessimistic @freakyevanss @asuni921 @srhxpci @supriseeshawtyy @nova10711 @nik2write @blueeyeddemon1016 @happinessinthebeing @winterberryfox @sunwardsss @ellerosie2332 @the-photo-hoe @scarletmeii @janaev4ns @tanyaherondale @hollzo-03

[my-soul-sings]

kiss the girl: ch 4

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 2 extra (ft. marius) | ch 3 | ch 4

***

Ask her out to dinner. 

Artem Wing rarely gets stressed. Even when he has a trial the next day and it’s before the highest appellate court, he’s the definition of ‘calm’.

But right now, he’s freaking out.

It’s not that he doesn’t know how to ask a woman out to dinner. Of course he’s had dinner with her before—and they weren’t always team dinners.

The procedure is simple enough. Step one, ask her if she’s free that night. Or any night, for that matter. Step two, ask if she would like to have dinner with him. It’s an easy two-step process that anyone can accomplish.

Except, Artem didn’t factor in a possible third step: what to do when she is “suddenly unable to make it for dinner” with him not once, not twice, but three times in a row.

The first time it happened, she said she wasn’t feeling well, so he insisted that she leave the office early to get some rest, and cancelled their dinner plans for the evening.

The second time it happened, she said she had forgotten about a family dinner that clashed with their dinner plans. Artem had assured her that they could call a rain check, and that she should attend the family dinner to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday.

By the third time, Artem thought things would finally go his way. But alas, she was hauled away by none other than his NXX colleague, Vyn, who needed her assistance urgently with some pick-up artist case. He had offered to go with her, but she insisted that she could handle the case herself. And so, he had no choice but to leave her be, lest she thought that he didn’t have faith in her abilities.

All things considered, Artem is disheartened, to say the least. Having their dinner plans cancelled three times in a row can’t be a coincidence—maybe she just doesn’t want to have dinner with him, but is too scared of him to admit it outright. And it’s probably because he’s her boss, which is a position that he’s rapidly growing to hate. He wishes they could just be normal colleagues. Maybe then he won’t feel so awkward every time he wants to make a move but doesn’t want to come across as pressuring her inappropriately.

Then again, if they were normal colleagues, they probably wouldn’t work as closely as they do now… so Artem is torn on the issue. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, he doesn’t know what to do. Celestine would say that he should just try again, which he could do, but he should probably wait for a while before asking her again. As for how long he should wait, he’s not sure. But he was looking forward to dinner so much that the disappointment has been weighing him down for the past few days.

Deciding he needs some air to clear his head, Artem gets out of his office, intending to get some coffee from the pantry. As Celestine has reminded him many times, he has a working coffee machine in his office. His reply every time is that the capsules that he wants are in the pantry… and he just so happens to forget to take some to his office with every trip he makes.

Out of habit, Artem takes his phone to clear some notifications that have been accumulating since morning. And as he busies himself with replying to client messages and reading some new messages in the NXX chat, he overhears Kiki asking her if she wants to have dinner together. It’s a Friday night, and it’s already five minutes past the time everyone can knock off.

Her response, however, is noticeably sullen compared to her usual cheeriness. “I think I’ll be staying late tonight… I have two sets of written submissions to finish by Monday and I’ve barely started.”

It doesn’t take long for Artem to recall that those were the subs he had assigned to her at the start of the week. They’re due Monday… The other partners might have given her some work to do during the week, which is why she’s running tight on schedule.

He would ask if she wants him to assign one set to someone else to lighten her load, but Artem already knows from experience that she won’t have that. In fact, she’ll interpret it as him thinking she’s not competent enough to finish the work she’d been given and probably get upset—both with him and with herself.

“Then, aren’t you going to eat?” Kiki presses.

“I’ll eat later; I’m not hungry right now. Don’t worry about me, you should go ahead first. See you Monday!”

As Artem slowly returns to his office with a cup of coffee in hand and pretending to be engrossed in fiddling with his phone, he wonders if maybe there is a way to have dinner with her after all.

***

You’re stressed. The looming deadline of the coming Monday and the five cups of coffee you’ve had since morning are contributing to your high-strung nerves, and your hyper-active fingers as you furiously type away at the keyboard. Hopefully you can finish one sub tonight, and then you can do the other one over the weekend at home.

You’re so caught up in research and figuring out how to condense the facts of the extremely complicated facts of this darn case into a neat, concise summary, that you don’t realise that someone has been standing behind you for a while until he clears his throat and calls your name.

With a start, you jerk your head over your shoulder, not expecting anyone else to be in the office at this time—oh, it’s almost 8pm already—on a Friday night.

But here Artem is, holding up a few plastic bags and wearing a smile that isn’t helpful for your already wired heart. Didn’t he already leave the office for the day? And—how long has he been staring at your screen? Has he been watching you struggle over writing a summary of the facts?

He must think you’re an idiot now.

If he does though, he doesn’t show any sign of it. “You haven’t had dinner, right?” is all he asks.

“Dinner?” You take a few seconds to recall whether you’ve eaten or not, and then shake your head with a sheepish smile. “Right. I forgot.”

“I bought some sushi. You’ll focus better if you’re not hungry.”

You glance back at your screen, and even though you’d rather continue working, you reluctantly agree. Maybe you’ll be able to write this better after a short break.

“You’re right. Thanks.” You stand up, removing your glasses and rubbing your tired eyes. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of eating with you… if you don’t mind.”

You can’t help but smile. You’ve had to cancel dinner plans with Artem three times now, and you had  thought he would be offended or take it as a rejection in some way. You had actually been planning on asking him out to dinner next week, after clearing all your urgent tasks, to make up for everything. But here he is, offering dinner for the fourth time, accommodating your schedule and even buying sushi from your favorite sushi place. How did he even know?

“Of course I don’t mind! I just thought you’d want to eat with someone else on a Friday night, instead of eating take-out in the office.”

“I’d say eating dinner with you isn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

Lawyers and their double-negatives. Now you can’t tell if this counts as Artem flirting with you. Not sure how else to respond, you settle for a generic “thank you” before taking one of the bags from him so that he isn’t carrying everything alone. “Let’s set it up in the pantry.”

He nods, allowing you to take the lead and following behind you towards the pantry. You hear the rustle of the plastic bags, his footsteps, and a small but thrilled "yes” that he whispers under his breath. It’s so low and soft that you almost mistake it for the sound of the plastic bags swinging by your side.

You should probably pretend you didn’t hear that, but still, you can’t suppress the laugh that escapes you. The effort that he’s been putting in for the past few weeks hasn’t escaped your notice at all. And considering how much Artem has been looking out for you lately, maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you can do for Artem too.

***

A/N: Thanks for all the support guys, i've been blown away by the encouraging comments and i'm so glad to know that you enjoy this story :)

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hmmm Vardy (vampire Hardy), finally admitting his secret to his vaguely sheen looking boyfriend (whether or not they are boyfriends right now up to interpretation) (my vote is for Lucian because Bill is too much of a real person for my taste, but I see the allure of a human) because he is running on empty, nearing collapse because there is nothing the man hates more than self care, and just. Very badly needs blood. Has forgotten to fake heart troubles to go to hospital to buy blood bags secretly. (Presumably his heart would in fact trouble doctors, what with the not beating and stuff)

Vardy made me giggle in delight, not gonna lie, I love it.

But I like this with Lucian! :D Especially because I think Lucian is totally up for giving/getting blood without even a second thought for Hardy.

Warning: blood (do I really need to put this as a warning for a vampire story?), symptoms are similar to low blood sugar (because your author is diabetic and knows how shitty of a feeling this is)

On with the fic!

--

Alright, this was bad, this was really, really bad. And he didn't have anyone to blame but himself, he thought he could last a bit longer, but...

No, he was nearly on empty, Hardy needed fresh blood, or he was going to keel over. And that would probably make this whole situation worse.

Hardy always hated when he pushed his luck this bad, he actually felt terrible pains in his chest and stomach, his body starving for blood at this point. And he could smell it, fresh, pumping, under the warm skin of the man he had only started dating these past few weeks.

He stumbled past Lucian and into his kitchen, going to see if he had anything, anything at all that was blood!

Throwing open the door of the fridge, there wasn't much. Yes, there was food for his daughter, but nothing much else that would really work for him in this state. "Fuck..." He hissed, his head spinning terribly.

His vision blurred for a moment as he reached into the fridge, shoving things aside. Did he really not have an emergency bag of blood in here? He always had something! There had to be something, anything!

He dropped to his knees, feeling sick for a second. He heard Lucian ask his name as he entered the kitchen, but Hardy just snarled. "Go away!" He shouted, tossing something from the fridge. He thought it might be a thing of butter, but he couldn't really tell.

With a groan, the detective fell over, knocking his shoulder against a cabinet, moving to sit on the ground. Oh, he was really running on empty now, wasn't he? Fucking fumes at this point.

Hardy fumbled with pulling out a small bottle from his pocket, filled with dried blood-infused capsules. They weren't much, just for when a dizzy spell would hit, but it was something, right?

"Alec, what the hell is going on?" Lucian asked, suddenly in front of Hardy, when did he get there?

"Hhh... uh, not doing so great, Lucian..." He couldn't get the damn bottle open and ended up dropping it. Lucian picked it up for him, opening it, before sniffing.

"Blood?"

"I need it. Gimme the pills." He motioned, reaching for the bottle, but Lucian took it away.

"This isn't enough for you, is it? A few pills isn't going to make you feel better."

Hardy slowly blinked, trying to focus on him. "What? How do you-?"

"Alec." Lucian frowned, lifting his face up to have them look at one another. "Do you need fresh blood?"

This sent off warning bells in Hardy's head, but he was so fucking thirsty right now, he'd worry about it later. "Yessss..." He could smell it, Lucian's blood, hot and alive, under his skin. Fuck, he was too close, Hardy felt his fangs growing.

Lucian held out his arm, using his free hand to cup the back of the vampire's head, gently pushing it forward. "Drink."

He didn't have to be told twice. Hardy bit down, hard, and he started to drink. It tasted funny, but it was blood, fresh, hot blood from a living person! Not dried flakes in pills or cold bags he had to microwave. Or sometimes the occasional animal if he got the chance.

No, this was blood from someone very much alive, and it was divine.

But even as he drank, the dizziness and the growing darkness around the edge of his vision didn't go away and he pulled away with a gasp, dropping to the floor.

Hardy tasted blood in his mouth as he started to black out, and he swore he could feel his heart beating again, a little too fast for his liking.

--

His head was pounding when he woke up, and Hardy groaned, trying to cover his face. He felt drained, exhausted, but surprisingly very much replenished and no longer in his normal state of dealing with hunger pains.

Shit, he ate, didn't he?

"I see you're awake." He heard Lucian's voice, and Hardy opened his eyes, seeing Lucian walking into the living room, a mug of something in his hand. Hardy sniffed, he smelled blood, microwaved, but it was still something.

"Where did you...?" He started to ask as it was given to him, then he remembered what happened before he blacked out. "Shit, Lucian, I-"

But the man held up a hand. "It's fine, no need to apologize. I gave you my blood willingly." Lucian said as he sat down on the couch. "And I got the blood from the hospital, people there are so easy to bribe."

"They really are..." Hardy mumbled, looking at Lucian's arm. He was surprised to see not a trace of a bite on there, how was that possible? "I'm sure you want answers."

"No."

This surprised Hardy. "No? What do you mean no? Lucian, I drank your blood!"

"I know. And I know you're a vampire."

Well, shit.

Hardy sipped from the mug, bleh, not good enough, not after getting to drink from Lucian. "It was obvious from that, wasn't it?"

Lucian shook his head. "I smelled it on you, vampires have a specific scent to them, no matter the kind. And you smell of it too."

"Smell? How can you smell it? No one else seems to."

The other man tapped the side of his nose. "Special nose, humans don't have it like I do."

Hardy frowned, and realized something. "Oh God, you're not human, are you?"

Lucian smiled, shaking his head. "No, not human, never have been. I'm a lycan."

Lycan? As in a werewolf? "Fuck me..." He said under his breath. "Explains why you're taking this so well."

"Yeah, you get used to it, not much surprises me nowadays. Well, aside from you. A vampire who became a detective, and who doesn't take care of himself at all."

Hardy glowered at him, drinking more of the blood. "I don't like drinking this stuff. It's not... it's not great. Everything else I can deal with, but the blood bothers me."

"I'm sure it does." Lucian nodded, moving a bit closer, until he was pressed close to Hardy. "You're not upset about drinking from me, are you?"

The vampire shifted. "A little, I don't like drinking from living beings, only when I have no choice. And I was stupid and forgot to restock my blood in the fridge, so I had no choice in the matter. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I said you didn't have to apologize. Besides, I healed up just fine, no harm done, Alec. I'm perfectly alright." Lucian smiled at him, and Hardy's now-beating heart fluttered at it. He decided to ignore it with more blood drinking, especially cause it meant he didn't have to talk for a moment.

[dreamsister81]

Happy anniversary Grace! Released August 23, 1994 📷 Merri Cyr

What were you aiming to achieve musically when you went in to record Grace and are you happy with the results?

Just to express, just to make a record of pure expression. Am I happy? Well...well, it's uh, it...Grace...a record that you make is something that changes and shifts and I am something that changes and shifts and I'm gonna have to really be a mature human being and say against all my sensibilities, yes, I'm pleased but I'm horribly self critical. I'm horrible. So sometimes I'll just say "oh this is the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen in my life, blah, blah, blah," but I won't...I mean, but because Mickey and Matt and Michael are on it, I can't really say that 'cause they do...I'm so proud of them. It's alright, you know, it's alright, I just can't wait til the next one. I can make a better record than Grace.-interview in Paris for Rock Rush, September 22, 1994

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The next album will probably be more joyful but this time, it was impossible...You can be cute, funny, generous, there's always the danger of a break-up in a love relationship. No one is safe. Grace, this is the album of a jealous, poor guy who just got dumped."-Les Inrockuptibles, October, 1994

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"I know the next album will be a very different kind of work—even more direct than Grace, but bigger in scope. If people were confounded by the range of the first album, they'll probably run to it as a safe haven in light of what's to come.

"I can see it now—'The amazing, beautiful disaster pastiche of Grace is totally lost in Buckley's newest work.' We haven't started recording it yet and already I'm bored with the reviews."-Now magazine, 27 Oct, 1994

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I mean, I hope people don't get too attached...no, that's impossible...hope the media and the wheels that turn don't get too attached to Grace. 'Cause you know, it's out and you know, I just want to make another one and another one and we've grown so much already, we've completely mashed that album into the ground.

Is what you're saying is you don't want them to want you to do another album like Grace? Because the next one will be different?

No, no, no, no...I mean just like...uh, yeah,you know...I don't know, what is it? I just...

You know how sometimes the company will say "oh that one was so good, so do it again"?

Nah, the company is like the least of my problems actually in that respect 'cause they know everything's growing and the people I deal with are very happy and pleased as they say in the music biz. They know where I'm coming from but it's just like in another interview...um, we've evolved, and we'll keep on evolving, I mean like radically. Like radically. And Grace is, Grace is just a completely different work unto itself, it's a box where I put things in my past that have made made my past live, in a box, away.

So you're done with certain things?

Yeah, in a way. But on to new things. It doesn't mean that I'll completely eskew, or astew, or get rid of, whatever that word is, get rid of the old things, it's just that I like the present so much.

How do you feel when you listen to those tunes and how they were recorded?

Sometimes we can't listen to 'em and sometimes we're totally in love with 'em-WDET, October 31, 1994

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The New York Times has called "Grace" the best debut record to come along since Tracy Chapman's in 1988. "I can't listen to it anymore," said Buckley, 26. "The songs have changed. I like it, but it is sort of like looking at baby pictures."-Salt Lake Tribune, November 10, 1994

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What about Grace? So many people, at least in France, the press is all unanimous, your records are selling, it's a masterpiece...what do you think about it now?

'Massively beautiful album'...somebody gave us a rush of a commercial, that was supposed to go out on the TV and I hope it doesn't make it: 'Grace, it's unanimous, blah, blah, blah...' Not that's bad, but it's just a first album and we've really grown since then and it just doesn't make sense that it seems to have this kind of impact, commercially. The people who really...you know, like...I don't know, I'm sick of magazines, I can't even buy them anymore, just tired of 'em, they don't say anything. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm whining, and maybe I am, but it's just...it's boring man, I'd rather go to the gig. Now there'll be people who will come out with something else and people will say 'obviously lacking the splenderous chaos of Grace, this new album falls short...' I can hear the reviews already and I'm totally bored. I hope that people just calm down really. Actually our fans are pretty normal, they're pretty cool, they're pretty calm about the whole thing. But the media seems to...you know, the media, the rock critics they've lambasted plenty of brilliant friends of mine which just shows me they have no taste whatsoever, and usually in most cases. Just totally destroyed people who've made great work. And then this comes along and 'this obviously is the thing,' how am I supposed to trust that? I can only trust my friends, and my band, and the people that come.-interview for Top Live in Paris, February 15, 1995

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Praise has been especially glowing in England, where the respected pop monthly Mojo named "Grace" the album of the year and Q magazine hailed it as "an enthralling, endlessly playable piece of work...the missing link between (Van Morrison's) 'Astral Weeks' and (Nirvana's) 'Nevermind.' Isn't Buckley flattered? "Of course I am," he says, shifting in his chair as if annoyed at himself for admitting it. "At the same time, I'm not 'Grace.' That album is like a brick onto itself. It's like a coffin that I put certain feelings and observations in so that they can be capsulized forever. I wanted to put them there so I would be free to move on.-Los Angeles Times, February 19, 1995

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“I just thought it should link this album to my past a little,” he said at the time. “Grace is like...a lot of this stuff ... I don't know how to describe it to you...It's just a bunch of things about my life that I wanted to put in a coffin and bury forever so I could get on with things.

"On the outside of that you can say that I find great joy in the things that are sad. That's the way emotions are in people. They fall down on you and there's no way to get out, except to go through it. There's no way you can control it, there's no essay you can write to answer yourself out of it. It just soaks you like the rain. There's nothing you can do. Then it's gone and then another comes around. But tears are not all I deal with. I'll leave that to the next album.”-Juice, February, 1996

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 112

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,900ish

Summary: Captain America: Civil War --- tread carefully.

Steve landed the quinjet as Bucky and Y/N grabbed weapons. 

“You shouldn’t come in with us,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Too bad,” Y/N responded, slipping guns into the holster of her suit, that was thankfully in the quinjet. “I’m coming.”

Bucky sighed before looking up at Y/N. “I’m not the same man you knew.”

“I’m not the same woman. But…” Y/N stepped forward, took Bucky’s metal hand, and held it to her chest. “You’re still my Bucky.”

Bucky studied her eyes for a second before swiftly putting his free hand on the back of her head and pulling her in to meet his lips. She was shocked, not kissing back for a few, before remembering how much she loved the feeling of his lips on hers. He was the one to end the kiss, stepping away and breaking all physical contact with her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky apologized. “I’m not in the correct mindset.”

He quickly made his way over to the back of the quinjet, waiting for the ramp to lower. Y/N joined him before Steve left the pilot’s chair and stood in the middle of them as the ramp lowered.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked.

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky questioned.

“Yes,” Y/N answered, with a reminiscent smile.

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” Steve continued.

“What was her name again?” Bucky asked.

“Dolores,” Y/N responded. “You called her Dot.”

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.”

“So are we, pal,” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulders. 

The three of them looked at each other before Steve slipped his helmet on and they exited the quinjet. It was cold, the wind blowing harshly as snow covered the ground. Bucky led them to the entrance, set in rock. The door was open.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve said as they stared at the door.

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky said. Both men looked over to Y/N. 

“Last chance. I really wish—“

“Save it Steve. You know I’m not leaving,” Y/N retorted.

Both men sighed. “Then no powers unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t need you throwing up in the middle of a fight.”

Y/N gave a small nod before Steve led them in, her in the middle and Bucky tailing. They entered a small elevator. She watched as the men nodded at each other while the elevator went down. Once it rattled to a stop, the men heaved up the doors. Steve held up his shield as the other two held up their guns, walking along a corridor, keeping close to a wall. 

The trio headed up a flight of stairs, Bucky leading, Y/N in the middle, and Steve at the end, when they heard a noise from behind them. They swiftly spun around, aiming down the corridor. Still keeping his gun up, Bucky gently pushed Y/N down so that she was more hidden.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded. 

The three held their positions as the creaking of the doors at the end of the corridor continued. The double doors part, forced open by Iron Man. Both Steve and Y/N stared in surprise. Tony walked towards them, retracting the suits helmet.

“You seem a little defensive,” Tony commented. 

Steve got up and walked towards Tony, keeping his shield up. Tony eyed Y/N who was slowly following.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve replied.

“At ease, Soldier,” Tony said. “I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe. My girl friend also wasn’t at the place that I left her. Figured she was with you.”

“Tony—“

“Ross has no idea I’m here,” Tony cut Y/N off to continue. He lended his shoulder against a large cement post. “I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” Steve said, lowing his shield. It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap. Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop.”

Steve signals Bucky to lower his weapon, in which he does. Y/N walked up to Tony, hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Nat called and warned me. I had to come help.”

Tony stared at her, studying her carefully for a moment. He had a feeling for a few days now that something was up, something besides the Accords. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly, pulling her into his arms. He held a kiss to her head. Bucky tensed at the gesture, which Tony noticed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Tony put his helmet back over his face and the four of them cautiously walked further into the bunker. The three men were positioned so that Y/N was in the middle of them. Iron Man was leading the way towards an enormous chamber with capsules standing in it.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony stated.

“How many?” Steve asked.

Tony paused before answering, “Uh, one.”

As the entered the chamber, the lights turned on. A hazy, yellow mist descended within the capsules around the room. Each capsule contained a soldier. They all looked around, bewildered.

“If it’s any comfort,” Helmut Zemo’s voice came over a speaker, “they died in their sleep.”

They all walked around, staring at the soldiers that had each been shot in the head.

“Do you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo continued.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered.

“I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” 

Zemo appeared in the control room, through a small window. Tony lifted up his hand as Steve threw his shield, but it bounced back.

“Please, Captain,” Zemo taunted. “The The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorted. The four of them rounded the center consul so that they could be closer to Zemo.

“Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questioned. Staring Zemo straight on.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized . . . there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

“You're Sokovian,” Y/N stated, coming closer. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

“You lost someone?” Steve wondered.

Zemo, looking grave, clicked his tongue. "I lost everyone. And so will you.” A screen suddenly turned on, bringing everyone’s attentions to it. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within? That's dead . . . forever.”

They all moved over and looked at the screen. The frozen frame of a secluded road and the date, December 16, 1991. Tony’s face helmet disappeared, his eyes briefly met Y/n’s before flickering back to the screen that began to play.

“I know that road,” Tony stated, anxiously. “What is this?”

All eyes were now on the screen. A car came into the frame, crashing into a tree. Y/N watched as someone road up on a motor cycle and got off. The Winter Soldier. Steve watched Tony’s increasing unease. The driver got out of the car, crawling on the ground.

“Howard,” Y/N gasped quietly, eyes brimming with tears.

“Help me wife,” Howard begged on the video. “Please. Help.” The Winter Soldier walked over and hoisted him up by his hair. “Sergeant Barnes?”

“Howard!” Maria called. 

Tony looked up and glared at Bucky, before his eyes found their way back to the screen. Y/N was unable to take her eyes off the screen, her heart began racing. On the screen, the Winter Soldier lifted his metal fist.

“Wait!” Howard begged, hand digging into his suit coat. “You don’t want to do this, Barnes. Look.” Howard pulled out the photo of him and Y/N dancing. “We knew each other… You know her… Remember.”

Y/N heart clenched as a sob torn through her. Her hand came up to her mouth, trying to keep it quiet.

“Please don’t,” Howard continued. “Remember Y/N at least.”

After a brief glance at the photo, the Winter Soldier punched Howard over and over.

“Howard!” Maria called again.

Howard slumped over, dead. The Winter Soldier put him in the driver’s seat, face against the steering wheel. He walked around the the passenger side, where Maria was located. The Soldier reached in and gripped her throat, expressionless as he strangled Maria. The Winter Soldier then walked up and aimed a gun at the surveillance camera, ending the feed.

Y/N’s heart was beating rapidly. It was the only thing she could hear. Her breathing was becoming increasingly unsteady. Losing her balance, she backed up into the wall and slid down it. Steve kept his eyes on Tony, who lunged towards Bucky.

“Tony, Tony,” Steve said, stopping him.

Tony looked at Steve, clearly consumed with grief and tears glistening in his eyes. “Did you know?” Tony asked, trying to control his emotions. 

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?”

“Yes.” 

Tony stepped back, chin jutting up in a twitch. Looking over at Y/N, he sees her struggling with this as well, making him realize that she didn’t know either. Tony reengaged his helmet. He punched Steve to the floor and deflected gunfire from Bucky, disarming him. Grabbing Bucky, he flew across the chamber, slamming Bucky onto the floor. Tony pinned Bucky’s arms down but was unable to fire because Steve threw his shield at him.

Steve barged Tony backwards. Tony then shouldered Steve to the floor, shackling his ankles. Bucky came back up and punched Tony, who just listed him and slammed him against a machine. Tony raised a fist, but Bucky twisted it. A rocket shot out from the Iron Man suit, a fireball exploding. Steve sliced his shackles as a towering structure of pipework collapsed.

Barely registering what was happening around her, Y/N was quickly thrown back into her senses, as pieces of metal began to fall around her, boxing her into the corner. 

“Ah!” She screamed.

Bucky and Tony were thrown to the ground by the metal, not hearing her screams. Steve though, did.

“No,” he whispered. Steve and Bucky stood up, making eye contact. “Find Y/N and get out of here!”

Bucky nodded. He quickly found her, throwing the metal to the side.

“I’ve got you, Y/N/N,” Bucky said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N shaking in his hold as Bucky rushed towards the wall with the lowest platform. He hit a control panel, opening the over head roof. Tony shot at them, thankfully missing, before Steve landed in front of him. 

“It wasn’t him, Tony,” Steve stated. “HYDRA had control of his mind!”

“Move!” Tony ordered, hovering. He began to fly over Steve.

“It wasn’t him!”

Steve grabbed onto Tony’s ankle in mid air, smashing the bottom of the boot. They fought while Bucky was trying his best to make his way up the platforms with an almost unresponsive Y/N in his arms. He began to notice that the trembling was increasing and that she was sweating everywhere.

Tony unsteadily soared upwards as Bucky jumped across to another platform, Y/n still in his arms. Tony kicked Bucky down, causing him to let go of Y/n, who rolled away. Tony then took aim but Steve quickly jumped in front of Bucky, using his shield to rebound the energy back to Tony. He dropped, landing on a lowering platform.

“He’s not going to stop,” Steve stated, helping Bucky up. “Go.”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous for me to take Y/N,” Bucky worried. “Look.”

Steve looked over to see Y/N shaking, with sweat dripping down her forehead.

“I’ve got her,” Steve stated. “Go.”

Bucky ran and Steve leaped over and shot a wire around Tony’s neck, dragging him down. Tony deflected Steve’s shield, before trying to target Bucky.

“Come on, come on,” Tony muttered.

“Targeting system’s knackered, boss,” FRIDAY warned.

“I’m eyeballing it.”

Tony’s helmet retracted and he shut one eye, taking aim at the opening hatch. He fired, hitting the giant hinge and cutting off Bucky’s escape route. Tony then flew up, blocking two swings from an iron pipe Bucky was trying to use. Tony grabbed Bucky around the neck from behind.

“Do you even remember them?” Tony asked.

“I remember all of them,” Bucky replied.

Bucky pushed them both of the walkway. Steve jumped into them to deflect their fall. Bucky landed on a platform while Tony and Steve landed on the concrete floor besides an opening in the wall where snow drifts in. Finally hearing more of the commotion, Y/N pushed herself up, looking over the side.

“No,” she panted. 

The three men she loved most in the world where fighting each other and she had no strength to stop them. She winced as she felt a cramp in her lower abdomen. 

“No, no, no,” she whispered frantically. 

Pushing herself up, she shakily jumped down from platform to platform as the men still fought.

“This isn’t gonna change what happened,” Steve said to Tony.

“I don’t care,” Tony replied. “He killed my mom.”

The two began going at each other, with Bucky shown joining in. Y/N got down to their level as Bucky was blasted away from Tony, his metal arm blowing off. Tony zapped him again, throwing him to the side. Y/N rushed as quick as she could over to him.

“B-bucky,” she called, collapsing beside him. “Bucky, please…”

Bucky coughed up some blood. “Go,” he groaned. “You have to get out of here.”

“But you’re all killing each other.”

“And you shouldn’t have to see that… go… please…. I love you.”

“Bucky, I—“

“Go.”

With an unsteady inhale and a nod, Y/N opened a portal to the quinjet. She knew she couldn’t get much further than that. Closing it, she fell onto the ground. She had no more energy to move but her body still forced her to vomit. Y/N couldn’t focus on anything around her, black spots filling her vision. With one more heave, she blacked out.

~~~

Tony and Steve were both panting as Steve ripped the shield out of Tony’s suit and helped Bucky up. They began to walk away, leaving Tony on the ground.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony said. “My father made that shield!”

Pausing, Steve raised his chin before dropping the shield. He walked around, with Bucky’s arm around his shoulder, leaving Tony to stare at the shield. Panting, he watched it until something suddenly hit him.

“Y/N,” he gasped. “No.” He pushed himself up. “Y/N!” 

He called her name as she walked around, searching for her. Tony feared ash something terrible had happened to her or that she had gone with Steve and Bucky. He eventually, after almost an hour, gave up the search and headed out of the bunker. Tony was thankful to still see a quinjet here. As he entered the jet, he saw a body laying in the middle of it.

“Y/N… Baby?” 

Tony slowly limped over to her. As he drew closer, he noticed the blood seeping from somewhere in between her legs. He rushed to kneel next to her. 

“Honey,” he tried to be gentle but firm as he turned her over from the vomit she was in and patted her cheek. “Y/N, please.” 

But nothing. He quickly moved to find where the blood was coming from. There was no gash, no wound. As he ran through all the possible things, Tony’s mind came to one solution. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” 

He hurried and got the quinjet into the air and set for the compound before getting out of his battle torn suit. Tony then took Y/N into his arms, rocking her as he begged for her to wake. 

“I can’t lose more than I already have… I’m so sorry…” 

Dr. Cho was already there waiting for the quinjet when they landed back at the compound. Her and her people rushed Y/N away from Tony. He watched helplessly, falling onto his knees as tears trailed down his cheeks. And he did the one thing he’d never done before in his life. Tony Stark prayed. 

“Please God… don’t take them from me… I’ll be better, work harder… I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Including my own life… Just don’t take them from me. I’m begging you… I-I-I didn’t even know… I didn’t even know…”

next chapter >

I’ll see you guys after Disney World! I’ll still be responding to asks and comments!

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.