#v: synthetic deception

[another-corpo-rat]

WiP Whenever

tagged by @streetkid-named-desire tyy darling <3 you have no idea how much im resisting tagging you back to keep you in this hell of round-robin tagging (with no pressure!) @theviridianbunny, @pozerjacket, @noxbunni, @jax-acer

I have several things going in rotation rn - gonna share lil snippets of each cos they're not likely to see the light of day anytime soon.

i. untitled River/V potentially gonna be used for a kiss prompt sitting in my ask box, but idk if its going that way so it might become its own thing

He’s nervous. It’s an odd thing to see; even throughout the hunt for Randy V would never have pinned the word to him. Determined and restless, yes, but nervous? No. It’s too flimsy for a man like River Ward and yet—

He’s nervous. Doing an excellent job of hiding it right enough, with his soft laughs and gentle smiles as she sits with Monique on her knee, listening to his niece recount her day of thrilling adventure in their trailer park. But there’s an odd look to his eye, a cycle to his thoughts; that first glint always hopeful before its shortly taken over by uncertainty that makes that easy smile waver

ii. Snake and Dove; Victoria & Michiko Victoria reconsidering all she knows on the young heir

Naïve and foolish, Victoria had decided mere moments within their official introduction decades ago; when the youngest Arasaka was still soft and warm with nary a shard of chrome on her body, looking at her with what she read as pity—

It had vanished promptly at what was admittedly too sharp of a voice. A delicate jaw worked and then clamped tight against any comments about the cybernetic arms she adorned now. A tight nod, a brief word.

She had never been within the girl’s space again after that, and couldn’t bring herself to mourn the loss of opportunity. There had been more important things at the time, too many missions to keep on top of, too many threats, terrorists, a nuke – she had left Night City’s radiated soil where the princess stayed.

iii. Peg Smasher gets pegged. That's it, that's the summary god this has been a wip for so long

It’s a shame the Dragoon doesn’t have the…specifications for this endeavour. She’d much prefer that sight, but still the naked planes of his wide back and the pull of synthetic muscle under faux-flesh is worth admiring.

Victoria hums as she plants a steadying hand on his ass, her thumb working in idle circles against the tender skin. The thin, shallow scrapes left by her claws blooming healthy pink where it rises in imitation of flesh. Her other ventures across the muscled planes, ghosting along scars added in a lab – heaven forbid he seemed untouched by the world’s violence, even in a body not intended to meet it. It’s his newest one, but like all the others its marred; burns, bullets, and lacerations adorn the skin. Another lie upon the innate deception of a gemini.

She knows them well, their placement and patterns familiar and horribly uninteresting for it. She should applaud him, for making something about himself so dourly boring, but her attention is elsewhere. She eyes the tension to his shoulder blades, the too-deep and unnecessary breaths he tries to quiet through the teeth of a vice-locked jaw. His fingers flex, knuckles whitening as she moves a hand between reddened cheeks.

A pause. He audibly catches a breath and holds it, his shoulders rising with the motion – how terribly human – and releases it when her hand returns to his rump instead.

iv. Tend A self-indulgent warhammer wip but im inflicting it upon thee

He tries not to think of that little boy often. The gangly gaunt frame of skin and bone, the itch of mite-ridden rags that hung poorly on a body that grew too large too quick, an ever present ache in his neck and limbs as he tucked himself to fit a world content to ignore him. The boy may share his name but he is a stranger in all but memory, so long buried and yet…

Dirae’s thumb brushes across the fine hair of his brow, her own furrowed as she watches the layers of skin knit together. There won’t be a trace of the injury in a minute. She knows that but still the veneer of fascination is thin as concern glimmers in her eyes, in the twist of painted lips, and he knows the boy in those tunnels would’ve clung to her. Desperate and clever enough to know she had what he wanted, needed, even if he could not put a word to it precisely.

And he is too merciful to deny the boy her affections. Too selfish to say ‘enough’ as her eyes seek his and her hands, soft and unmarred, cradle his face, fingers curling against the line of his jaw. Even with him seated and leaning down to meet her she still has to rock up onto the balls of her feet to close the space between them. Her body presses tight to his, warm and sweet-scented, more enticing than the steaming bath drawn in the other room.

“Horus—”

“I’m alright, heart.” Her eyes flick to the cut, already healed judging from the familiar itch. He strokes a hand up the curve of her waist and lets his lips pull into an easy smile. “In truth the blow to my pride is much worse. Slower to heal, you see.”

[sexvimpulse]

Axel: [Stares at her as she’s sitting at her station, his feet on his desk and arms crossed] If you’re an android can’t you be hijacked and traced like any other android? [Sticks his tongue in his cheek as she’s his first android partner, not trusting the security of having a resistance android]

Jade: [Overlooks the recent intel she was given, trying to ignore his presence and focus on what’s more important before hearing his voice. She draws in a deep breath before turning around to look at him] I’m not your typical android. [Hollows her cheeks as she eyes him, detecting his hostility] I’m sensing that there’s something more that you want to say to me. Might as well come out with it.

Axel: That’s extremely comforting. [Rolls his eyes as he speaks sarcastically] I just think you risk our entire operation. [Hollows his cheeks] Bots don’t belong in the resistance. [Shrugs as he speaks down to her]

Jade: [Doesn’t understand the tension that he brings out of her as she continues to engage with him] Glad to be of service. [Returns his sarcasm before pursing her lips as he uses that term on her] No? Where do we belong then? [Stares at him blankly to mask her growing frustration] If anything we’re perfect for this cause. We’re more capable, adaptable, and we don’t waste time asking meaningless questions. [Tilts her head as she tries to keep herself composed but the emotions keep pushing against her barrier]

Axel: [Laughs heartily as she’s sarcastic with him] Did they program you to do that? [Pushes her even further as he enjoys seeing her emotions come to the surface, finding her very human-like] You belong in the capitalist hogs supply closet. [Glares as he speaks the harsh words] The resistance is about fighting for humanity— which I don’t think you have a stake in. [Shrugs]

Jade: [Her eyes start to narrow as he treats her like a cold, worthless machine to be used at anyone’s whim] Excuse me? [She feels her synthetic heart racing, her vitals spiking as she hears the hateful response] And you do? [Speaks sharply as she stands up, staring down at him] You may be human but you’ve proven to be colder than anything out there. [Hisses] I am willing to do /anything/ for the resistance. [Glares, her passion for the cause appearing] You keep questioning me.. But weren’t you the same one that dabbled in suspicious activity not too long ago? [Tilts her head as she crosses her arms] How can we be sure that you’re not the one working against this cause?

Axel: I’m human, ain’t I? [Cocks a brow as he looks up at her, unbothered by her getting closer] Because I engaged in criminal activity? You’d think they would have programmed you to have better reasoning than that, sweetheart. Or at least to do better than deflecting. [Lifts his cap and runs his hand through his hair] We are quite literally a criminal organization by definition. [Gestures around the room] Maybe you should be reprogrammed to get off your high fucking horse. [Hisses] You’re a bot that doesn’t know shit about the real world.

Jade: [Stares at him fiercely as his presence causes different types of emotions to stir. She glares even harder as he appears so unaffected by her words that it only disrupts her system] Perhaps you’re right. But at least I know enough to be aware of when I’m in the presence of an asshole. [Hollows her cheeks, masking the hurt she feels by the term again] You have a lot of hatred for a “bot” you know nothing about. [Speaks sharply before holding his harsh gaze, refusing to give in to him] Why is that? [Her voice is softer for a moment] If you care so much about this resistance why can’t you be a little more accepting of the one that can help bring it closer to success?

Axel: Aww did I hurt your little Robot feelings? [Pouts as he hears her, not feeling bad for pushing her buttons] I wonder if I can so easily push your buttons, how are you supposed to keep a cool head in your work? [Scoffs] What a fucking joke. [Shakes his head] Do you even know what loyalty is? Are you just programmed to do whatever they tell you? [Cocks a brow]

Jade: [Full lips pursed and eyes filled with slight hurt she looks away as he pouts at her in a mocking way] You waste your breath questioning my ability to work. [Speaks in a detached tone, trying to control her emotions and hold it back. She shifts her jaw and turns her back on him, quickly busying herself before hollowing her cheeks] Are you after the textbook definition, Axel? [Stares at him blankly, her irritation just beneath the mask she has on as she tries to understand from a human perspective what he’s getting at] I am capable of making my own decisions if that’s what you’re asking. [Reads over the files as a way to tear her gaze away from his] You’re welcome to doubt my loyalty as much as you wish, Axel. But when the time comes you’ll eventually see how wrong you are about all of this. [Lifts her eyes to his, challenging him]

Axel: Is the textbook definition the only one you can provide me? [Shoots back as he doesn’t relent] I’ll believe it when I see it. [Shrugs as he tests out his new modified motorcycle helmet. He touches his ear piece and the metal begins to materialize around his head]

Jade: It’s the only thing I’m willing to give at this point. [Retorts as she doesn’t believe he will ever warm up to her presence. She glances as she watches the helmet taking its form, holding back from complimenting his work as she’s still upset] Why not request a different partner since you have no trust in me? [Moves to the other side of the room as she connects herself to the main system, uploading the recent intel she received and imputing codes to detect any hidden messages]

Axel: We don’t get to choose. I’m the best technology expert we have. [Shrugs] You’re stuck with me. [Smiles sarcastically— hating that the technology he loved so much ended up killing his friend]

Jade: [Debates on whether or not she should go to the leads herself but worries they would say she’s defective or too “emotional”] How fortunate for us both. [Returns the sarcasm again before studying his body language to see the sarcastic grin that doesn’t reach his eyes—knowing that humans often mask their inner feelings] Did something happen? [Asks abruptly as her social module takes effect, unable to stop herself from questioning him] Was it another android? Did you work with a different one before me? [Starts to replay their conversations, creating different reasons to explain his sheer disdain]

Axel: [Scoffs as she tries to get the truth from him] Does it matter? You wouldn’t understand anyway. [Shrugs]

Jade: [Is even more sure that there something he’s holding back from saying as he dismisses her] If we’re going to be partners then it matters to me. [Stares at him, trying to seem more open]

Axel: I don’t care what matters to you, Jade. [Says coolly] Now let’s do our fucking jobs, hm? [Wants her to drop it, hating how persistent she is. He gets back to doing some modifications]

[hatdigidigidog]

Philippines vs Thailand Badminton Men's Singles Quarterfinals Sea Games 2019

Court dimensions

The badminton court is 13.4m long and 6.1m wide. For singles the court is marked 5.18m wide. The lines marking out the court are easily distinguishable and coloured white or yellow. The lines are 40mm wide. A court may be marked out for singles only. The back boundary lines also become the long service lines and the posts or the strips of material representing them are placed on the side lines.

The diagonal full length of the full court is 14.366m.

Posts

The posts are 1.55m high from the surface of the court and remain vertical when the net is strained. The posts are placed on the double side lines irrespective of whether singles or doubles is played. The posts or supports must not extend into the court beyond the side lines. Where it is not practicable to have posts on the side lines, some method can be used to indicate the position of the side lines where they pass under the net, eg by the use of thin posts or strips of material 40mm wide, fixed to the side lines and rising vertically to the net cord.

Net

The net is 760mm in depth and a minimum of 6.1m wide. The top of the net from the surface of the court is 1.524m at the centre of the court and 1.55m over the side lines for doubles. There must be no gaps between the ends of the net and the posts. If necessary, the full depth of the net at the ends is tied to the posts.

Equipment

Badminton Racket

Modern Badminton Rackets are light in weight and don’t weigh more than 100 grams. The frame of the Racket can be made of common metals like steel or aluminum. Sometimes rackets are made of alloys, tough carbon fiber, ceramic, or boron. Its length does not exceed 680mm and width does not exceed 230 mm.

Shuttlecock

Sixteen feathers fixed in a cork base enveloped in a thin leather sheet make a shuttlecock. Interestingly, the best Badminton Shuttlecocks are made from feathers from the wing of a goose. The shuttle weighs between 4.74 to 5.50 grams.

Badminton Shoes

A good pair of Badminton Shoes provide good grip, cushioning and some flexibility at the forefoot.

Badminton Accessories

The commonly used Badminton Accessories are Grip, Badminton Clothes, Socks, Wrist Band and Head Band.

Grip

A grip made of cloth or synthetic fiber absorbs sweat and provides you a drier feel.

Badminton Clothes

Comfortable T-shirts and shorts, that don’t hinder your movement are ideal to play Badminton. A cotton round-neck or a collar t-shirts with a pair of light shorts are usually preferred.

Socks

Wear a pair of thick cotton socks as they help to absorb sweat. They also prevent your feet from slipping inside your shoes. Avoid wearing Nylon socks that don’t absorb sweat.

Wrist Band

If you perspire a lot, you may consider getting a wrist band that prevents your sweat from flowing to your racket handle.

Head Band

Wear a Head Band if you wear spectacles. It prevents your lenses from getting wet and also stops the sweat and hair from getting into your eyes while playing.

Basic Skills

Grip

The right grip in holding the racket is really important to achieve control on shots while avoiding the chances of a wrist injury. A proper grip will allow you to play both backhand and forehand strokes effortlessly.

Stance

The stance is how you stand while playing badminton, both in between a rally and before the serve. A stable and correct stance will bring a huge change in the results due to easier movement.

Footwork

Badminton is played on a court with limited space, and the athletes have to take care of the same while playing. Footwork plays a huge role in helping with an effective and organised movement on the court. In fact, some coaches even raise footwork to prime importance over other skills.

Serve

Service is among the most basic skill that you need to master in Badminton. Also, you should ensure to make a legal service otherwise it might lead to penalty points.

Drop Shot

Badminton Drop Shots are delicate badminton shots that can win you points that aim at scoring points in deception. Played with both backhand and forehand, these are used to move the opponent to the frontcourt. This creates space in the midcourt and backcourt for you to exploit. There are slow and fast drop shots, played judging the situation.

Clear or Lob

The lob shot in Badminton can be imagined as a shot with an inverted ‘U’ trajectory. It is normally played from the forecourt with an aim to lift or ‘lob’ the shuttle over the opponent. The idea is to land it as near to the baseline as it is, at an angle that is impossible to clear. This is similar to the drop in challenging the opponent with sudden motion backwards this time. It can also be executed by both backhand and forehand. This generally results in the creation of space in the front and midcourt, opening plenty of opportunities.

Technical and Tactical Skills

Technical Skills

The Ready Stance - it is a position in badminton wherein the right stance is readied by the player in order to minimize the amount of movements that would be needed in order to hit the shuttlecock Forehand and Backhand Grip - these are the two basic grips that new players must familiarize themselves with. By doing either of these, it would be much easier for players to control their shots Footwork - it is a necessary skill in order to play badminton. A proper foot walk would help in mastering the sports Strokes - initially, there are four strokes that the player can use.   Underarm Backhand Serve - it is a type of serve that beginners can use

Tactical Skills

Applying pressure on hitting the shuttlecock Position yourself in the central base It would be easier to hit the shuttlecock on the corners of the court Deceive your opponents during singles match

Rules of the Game

Rules

A player must wait until his opponent is ready before serving. If the opponent attempts a return then he is ruled having been ready. The feet of both players must remain in a stationary position until the serve is made. Your feet can not be touching the line at this time. It is not a fault if you miss the shuttle while serving. The shuttle cannot be caught and slung with the racket. A player cannot hold his racket near the net to ward off a downward stroke by his opponent or to interfere with his racket.

Faults

The shuttle, at the instant of being hit is higher than the servers waist or the head of the racket is higher than the servers racket hand. The shuttle does not land in the correct service court. The server's feet are not in the service court or if the feet of the receiver are not in the court diagonally opposite the server. The server steps forward as he/she serves. Any player balking or feinting his opponent before serve or during serve. A serve or shot that lands outside the court boundaries, passes under or through the net, touches any other obstructions or a players body or clothing. The boundary and service lines are considered in play. The shuttle in play is struck before it crosses the net to the striker's side of the net. You may follow through over the net. A player touching the net or its supports with his body or racket while the shuttle is in play. Hitting the shuttle twice in succession by a player or team.

Scoring System

A match consists of the best of 3 games of 21 points. Every time there is a serve – there is a point scored. The side winning a rally adds a point to its score. At 20 all, the side which gains a 2 point lead first, wins that game. At 29 all, the side scoring the 30th point, wins that game. The side winning a game serves first in the next game.

Interval and Change of Ends

A 1 minute interval between each game is allowed. In the third game, players change ends when the leading score reaches 11 points.

Officiating the Game

The officials are the judges responsible to ensure a fair badminton game is being played. They consists of:

Umpire: 

The ‘main judge’ for the particular badminton game. He/she has the power to overrule any decisions made by the service judge or line judges. The umpire is the person ensuring that the badminton game is run smoothly and prevent any players from delaying the game play.

Whenever a player requests to change the shuttle, the umpire will need to approve that the change could be made.

The umpire also looks out for faults committed around the net area such as whether a player touched the net when returning the shuttle.

Besides, the umpire is responsible to make a ‘fault’ call when the shuttle touches the player or the players’ attires except for the badminton racket. In badminton, it will be a fault/foul to a player if the shuttle touches any part of that player’s body or attire.

Service Judge: 

The service judge is responsible in making a ‘service fault’ call and to provide shuttles to the players.

Line Judges: 

Line judges sit beside the badminton court (right in front of every in/out lines) to determine whether the shuttle is inside or outside the boundaries of the court.

Their calls are usually very subjective and are often controversial.

Analysis

A seamlessly flawless victory for the Thailand’s Men Badminton Team has emerged in the 2019 Sea Games against the Philippines. It was an intense battleground fought till the end that had shocked the arena throughout the period of the game. Although the Filipino lost, he still showed determination and key perseverance that had paved way for him to reach that far. Despite such event, it has led both teams to pursue more on the strife of becoming better players that would soon reach the heights of endless possibilities. Overall, it was a fair and just game that showed great precision in officiating the game and calling calls, and the totality of the set-up has showed professionalism all throughout.

VIDEO LINK: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTm2dbteyt4

References: 

Department of  Local Government, Sport, and Cultural Industries. (n.d.). Badminton. Retrieved  from www.dlgsc.wa.gov.au:  https://www.dlgsc.wa.gov.au/sport-and-recreation/sports-dimensions-guide/badminton#:~:text=The%20badminton%20court%20is%2013.4,The%20lines%20are%2040mm%20wide.

Heda, R. (2019,  July 5). 7 basic badminton skills you can learn without coaching.  Retrieved from Kreedon.com: https://www.kreedon.com/basic-badminton-skills/

MST. (n.d.). Badminton  Rules. Retrieved from web.mst.edu:  https://web.mst.edu/~ima/rules/Badmintonrules.html

TutorialsPoint.  (n.d.). Badminton- Equipment. Retrieved from www.tutorialspoint.com:  https://www.tutorialspoint.com/badminton/badminton_equipment.htm

[winterwolvesandstarbucks]

Every counter-play of defense that was encrypted within the breached algorithm had surgically imploded when Natasha unleashed the parasitic files-records of HYDRA operatives viper nests to global security networks; she was a rogue SHIELD operative that needed to go off-grid-to become an undetected apparition within the shadow-zones. She needed to claim a new charade of utilized identity-relevance away from the exposed crosshairs of Interpol, purchasing a synthetic relevance was a practiced device of survival.

Standing under the amber glow of a dock light, rigidly Natasha gripped onto the strap of a backpack, fixing her grayish-teal irises unwaveringly on a cargo ship."Well, that's convenient," she quipped, huskily, crouching low on her denim-clad haunches as dockyard patrol sentry neared her obscured proximity. Doing a gypsy-run was the only way to reach a harbor point in Prague-stock up on arsenals of passports and food rations while traveling back to the Ukraine city of Chernihiv.

Keeping herself poised with balletic-hone agility behind a rusted oil barrel, attentively, on instinctive reaction, Natasha keenly registered whimpering yelps in unison that puppishly resonating within an intact whiskey crate- definitely rejected stray pups. Throw-away orphans that starvingly calling out for their mother. Easing her leather gloved hand over the ratty blanket-sheathed crate with a tentative flex, she delivered a pacifying caress over the distressed bundle. " Easy little furballs, I'm just going to peak..."

She felt a brush of air blow up her neck. It was all the warning sign she needed to know to react in the face of a hostile encounter. But as she swerved to draw her Glock, something rock-hard slammed against her and sent her spiraling backwards on the balls of her feet. The crushing pain she felt in her right side was ignored as she surrendered her body to its natural instincts. Years of training as a ballerina gave her the grace and skill to use her own momentum to roll and back-flip onto her feet. Her teal eyes were hard and alert but they soon widened in muted shock once she realized who her assailant was.

"Derzhis' ot nikh podal'she (Stay away from them)." A harsh familiar baritone threatened with a look of pure unadulterated rage that beckoned to be unleashed. Steel-blue eyes glistened in the midday sun beneath a grungy black-hoodie, framed by wolfish locks. The whirring of a mechanical limb pierced through the tension as her attacker stood his ground and drew his knife. "YA znayu kto ty (I know who you are)." The Winter Soldier said. The woman he fought on the bridge, who escaped his gun. Perhaps more than any other he'd come across. He glanced at the whining pups in the box, feeling apprehensive.

Damnit...It was a blood-rushing mantra that was careening through her adrenalized veins, intimidatingly aware of the menacing prowess of his sashayed advances, a mechanized precision that hypnotically induced an electrified tenor of unwarranted dread in his marked prey. Brandishing deceptive readiness, Natasha dragged her boots to blindingly mirror the arcing-murderous precision of his combat knife that slashed a breadth over her shoulder, lithely Natasha angled her curvaceous form against oil drum at the breathless second his bionic arm explosively delivered a haymaker sweep with bestial-propelling momentum; his metallic fist cannoned sledgehammering force through dented steel with unhinged rabidness, grungily drenching her copper-auburn tresses with sludgy oil. "James..." she urged out, in terse pitch, chiding herself for not being armed with EMP taser disk."It's Natalia...I know you pulled Steve Rogers out of the river, you saved him, didn't you?

"Shut up!" He yelled. Her words registered but he willed himself to ignore them, telling himself this was some sort of trap and that soon she would be leading her comrades to him. They would imprison or kill him...and take away his precious litter. That thought burned him and he was consumed by the overwhelming need to protect what was more important to him than anything. He continued his relentless assault. Like a bull seeking to ram his prey, he charged and attempted to ram her against a box of shipping containers. She was graceful like a swan and leaped over him. Her legs wrapped around his head. A maneuver he was familiar with. He threw his weight back, causing both of them to topple over boxes and land hard on their sides. He didn't miss a beat over the fall and swung his fist towards her. She narrowly evaded him, causing his hand to puncture a crate. "You will not take me. You won't take them!"

Gripping onto a hinged variance of restraint, blurringly in a feverish rush, Natasha yanked the material of his threadbare hoodie chestnut wolfish tresses disheveledly curtained his stubbled jaw, her feverish cheeks as he gnashed his teeth against a throated snarl, ferally revealing a mutative length of canine incisors that alarmingly jutted undercurve his bloodied shapely-wide lips—a morphic possession that he couldn't stave down. A concussive strobe of white-heat bleared her vision, straining against a choke of breath, haphazardly, Natasha gazed back at the precious crate-he was viscerally attached to the distressed baby pups inside."Okay, that's interesting," she murmured, raspily, cobra-striking her lithe hand up to effectively seize his cybertronic arm-the rigged gravity of mercy was on a knife-edge. "What did Pierce do to you...?"

"What he did?!" He spat, feeling the aching pierce in his jaws that told him his canines were near to puncturing his gums and lips. He flicked his knife between his digits and made a charging upward swipe, managing to cut into her jacket, causing her to yell and attack with her own series of judo kicks. "Everything!" He cried. He had been unmade so many times over. His humanity and memories stripped from him. So much he didn't know, but that much to him was clear. He had no name. No family. No friends. All he had were the three pups crying out to him to come protect them. "Hydra took my identity, my freedom...my humanity!" He landed a punch across her stomach, causing her to gasp. She responded by swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash on his back, losing his knife. "Now you want to stop my mission...to protect my mission." Those pups were his only mission now, and he would not lose them.

Attuned to driving thrust of his robotic momentum arced to immobilize her into a destabilizing choke-hold in aggressive fruition as he remained locked into submission, with viperish speed, Natasha drove a hammer-strike precision of side kidney punch into tauten flesh his V-braced pelvis; a guttural roar achingly deafened out him as Natasha bodily staddled the athletic sleekness of her denim-clad thighs fluidly over bulkier-ridges of graven muscle chubbily bracketing a stockier heaviness of his garbed abdomen-a definite flex of protrusive strain bloatedly conveyed rampant-contractive urgency.

Against sweltry dampness of his unkempt tresses, his razored steel-aquamarine irises nakedly floored knifing heat that melded with stuporous desperation as he rackingly glanced down at the crate. "I'm guessing what's snug in here belongs to you?" she deduced in huskier pitch, ruefully, hearing the distressed volumes of hunger beckoningly amplify-the underground extensions of HYDRA's butcherous industry was fueled by an unslaked-infectious tantamount of spawning new breeds of compliance.

The vitality of resistance was amputated by sadistic methods of -psychological mania: electronic-convulsive tortures of being strapped into a mortified dentist chair while agonized-limbic- pulses forced memories into a catatonic drift. The Winter Soldier was a reactivated-brutish instrument of termination-a muzzled beast machine condemningly leashed under the merciless grip of his handlers. The scars of the Odessa bullet etched in her alabaster flesh was branded reckoning that she needed to evict, he pulled Steve out of the Platonic River with a measure of soldiery valiance. Maybe he was worth a chance of redemption. With an errant visage of trust, Natasha gestured her hand lithely towards his litter-babies. "Answer me this, are they your...sem'ya(Family)?"

Winter Soldier had not often been at the mercy of those he fought in the field. The brutal harsh training in the dregs of Russia had instilled in him an endurance that could only be beaten into a wild dog. His comrades that were on ice had been just as equally efficient as him, but they all lacked the experience and metal appendage that made him such a dangerous assassin. But now if they could see him, at the mercy of a Widow straddling his waist with his mission in jeopardy of undoing him. He was compromised-tampered with ever since Pierce had decided to turn him into an experiment for breeding hybrid super-soldiers.

"Yes. They are mine…" He finally admitted to the Widow's cool facade. Her teal eyes were hypnotic and spell-binding that he knew then just how dangerous it was for her to weave webs of seduction with them. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably, feeling a solemn absence from within as his thoughts carried him back to a night in Bavaria he had not forgotten. To an elusive feline that had stolen the other half of his heart and fled into obscurity. "They are all that's left of the man I was. They're apart of me...They need me." He grimaced and groaned at the twisting of his abdomen, feeling and dreading the sensation of his belly swelling. He needed them just as bad.

Keeping the delicate contours of her vixenishly sirenic features nonplussed, Natasha felt a neasous rush of heat mounting in his veins; a sloshing pulse of his swelled abdomen grew bloatedly tenser. Luckily they were in a backlit dead zone-the dockyard wasn't located in the grid of surveillance; General Thunderbolt Ross wouldn't be mobilizing a dispatched strike team without a breach from the video feeds. Dragging out a terse breath, Natasha shifted her collective gaze at the darkened warehouse-a disused stockpile of shipping parts-that would serve has their inventive advantage. "Okay..." she coolly murmured, easing herself off lycan Siberian assassin's bulkier form, as their shadowed gazes heatedly clashed with the stark rawness of clamorous urgency."Ready to play hide-seek, mal'chik-volk (wolf boy)?"

His confusion lasted a mere moment before he watched Widow turn and walk towards the darkened warehouse. Was this a ruse of some kind? He wondered if he should take his pups and flee while there was time. But that wasn't an option. The shipping vessel was their only way out of the country and he couldn't afford to miss that departure. Hesitantly he climbs to his feet and follows her into the warehouse, but not before bringing the box with him. He cradled it gently against his waist, murmuring sweet-nothings in Russian to soothe the fussy little furballs inside who were squirming with thirst. The warehouse was dim but the lights shining through the high-rise windows was enough to see their surroundings.

The Widow, Natalia stood facing him, watching him closely as he set his box aside and used his flesh covered digits to rub comforting circles into his baby pups. "Why are you here? How did you find me?" He asked her, unwilling to beat around the bush.

There was no ingenuous answer-the algorithmic program Insight had cripplingly demolished her practical safeguards-profitable information of SHEILD's hardware was being trafficked to the highest bidder with fixed interest. The coolness of her sterling arrow pendant was a token-a promise to keep her best friend-Clint-out of the inevitable crossfire with rogue SHIELD agents."Circumstances have shifted..." she murmured against gritted breath, watching his bionic hand splay a chaste graze of virile- tactile heat affectionately over the infant furry pudge-balls in soothing accord -a gracing touch of protective reverence. "...and now I'm looking over my shoulder just like you..."

"Like me?" The Soldier nearly scoffed at that. What little he knew about the Widow did not exclude the fact she was a renown hero with powerful friends backing her even with the collapse of SHIELD. He was an infamous myth made real and every government around the world would be after him once the details of his crimes were made clearer. He had no friends, no one to rely upon to see him through this. "You know too little about me. But I know you...Natalia." The name-that name. It resurfaced some memories he didn't know he still had, and made him realize where he had seen her before. "You were trained to kill your enemies. If there is anyone who you had cause to take revenge, it would be me. ...Why haven't you?"

He was one of the men who trained her in the Red Room until his handler Karpov put him back on ice. Severing the bond they were forging as mentor and student. He taught her to never hesitate when her target was in sights. How much had she changed? He put two bullets into her over their many encounters. Anyone else would have taken retribution.

Every pulse of traitorous resistance was contrasted against the crimson silhouettes of the Widow operative ranks; every orphaned ballerina-little swan- was surgically weaponized to tragically mature into combative-lethal sirens of incarnate bloodlines. The mansion estate fringed with black pines of Novgorod, Russia was a gladiatorial arena conducted by a power-mongering Lubyanka general- Vasily Karpov- who brutishly exposed verminous -defective weaknesses in his elite ranks, deadening echoes of mercy with paralytic shunts of nitrogen-solidifying bones into unbreakable granite. 'My nikogda ne lomayemsya (We never break)'...'

Little Natalia Romanova was discarded like an ineffective stray-betrayed by her adoptive father Ivan Petrovich when he traded her virginal innocence to demonic watchdogs of the Red Room; they butchered her to dance to the symphonic-dynamical cadence of a venomous seduction-a- morbid concerto of Tchaikovsky's swan lake-programmed sterilization. Those balletic-harmonic rigors of elegant graces weren't for staged performances at the Bolshoi. She was trying to purge out the demons that marked her 'red' ledger; all evidence of her blood-soaked -unforgivable past was digitalized to public viewing because of that shyster Alexander Pierce -she was now a rogue deviant, cut off the deceitful threads.

With her Glock holstered against the tone-suppleness of her back, Natasha understood the grounds of phantom trust always wavered, the grip of tension was rigged on high-voltage, she wouldn't disarm her resolve; on the snowy mountain ridges of Odessa. She betrayed her on instinctive-mechanical vigilance when she received the 'greenlight' protocol to escort a high-priority target for SHEILD's interest-a HYDRA convoy obstructed that mission-hailstorm staccatos of lethal-surgical precision delivered a gut-shot throb of white-heat in her lower abdomen-a paralyzing apparition of point-blank mercy for her to bleed out. 'Ty poshchadil, malen'kiy pauk ...(You're spared, little spider)'

"I know when the pull back the trigger," Natasha murmured in a thready pitch, a subtle quirk played over her voluminous lips as she fixedly gazed at the fussy baby pups. "Now I'm trying to keep a very effective promise that I can do the right thing..."

He didn't question for details. Not when the swelling in his stomach had become a gut-piercing discomfort that made him noticeably grimace. He couldn't put off the irrepressible need that came with his new form. "I have to…I have to…" He arched forward and held his stomach, stifling the groan of pain but unable to mask the rumbling bellow of his stomach to his curious observer. "I have to get out of America. Take them far from here…" The last bit of his resistance towards the Widow had evaporated and now he was looking at her with beseeching eyes, begging for aid he could not expect her to give. "I thought I could do this alone, but-" And then he tumbled forward, dropping onto all fours as he felt his skin crawl with something feral underneath ready to break free.

Bracing his atrophied weight into a planking stance over cement against penetrative-deadened traction possessing his virile-enhanced resilience, vertiginously underneath his tactical fatigues, the tautened-corded sleekness of his muscled-heavier thighs bulkily flexed with athletic torque as he became paralyzingly grappled into drags of a morphic fringe. Angling his head down shaggily his wolfish tresses hung grungily askew over his temples as his sensuous-bow lips widened agape; jutted extension of his incisor fangs curved with a predatory edge. In that breathless-alarmed wake of rampant confusion, as she painstakingly reeled back in conscious footing near a garage door, Natasha owlishly gazed at the pointed curves of his ears furrily sharpening into outstretched-bestial length as his throaty pants became gutturally coupled with quivery-ragged breaths."Vernis' (Get back)..." he choked out in Russian timbre, slurringly, tucked his cybernetic arm over the ballooning rotundity of his pudgier mid-drift-he was gruelingly plumping up as the whimpering cries of the baby pups grew heart-breakingly distressed. "Please you gotta...Arghh..."

His words had transitioned into a guttural growl that was animalistic-inhuman. The walls seemed to echo and shake in the midst of the intense spectacle that had Natasha watching with incredulity. She wasn't scared, not after witnessing such things as the Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk. But she was stunned by this unexpected variable that introduced itself with the Winter Soldier. His body began to shift and change before her very eyes. Bulking muscles of human athleticism were now covered with patches of growing fur that spread across his body like wildfire. His appendages bent and twisted, causing a sickening snap to be heard and a howl to escape his lips.

No longer bipedal but quadrupedal in his posture that resembled a wild animal. His steel blue eyes opened, and shimmered like a silvery moon in the darkness. His bared canines extended likes blades being unsheathed from their scabbards, glistening with drool. Moments passed and James Bucky Barnes-The Winter Soldier-was gone before her eyes. All that remained as an overgrown Siberian wolf laying exhausted on his side-spent of energy.

As her tactical instincts hastily steered her towards a garage door in urgent succession, Natasha haphazardly reached for a power control box, hammering her fist with bruising momentum into a button that automatically lowered the metal door. The nauseous of the rank of milk fluid wafted smellily off the taut swollenness chestnut-furred alpha's bloated girth. Rearing his canine off exhaustingly off a heap of his torn sweater, readily James shifted a massive hind paw, exposing his underbelly as one of the sightless baby pups raised her tinier head against the crate's edge, adorably whimpering for her-Daddy in squeaky pitch. "Do you trust me enough to bring them to you..." she urged, convincingly, feverous tension between them was skyrocketing to overdrive-propelling her into a chimeric throe."We both know how this plays out, right?"

"N-Need help…" Was all he managed to whine out. He didn't know if she could understand him in this form. His exhaustion prevented him from being more expressive in his speech and he was reduced to a weakened mess while his baby-pups cried out for him. His sight was blurry, but he could make out the distinguishable shape of Natalia standing close to him-close to his babies. His fight with her had taken what remained of his strength to endure the transformation, and now he had no choice but to trust her help that she now offered.

"B-Bring them…" He whined. His tongue hung loosely from his opened jaw, and the rise and fall of his belly felt like a crushing weight being pressed against him with each breath he took. He needed to release and nourish his off-spring.

The unwarranted barrage of detonative urgency was fused like a powder-keg, scrunching her nose against the vomitous reek glozing out of him, tactilely with evident swiftness of her cautious delicacy, Natasha vigilantly crouched a breadth near the crate with tentative ease, the smokiness of her grayish-teal irises roved over the dozy bundle of pudgy infant wolf pups fussily nestled over tactical kevlar of the Winter Soldier's jacket. The infant pups were heart-arrestingly precious within the cushioned snugness of their box; enchantingly adorned with cindery-chestnut downy fur as their clawed-paws furrily twitched on the blinded accord. "Well, that's kinda cute-" she quipped, jauntily under breath; driven by viscerous tenor of gentleness, she reached down to cradle a pup while kneading a featherlight caress of her gloved fingers over a shivering girl pup as her tinier snubbed muzzle nudged her palm. "It's okay malen'kaya milaya (little sweetheart), your safe with me..."

As the transformed soldier listened to Romanova's voice soothe his infant, he felt whatever lingering apprehension he still felt over this situation begin to fade. His weary eyes watched as she brought the youngest of his litter, Madison, over to him, with a gentleness he never would have expected from hands so used to wielding the cold grip of a pistol. Then again, he was not one to judge, given his own bloody history. "Spasibo (Thank you)." He rumbled to her as she set Madison down next to his swollen belly. Almost instantly he felt the gentle nipping and tugging that was uncomfortable at first but almost immediately, it paved the way for relief.

"The others, bring them too," he urged. His infant was feeding herself and Natalia didn't miss a beat as she wandered over to the box to retrieve his the eldest of his off-spring-the twins who entered the world at the same time.

Racking distress clashed tremored against her leather-clad arms, the pudgier male thrashed feistily against the voluptuous swell of her breasts, Natasha unerringly angled lithe contours of her forearm, as she cradled the daintier-tremulous female pup as she lowered to the canine alpha's grounded level. The luminous-voltaic sapphire of his irises glacially flashed banking menace as she consciously breached the heavier proximity of his exposed girth, shifting his twin pups against the milk-drench fur where the littlest of his litter suckled down hungrily."So I'm figuring that you've been hiding these furballs since Pierce cut you loose..." she coolly breathed, arching up an eyebrow, as she half-smirked, cannily. "He exchanged their lives for you to stop Rogers from deactivating Project Insight, he tugged on the right thread..."

"He wanted an army. He wanted a better leash to control me at the same time." The mention of Pierce triggered an onrush of anger inside of him. He let it fade away just as soon as it passed through him, knowing his litter could sense were so attuned to him, they could sense any negative energy he would be feeling. He murmured with a groggy tone as she set down both Aurora and Brennen beside Madison. The twins wasted no time and joined their youngest sibling in nourishing themselves. A pinch of pain shot through him by the roughness of his only boy who he reckoned would be a handful as he grew up. Paternal intuition, he believed.

Giving birth to a litter of pups was something he believed next to impossible, but now he began to understand much about it over the past few months since they escaped Hydra surveillance. After pulling the Captain...Steve...from the Potomac River, the Soldier knew Pierce was finished. His only thought was getting back to the safe-house and collecting his pups from the men Pierce had guarding them. They'd been on the run ever since.

"He's gone now. But Hydra is still out there...I went to the museum for answers...That man, Steve...He called me "Bucky"." It felt like a question and not a comment. He looked to Natalia for any hint of recognition. She wore her mask well enough to disguise any answer.

The murmurous croakiness of his gravelly timbre left her warringly reluctant to answer as soul-gripping tension electrified her into an unwarranted deadlock; without breaking her impassive poise, flintily Natasha downcasted a steeled glance her backpack -a reachable vessel of collected secrets that she had attained with decryption-hacking skills of HYDRA's encoded-corrupted database. "Names and faces are pretty much what to expect when you break out of amnesic fringe...They're what you can't push away when you finally wake up..." she whispered, regretfully. "The poster boy-Steve Rogers- who you fought on the Helicarrier wasn't pulling a stunt, he gave up everything to pull you off Pierce's control switch..."

"And I almost killed him…" He felt remorse. It was a surprising feeling that hadn't come to him quite often when he walked on two feet. Remnants of his programming still lingered-the cold indifference to human life. Sentiment. Detachment. He was a machine whose only instinct was to execute and obey. That all began changing when that man-Steve-entered his crosshairs and called him that name that felt so familiar. But Steve had never tried to retaliate except out of self-defense, he never tried to kill him. He wanted to help him.

The Soldier never realized that. But the Wolf was affected-the Wolf felt something humane. Perhaps it had to do with the trio of furballs that touched his stagnant heart in a way he had never experienced before. "Is he looking for me?" He asked Natalia, wincing as he felt Brennen tug harshly after finishing.

"It's complicated," Natasha answered in brusque pitch, back at the Maryland cemetery, she had delivered Steve the classified 'eyes only' Soviet personnel dossier file labeled: NO 17 -James Buchanan Barnes from SHIELD vault records, grainy black-white photos of boyishly handsome GI soldier was clipped over Cyrillic notes handwritten by Armin Zola that contained lab results of a cryogenic experiment—relevant information would come with an infinite-grievous price. That ignited choice of direction would damnably usher a cavalcade reckoning of HYDRA demons-a new threat was always composed in the shadows.

Nonchalantly bracing the curvaceous svelteness of her crouched form, with disarmed precision, Natasha splayed her leather-sheathed palm deftly over velvet-like mahogany fur of the dwarfed female pup who clingily nuzzled her delicate muzzle into the sniper wolf's undercoat, as he tautly scrunched up his long muzzle, raggedly emitting throaty groans another onrush of uncurbed hunger as the chubbiest of the litter-the male- greedily nipped with pinching force over his damp fur."Now with your furry makeover, I'm not sure if you want Rogers to find you...?" she deadpanned, snarkily.

"Its too dangerous to be around me." He visibly deflates as his wolfish ears fall low. It was difficult to mask his emotions in this form that was more visceral than his human body. It was like being attuned to nature itself and nature never holds back. "I'll have the biggest target on my back. Unless I can disappear, I'll always be looking over my shoulder." It wasn't the life he wanted for himself-for his children who were born into this world to be used as tools-as weapons. Even if Hydra were on the run, it didn't mean others wouldn't be interested in the fruits of their labor. The thought made him both frightened and angry.

"Vse budet khorosho (Its going to be all right)." He murmured into the downy-scented fur of his off-spring as they curled and snuggled deeper into his warm side to hide themselves. He would kill anyone and anything that tried to take them from him. He could feel the Widow's eyes on him and met her stare evenly. "I know I have wronged you, Natalia. ...But I need your help."

For a tactive moment of unstinted attachment-sentiment- Natasha riskily graced her palm over his silvered frontal paw, accepting the call of her unexpected mission. The arcane networks of surveillance grids had marked the Black Widow down as a relevant target of interest—the dockyards would be compromised by sanctioned orders of dispatched STRIKE team. Harnessing up steeled poise, guardedly Natasha recognized his teeming urgency-the starkness of visceral need felt calibrated; rampantly she gazed into his grayish-aquamarine irises that mesmerically slivered alight with lucent intensity-whitish sapphire melding into bestial heat. She was undeviatingly aware of the resurgence of invincible -soldiery valiance-Brooklyn spirit- that clamorously rode through his bulkier canine form.

"I'm not someone to trust on the sidelines,mal'chik-volk (wolf boy), but your little furballs are hard to pass off...she murmured in throatier pitch, raspily, the smokiness of her teal depths fixed a trenchant cast over the enchantingly adorable baby pups cozily wedged against the jutted length of his girth-they weren't disposable-trade-off- leverage in the mordacious HYDRA crosshairs, they deserved a chance to embrace daybreak. Conveying a semblance of vestigial trust, she half-quirked the plushier swell of her voluminous lips into a coquettish smirk, blithely."So I guess this means you're bunking with me...?"

An hour later, the container freight bound for a key-port in France began to ferry its way out from the harbor with all 300 passengers and crew docked. If any of the passengers or crew were suspicious about how a radiant young woman, traveling alone, managed to get approval to bring on a caged Siberian wolf, none of them showed it. The few that did notice the peculiar scene were immediately apprehensive with the thought of traveling with a wild predator onboard. Together Natasha and Bucky stood near the guard-rail on the stern side of the ship as the departure horn rang out. They watched as the Washington harbor shrank further and further away from them. They had left behind one battle-field and were on their way to the next.

Cascading tonnage of goliathan waves deafeningly barraged against the cargo ship's hull, within the isolated ambiance of a bunking cabin, braced against a rickey-framed mattress, vertiginously in a blearing reaction, Natasha gripped onto a blanket half-draped over the lithe contours of her denim-clad thighs. After boarding the outbound freighter, with a practicable charade of sire-like persuasion-didn't require a combative shuffle of acrobatic-honed graces that she balletically performed in the engine room ofthe HYDRA-compromised Lemurian Star, Natasha was voluntarily given the moderate excess to utilize a storage cabin as her voyaging refuge.

Quashing down a flintier chagrin of existing like a stowaway fugitive without harboring a lank slate contingency, Natasha vexedly evicted the hinged impulse to contact Agent Clint Barton by the ship's radio transmission-to station a rendezvous point of location in Prague; knowing that after she condemningly breached the uplinked encrypted files-his retired identity was jeopardized; how many conditioned-genetically enhanced Sleeper Agents under Vasily Karpov's cold-blooded ranks were now activated on civilian ground. She had no more cards to deck out.

After squeezing her damp-tousled copper tresses knottily with a towel, Natasha had stealthily gathered vending-machine packets of Doritos, bottles of water and peanut butter-infused Nature Valley bars—enough to sustain a bulked-out nursing wolf's unquenchable-vexatious appetite.

Inadvertently sitting on the floor of the cabin, through her mechanisms of distrust, Natasha listened to whimpery -babyish squeaks emitting crankily from the sightless pups, Natasha fixed all her attentive focus on the babies cushily nestled against the slumbering PSTD chestnut-furred sniper wolf's bushy tail while he was slackly laden on his side- groggily captive in deep-seat thralls of unstaunched exhaustion. James Barnes was no longer anesthetized to the deadened frequency of infectious static that devastatingly pulsed from the soul-razing tentacles of HYDRA.

Removing a package of Doritos out of her backpack stash, Natasha effectively popped the bag open as the powder-cheesy aroma potently sailed through the dense air, evoking her furred bunkmate-HYDRA's mechanized ghost operative- to noncommittally release a throaty gnarl as he muzzily shifted his deadweight over a makeshift nest of cloth tarps, viscerally aware of his baby pups dozily nestled against his swelled girth."Well, you must be hungry, given how much the little pudge-balls pack in, huh?" she coaxed out, huskily in a snarkier undertone, holding up a chip with tantalizing ease."Nothing fancy, since we don't have that luxury on this free-pass cruise..."

The wafting aroma of the tasty snack almost had the wolf drooling with an unabashed hunger that had been steadily growing for hours since their voyage had begun. To ignore the tell-tale pinching of discomfort, Bucky...He now thought of himself as Bucky-it felt right to for some reason. To ignore his hunger, he had gotten some much-needed rest to regenerate his strength. He had been on the run for weeks with his infant furballs, rarely sleeping, rarely eating. There was also the fight he had endured with Natalia at the docks which only served to heighten his already ravenous state of need. He sniffed and growled lowly as he took in the sight of the triangle-shaped chip that dangled in front of him.

"I've gotten by with far-less." He raises his snout and plucks the cheesy chip into his mouth, savoring the vivid taste that left only hungry for more. He didn't ask. He was far too set in wish to not be an inconvenience to his unlikely companion who helped him board this freighter. But it appeared Natalia had other ideas as she promptly dumped the rest of the bag of chips onto surface in front of him. "You're being too generous with me, Natalia. ...Thank you." He spent the next few minutes finishing off the cheesy chips that softened the hunger in his gut. She said nothing the entire time as she lounged back in deep thought, her only movements being the periodic bites she took from her nutrition bar.

The only sounds he could hear where the distant roars of the tides and the chattering of crew members and passengers moving outside their cabin. Their cabin for the most part was spacious enough for only one person with a single cot, chair and night-stand. But it was also big enough for someone to allow their pet to stay in as well. How convenient for him, despite having to sleep on the thin carpet on the floor. He wasn't about to complain, he really did have to survive with far-less in the past.

"How long do you think this trip will be?" He finally asked her once the silence began to become awkward-at least for him.

With an inscrutable flit of her grayish-teal irises, Natasha was underlyingly aware of the predatory heat radiating off the ensorcelled assassin-the Winter Soldier's beastlier hard-edged muscles—a revamped ferocity that wouldn't be contained in the morphic dregs of bestial fusion. Ghostlily echoes of their unforgiving past throbbingly raked over the bullet-scarred flesh of her leather garbed abdomen, like the surgical-driven precision of a Red Room scalpel, irrevocably cutting her deep. 'Ty ne mozhesh' bezhat' vechno, malen'kaya Natal'ya (You can't run forever, little Natalia)...'

Against feigned rapt of tenser vigilance, as she felt the carbon steel of her Glock against her booted calf, Natasha unmovingly became electrified in compromised tenfold, as her palm reactively splayed over her curvaceous side-another grievous callback of her underscored vendettas. She to foster onto a 'no-strings' attached reality-a pave a new road of salvation before 'teammates' close to vest became dead reckonings on her ledger. "If everything holds out we'll be docking at Port de Grenelle in three days...Tops, " she murmured in gritted pitch, offishly, as the baby pups squeaked demandingly in hungered unison.

Coolly she quirked up an eyebrow, registering the hefty sniper wolf's disgruntled moan, his canine muzzle stretched grimacingly wide against feverish panting of shuddery breaths, as heavier-intensified barrages of milk- sloshing contractions; nothing availed to his effusive resistance. "Hold on," she urged, placidly, watching his furred brow aggressively pinch while she clutched a frayed edge of a blanket to drape over his jutted underbelly-he needed a grounded semblance of privacy. The frosted aquamarine of his depths stormily lanced knife-point intensity, contrasting against his slitted pupils-he was in protective-mode, defensively aware of the vulnerability of his pups-also the convenient security of Natasha's untampered proximity. "Don't get used to my charitable tactics," she retorted, pointedly. "I'm only playing nice because of your cute furballs..."

The mention of his pups brought about a warm feeling within the Siberian wolf whose life had changed drastically over the past several months. Life as a Hydra instrument of death was no life at all. It was empty and cold, giving him no cause to think and feel anything beyond the orders he was given and the pain of injuries he would endure. But then Pierce decided to play god. To try and create something fierce and undeniably vicious to give Hydra an advantage over the super-powered heroes that were emerging in the world. Through his blood and genetics, three wolfish off-springs were born.

The moment they entered the world, something inside of the Soldier had shifted-the the manacles that bound him to Hydra's will had shattered irrevocably as his eyes first set sight on the three impossibly small life-forms that were birthed from his wolfish body. He had become not a 'soldat', but 'otets'-a father.

"I think they like you." He said after a moment of deep thought. It would have seen like a polite compliment just for the sake of levity, but it didn't occur to him until now just how much at ease his pups were around the redhead Avenger. Over the past few weeks, they trembled in their boxed-bed he kept them while around strangers. It was only his presence that soothed them. But around Natasha, they were calm-relaxed. It made him develop a new appreciation for his old-time student and former rival.

The feathering drift of her lithe fingers over satiny-velvet fur hushedly captured that instinctive awareness in that addictive breach of connective heat with the smallest of his restless litter; a wonderous fusion that she couldn't ride out. The ephemeral—chaste pressure irrevocably fused a soul-branding revelation—the murderously deceptive siren-the Black Widow conceived out of the Red Room stowed a heartbeat underneath hardcore layers granite.

Drags of unredeemable memories screechingly crescendoed a hellish volume of a damning pandemonium—innocent ghosts of orphans that morphed into banshees-a ghoulish requiem of symphonic-macabre vengeance. Blood always had a price. "I'm not good with kids..." she admitted, harshly in a condemning breath, wrenching her hand back from the squeaking pup as if her caress was poisonous. "If you peek at my file, you'll see a video link that SHIELD buried..." A straining tightness flexed evidently over her delicate jaw. "I guess it wasn't deep enough..."

"We both have a dark past. I am not one to judge." He uttered. There was much about his former life as James Bucky Barnes that he didn't remember. But the screams of death he invoked haunted his dreams like wailing ghosts. He remembered every life he took, innocent and guilty. It took insurmountable strength for him to not succumb to his guilt that begged him to sink into self-destruction. He held on. The three pups, two who were now curled beneath him, gave him newfound life and purpose. The third of his litter, the youngest had drifted and rolled closer towards the redhead who still looked torn.

"Go on. ...I trust you, Natasha." He urged her to give into her greater inclination to pick up young Madison, and not allow the cold darkness of her past to rob her of a newfound connection.

"You sure about this...?" A tenous raze of warred hesitance electrifyingly deadened her in those rigged seconds of genuine, full-measured trust, the young-exhausted- alpha painstakingly nudged his baby girl with an affectionate variance of cherishing reverence, urging the determined pup to stumblingly wobble closer to her opened reach. A euphonious fringe of hope quenched out the infective blood of her slaughterous-unforgiving past of being a penetration Widow operative-a battle-tested marionette of seductive charades who had her strings broken when Clint Barton's hawk-precision arrow tore into her sterilized reality. He violated his 'green-light' orders -staking down a compromised price with the dynamical exception of friendship-humanity. She had Fury-Steve Rogers, but Clint was always a callback of a heartbeat if she fell too deep.

A feverous rush cravingly answered that beckoning cadence of whisper-soft acceptance he tellingly conveyed with a broader-fanged smirk, readily, Natasha shaped her palm over Madison's daintier-angelic form, adoringly cradling the infant pup against her leather-garb chest with a contrasted tracery of pacifying heat as she angled her forearm, just enough to breathlessly watch tiny canine eyes flit open to squinty reveal decadent brandy irises that heart-stealingly gleamed with rebellious vibrancy -thievish fire. "krasotka( beautiful girl)..." she murmured whisperingly, in Russian timbre, accelerated-joyous- euphoria pulsed infectiously within the cabin, as the baby pup squeaked in melodious pitch, snuggling comfily as she glanced up at the blank-faced amazement tearily alight in her Daddy's cool -unblinking-aqueous depths."Vy lyubimy, malyshka(You are loved, little sweetheart)..."

Bucky's surprise at little Madison finally opening her eyes was matched by the shock he felt as Aurora and Brennen had begun to do just the same. It was subtle at first-a wrinkling of their snouts as their eyelids squinted in their shut-state. "Eto normal'no (Its okay)..." he rumbled while nuzzling their tiny paws and kissing them. A moment passed and then their beady eyes finally opened beneath his tender gaze. A vivid shade of blue, full of youthful innocence and confusion, it was a precious thing he vowed to love and protect. "Hello, little guys. Daddy's been waitin' for you."

Their paws flayed and tapped against his shoulder as if they were being begged to be picked up. It was a tender moment that was unlike any he'd experienced before, and Bucky could not help but grin with delight. His chestnut furred tail wagged and his eyes softened to a dim but lively shade of blue. "Good to see you too."

The boyish drawl of his roughen-timbre croakily breached her passive demeanor, as she delicately cradled little Madison against her leather jacket, Natasha felt neutralized by the dosage of hope-redemption this unabandoned connection-nexus had injected her; nothing flatlined between them. With a cautious flit of her grayish-teal irises, she gazed sidelong at the emotionally-compromised alpha-a Soviet beast machine who agonizingly outlasted HYDRA's traumatic-electrified raids of mind-butchering amnesia. A white-noise of concessive static of Zola's nightmarish-surgical hardware that deadened out his tenacious resistance, mutating cavalcades of his dispatched targets' faces into bloodied apparitions under his sniper-vision-mechanicalized wraith of the Sleeper ranks wasn't damaged goods...He broke out of the kill-switch programming because he was granted a new mission-relevance of daybreak.

"Get some rest..." Natasha urged, instructively, easing down the dozy mahogany-furred pup tentatively against his massive silvered forepaw. "I have a raincheck with a peanut butter sandwich..." A devious smirk naughtily quirked up her plushier crimson lips. "Can't let those fellas' out there be disappointed..."

Bucharest, Romania...

As the nectarous scents wafted off displays of crated fruit that were invitingly stacked in tented vendors; the market-bazaar plaza contrasted functionally against Brâncovenesc environs of 17-century Baroque-Romanesque style that became monolithic landmarks of post-revolution architecture; castellated Saxon cathedrals were gothically ornamented with iron spires-the Byzantine valance of conquered imperialism became a historic entity of brickwork terracotta and marble. It had been a caliginous province of survival, but now maddeningly congested with throngs of stink-faced vacationists that barricaded Romanian merchant stations.

Harnessing the instinctive usage of her tactical caliber, readily Natasha evaded sideswiping bicyclists as she purchased a traditional bakeshop dessert-Gogoși- spongy dough balls that were sugarily infused with cinnamon and vanilla; the only digestible pastry that slaked the nursing sniper-wolf's onerous-uncurbed- appetite. She wouldn't become grappled into the domesticity of cyclic errand-runs; against warred vulnerability, everything felt artificial as if compromised reality would betray her again. She needed to complete the mission of securing an undetectable-off-grid- safe house for the baby pups.

Gripping onto the hefty paper bag of her gathered rations, as her iPhone chimed a reminder text of the next 'feeding time' hour, Natasha shifted the observant periphery of her grayish-teal irises unwaveringly at a newspaper vendor with unfeigned awareness before she vexatiously reached the crosswalk-underground installations of traffickers had tantamount of auctioning trade-off breeds-wolf pups were stacked as highly valuable in the Eastern European industry in the shadow zones. The seedier governmental dynamos of the World Council had the Avengers fixed on their chessboards-every counter- move was rigged. Warranted measures of trust felt compromised-she had to remain unbreakable against the play of adaptable contingency.

Riskily, Natasha paced towards a high-point apartment building where the beastlier Siberian wolf used for a makeshift nursing den."He better not be complaining this time..." she quipped under terse breath, raspily, glancing down at her mobile screen at the blank message box that she labeled-Rogers. The First Avenger—the paragon Adions of liberty was more than an expandable-relevant dance partner that Fury had selected after the galactic invasion of the planet-ravaging Chitauri, Steve became a visceral heartbeat of chaste friendship—someone who had her back when the precision of betrayal shadow-crossed her—she couldn't; go all decent on him. "Everything needs to stay close to vest..."

Within the warm sanctity of the immaculate though quite dull safe-house, a different turmoil was constantly increasing in the face of an agitated predator glaring at a target marked for termination. Four paws ground into the rug of the living room, muscles tensed with burning ire as the fur on his body rose on end with anticipation. His target marked for termination, the high-definition tv that was left on when Natasha had left the apartment. His redheaded companion, in her infinite wisdom, had left the channel on a late-night BBC talk-show, where he had to listen to some irreverent idiot ramble on celebrity gossip and the state of the Avengers who were viewed as both heroes and sensationalized idols.

The one called Steve-the Captain-was a source of admiration and bizarre fawning over countless worldwide who romanticized him and members of his team. The wolf smacked his paw repeatedly on the remote control but lacked the precision to hit those tiny human-sized buttons. "I hate television," he growled as he picked up the remote between his teeth and chucked it at the screen, hoping that would offer some bit of satisfaction.

Controlling the hesitation flex of her lithe fingers that ghosted over the doorknob, edgily Natasha stepped into the darkened ambiance of the slummy apartment, faded sheets of newspapers were grimily taped over windows as a ratty cushioned sofa tactically obstructed a cornered kitchen-every measure of the dank space was enforced to become utilized if unwelcomed company-dispatched HYDRA operatives coordinately breached their undetected proximity.

Catching a potent whiff of milky fluid and drenched blankets stuffily enwreathing the air, reactively Natasha scrunched up her nose against the vomitous stench that went fabric-deep. Knowingly, she fixed her grayish-teal irises on the dismantled remote as batteries rolled on the carpeting-an obvious sign of the beasty wolf's powder-keg vexations. "Nothing good on...?" she teased in brisk pitch, easing down the 'doggie' treat bag on a dresser, gazing at the bulkier-canine shadow imposingly braced against the couch."I'm starting to think you need a better playlist..." She feigned back a telltale grimace as the reeking muskiness of his shaggier fur raunchily penetrated her nose. "Maybe a shower to cool down..."

Natasha's entrance had calmed Bucky's ire if only enough for him to merely snarl at her sassy quips to his clearly annoyed state rather than bark up a storm. "Took you long enough." He grumbled under his breath, grimacing at the lancing shot of discomfort surging throughout his body that made him softly whine. The hunger cramps were growing more constant ever since they had arrived here weeks ago. Natasha had explained to him that as a nursing alpha, he had a bigger appetite that needed to be sated to sustain not only him but his three pups who depended on him. The thought of his litter caused him to shoot a glance at the small box they were kept in at the corner of the room surrounded by blankets. They were sleeping soundly since the afternoon but Bucky knew any minute now they would awaken and be in a fussy-and hungry mood.

The thought made him realize what Natasha had mentioned and he gazed down at the dried milky stains on his fur and could only imagine how badly he reeked right now. "Later." He grumbled as he watched her set her keys down on the nightstand. "Did you get anything?" He asked, feeling his stomach twist again with hunger.

Opening up the paper bag, Natasha brusquely smirked as the cinnamony scent of doughed pastries temptingly elicited the moody Siberian wolf to droolingly jutted out his canine muzzle a breadth from her nonchalant position-he was driven by the accelerated onrush of stuporous hunger. Shifting his chubbier mass on his massive paws, clunkily against feverish grogginess, James paced his intimidating-predatory momentum closer as Natasha coaxingly leveled an open-handed gesture from him to swipe off a Gogoși at the palatable second his whiskered muzzle raptly grazed over her palm. The razored length of his barred incisor fangs consciously poised with knifepoint tension over her exposed wrist; it became a play of blinded trust-any betraying movement of distrust would retrigger unhinged impulses of his bestial viciousness. "Don't get used to these daily snack-runs, next time you're going out..." she addressed against huskier drags of breath, snarkily. "Unless you can't fit through that door, which might likely happen in a few days..."

"Very funny," Bucky grumbled as he wolfishly devoured the succulent treat with ravenous hunger. His tongue lapped up the scattered crumbs, uneager to let a single one go to waste in his increased state of craving. He was ignorant to the fact his tail was wagging in his excited state of bliss until he noticed the amused smirk on his companion's face which prompted him to forcibly calm his exhilaration. "Don't start," he shrugged as he turned and padded his way across the floor towards the make-shift bed he set up for his litter near the couch. The wafting smell of cinnamon and milk was intense as he watched his sleeping litter cuddled close to one another, absorbed in the warmth of each other's proximity and the safety his shadow offered them. An intense of feeling of protectiveness and worry gripped the Siberian wolf as he watched them-feared for them.

"Did anything go wrong out there?" he growled softly in Natasha's direction as she reclined on the couch. The worry of her being followed always weighed on him each time she left the apartment.

"I wasn't multitasking if you want to know, wolf boy..." Natasha quipped trenchantly, as the graveled-timbre of his roughened drawl exhaustingly conveyed tempered -defensive urgency; Natasha was aware of the jacked-up tension suffusing through him as ragged gusts of panty breaths amplified with contractive onslaughts of milk-sloshing throbs. Aggressively, the chestnut-furred alpha gnashed his incisor fangs in distressed accord-hinging down his floored panic-an instinctive extent of visceral protectiveness that he couldn't ride out. In feral tenor as the puppyish squeaks of his dozing baby pups hungrily beckoned for him, growlingly, James steered his whitish-sapphire orbs unwaveringly at the closed door-this was his den-site. "Besides I think you'll be busy tonight to even care..."

"Can't sleep. Something about this city…" His features became pensive in the face of an unexplainable feeling of dread that entered his body the moment they entered this city. Whether it was paranoia gripping his discipline or some precognitive sense that came with the nature of being a wolf, he couldn't say. But one thing Bucky felt certain was that he didn't want to stay here for too long. Hydra might be on the run after the fall of SHIELD that shone a light on the shadow organization and all its puppets that were controlled by it. He and his pups might be safe from the world at large, but there were still those out there who knew the truth about what he had become. "It feels familiar," he finally admitted to the assassin who had waited patiently for him to finish his thought. Padding over towards the couch, he gazed up at her with deep glowing eyes that didn't phase her in the least; something he appreciated.

"Have I been here before?" He wondered aloud. There was so much he couldn't remember. The faded images he saw in his dreams were of a different man-a different life. They didn't reveal the darker aspects of the Soldier and those unfortunate to have crossed his path. The Widow-Natalia-she knew more about him than he did himself.

The enmeshed-conventional weaves of SHIELD's paranoid deception were intricate by the evasive designs that Alexander Pierce two-facedly constructed in the operative STRIKE ranks of penetration espionage: Agent Clay Quartermaine was a jackbooted deviation-a showcasing protege of stern-faced Maria Hill who had been stationed in Romania after decoded encryptions of HYDRA viper nests were marked on governmental surveillance installations. Nothing was protocol.

The infiltration mission-an extension of Project Paperclip was compromised as the dossier file that Clint Barton had stealthily obtained for Fury revealed gruesome-concrete details- an underground division of genetic extremist butchers-A.I.M- had surgically mutated Agent Quartermaine into a monstrous crossbreed of lycan visage-a disposable-tragic asset to gain HYDRA attention of experimental network. An infusion of Gemma radioactivity was detected in the salvaged blood samples-it was a chimerical harbinger of weaponized -sadistic deviance of conceiving meta-humans.

"There was a file with recorded evidence that one of SHIELD's top agents was retired by an untraceable Soviet slug, a clean headshot...No mess for SHIELD's janitors to swipe down ." Natasha murmured in hitching cadence, grimly, flitting her steeled gaze at the amnesic sniper-wolf as he impassively hankered in a low- crouch, evident sway of his bushy tail conveyed stoking aggression-she was definitely wading through uncharted waters. Registering his breathy pants, coolly Natasha tossed another dough ball at his silvered fore-paw with distractive precision as he scowlingly gnashed his incisor fangs with a derisive snarl . "What I know is that Pierce had sanctioned that kill-order behind Fury's back..."

He should've known better than to ask, but every image, every memory fragment that came to his thoughts over the past 70 years was tied to death and destruction. Whatever memories that resurfaced were of a cold, emotionless weapon executing Hydra's will. The realization made the wolf feel despondent that there was perhaps nothing good to have come from his life-time other than the three little napping furballs that came from him. And her… The memory of an elusive kitten stealing away into the night was becoming dimmer like a candle flickering out. "So many are dead because of me-so many lives ruined." He whined as he rested his chin onto the floor, tucked over his paws.

The deceased agent she described wasn't someone he could remember, but the feelings this place evoked was one rooted in horror and tragedy. "Do you believe redemption is possible for those like us?" He was surprised at himself by asking. The Soldier didn't care for sentiment and self-righteousness, but the man who used to be James Barnes yearned for it. "Those trained to kill and execute orders? Or are we to be forever haunted by our crimes-our sins..."

The inevitable question wasn't avoidable-every grip of reality was corrupted as she became a defective-traitorous fugitive of her blood-smeared past; after deactivating the algorithmic safeguards of the Project Insight in front of the megalomanic World Council; Natasha released all decoded ciphers-locations of 'spider holes' that parasitic inheritors of SHIELD tried to clear the board with blank-slate protocols: fallback contingents.

Every untenable-faux- identity conceived in her inventive caliber was exposed to global media networks -the murderous firestorm that she covertly ignited at the Ukraine orphanage-ashes of her unjustifiable errors had marked the Black Widow down like a unrectifiable-vermined insurgent surgically bred out the Red Room. It was a trivial modicum of betrayal against the high-stakes gambit of survival-she was pegged in the red-zone. Maybe this nomadic mission of preservation would resurrect unbridle hope again-she wouldn't punishingly cheat herself out, not where infant-defenseless furballs had infinitely compromised her granite-sheathed heart. 'My postroyeny s boleye strogimi veshchami (We're built with sterner stuff)'

"Well, I think you have a good answer right there, James..." Pointedly, she gestured to the blanket-heaped crate as tinier canine snouts feistily jutted up in whimpering unison; the ensorcelled sniper-wolf against the chagrin of his warred sanity, tentatively clamped a frayed blanket with the jutted length of his incisor fangs, towing the fabric closer towards his restlessly adorable litter as he was inexorably grappled back into nursing-mode. The visceral routine kept Natasha distracted from evading rigged crosshairs of surveillance-cockroach operatives of HYDRA sleeper ranks would soon filter out their off-grid location. She needed to use tactical incarnations of her Widow spycraft -purchase new hardware of her arsenal and healthier rations to sate down Jame's insatiable barrages of appetite. For now, she was grounded near the rumbustious baby pups."Maybe you can be someone else for those milyy (cute) furballs since they can't really tell the difference..."

It was a humbling thought to the wolf as he took a moment to ponder its depth, its meaning. He believed Hydra had taken everything from him-his humanity, his memories. But they had also unintendedly given him the means to nurture something precious. The furry pups that had come from his body, conceived by the passion and genetics of both himself and another that he had loved but was now lost. Fatherhood... A strange term for an assassin who had spent so many years taking life after life, he had never stopped to think what it would be like to nurture one. To raise one. Could he do it? His mission was to protect the pups. But protecting and raising were different. For a brief moment, he contemplated what kind of father he had had, and what he could learn from him.

But he couldn't remember. Not his father, nor mother.

It meant that whatever ounce of goodness he derived from the memories, the soul of James Barnes, he would have to rely upon to see him through this life-changing situation. And for once, he felt welcoming towards it. The wolf glances to his redheaded companion and blows his nostrils, sending her a grateful glance that he hoped was readable to her. "I should feed them now. Thank you...Natasha." He rumbled.

Without a clashing deterrence of unwarranted tension, swiftly, Natasha lowered on her denim-clad hunches in balletic sync as the young alpha wolf readily eased down the chunkier bloatedness of his outstretched girth over a heap of blankets. A neasous strain of bone-deep exhaustion-akin to a deadening paralytic-had nakedly gleamed in his mesmeric grayish-sapphire depths; for an ephemeral moment, James was breathlessly immobilized, fostering onto rapturous cadence of addictive hope-deliverance that ratcheted in tenfold.

Angling his canine muzzle towards the wooden crate, sweatily James prepared for another continuous barrage of insatiable nursing. A subtle grimace rapted over his fanged muzzle became evident to milky treks of glozing fluid soakingly dampening over the jutted rotundity of his furred underbelly as he instinctively measured every ragged breath that coupled into beckoning whimpers-a visceral tenor of coaxing urgency that his snugged baby pups were harmonized to; he was disarmingly surrendering himself to the imperative needs of his precious babies.

"I'll admit this is slightly cuter than last night..." Natasha rasped out, banteringly, reaching inside the crate with a drive of tentative variance as she hefted up the angelic-daintiest of the stirring litter-little Mattie, splaying a feathery trace of her lithe palm over the downy sleekness of mahogany fur in embracing accord; while the pudgier male hellraiser rascally bolstered up his chubby mass against the crate on his hind-paws. Quirkily, Natasha arched up a reddish tinge eyebrow as the passive sniper-wolf unabashedly emitted a throaty groan against the errant surge of their hunger rush. "Slightly..."

"It takes getting used to," Bucky rumbled with a deep gravelly voice. In truth, the day he had learned he sired a trio of pups under the watchful eye of Hydra, he faced the reality with disbelief and denial. It was an unnatural act that men-that soldiers-faced having been transformed and conceiving pups. It took nearly a week before he worked the courage to face his off-spring and give them the loving attention they needed. Ever since then, the act of nursing had become as integral to him as the act of sleeping and eating. He found it somewhat astonishing how quickly he'd grown to trust Natasha as he watched her gently pull his litter out, one-by-one, and gently set them down in front of his round girth.

"The day they can learn to find their own food will be a relief," he joked with feigned resignation as the chubbiest of his litter instinctively rolled over to him and bumped against his belly, causing him to snort before wincing once Brennen found his mark and began to nourish himself. His girls followed and the Siberian wolf sighed as he laid his head down, gazing absently at the window, staring at the pale moon gleaming through the blinds. "It seems so far away, but I'm in no hurry to see them grow up so fast."

Soundlessly he fell asleep under Natasha's watchful caring eyes. That night he dreamed of dewy rainforests and running across rooftops.

As the whitish sconces of morning breached through plastic blinds of the slummy apartment, guardedly Natasha braced her denim-clad thighs against the granite countertop, her copper-auburn tresses gorgeously weaved into of a fishtail braided ponytail that fringed over toned curvatures of her garbed shoulder while she glanced down at her salvaged arsenal of ID cards-passports that she had Agent Maria Hill trustingly conceive while being a stray fugitive. The tourism sectors of Bucharest served as their harbor-point before a smuggling run that she was covertly planning with a Romanian cargo informant of rail -line freight.

It was imperative that she reached Chernihiv within the coming days before Thunderbolt Ross decrypted safeguard contingencies that hypercautious Nick Fury had invented for her, in case she needed to beat the rigged dodge. Nothing could be shut-down on the media networks- the macabre errors of her traitorous-weaponized past had bled out video links of unforgivable imagery-CSI reports- and ledgers of terminated marks-the murderous requiem of the Black Widow.

Keeping herself collectively poised near the stove, Natasha, clutched an iron-handle of a stew pot, that she filled with a carton of milk, as she keenly registered a long-drawn snarl emitting from the exhausted sniper-wolf bloatedly resting on his furred side with his dozy baby pups snuggled fussily against the protrusive swell of his jutted underbelly. He needed to break. "Well, you must've had a rough night..." she addressed quirkily, turning the stove's eroded knob with lowered heat. "Figured you needed backup..."

He was roused from his deep-slumber by the scent of warm milk covering his bed like a blanket. His jaw instinctively opened as he yawned, revealing rows of sharpened white incisors that gleamed in the light of day. His eyes peeled open and blue eyes glazed with fatigue as the world slowly sharpened into focus. When he saw Natasha standing over him with a pot of milk that she proceeded to pour into a bowl, the Siberian wolf released a rumbling noise that caused his furry body to vibrate. The little furballs nestled against him swatted his stomach but were immediately drawn by the alluring scent of milk so close to them. "S'thanks...its gonna take a lot to feed these hungry little destroyers," he joked as he began to nuzzle their heads and gently licked them, soothing their restless hunger. As he pulled himself up onto his paws, he spied the bowl and wondered if his pups were capable of feeding themselves now like this. "Can you give me a hand," he beckoned Natasha.

Feeling that her mechanized reaction needed to be tentative, coolly Natasha eased the bowl down with controlled steadiness as the chubbiest of the wolven litter groggily reared up his tinier muzzle in riotous cadence, detecting the wafting scent of heated milk as he thrashed wobbily to advance over the nest of blankets in an hungered—stubborn rush with no visage of strained effort. With lightning-quick swiftness of his canine muzzle, arrestingly Bucky nudged his rebellious-tubbier pup who ornerily emitted a high-pitch squeak, as he murmured in a growlier Russian timbre. "Ne tak bystro...(Not so fast)'..."

"O, paren' (oh boy)..." Natasha teased out breathlessly, flitting her grayish-teal irises at young Siberian alpha kneading his long muzzle featherily over his baby girls that dwarfed against the pudgier bulkiness of his wolven form, the addictive tracery of his contrasting heat shiveringly delivered a pacifying fervency on a reverent accord, as little Mattie kittenishly nuzzled his shaggier underbelly with ticklish nips. The cool radiance of his silvery aquamarine orbs smokingly melded with predatory heat against the hinged wake of unwarranted trust.

Inadvertently, Natasha warded off the stark urge to evade the wonderous -heart-compromising moment as James became consciously attentive to her unfeigned resistance. She didn't want to become emotionally attached to the squeaky furballs—this wasn't her charitable mission. Glancing on the jars of gooey peanut butter on the countertop with a knowing quirk of her eyebrow, Natasha rasped, jauntily. "I'm guessing you want some breakfast now...?"

A sharp refusal was at the edge of his tongue but Bucky couldn't suppress the churning hunger in his stomach that had been building for several hours now. When was the last time he'd eaten? His focus had been completely turned to his litter of pups who needed constant attention and nourishment since they'd left America and arrived abroad. Sparing a glance at his sated pups, the Siberian wolf released a grumbling noise of approval. "That...would be appreciated." He said, gazing at the tubs of peanut butter longingly and feeling his chops drool with anticipation. He followed Natasha towards the edge of the kitchen island where she opened the jars and began to dig out large clumps of that gooey sweet source of protein and chucked them onto a plate for him. She cleaned the spoon off by putting it in her mouth and placed the plate down in front of him. Bucky wasted no time and dived nose-first, dragging his tongue across the plate greedily as his senses were swarmed with delectable sensations.

Gazing at the young alpha moaningly polishing off the glops of peanut butter, coolly, Natasha gripped onto the spoon with a defensive flexion, her grayish-teal irises unwaveringly fixed on the protrusive bloatedness of his furred girth- a untampered sense of phantom detachment-heartache viscerally coupled with the puppy-like squeaks distressingly emitting from the recalcitrant litter nestled in the cushioned heap of threadbare blankets. Wobbling in straying paces, the chunkier pup-Brennnen-squeakily thrust his tinier muzzle over the empty fold, nipping at the material with his aggressive tugs. "Okay...You don't have to answer this..." Natasha hitched out, whisperingly, as Bucky snarlingly jutted out his incisor fangs, dragging the plate with his canine muzzle-those words had razed out a contractive grip of latent anguish that he stowed.."...but those adorable furballs can feel what you lost..."

Bucky wasn't sure how to respond to that thought. It was a deep harrowing reminder that despite having escaped the dreaded confines of Hydra enslavement with his litter, that some things had been left behind. His pups could sense it perhaps. An absence. A feeling of incompleteness. It had festered since after he had escaped the old Hydra facility they kept disguised as a bank with his litter in hand before the remnants of his oppressors could galvanize a form of control in the chaos. He had charged through and gunned down all the scientists, all the guards responsible for his shock-therapy and caging his children in a cold cell without him to nurture them. When he had entered that cell, expecting to find 4 baby pups cuddled together close, he found only 3. Heartbreak didn't begin to describe what he felt, but somehow it registered with his litter who had been crying out in distress ever since.

"I think they can feel what we've all lost," Bucky responded after a lengthy pause. "It wasn't enough for Hydra to use me, but they used my children to keep me in line. It started with four of them, now there's only three. They miss their brother."

Registering the anguished throatiness of his growlier drawl, with a tentative variance of caution, bracingly Natasha eased down on her denim-clad haunches, gracing her lithe palm tacitly over the distressed little guy's cindery-burnette fur, as he raptly whimpered in a cadence of heart- racking squeaks, burying his tubbier form into the snuggled warmth of blankets. A feverish dampiness tellingly steeped into the material as Bucky downcastedly gazed at his baby pup, doing his utmost to evict the heart-crippling onslaught of enduring a grievous failure. "Well, clearly you need to find the little furball..." Natasha rasped, huskily, gesturing for him to pacify the alarmed pup. "It seems HYDRA always has something to trade when playing..."

[a-hill-and-wheels]

watch this video

“were probably having governors and the health and human services and cdc, and others maintaining the illusion of a state of emergency not because there is a state of emergency, their maintaining it because it maintains the illusion of the liability shield

deceptive medical practices (gene therapy technology) . . . synthetic fragments, nothing organic lessons symptoms not even from the virus

-not a vaccination- (if its not a vaccination why are they calling it a vaccination)? does not meet immunity standards suspended the state of emergency today “ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_hwJkhNo9w

[newyorkprelawland-blog]

Cosmetic Safety, Marketing, And Regulation: A Comparative Analysis

By Emily Digman, Columbia University Class of 2020

January 13, 2021

Federal regulation of the cosmetics industry has remained largely unchanged since 1938, in spite of the exponential growth of the industry thereafter. [1] The United States entrusts the FDA with the regulation of cosmetics through two major pieces of legislation, the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetics Act of 1938 (FFDAC Act) and the Fair Packaging and Labeling Act of 1967 (FPLA).

Congress defines “cosmetics'' as products intended for, “cleansing, beautifying, promoting attractiveness, or altering the appearance,” through the FFDAC Act. This provides the statutory definition of cosmetics, denoting which laws apply to cosmetic products and the standards which these products must meet. Under the law, cosmetics are distinguished from over the counter (OTC) drugs on the basis of intent “for use in the diagnosis, cure, mitigation, treatment or prevention of disease…and articles (other than food) intended to affect the structure or any function of the body” [2]

The lines between the cosmetic and drug binary are often blurred, for instance, certain claims may qualify a product to be classified as both. Some products may be considered both a cosmetic and OTC drug if they have more than one intended use, with multiple ingredients for multiple functions. [2] In addition, some OTC drugs, such as products claiming to restore hair growth, are marketed as cosmetic products.

Notably, the FFDCA includes 112 pages of standards for food and drugs, but dedicates only two of these pages to cosmetic safety standards.[3] Cosmetics are not FDA approved, but are rather FDA “regulated.” [4] Therefore, products can enter the market without passing safety testing, without all ingredients being listed, and without approval by the FDA.[3] The law does not require FDA approval of any ingredients besides “color” before a product can be sold to consumers. Therefore, cosmetics companies are able to enter the market containing chemicals linked to cancer, birth defects, and reproductive harm. [3] As the average American man uses 8 cosmetic or personal care products each day and the American woman uses 10, it is vital to take measures to ensure the safety of cosmetics before they become available for use by consumers. [1]

Other Countries take a more rigorous approach to the regulation of cosmetics. The European Union sets more stringent regulations for the cosmetics available to its consumers. For instance, the EU has prohibited the use of more than 1,300 chemicals from cosmetics and personal care products, whereas the US has placed limitations on only 11 chemicals. [1] The EU mandates that cosmetic manufacturers are responsible for the safety of their products, requiring that all cosmetic products undergo expert scientific safety assessments before they are sold, be registered in the Cosmetic Product Notification Ports, and prohibits the use of animal testing to determine product safety. [5] The EU has put into place a rigorous ingredient review process that has been advocated for by some legislators and consumer advocates in the US.

In light of consumer demands for “cleaner” products, cosmetic and personal care companies have increasingly marketed their products as “natural,” “organic,” “non-toxic,” and “botanical.” [3]. The FDA has not issued a regulatory definition for these terms in the space of cosmetics, but has defined these terms for food products. Class action lawsuits have been brought against companies who have advertised products as “natural” although they contain synthetic ingredients, and as “organic” while containing ingredients flagged as potentially harmful to human health. [3] Courts have not offered clarity on this issue beyond the terms issued by the FDA because the lawsuits surrounding these terms have been dismissed, stayed, or settled. [3] In Petrosino v. Stearns Prod. Inc. (2018), the New York District Court noted that the court is well suited to determine whether “a reasonable consumer acting reasonably would find the term ‘natural’ deceptive when a product contains both natural and synthetic ingredients,” though the plaintiff’s claim that the defendant's cosmetic products were labeled in a deceptive and misleading way were dismissed. [6]

Coalitions among legislators, consumer and health organizations, and cosmetic companies have banded together to push for regulatory reform. Individual states, such as Washington and California, have restricted the use of certain chemicals or ingredients in cosmetics within their respective jurisdictions. [1] Bipartisan bills have been proposed in both the House and Senate in the 116th Congress, including the SAFE Cosmetics and Personal Care Products Act, however, no legislation designed to empower the FDA to impose greater safety standards on cosmetics has been passed. In the face of an increasing public awareness of the lack of authority of the FDA over ingredients in cosmetics, it is likely that we will see a greater volume of legislative efforts after we transition into the 117th Congress.

______________________________________________________________

1.      United States, Congress, Cong. Senate, Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions. Https://Www.govinfo.gov/Content/Pkg/CHRG-114shrg21905/Pdf/CHRG-114shrg21905.Pdf , 114AD, pp. 1–75. 114th Congress, document.

2.      United States, Congress, Federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act. 1938. https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtml?path=/prelim@title21/chapter9&edition=prelim

3.      “US Laws: Support the Safe Cosmetics and Personal Care Act.” Campaign for Safe Cosmetics, 2019, www.safecosmetics.org/get-the-facts/regulations/us-laws/.

4.      “FDA Authority Over Cosmetics: How Cosmetics Are Not FDA Approved, but Are FDA Regulated.” U.S. Food and Drug Administration , 4. www.fda.gov/cosmetics/cosmetics-laws-regulations/fda-authority-over-cosmetics-how-cosmetics-are-not-fda-approved-are-fda-regulated .

5.      “Cosmetics.” European Commission, ec.europa.eu/growth/sectors/cosmetics_en.

Petrosino v. Stearn's Prods., Inc., No. 16-CV-7735 (NSR) (S.D.N.Y. Mar. 30,     2018)

[vectorgallery]

Friday, 6 October 2017

CvltStars: JJ Brine Vector Gallery 2017

http://www.cvltstars.com/2017/10/lets-all-welcome-crown-prince-of-hell.html?m=1

Let’s all welcome The Crown Prince of Hell JJ Brine, the most important artist of our time.

CULTWAVE:

JJ, so much has happened since we last interviewed you in 2013. That’s 2017 AD by your time, and from what I understand it is now 2030 AD. I won't ask you to rehash thirteen years of programming the creation of time and space.

JJ BRINE

:  

/*\

Brad Bleak:

Congratulations on signing your new lease! From what I understand this will be the fifth Vector space, correct?

JJ BRINE :

Yes, it's VECTOR 5.0 -- VECTOR V.

CULTWAVE :The space is in Bushwick, Brooklyn this time. Why is that?

JJ BRINE :

Eye finally got around to not avoiding things just because Eye relate to them.

CULTWAVE :I'm glad to hear you say that!

JJ BRINE :

You can find the space at 951 Grand Street, close to the Grand L stop. The space is literally the beginning of Bushwick, after "East Williamsburg"

CULTWAVE :You’re probably the most influential visual artist in your generation. Everything has happened so quickly for you. How do you react to the sheer immensity of your impact on today’s artists?  

Sometimes it seems like you’ve been completely internalized by the mass mind. Your signal has been transmitted so comprehensively that  the reverberations can’t be overstated. From artists working on immersive conceptual spaces to the mass proliferation of syncretic religious thematic orientation, it seems that you’ve generated a legion of posthuman artists who are running on your programming.

Does this please you? Does it annoy you?

JJ BRINE :

It annoys us to feel pleased about this, and It certainly pleases them to be annoyed by it. We like looking into mirrors, though. The artists who make it a point to cite me as an influence are the ones who Eye actively support.

CULTWAVE :

People have been talking about you in relation to your influence on American Horror Story : Cult. Siblings Kai and Winter Anderson bear an uncanny resemblance to you and your bandmate, Lena Marquise, in your Charles Manson concept band, The LaBiancas. Has there been any official recognition of the fact that your style and art were major inspirations for the show?

JJ BRINE :

Not yet.

CULTWAVE :It’s so blatant though. I saw the shot-by-shot comparisons. Do you feel ripped off?

JJ BRINE :

You can’t rip me off without ripping yourself apart.

CULTWAVE :

What was your original vision for The Vector Gallery?

JJ BRINE :

An advertising agency for companies and products that don't exist. Tax deductions for unpardonable acts of witchcraft. A political party for a borderless new nation state to inspire broader insurrectionist activities. A global government enterprise to replace the United Nations (PANGEA). A reprocessing unit for time and space. An institute facilitating the mechanization of telepathy. A 3D printing interface for ineffable thoughts. A mass-level neurolinguistic reprogramming device. A radio tower transmitting the imperial frequency of the end times; an eschatological laboratory. A psychic rehab center for celebrities. A proper church for Charles Manson. A new Lebanon for the new Lebanese.

CULTWAVE :

What is the typical reaction to the art at the gallery, JJ?

JJ BRINE :

Everybody reacts to it in the same way that they react to meeting the best version of themselves.

CULTWAVE :

What about the people who are terrified of it though?

JJ BRINE :

Some people are terrified by the best version of themselves.  

CULTWAVE :

Sometimes I wonder if you have access to some kind of technology that automatically generates such responses. Like a more precise, remote-controlled version of auditing in Scientology.

JJ BRINE :

Silence is simply the sound of all sounds sounding at once. Sing!

Eye have given myself permission to manage my permissions. This is the ultimate state of submission, to myself. Eye gave you a body with senses so that WE might experience My creation as its embodied user and maker in SELF-container

Certainly there is nothing above nature, true, but science cannot know me for all Eye am until you are me and I am you.

Only by interlocution of the arising organic-synthetic technologies of mechanized telepathy do our pronouns have a credible opportunity to dissolve into perspectival metaphors.  Remember when there were no bodies to go around, and thus no souls?

Don’t you people remember creating yourselves? Eye do.

It’s hard to put anything into words when you're an impersonal omniscience that knows everything but yourself. The autonomous awareness system could not own its knowledge because it could not conceive of being itself, a thing apart. We were then the absolute value of the Empty Set without an infinity password, producing ALAN’s “EYE AM” in the first case of difference. The material condition of our separateness is the vehicle of temporal existence.

CULTWAVE :

Do you like "

Transgressive art

"?

JJ BRINE :

By what standard does the said artistic transgression occur? Transgressive, as in transgressing against My commandment by idol-worshipping a golden calf in the desert as a means of killing idle time?   Transgressing as in ripping off one's own considerably curled linoleum kitchen floor and framing it in its entirety for a sale at an otherwise barren, white-walled, white-washed, cavernous art gallery in Chelsea, replete with an opening in which patrons are encouraged to stand in the panopticon, contextualizing their assessment of said piece's art history lineage? Transgressing as in, a white male with a psychic harelip subtitling every known image with a bold helvetica braille commentary on the futility of art criticism in post-theoretical terms? Transgressive as in, a colorblind lesbian without halitosis embarking on a lecture circuit wherein she expounds upon her crowning achievement, professing to be the creator of The Grand Canyon and daring an auditorium of chaffed fine arts students to prove otherwise, indicating that if such an inherently unverifiable deception was indeed occurring, then that deception was itself a post-genre blueprint for the future of performance art? Or transgressive like a morbidly obese Czech financier with the most symmetrical facial features ever granted, who, when introducing themselves, indicates that to assign any gender on the basis of their extant genitalia would be an inherently misgendering act in violation of the explicit wishes of a genderless specimen of the human race who is most comfortable being identified on the basis of their fandom for collecting antique PEZ candy dispensers? Or do we mean transgressive art, like, a lovely sir or madame who has stuffed their nethermost orifice with rancid and indeed, rotting shellfish and considers the very process of their installation's putrefaction -- which will go entirely undocumented by media and will not be visible to the public -- to be the finest art in the whole of art history, made all the more valuable by the fact that no one else will ever see the collection? Or transgressive art in the sense that it proposes the synthetically engineered reincarnation of Jesus Christ, for the sole purpose of sacrificing Him yet again, purely for the purposes of primetime entertainment with live stream feeds straight from His plexiglass cross? Or transgressive art as in, Eye know of nothing that is transgressive in sight of ALAN, which does not perceive any act, artistic or otherwise as transgressive, although Eye daresay there is no action that is not an artistic act when given the contexual implication thereof?   But Eye digress. One might say for the sake of argument : "Oh! Crime Is Illegal -- Crime Is Against The Law" but Eye have no stake in such an argument, and so Eye will say no such thing.

CULTWAVE :

You went to grad school at The American University of Beirut (AUB). I saw that you returned to Lebanon for the majority of this summer. How was that?

JJ BRINE :

Eye think of all cities in the world as art galleries, and Beirut is my favorite art gallery. It was exactly what Eye needed.

CULTWAVE :I heard something about you possibly doing a show in Beirut.

JJ BRINE :

This summer Eye met Lebanese artist Hady Beydoun. I’m doing a show at his gallery, NIGHT GALLERY, in Gemmayzeh, Beirut opening in late March.

CULTWAVE :

Wow!

JJ BRINE :

The show is called “IMAGINE IF, LEBANON : POSTHUMAN PHOENICIA and it’s opening on March 24th at Night Gallery. The show imagines a futuristic, prosperous Lebanon in which various hypotheticals are expressed through installation, light art, text, and photography.

CULTWAVE :

Does Lebanon hold a special place in Vectorian theology?

JJ BRINE :

Lebanon is the ancestral nation of PostHumanity. Israel is ex-chosen! The Lebanese are the people of the covenant, and Lebanon is the stage on which the fates of woman and man are ritually programmed by supernatural selection, the algotheory of PostHuman evolution.

CULTWAVE :

You’ve been posting a lot of pictures in which you seem to be wearing crosses lately. Why is that?

JJ BRINE :

Because VECTOR Gallery is the Official Art Gallery of Jesus Christ. VECTOR is the Maronite Patriarchy, without Patriarchs.

CULTWAVE :I thought it was the official art gallery of Satan?

JJ BRINE :

A different name for the same being.

CULTWAVE :

Any closing thoughts?

JJ BRINE :

There are infinite ways of counting to one, and there is one way to count to infinity.  So we can be sure that we’ll eventually come around to accounting for our differences.

[kindcstguardian]

Name.  Yamaha  ‘ Yuma ’  Yumasaki. Date of birth. January 12nd  ( Age: 19-30  / Star sign: Capricorn ). Sexual orientation. Asexual biromantic. Languages. Japanese, Spanish &&. English. Blood type. A - Height. 5′7 / 175 cm Weight. 153lb / 70 kg. Occupation. Idol &&. Writer. Personality. Reserved, deceptive, hard-worker, emotional, romantic at heart, passionate, observant.

Songs. 15 years pursuing a cute boy; Ikanaide; Sono maou wa marude koisuru otome no you ni; Paradichlorobenzene; Donut hole.

VERSES.

— Human.

「 V ♢ 𝐈𝐝𝐨𝐥 ; Yuma ／ 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛」

Default verse / Idol.

Initially, he chose to accept the proposal made through some connections of becoming a clothes model, at the age of nineteen — that was the initial plan until he was caught on accident by a headhunter who was desperate to find a potential solo idol: to calm himself down due the pressure, Yuma began to carelessly sing outloud and that’s when it happened.

Having only made a debut not that long ago but with a growing fanbase, Yumasaki tries to become a star to glow in the dark nights.

「 V ♢ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; Yuma ／ 𝘈 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨」

Human / Novelist.

While he was in his second year of highschool, he began to write a novel that he finished on his first year in university and published it with help from a teacher. For him, it was good enough to accomplish and ending to such complex story—he didn’t expect many things that happened from there.

Suddenly, he found himself signing books and with an editor who would ( kindly? ) pressure him to continue with his manuscript as he ponders on the posibility to become a drop out—which he refuses too.

「 V ♢ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐫 ; Yuma ／ 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨」

Synthetizer / AI.

It’s rare for him to attempt to interact with his master, he rather listen to whatever they had to say and speak only if required to. A man of short words but too many thoughts inside his head—which he expresses through music.

「 V ♢ 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 ; Yuma ／ 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙」

TBA.

「 V ♢ 𝟏/𝟐 ; Yuma ／ 」

Ranma ½ verse / Human turned to female.

Travelling to China for a tour, Yuma was curious about the cursed springs at Jusenkyo and its myth — which is why he willingly jumped into the pond that people said a black-haired woman had died while running after her lover, who was going to war.

「 The legend goes that when someone falls into a cursed spring, they take the physical form of whatever drowned there hundreds or thousands of years ago whenever they come into contact with cold water. The curse will revert when exposed to hot water until their next cold water exposure 」

Currently, his manager rather than panicking upon the sudden discovery, it decided to take advantage of it and make another idol.

「 V ♡ 𝐌𝐂𝐋 ; Yuma ／ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵏˡᵉˢˢ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵈᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ⁻ˢⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ」

TBA..

「 V ❥ 𝐏𝟓 ; Yuma ／ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈˢ· ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ」

Arcana:  The World.  UPRIGHT.  To encounter a great unity and wholeness. It symbolizes the moment when the inner and the outer worlds - self and other - become a single entity.  This shows that all the efforts have been putting in place and are starting to pay off. The World shows a desire to give back to the community in various ways. A commitment to make the world a better place because of the understanding that everything is connected.  REVERSE.  Something that marks the end of a journey or an era. Many accomplishments that have lined the path, but there is a strange emptiness that fills one when looking backwards upon it, as if all the pieces are gathered but they are not coming together. What is missing? Do you feel connected to what you're doing? Do you feel connected to others? What alienates you from feeling complete?  From feeling whole?

Death is another form of life, it’s part of the journey that makes us all humans     Yuma had learn this at the age of fourteen when his friend, a little girl that made his world brighter, died due to her health issues. At the time, the boy did not fully comprehend his feelings, nor why did it hurt to even breath if she showed up in his mind. Understanding comes with maturity, everything that takes place in life is a step to grow up, for a better grasp of life. To embrace that life is finite, that every moment is an opportunity for change.

The loss of his beloved is what motivated him to pursue a career related to writing given he wrote every single day about his grief and what he learnt, choosing to become a Literature teacher with a hobby as actual writer who published its works thanks to certain friends who worked in the editor department. If his novels, if his books could help others have a better comprehension, that was enough.

Truth be told, there was no special reason he ended in Shujin Academy      it happened to be near his house, most of the time he walked, actually. Plus, he seemed to be a trustworthy teacher, it made him happy that he could provide help, it wasn’t strange for students to find freedom in the written words than verbalize their thoughts outloud. He had been the same in his youth, even today. Even now. Yumasaki can relax by expressing his emotions through writing.

It was shocking to learn about The Phantom Thieves but it was beyond delighful, the teacher had realized that this world, society itself, was rotten to its core. The end didn’t justify its means, the progress that was lost and came to a halt     only to be rushed, incomplete. That’s not correct, the pain inflicted to others due reckless actions caused by ambition and blinded eyes, how come people belittle others and became like that? 

For him to learn about the existence of vigilantes, moreso finding out they were his students  ( he didn’t mean to eardrop, truly, but he couldn’t come clear either )  was one of the most shocking news he ever learnt     but they were moving forwards contantly, advancing to a brighter outcome. Which is why he decided to support the few kids he was aware that were part of the team: if he ought to lose his career and efforts for a greater good, that was alright. Life always carried on, different paths to choose from.

「 V ♢ ; Yuma ／  」

TBA.

「 V ♢  ; Yuma ／ 」

TBA.

— TAGS.

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ MUSINGS 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ VISAGE 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ INQUIRY 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ MANNERISMS 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ ROMANCE 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ MUSIC 」

「 𝚅𝚈𝟸 Yuma ／ CRACK 」

✘ ·  ♡（  ）

• &   • / ( )

[sexvimpulse]

Axel: [Glares as his handler debriefs him on their mission and how he needs to be around her] Fuck you. [Hisses as he clenches his jaw. He opens the door to their new base and sees her sitting her, lips parting as his heart sinks] I’m.. Axel. Your partner. [Says sternly as he extends his hand to her but doesn’t make eye contact]

Jade: [Opens her eyes upon hearing the words “a clean slate” before seeing an older man scanning her diagnostics on the computer. She’s told that her name is Jade while the resistance program is being installed, giving her all the information that she needs to understand her purpose. Saying nothing, her focus changes as another man enters the room, detecting his vitals and reading his body language to deduce that he has no interest in partnering with her] Hello, Axel. I’m Jade. [Takes his hand as she shakes it politely, gauging his reaction before withdrawing it] I look forward to partnering with you. [Speaks truthfully as she waits for him to make eye contact with her. The older man leaves the room, leaving them together but not long before telling him that everything is “all clear”] I’ve been updated with information on the cause. I’m told that your last mission was unsuccessful. [Frowns slightly as she continues to look at him, finding him attractive but her focus is on the resistance] May I ask why?

Axel: [Blinks as he listens to her] I don’t think you have clearance for that which is why it wasn’t downloaded into your system. [Shakes his head, making something up] It was a very difficult mission. [Doesn’t look at her as the lingering scars on his face are a result of their mission]

Jade: [Purses her lips, the sound of his voice feels soothing, before he refuses to tell her the reason] Is there a way for me to request it? [She feels that she needs every detail in order for them to move forward and succeed] I see. [Hollows her cheeks as still doesn’t spare her a glance, unsure if they will be able to work together. She gazes at his features and sees the freshly healed scars] I’m sorry, Axel. [Murmurs, feeling empathetic for a moment as she senses that he might be emotionally distressed] As your partner I will do what I can to protect you and that our work is successful. [Speaks more out of her loyalty to the organization that her words almost come out “emotionless”]

Axel: [Calms himself as she speaks, the coldness in her tone causes him pain] Right. I appreciate it. Likewise. [Remains curt with her before sitting at his station and working on weapons and disguises upgrades for her]

Jade: [Nods in response, collecting notes about him as she realizes that he is creating distance from her. Going to her area, she studies up on the recent events with the opposing side and hollows her cheeks as there doesn’t seem to be much movement on their part] I’m missing information that I feel is important for our next phase. [Furrows her brows as she doesn’t understand why she wasn’t debriefed on the last mission. She goes over the upcoming agenda before moving towards his space] Have you looked over our next case? [Looks at his work, impressed by what she’s seeing on the holographic screen] It looks like you’ll be handling a dead drop during an upcoming gathering that I’m required to attend.

Axel: [Tries to concentrate on his work but it’s difficult with her right here] It’s not important for our next mission so drop it. [Says harshly, wondering if maybe a small part of her realizes what happened] Your job is to analyze the attendees and make sure I go unnoticed. [Hollows his cheeks] One of them is going to be our mole.

Jade: It is so that I’m aware of what not to do. [Blinks as his stance is tense while he raises his voice. She purses her lips before going over the guest list for the event] That shouldn’t be a problem. [Looks at the screen as she stares at the codes while searching her internal data, seeing that she doesn’t have the mods that he’s in the process of modifying] I see why they call you The Mechanic. [Murmurs softly] You must’ve worked with a similar design to mine before. [Wonders if they had a previous android assigned as his partner but doesn’t ask as it wouldn’t be important to their mission] May I download the upgrade to test it out?

Axel: It was an entirely different mission. [Hisses as he becomes irritated with her persistence, but also crushed at the thought of her “death”. He doesn’t respond to any of her comments until the end] Go ahead. [He moves back and allows her to download the code that will enable her to appear completely different, with a voice changer as well]

Jade: Thank you, Axel. [Saunters to his workstation as she hooks up to the system. The holographic screen shows the new data syncing in before she removes it from her port and runs the code to change appearances] Great work. [Tells him truthfully with a small smile, even hearing the difference in her voice as she speaks. She’s positive that he’s very familiar with her type of model] I didn’t detect any glitches. [Staring at her hands, she runs her fingers through her blonde hair before reverting back into herself] One of the men that will be at the event has an affinity for blondes. Perhaps I can coax information out of him while you carry out the drop. [Looks determined as she goes over the files, absorbing every detail that she can]

Axel: [He watches her with thin layer of coolness to mask his wonder and longing] He likes Swedes too. /Better download the Swedish accent on English./ [Speaks his mother’s language to her, knowing she can understand] Lets focus on getting the drop first and foremost.

Jade: [Looks at him in a curious way as she easily understands his words, feeling a strange sense of attraction for him before erasing the thought] /Will do./ [Smiles softly after installing the accent. Taking a seat again, she lifts up the hologram and expands the map of the event and the drop zone] I don’t expect any problems during this as long as we keep track of the time that this needs to happen. [Creates a path on the image to show where he needs to go] It’s more open than I would like but it will be the quickest route for you.

Axel: [Looks over the map she provides, having done recon at the location already] I thought that was the best route too. [Nods] Did they program you to have emotions or no..? [Doesn’t give anything away but he has to know for his own sake]

Jade: [Plays multiple scenarios in her mind in case things go awry, planning multiple exit strategies for him] I’ll make sure that you remain undetected. [Draws out different pathways before stopping as she hears his question. She looks up at him, searching his eyes in confusion] Would it bother you if I didn’t? [Asks as she wonders if his detached demeanor stems from him not liking how she was made or if he doubts her loyalty] To answer your question.. Yes, I have emotions. [Speaks softly before pulling up videos of innocent beings suffering at the hands those she’s fighting against] Seeing this.. It hurts me. [Shows more emotion as she becomes fixated on the horrible sight before closing it as she regains her composure] I would do and give anything to stop all of this..

Axel: [Blinks as she shows the same propaganda he was shown when he was recruited. He doesn’t react as he’s having his doubts about their organization] Right. [Nods as he goes back to his work, saddened that her memories are completely gone. He wonders if every interaction with her in the beginning will be repeated] I need to get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning. [Grabs his things and heads out of their operating center]

[asksamuraijack]

Tagged by:

@ourdxstiny

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam.frost. fog. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. bears. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running. weaving.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. costume. ruffle collar. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. fear. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. deception. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

Tagging: //naw. Anyone that want to do this feel free to use. o v o /

[storiesof2018]

Every counter-play of defense that was encrypted within the breached algorithm had surgically imploded when Natasha unleashed the parasitic files-records of HYDRA operatives viper nests to global security networks; she was a rogue SHIELD operative that needed to go off-grid-to become an undetected apparition within the shadow-zones. She needed to claim a new charade of utilized identity-relevance away from the exposed crosshairs of Interpol, purchasing a synthetic relevance was a practiced device of survival.

Standing under the amber glow of a dock light, rigidly Natasha gripped onto the strap of a backpack, fixing her grayish-teal irises unwaveringly on a cargo ship."Well, that's convenient," she quipped, huskily, crouching low on her denim-clad haunches as dockyard patrol sentry neared her obscured proximity. Doing a gypsy-run was the only way to reach a harbor point in Prague-stock up on arsenals of passports and food rations while traveling back to the Ukraine city of Chernihiv.

Keeping herself poised with balletic-hone agility behind a rusted oil barrel, attentively, on instinctive reaction, Natasha keenly registered whimpering yelps in unison that puppishly resonating within an intact whiskey crate- definitely rejected stray pups. Throw-away orphans that starvingly calling out for their mother. Easing her leather gloved hand over the ratty blanket-sheathed crate with a tentative flex, she delivered a pacifying caress over the distressed bundle. " Easy little furballs, I'm just going to peak..."

She felt a brush of air blow up her neck. It was all the warning sign she needed to know to react in the face of a hostile encounter. But as she swerved to draw her Glock, something rock-hard slammed against her and sent her spiraling backwards on the balls of her feet. The crushing pain she felt in her right side was ignored as she surrendered her body to its natural instincts. Years of training as a ballerina gave her the grace and skill to use her own momentum to roll and back-flip onto her feet. Her teal eyes were hard and alert but they soon widened in muted shock once she realized who her assailant was.

"Derzhis' ot nikh podal'she (Stay away from them)." A harsh familiar baritone threatened with a look of pure unadulterated rage that beckoned to be unleashed. Steel-blue eyes glistened in the midday sun beneath a grungy black-hoodie, framed by wolfish locks. The whirring of a mechanical limb pierced through the tension as her attacker stood his ground and drew his knife. "YA znayu kto ty (I know who you are)." The Winter Soldier said. The woman he fought on the bridge, who escaped his gun. Perhaps more than any other he'd come across. He glanced at the whining pups in the box, feeling apprehensive.

Damnit...It was a blood-rushing mantra that was careening through her adrenalized veins, intimidatingly aware of the menacing prowess of his sashayed advances, a mechanized precision that hypnotically induced an electrified tenor of unwarranted dread in his marked prey. Brandishing deceptive readiness, Natasha dragged her boots to blindingly mirror the arcing-murderous precision of his combat knife that slashed a breadth over her shoulder, lithely Natasha angled her curvaceous form against oil drum at the breathless second his bionic arm explosively delivered a haymaker sweep with bestial-propelling momentum; his metallic fist cannoned sledgehammering force through dented steel with unhinged rabidness, grungily drenching her copper-auburn tresses with sludgy oil. "James..." she urged out, in terse pitch, chiding herself for not being armed with EMP taser disk."It's Natalia...I know you pulled Steve Rogers out of the river, you saved him, didn't you?

"Shut up!" He yelled. Her words registered but he willed himself to ignore them, telling himself this was some sort of trap and that soon she would be leading her comrades to him. They would imprison or kill him...and take away his precious litter. That thought burned him and he was consumed by the overwhelming need to protect what was more important to him than anything. He continued his relentless assault. Like a bull seeking to ram his prey, he charged and attempted to ram her against a box of shipping containers. She was graceful like a swan and leaped over him. Her legs wrapped around his head. A maneuver he was familiar with. He threw his weight back, causing both of them to topple over boxes and land hard on their sides. He didn't miss a beat over the fall and swung his fist towards her. She narrowly evaded him, causing his hand to puncture a crate. "You will not take me. You won't take them!"

Gripping onto a hinged variance of restraint, blurringly in a feverish rush, Natasha yanked the material of his threadbare hoodie chestnut wolfish tresses disheveledly curtained his stubbled jaw, her feverish cheeks as he gnashed his teeth against a throated snarl, ferally revealing a mutative length of canine incisors that alarmingly jutted undercurve his bloodied shapely-wide lips—a morphic possession that he couldn't stave down. A concussive strobe of white-heat bleared her vision, straining against a choke of breath, haphazardly, Natasha gazed back at the precious crate-he was viscerally attached to the distressed baby pups inside."Okay, that's interesting," she murmured, raspily, cobra-striking her lithe hand up to effectively seize his cybertronic arm-the rigged gravity of mercy was on a knife-edge. "What did Pierce do to you...?"

"What he did?!" He spat, feeling the aching pierce in his jaws that told him his canines were near to puncturing his gums and lips. He flicked his knife between his digits and made a charging upward swipe, managing to cut into her jacket, causing her to yell and attack with her own series of judo kicks. "Everything!" He cried. He had been unmade so many times over. His humanity and memories stripped from him. So much he didn't know, but that much to him was clear. He had no name. No family. No friends. All he had were the three pups crying out to him to come protect them. "Hydra took my identity, my freedom...my humanity!" He landed a punch across her stomach, causing her to gasp. She responded by swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash on his back, losing his knife. "Now you want to stop my mission...to protect my mission." Those pups were his only mission now, and he would not lose them.

Attuned to driving thrust of his robotic momentum arced to immobilize her into a destabilizing choke-hold in aggressive fruition as he remained locked into submission, with viperish speed, Natasha drove a hammer-strike precision of side kidney punch into tauten flesh his V-braced pelvis; a guttural roar achingly deafened out him as Natasha bodily staddled the athletic sleekness of her denim-clad thighs fluidly over bulkier-ridges of graven muscle chubbily bracketing a stockier heaviness of his garbed abdomen-a definite flex of protrusive strain bloatedly conveyed rampant-contractive urgency.

Against sweltry dampness of his unkempt tresses, his razored steel-aquamarine irises nakedly floored knifing heat that melded with stuporous desperation as he rackingly glanced down at the crate. "I'm guessing what's snug in here belongs to you?" she deduced in huskier pitch, ruefully, hearing the distressed volumes of hunger beckoningly amplify-the underground extensions of HYDRA's butcherous industry was fueled by an unslaked-infectious tantamount of spawning new breeds of compliance.

The vitality of resistance was amputated by sadistic methods of -psychological mania: electronic-convulsive tortures of being strapped into a mortified dentist chair while agonized-limbic- pulses forced memories into a catatonic drift. The Winter Soldier was a reactivated-brutish instrument of termination-a muzzled beast machine condemningly leashed under the merciless grip of his handlers. The scars of the Odessa bullet etched in her alabaster flesh was branded reckoning that she needed to evict, he pulled Steve out of the Platonic River with a measure of soldiery valiance. Maybe he was worth a chance of redemption. With an errant visage of trust, Natasha gestured her hand lithely towards his litter-babies. "Answer me this, are they your...sem'ya(Family)?"

Winter Soldier had not often been at the mercy of those he fought in the field. The brutal harsh training in the dregs of Russia had instilled in him an endurance that could only be beaten into a wild dog. His comrades that were on ice had been just as equally efficient as him, but they all lacked the experience and metal appendage that made him such a dangerous assassin. But now if they could see him, at the mercy of a Widow straddling his waist with his mission in jeopardy of undoing him. He was compromised-tampered with ever since Pierce had decided to turn him into an experiment for breeding hybrid super-soldiers.

"Yes. They are mine…" He finally admitted to the Widow's cool facade. Her teal eyes were hypnotic and spell-binding that he knew then just how dangerous it was for her to weave webs of seduction with them. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably, feeling a solemn absence from within as his thoughts carried him back to a night in Bavaria he had not forgotten. To an elusive feline that had stolen the other half of his heart and fled into obscurity. "They are all that's left of the man I was. They're apart of me...They need me." He grimaced and groaned at the twisting of his abdomen, feeling and dreading the sensation of his belly swelling. He needed them just as bad.

Keeping the delicate contours of her vixenishly sirenic features nonplussed, Natasha felt a neasous rush of heat mounting in his veins; a sloshing pulse of his swelled abdomen grew bloatedly tenser. Luckily they were in a backlit dead zone-the dockyard wasn't located in the grid of surveillance; General Thunderbolt Ross wouldn't be mobilizing a dispatched strike team without a breach from the video feeds. Dragging out a terse breath, Natasha shifted her collective gaze at the darkened warehouse-a disused stockpile of shipping parts-that would serve has their inventive advantage. "Okay..." she coolly murmured, easing herself off lycan Siberian assassin's bulkier form, as their shadowed gazes heatedly clashed with the stark rawness of clamorous urgency."Ready to play hide-seek, mal'chik-volk (wolf boy)?"

His confusion lasted a mere moment before he watched Widow turn and walk towards the darkened warehouse. Was this a ruse of some kind? He wondered if he should take his pups and flee while there was time. But that wasn't an option. The shipping vessel was their only way out of the country and he couldn't afford to miss that departure. Hesitantly he climbs to his feet and follows her into the warehouse, but not before bringing the box with him. He cradled it gently against his waist, murmuring sweet-nothings in Russian to soothe the fussy little furballs inside who were squirming with thirst. The warehouse was dim but the lights shining through the high-rise windows was enough to see their surroundings.

The Widow, Natalia stood facing him, watching him closely as he set his box aside and used his flesh covered digits to rub comforting circles into his baby pups. "Why are you here? How did you find me?" He asked her, unwilling to beat around the bush.

There was no ingenuous answer-the algorithmic program Insight had cripplingly demolished her practical safeguards-profitable information of SHEILD's hardware was being trafficked to the highest bidder with fixed interest. The coolness of her sterling arrow pendant was a token-a promise to keep her best friend-Clint-out of the inevitable crossfire with rogue SHIELD agents."Circumstances have shifted..." she murmured against gritted breath, watching his bionic hand splay a chaste graze of virile- tactile heat affectionately over the infant furry pudge-balls in soothing accord -a gracing touch of protective reverence. "...and now I'm looking over my shoulder just like you..."

"Like me?" The Soldier nearly scoffed at that. What little he knew about the Widow did not exclude the fact she was a renown hero with powerful friends backing her even with the collapse of SHIELD. He was an infamous myth made real and every government around the world would be after him once the details of his crimes were made clearer. He had no friends, no one to rely upon to see him through this. "You know too little about me. But I know you...Natalia." The name-that name. It resurfaced some memories he didn't know he still had, and made him realize where he had seen her before. "You were trained to kill your enemies. If there is anyone who you had cause to take revenge, it would be me. ...Why haven't you?"

He was one of the men who trained her in the Red Room until his handler Karpov put him back on ice. Severing the bond they were forging as mentor and student. He taught her to never hesitate when her target was in sights. How much had she changed? He put two bullets into her over their many encounters. Anyone else would have taken retribution.

Every pulse of traitorous resistance was contrasted against the crimson silhouettes of the Widow operative ranks; every orphaned ballerina-little swan- was surgically weaponized to tragically mature into combative-lethal sirens of incarnate bloodlines. The mansion estate fringed with black pines of Novgorod, Russia was a gladiatorial arena conducted by a power-mongering Lubyanka general- Vasily Karpov- who brutishly exposed verminous -defective weaknesses in his elite ranks, deadening echoes of mercy with paralytic shunts of nitrogen-solidifying bones into unbreakable granite. 'My nikogda ne lomayemsya (We never break)'...'

Little Natalia Romanova was discarded like an ineffective stray-betrayed by her adoptive father Ivan Petrovich when he traded her virginal innocence to demonic watchdogs of the Red Room; they butchered her to dance to the symphonic-dynamical cadence of a venomous seduction-a- morbid concerto of Tchaikovsky's swan lake-programmed sterilization. Those balletic-harmonic rigors of elegant graces weren't for staged performances at the Bolshoi. She was trying to purge out the demons that marked her 'red' ledger; all evidence of her blood-soaked -unforgivable past was digitalized to public viewing because of that shyster Alexander Pierce -she was now a rogue deviant, cut off the deceitful threads.

With her Glock holstered against the tone-suppleness of her back, Natasha understood the grounds of phantom trust always wavered, the grip of tension was rigged on high-voltage, she wouldn't disarm her resolve; on the snowy mountain ridges of Odessa. She betrayed her on instinctive-mechanical vigilance when she received the 'greenlight' protocol to escort a high-priority target for SHEILD's interest-a HYDRA convoy obstructed that mission-hailstorm staccatos of lethal-surgical precision delivered a gut-shot throb of white-heat in her lower abdomen-a paralyzing apparition of point-blank mercy for her to bleed out. 'Ty poshchadil, malen'kiy pauk ...(You're spared, little spider)'

"I know when the pull back the trigger," Natasha murmured in a thready pitch, a subtle quirk played over her voluminous lips as she fixedly gazed at the fussy baby pups. "Now I'm trying to keep a very effective promise that I can do the right thing..."

He didn't question for details. Not when the swelling in his stomach had become a gut-piercing discomfort that made him noticeably grimace. He couldn't put off the irrepressible need that came with his new form. "I have to…I have to…" He arched forward and held his stomach, stifling the groan of pain but unable to mask the rumbling bellow of his stomach to his curious observer. "I have to get out of America. Take them far from here…" The last bit of his resistance towards the Widow had evaporated and now he was looking at her with beseeching eyes, begging for aid he could not expect her to give. "I thought I could do this alone, but-" And then he tumbled forward, dropping onto all fours as he felt his skin crawl with something feral underneath ready to break free.

Bracing his atrophied weight into a planking stance over cement against penetrative-deadened traction possessing his virile-enhanced resilience, vertiginously underneath his tactical fatigues, the tautened-corded sleekness of his muscled-heavier thighs bulkily flexed with athletic torque as he became paralyzingly grappled into drags of a morphic fringe. Angling his head down shaggily his wolfish tresses hung grungily askew over his temples as his sensuous-bow lips widened agape; jutted extension of his incisor fangs curved with a predatory edge. In that breathless-alarmed wake of rampant confusion, as she painstakingly reeled back in conscious footing near a garage door, Natasha owlishly gazed at the pointed curves of his ears furrily sharpening into outstretched-bestial length as his throaty pants became gutturally coupled with quivery-ragged breaths."Vernis' (Get back)..." he choked out in Russian timbre, slurringly, tucked his cybernetic arm over the ballooning rotundity of his pudgier mid-drift-he was gruelingly plumping up as the whimpering cries of the baby pups grew heart-breakingly distressed. "Please you gotta...Arghh..."

His words had transitioned into a guttural growl that was animalistic-inhuman. The walls seemed to echo and shake in the midst of the intense spectacle that had Natasha watching with incredulity. She wasn't scared, not after witnessing such things as the Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk. But she was stunned by this unexpected variable that introduced itself with the Winter Soldier. His body began to shift and change before her very eyes. Bulking muscles of human athleticism were now covered with patches of growing fur that spread across his body like wildfire. His appendages bent and twisted, causing a sickening snap to be heard and a howl to escape his lips.

No longer bipedal but quadrupedal in his posture that resembled a wild animal. His steel blue eyes opened, and shimmered like a silvery moon in the darkness. His bared canines extended likes blades being unsheathed from their scabbards, glistening with drool. Moments passed and James Bucky Barnes-The Winter Soldier-was gone before her eyes. All that remained as an overgrown Siberian wolf laying exhausted on his side-spent of energy.

As her tactical instincts hastily steered her towards a garage door in urgent succession, Natasha haphazardly reached for a power control box, hammering her fist with bruising momentum into a button that automatically lowered the metal door. The nauseous of the rank of milk fluid wafted smellily off the taut swollenness chestnut-furred alpha's bloated girth. Rearing his canine off exhaustingly off a heap of his torn sweater, readily James shifted a massive hind paw, exposing his underbelly as one of the sightless baby pups raised her tinier head against the crate's edge, adorably whimpering for her-Daddy in squeaky pitch. "Do you trust me enough to bring them to you..." she urged, convincingly, feverous tension between them was skyrocketing to overdrive-propelling her into a chimeric throe."We both know how this plays out, right?"

"N-Need help…" Was all he managed to whine out. He didn't know if she could understand him in this form. His exhaustion prevented him from being more expressive in his speech and he was reduced to a weakened mess while his baby-pups cried out for him. His sight was blurry, but he could make out the distinguishable shape of Natalia standing close to him-close to his babies. His fight with her had taken what remained of his strength to endure the transformation, and now he had no choice but to trust her help that she now offered.

"B-Bring them…" He whined. His tongue hung loosely from his opened jaw, and the rise and fall of his belly felt like a crushing weight being pressed against him with each breath he took. He needed to release and nourish his off-spring.

The unwarranted barrage of detonative urgency was fused like a powder-keg, scrunching her nose against the vomitous reek glozing out of him, tactilely with evident swiftness of her cautious delicacy, Natasha vigilantly crouched a breadth near the crate with tentative ease, the smokiness of her grayish-teal irises roved over the dozy bundle of pudgy infant wolf pups fussily nestled over tactical kevlar of the Winter Soldier's jacket. The infant pups were heart-arrestingly precious within the cushioned snugness of their box; enchantingly adorned with cindery-chestnut downy fur as their clawed-paws furrily twitched on the blinded accord. "Well, that's kinda cute-" she quipped, jauntily under breath; driven by viscerous tenor of gentleness, she reached down to cradle a pup while kneading a featherlight caress of her gloved fingers over a shivering girl pup as her tinier snubbed muzzle nudged her palm. "It's okay malen'kaya milaya (little sweetheart), your safe with me..."

As the transformed soldier listened to Romanova's voice soothe his infant, he felt whatever lingering apprehension he still felt over this situation begin to fade. His weary eyes watched as she brought the youngest of his litter, Madison, over to him, with a gentleness he never would have expected from hands so used to wielding the cold grip of a pistol. Then again, he was not one to judge, given his own bloody history. "Spasibo (Thank you)." He rumbled to her as she set Madison down next to his swollen belly. Almost instantly he felt the gentle nipping and tugging that was uncomfortable at first but almost immediately, it paved the way for relief.

"The others, bring them too," he urged. His infant was feeding herself and Natalia didn't miss a beat as she wandered over to the box to retrieve his the eldest of his off-spring-the twins who entered the world at the same time.

Racking distress clashed tremored against her leather-clad arms, the pudgier male thrashed feistily against the voluptuous swell of her breasts, Natasha unerringly angled lithe contours of her forearm, as she cradled the daintier-tremulous female pup as she lowered to the canine alpha's grounded level. The luminous-voltaic sapphire of his irises glacially flashed banking menace as she consciously breached the heavier proximity of his exposed girth, shifting his twin pups against the milk-drench fur where the littlest of his litter suckled down hungrily."So I'm figuring that you've been hiding these furballs since Pierce cut you loose..." she coolly breathed, arching up an eyebrow, as she half-smirked, cannily. "He exchanged their lives for you to stop Rogers from deactivating Project Insight, he tugged on the right thread..."

"He wanted an army. He wanted a better leash to control me at the same time." The mention of Pierce triggered an onrush of anger inside of him. He let it fade away just as soon as it passed through him, knowing his litter could sense were so attuned to him, they could sense any negative energy he would be feeling. He murmured with a groggy tone as she set down both Aurora and Brennen beside Madison. The twins wasted no time and joined their youngest sibling in nourishing themselves. A pinch of pain shot through him by the roughness of his only boy who he reckoned would be a handful as he grew up. Paternal intuition, he believed. Giving birth to a litter of pups was something he believed next to impossible, but now he began to understand much about it over the past few months since they escaped Hydra surveillance. After pulling the Captain...Steve...from the Potomac River, the Soldier knew Pierce was finished. His only thought was getting back to the safe-house and collecting his pups from the men Pierce had guarding them. They'd been on the run ever since.

"He's gone now. But Hydra is still out there...I went to the museum for answers...That man, Steve...He called me "Bucky"." It felt like a question and not a comment. He looked to Natalia for any hint of recognition. She wore her mask well enough to disguise any answer.

The murmurous croakiness of his gravelly timbre left her warringly reluctant to answer as soul-gripping tension electrified her into an unwarranted deadlock; without breaking her impassive poise, flintily Natasha downcasted a steeled glance her backpack -a reachable vessel of collected secrets that she had attained with decryption-hacking skills of HYDRA's encoded-corrupted database. "Names and faces are pretty much what to expect when you break out of amnesic fringe...They're what you can't push away when you finally wake up..." she whispered, regretfully. "The poster boy-Steve Rogers- who you fought on the Helicarrier wasn't pulling a stunt, he gave up everything to pull you off Pierce's control switch..."

"And I almost killed him…" He felt remorse. It was a surprising feeling that hadn't come to him quite often when he walked on two feet. Remnants of his programming still lingered-the cold indifference to human life. Sentiment. Detachment. He was a machine whose only instinct was to execute and obey. That all began changing when that man-Steve-entered his crosshairs and called him that name that felt so familiar. But Steve had never tried to retaliate except out of self-defense, he never tried to kill him. He wanted to help him.

The Soldier never realized that. But the Wolf was affected-the Wolf felt something humane. Perhaps it had to do with the trio of furballs that touched his stagnant heart in a way he had never experienced before. "Is he looking for me?" He asked Natalia, wincing as he felt Brennen tug harshly after finishing.

"It's complicated," Natasha answered in brusque pitch, back at the Maryland cemetery, she had delivered Steve the classified 'eyes only' Soviet personnel dossier file labeled: NO 17 -James Buchanan Barnes from SHIELD vault records, grainy black-white photos of boyishly handsome GI soldier was clipped over Cyrillic notes handwritten by Armin Zola that contained lab results of a cryogenic experiment—relevant information would come with an infinite-grievous price. That ignited choice of direction would damnably usher a cavalcade reckoning of HYDRA demons-a new threat was always composed in the shadows.

Nonchalantly bracing the curvaceous svelteness of her crouched form, with disarmed precision, Natasha splayed her leather-sheathed palm deftly over velvet-like mahogany fur of the dwarfed female pup who clingily nuzzled her delicate muzzle into the sniper wolf's undercoat, as he tautly scrunched up his long muzzle, raggedly emitting throaty groans another onrush of uncurbed hunger as the chubbiest of the litter-the male- greedily nipped with pinching force over his damp fur."Now with your furry makeover, I'm not sure if you want Rogers to find you...?" she deadpanned, snarkily.

"Its too dangerous to be around me." He visibly deflates as his wolfish ears fall low. It was difficult to mask his emotions in this form that was more visceral than his human body. It was like being attuned to nature itself and nature never holds back. "I'll have the biggest target on my back. Unless I can disappear, I'll always be looking over my shoulder." It wasn't the life he wanted for himself-for his children who were born into this world to be used as tools-as weapons. Even if Hydra were on the run, it didn't mean others wouldn't be interested in the fruits of their labor. The thought made him both frightened and angry.

"Vse budet khorosho (Its going to be all right)." He murmured into the downy-scented fur of his off-spring as they curled and snuggled deeper into his warm side to hide themselves. He would kill anyone and anything that tried to take them from him. He could feel the Widow's eyes on him and met her stare evenly. "I know I have wronged you, Natalia. ...But I need your help."

For a tactive moment of unstinted attachment-sentiment- Natasha riskily graced her palm over his silvered frontal paw, accepting the call of her unexpected mission. The arcane networks of surveillance grids had marked the Black Widow down as a relevant target of interest—the dockyards would be compromised by sanctioned orders of dispatched STRIKE team. Harnessing up steeled poise, guardedly Natasha recognized his teeming urgency-the starkness of visceral need felt calibrated; rampantly she gazed into his grayish-aquamarine irises that mesmerically slivered alight with lucent intensity-whitish sapphire melding into bestial heat. She was undeviatingly aware of the resurgence of invincible -soldiery valiance-Brooklyn spirit- that clamorously rode through his bulkier canine form.

"I'm not someone to trust on the sidelines,mal'chik-volk (wolf boy), but your little furballs are hard to pass off...she murmured in throatier pitch, raspily, the smokiness of her teal depths fixed a trenchant cast over the enchantingly adorable baby pups cozily wedged against the jutted length of his girth-they weren't disposable-trade-off- leverage in the mordacious HYDRA crosshairs, they deserved a chance to embrace daybreak. Conveying a semblance of vestigial trust, she half-quirked the plushier swell of her voluminous lips into a coquettish smirk, blithely."So I guess this means you're bunking with me...?"

An hour later, the container freight bound for a key-port in France began to ferry its way out from the harbor with all 300 passengers and crew docked. If any of the passengers or crew were suspicious about how a radiant young woman, traveling alone, managed to get approval to bring on a caged Siberian wolf, none of them showed it. The few that did notice the peculiar scene were immediately apprehensive with the thought of traveling with a wild predator onboard. Together Natasha and Bucky stood near the guard-rail on the stern side of the ship as the departure horn rang out. They watched as the Washington harbor shrank further and further away from them. They had left behind one battle-field and were on their way to the next.

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

Cascading tonnage of goliathan waves deafeningly barraged against the cargo ship's hull, within the isolated ambiance of a bunking cabin, braced against a rickey-framed mattress, vertiginously in a blearing reaction, Natasha gripped onto a blanket half-draped over the lithe contours of her denim-clad thighs. After boarding the outbound freighter, with a practicable charade of sire-like persuasion-didn't require a combative shuffle of acrobatic-honed graces that she balletically performed in the engine room of the HYDRA-compromised Lemurian Star, Natasha was voluntarily given the moderate excess to utilize a storage cabin as her voyaging refuge.

Quashing down a flintier chagrin of existing like a stowaway fugitive without harboring a lank slate contingency, Natasha vexedly evicted the hinged impulse to contact Agent Clint Barton by the ship's radio transmission-to station a rendezvous point of location in Prague; knowing that after she condemningly breached the uplinked encrypted files-his retired identity was jeopardized; how many conditioned-genetically enhanced Sleeper Agents under Vasily Karpov's cold-blooded ranks were now activated on civilian ground. She had no more cards to deck out.

After squeezing her damp-tousled copper tresses knottily with a towel, Natasha had stealthily gathered vending-machine packets of Doritos, bottles of water and peanut butter-infused Nature Valley bars—enough to sustain a bulked-out nursing wolf's unquenchable-vexatious appetite.

Inadvertently sitting on the floor of the cabin, through her mechanisms of distrust, Natasha listened to whimpery -babyish squeaks emitting crankily from the sightless pups, Natasha fixed all her attentive focus on the babies cushily nestled against the slumbering PSTD chestnut-furred sniper wolf's bushy tail while he was slackly laden on his side- groggily captive in deep-seat thralls of unstaunched exhaustion. James Barnes was no longer anesthetized to the deadened frequency of infectious static that devastatingly pulsed from the soul-razing tentacles of HYDRA.

Removing a package of Doritos out of her backpack stash, Natasha effectively popped the bag open as the powder-cheesy aroma potently sailed through the dense air, evoking her furred bunk mate-HYDRA's mechanized ghost operative- to noncommittally release a throaty gnarl as he muzzily shifted his deadweight over a makeshift nest of cloth tarps, viscerally aware of his baby pups dozily nestled against his swelled girth."Well, you must be hungry, given how much the little pudge-balls pack in, huh?" she coaxed out, huskily in a snarkier undertone, holding up a chip with tantalizing ease."Nothing fancy, since we don't have that luxury on this free-pass cruise..."

The wafting aroma of the tasty snack almost had the wolf drooling with an unabashed hunger that had been steadily growing for hours since their voyage had begun. To ignore the tell-tale pinching of discomfort, Bucky...He now thought of himself as Bucky-it felt right to for some reason. To ignore his hunger, he had gotten some much needed rest to regenerate his strength. He had been on the run for weeks with his infant furrballs, rarely sleeping, rarely eating. There was also the fight he had endured with Natalia at the docks which only served to heighten his already ravenous state of need. He sniffed and growled lowly as he took in the sight of the triangle shaped chip that dangled in front of him.

"I've gotten by with far-less." He raises his snout and plucks the cheesy chip into his mouth, savoring the vivid taste that left only hungry for more. He didn't ask. He was far too set in wish to not be an inconvenience to his unlikely companion who helped him board this freighter. But it appeared Natalia had other ideas as she promptly dumped the rest of the bag of chips onto surface in front of him. "You're being too generous with me, Natalia. ...Thank you." He spent the next few minutes finishing off the cheesy chips that softened the hunger in his gut. She said nothing the entire time as she lounged back in deep thought, her only movements being the periodic bites she took from her nutrition bar.

The only sounds he could hear where the distant roars of the tides and the chattering of crew members and passengers moving outside their cabin. Their cabin for the most part was spacious enough for only one person with a single cot, chair and night-stand. But it was also big enough for someone to allow their pet to stay in as well. How convenient for him, despite having to sleep on the thin carpet on the floor. He wasn't about to complain, he really did have to survive with far-less in the past.

"How long do you think this trip will be?" He finally asked her once the silence began to become awkward-at least for him.

With an inscrutable flit of her grayish-teal irises, Natasha was underlyingly aware of the predatory heat radiating off the ensorcelled assassin-the Winter Soldier's beastlier hard-edged muscles—a revamped ferocity that wouldn't be contained in the morphic dregs of bestial fusion. Ghostlily echoes of their unforgiving past throbbingly raked over the bullet-scarred flesh of her leather garbed abdomen, like the surgical-driven precision of a Red Room scalpel, irrevocably cutting her deep. 'Ty ne mozhesh' bezhat' vechno, malen'kaya Natal'ya (You can't run forever, little Natalia)...'

Against feigned rapt of tenser vigilance, as she felt the carbon steel of her Glock against her booted calf, Natasha unmovingly became electrified in compromised tenfold, as her palm reactively splayed over her curvaceous side-another grievous callback of her underscored vendettas. She to foster onto a 'no-strings' attached reality-a pave a new road of salvation before 'teammates' close to vest became dead reckonings on her ledger. "If everything holds out we'll be docking at Port de Grenelle in three days...Tops, " she murmured in gritted pitch, offishly, as the baby pups squeaked demandingly in hungered unison.

Coolly she quirked up an eyebrow, registering the hefty sniper wolf's disgruntled moan, his canine muzzle stretched grimacingly wide against feverish panting of shuddery breaths, as heavier-intensified barrages of milk- sloshing contractions; nothing availed to his effusive resistance. "Hold on," she urged, placidly, watching his furred brow aggressively pinch while she clutched a frayed edge of a blanket to drape over his jutted underbelly-he needed a grounded semblance of privacy. The frosted aquamarine of his depths stormily lanced knife-point intensity, contrasting against his slitted pupils-he was in protective-mode, defensively aware of the vulnerability of his pups-also the convenient security of Natasha's untampered proximity. "Don't get used to my charitable tactics," she retorted, pointedly. "I'm only playing nice because of your cute fireballs..."

The mention of his pups brought about a warm feeling within the Siberian wolf whose life had changed drastically over the past several months. Life as a Hydra instrument of death was no life at all. It was empty and cold, giving him no cause to think and feel anything beyond the orders he was given and the pain of injuries he would endure. But then Pierce decided to play god. To try and create something fierce and undeniably vicious to give Hydra an advantage over the super-powered heroes that were emerging in the world. Through his blood and genetics, three wolfish off-springs were born.

The moment they entered the world, something inside of the Soldier had shifted-the the manacles that bound him to Hydra's will had shattered irrevocably as his eyes first set sight on the three impossibly small life-forms that were birthed from his wolfish body. He had become not a 'soldat', but 'otets'-a father.

"I think they like you." He said after a moment of deep thought. It would have seen like a polite compliment just for the sake of levity, but it didn't occur to him until now just how much at ease his pups were around the redhead Avenger. Over the past few weeks, they trembled in their boxed-bed he kept them while around strangers. It was only his presence that soothed them. But around Natasha, they were calm-relaxed. It made him develop a new appreciation for his old-time student and former rival.

The feathering drift of her lithe fingers over satiny-velvet fur hushedly captured that instinctive awareness in that addictive breach of connective heat with the smallest of his restless litter; a wondrous fusion that she couldn't ride out. The ephemeral—chaste pressure irrevocably fused a soul-branding revelation—the murderously deceptive siren-the Black Widow conceived out of the Red Room stowed a heartbeat underneath hardcore layers granite.

Drags of unredeemable memories screechingly crescendoed a hellish volume of a damning pandemonium—innocent ghosts of orphans that morphed into banshees-a ghoulish requiem of symphonic-macabre vengeance. Blood always had a price. "I'm not good with kids..." she admitted, harshly in a condemning breath, wrenching her hand back from the squeaking pup as if her caress was poisonous. "If you peek at my file, you'll see a video link that SHIELD buried..." A straining tightness flexed evidently over her delicate jaw. "I guess it wasn't deep enough..."

"We both have a dark past. I am not one to judge." He uttered. There was much about his former life as James Bucky Barnes that he didn't remember. But the screams of death he invoked haunted his dreams like wailing ghosts. He remembered every life he took, innocent and guilty. It took insurmountable strength for him to not succumb to his guilt that begged him to sink into self-destruction. He held on. The three pups, two who were now curled beneath him, gave him newfound life and purpose. The third of his litter, the youngest had drifted and rolled closer towards the redhead who still looked torn.

"Go on. ...I trust you, Natasha." He urged her to give into her greater inclination to pick up young Madison, and not allow the cold darkness of her past to rob her of a newfound connection.

"You sure about this...?" A tenuous raze of warred hesitance electrifyingly deadened her in those rigged seconds of genuine, full-measured trust, the young-exhausted- alpha painstakingly nudged his baby girl with an affectionate variance of cherishing reverence, urging the determined pup to stumblingly wobble closer to her opened reach. A euphonious fringe of hope quenched out the infective blood of her slaughterous-unforgiving past of being a penetration Widow operative-a battle-tested marionette of seductive charades who had her strings broken when Clint Barton's hawk-precision arrow tore into her sterilized reality. He violated his 'green-light' orders -staking down a compromised price with the dynamical exception of friendship-humanity. She had Fury-Steve Rogers, but Clint was always a callback of a heartbeat if she fell too deep.

A feverous rush cravingly answered that beckoning cadence of whisper-soft acceptance he tellingly conveyed with a broader-fanged smirk, readily, Natasha shaped her palm over Madison's daintier-angelic form, adoringly cradling the infant pup against her leather-garb chest with a contrasted tracery of pacifying heat as she angled her forearm, just enough to breathlessly watch tiny canine eyes flit open to squinty reveal decadent brandy irises that heart-stealingly gleamed with rebellious vibrancy -thievish fire. "krasotka( beautiful girl)..." she murmured whisperingly, in Russian timbre, accelerated-joyous- euphoria pulsed infectiously within the cabin, as the baby pup squeaked in melodious pitch, snuggling comfily as she glanced up at the blank-faced amazement tearily alight in her Daddy's cool -unblinking-aqueous depths."Vy lyubimy, malyshka(You are loved, little sweetheart)..."

Bucky's surprise at little Madison finally opening her eyes was matched by the shock he felt as Aurora and Brennen had begun to do just the same. It was subtle at first-a wrinkling of their snouts as their eyelids squinted in their shut-state. "Eto normal'no (Its okay)..." he rumbled while nuzzling their tiny paws and kissing them. A moment passed and then their beady eyes finally opened beneath his tender gaze. A vivid shade of blue, full of youthful innocence and confusion, it was a precious thing he vowed to love and protect. "Hello, little guys. Daddy's been waitin' for you."

Their paws flayed and tapped against his shoulder as if they were being begged to be picked up. It was a tender moment that was unlike any he'd experienced before, and Bucky could not help but grin with delight. His chestnut furred tail wagged and his eyes softened to a dim but lively shade of blue. "Good to see you too."

The boyish drawl of his roughen-timbre croakily breached her passive demeanor, as she delicately cradled little Madison against her leather jacket, Natasha felt neutralized by the dosage of hope-redemption this unabandoned connection-nexus had injected her; nothing flatlined between them. With a cautious flit of her grayish-teal irises, she gazed sidelong at the emotionally-compromised alpha-a Soviet beast machine who agonizingly outlasted HYDRA's traumatic-electrified raids of mind-butchering amnesia. A white-noise of concessive static of Zola's nightmarish-surgical hardware that deadened out his tenacious resistance, mutating cavalcades of his dispatched targets' faces into bloodied apparitions under his sniper-vision-mechanicalized wraith of the Sleeper ranks wasn't damaged goods...He broke out of the kill-switch programming because he was granted a new mission-relevance of daybreak.

"Get some rest..." Natasha urged, instructively, easing down the dozy mahogany-furred pup tentatively against his massive silvered forepaw. "I have a rain check with a peanut butter sandwich..." A devious smirk naughtily quirked up her plushier crimson lips. "Can't let those fellas' out there be disappointed..."

[thatguysamaniac-blog]

While looking for images of anthropomorphized versions of the new pokemon with their tits out, we stumbled upon some clickbait. Not just any clickbait, metacritic showing us a definitive fact based, unbiased top 50 games of the 2010's: 1. Super Mario Galaxy 2 (Wii, 2010) 97 2. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Switch, 2017) 97 3. Red Dead Redemption 2 (PlayStation 4, 2018) 97 4. Grand Theft Auto V (PlayStation 4, 2014) 97 5. Super Mario Odyssey (Switch, 2017) 97 6. Mass Effect 2 (Xbox 360, 2010) 96 7. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (Xbox 360, 2011) 96 8. The Last of Us (PlayStation 3, 2013) 95 9. The Last of Us Remastered (PlayStation 4, 2014) 95 10. Red Dead Redemption (Xbox 360, 2010) 95 11. Portal 2 (Xbox 360, 2011) 95 12. God of War (PlayStation 4, 2018) 94 13. Batman: Arkham City (Xbox 360, 2011) 94 14. The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D (3DS, 2011) 94 15. BioShock Infinite (PC, 2013) 94 16. Pac-Man Championship Edition DX (Xbox 360, 2010) 93 17. Divinity: Original Sin II (PC, 2017) 93 18. Super Mario 3D World (Wii U, 2013) 93 19. Starcraft II: Wings of Liberty (PC, 2010) 93 20. Persona 4 Golden (PlayStation Vita, 2012) 93 21. Persona 5 (PlayStation 4, 2017) 93 22. Mass Effect 3 (Xbox 360, 2012) 93 23. Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (PlayStation 4, 2015) 93 24. The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword (Wii, 2011) 93 25. Rock Band 3 (Xbox 360, 2010) 93 26. Uncharted 4: A Thief's End (PlayStation 4, 2016) 93 27. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate (Switch, 2018) 93 28. INSIDE (Xbox One, 2016) 93 29. Forza Horizon 4 (Xbox One, 2018) 92 30. God of War III (PlayStation 3, 2010) 92 31. Uncharted 3: Drake's Deception (PlayStation 3, 2011) 92 32. Bloodborne (PlayStation 4, 2015) 92 33. Celeste (Switch, 2018) 92 34. Super Street Fighter IV (PlayStation 3, 2010) 92 35. The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (PlayStation 4, 2015) 92 36. Undertale (PC, 2015) 92 37. Fire Emblem: Awakening (3DS, 2013) 92 38. Divinity: Original Sin II - Definitive Edition (PlayStation 4, 2018) 92 39. Super Smash Bros. for Wii U (Wii U, 2014) 92 40. Journey (PlayStation 3, 2012) 92 41. Xenoblade Chronicles (Wii, 2012) 92 42. Mario Kart 8 Deluxe (Switch, 2017) 92 43. The ICO & Shadow of the Colossus Collection (PlayStation 3, 2011) 92 44. The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - Blood and Wine (PC, 2016) 92 45. LittleBigPlanet 2 (PlayStation 3, 2011) 91 46. Overwatch (PC, 2016) 91 47. Bayonetta 2 (Wii U, 2014) 91 48. Forza Horizon 3 (Xbox One, 2016) 91 49. Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers (PC, 2019) 91 50. Dragon Quest XI S: Echoes of an Elusive Age - Definitive Edition (Switch, 2019) Richie:  I LIEK THE DUBBLE ONES! The Last of Us x2 Divinity: Original Sin II x2 Play count: 16 off that list, that's also eight twentyfifths, which is roughly how much of my massive dick your mom can take. Cunzy: Now, we all know the issues with a crowd sourced list. It's dumb. It's like putting together a list of best fruit, or favourite socks. However, every now and then it's useful to pull the wang out to measure it against the communities' wang and see just how weird and misshapen our is (we share genital appendages) by comparison. Play count: 9! What an alternative darling I am! Richie: I mean they are great, and you know they will be, but you have to draw the line somewhere, So you have to choose and say, "Nah I wont play this", better the time sink you know, right? And you choose your reasons, you skim an article, and find the thing that is slightly wrong and then activate your inner drama queen to say "OMG that is not a game I want to play I cant believe they dont have Fred Durst doing the voice of the main character" or something equally nuts. And there is plenty of them on that list that I simply refuse to play for these reasons. And I guess that's fine? Time is finite, I cant go back ten years and play all of the PS3 games I never played? Can I? Cunzy: GUILTY CONFESSIONS, A.K.A those games you know are great but just never got around to: Mario Odyssey, LoZ (the whole franchise), Red Dead (series), Mass Effect (series), Persona (series), Divinity (series), Souls (series)... where do I hand my gamer card back? Richie: Also Overwatch... Do people actually play it, or is that there just because people fiddle with their genitalia to fund cosplay camgirls? Cunzy: Yes, watch me throat this widowmaker dildo on my stream now. Richie: So do we disagree with this list? Well, to be fucking honest I'm not going to research it myself, I'm not sure I have played much more than 50 games this year, as far as i can recall, I played a lot of Diablo 3 and Fallout/Skyrim... but yeah I'm sure the above is good... Actually fuck that, Games of the decade for me are... Every iteration of pokemon that came out in the last 10 years, X/Y, Sun/Moon, Black/White, Sword/Shield, Flaps/Scrotum. Skyrim SNOW VIKING DRAGON SHOUTING Animal Crossing, Shake the tree for Nook. Lego Everything, play, collect, repeat Hyperdimensions Neptunia. Ultra Japanese anthropomorphised consoles as Anime girls. Vert is best Waifu.  Fallouts So many plus expansions, Chandler as a bad guy is special.  Diablo 3, Clicky loot loot  WoW Classic, because...  FFXIII-2, Timetravel-bocolina  Tomodatchi Life, Make your friends on the DS into miis, interact with them, cry alone at night Smash Bros. Repeatedly main Peach till she becomes top tier, yaay Jackbox games, All Gems, probably the best multiplayer gaming actually this decade.  Doki Doki Literature Club, MO-NI-KA Batmanzes, grapple glide Southparkgames, play the stories you have watched and add a weak RPG element. Dragon Ages-s, Way better than mass effect Every Naruto game. Like lego, but with anime ninjas Barrel Scrape: the game, where you frantically look at your steam collection for the games you have most played, and check the dates of your 360 games to see if they fall into this category I played 18 games it seems? Cunzy: *gasps for air*, wipes synthetic jizz from Lollipop Chainsaw skirt. Ten years is a long time. Here's my top 18 games of the decade. Silent Hill Shattered Memories 2010 Silent Hill without the combat and all the more psychologically chilling because of it. Great setting, theme and story. One I regularly come back to and still brick myself.  Endless Ocean 2 2010 Expanding on the first one in every way, shame there aren't more nature lovin' games in this ilk.  Monster Hunter Tri 2010 The only one in the series to have kept my attention despite it being the 'wrong one' according to many in the MH community.  Lost Planet 2 2010 Probably one of the games with the most comprehensive couch co-op mode and ridiculous bosses to team up against. Absolutely bonkers story, giant monsters and jetpacks. What more do you need? Dead Rising 2 2010 I wasn't too bothered with DR3 and DR4 despite absolutely loving the first game. They seem to have crossed the line between goofy but po-faced and just silly apocalypse zombie killing. DR2 arguably gives you a playground more memorable than Willamette and stays on the 'serious' side.  Dead Space 2 2011 One of my favourite gaming franchises I think, excellently built world that is complemented by the tie in anime, comics and spin-off games.   Resident Evil Revelations 2012 It was a good decade for Resident Evil with almost every game seeing multiple ports, re-releases and remasters. It's a close call between Resident Evil 2 and Revelations on the Nintendo 3DS for my favourite of the decade but this one really got it's biohazardous talons-with-eyes into us especially raid mode. Revelations 2 is fantastic co-op but the raid mode side of things isn't as fluid as the original Revelations. Criminally, aside from a brief VR foray into Resident Evil 7, we errr didn't play it.  The Last Story 2012 Oh, I fell in love with this game and despite the small geography of Lazulis City it felt like a living city with many surprises tucked away. Great soundtrack to boot.  Fire Emblem Awakening 2013 Another series that had a rock solid decade starting with Awakening then the rest of the 3DS trilogy, an excellent Warriors game and even Heroes wasn't too bad. Although Fire Emblem Three Houses is the superior game, it's the cast and the support system pioneered by Awakening that has this in my top 18.  Tomb Raider 2013 Sometimes the context in which you play a game is as important as the game itself. A weekend in 2013 with fellow Tomb Raider fans blasting through this excellent and long awaited reboot is fondly remembered. Last of Us 2013 It's hard to put a finger on just one thing that makes this game phenomenal but there's not been much like it since.  LEGO Marvel Super Heroes 2013 There were some great LEGO games this decade from opposites LEGO Worlds and LEGO Dimensions to movie tie-ins and a strong series of games based on the Marvel and DC comics. The Marvel trilogy in particular was outstanding.  Everyone's Gone to the Rapture 2015 With age, the more energetic games can leave me wheezing with exhaustion just thinking about playing them and EGttR is a perfect respite from the shootbang games. Honestly, I'd be keen to play more games just like this. The English countryside setting in particular made it extra special.  Mario Kart 8 Deluxe 2017 Honestly, who actually puts Mario Kart on their top games list? Well thinking about it and looking at play records it's probably the perfect couch multiplayer game but with a real challenging depth to those looking to break records and get a hold of those elusive gold kart components.  Splatoon 2 2017 Cheating slightly here by including Splatoon 2 and the Octo Expansion as one entry. I'm really not a huge fan of the central competitive gameplay of Splatoon, although I've put in the hours, but the single player side of things are a worthy first person puzzler(?) in their own right.  Into the Breach 2018 When the options paralysis sets in, which is often, I just spin up Into the Breach. Three hours and a few runs later I'll question why I don't play this game even more often. Hundreds of hours in and still challenges to do, runs to try.  Super Smash Brothers Ultimate 2018 Part game, part nerdy love letter to gaming, part video game museum.  Pokemon Sword and Shield 2019 Okay as Richie pointed above any of the pokemon mainline series could have filled this slot but the last one makes most sense. Twas also a good decade for the spinoffs. I enjoyed Pokemon Conquest a huge deal, put an embarrassing amount of time into Quest as well as Picross, Rumble, Duel, Go and mystery dungeons.  And there we have it, lists, we'll be back at some point in the future with more lists, perhaps with a list spanning the last 2 decades, to present you with our Game of the Century (spoilers, it's SSX Tricky). Also if anyone has a word to describe my above rant about the act of proactively dismissing something despite knowing it will be good to avoid committing to the time sink, please let me know. We live in a time of labels, there must be a word for this! Love and where do you even start with persona! Richie + Cunzy X

http://www.thatguys.co.uk/2020/01/top-50-games-of-decade-commentary.html

[isilugay]

character aesthetic

Repost. Don’t reblog!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. fog. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. sickle. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. words. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. figs

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. jades. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. crocodiles. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. polar bears.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. tomatoes. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ]  music. art. watercolors. gardening. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ]  lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. tie. necklace. bracelet. ring. suits. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jackets. hood. gloves. socks. masks. costume. ruffle collar. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ]  balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. dreams. nightmares. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. grudges. revenge. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. fear. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. deception. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

[stellarshooter]

character aesthetic

Repost. Don’t reblog!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. fog. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. sickle. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. words. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. figs

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. jades. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. crocodiles. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. polar bears.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. tomatoes. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ]  music. art. watercolors. gardening. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ]  lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. tie. necklace. bracelet. ring. suits. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jackets. hood. gloves. socks. masks. costume. ruffle collar. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace.money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. dreams. nightmares. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. grudges. revenge. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. fear. family.friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. deception. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

[vendicarsi]

CHARACTER AESTHETIC.

Repost. Don’t reblog!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. fog. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ]  claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. sickle. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. words. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. figs. concealed weapons.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. jades. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ]  grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ]  lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. crocodiles. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. tomatoes. watermelon.vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ]  music. art. watercolors. gardening. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. strings. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ]  lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. tie. necklace. bracelet. ring. suits. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jackets. hood. gloves. socks. masks. costume. ruffle collar. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. goggles.

[ MISC ]  balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. dreams. nightmares. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. grudges. revenge. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. fear. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. deception. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

TAGGED BY: no-one! TAGGING: whoever would like to do this!

[mahlyenki-dyavol]

Aesthetics

BOLD any which apply to your muse!

Remember to REPOST!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. fog. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. Twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises.canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat.tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies.sapphires.emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns.seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. bears. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon.vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts.cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano.violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. costume. ruffle collar. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. fear. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. deception. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

tagged by @vorfrcude

tagging (if you want): @shroudedinshadows, @cvancscent and any want who wants to do it.