#hunt kill repeat

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NYCC 2023: Mad Cave Studios Unveils its Exciting Schedule of Events and Exclusives

NYCC 2023: Mad Cave Studios Unveils its Exciting Schedule of Events and Exclusives #nycc #nycc2023 #nycc23 #comics

Fans of comics, pop culture, and entertainment are in for a treat. Mad Cave Studios is heading to the highly-anticipated New York Comic Con (Oct. 12 – 16) at the Javits Center in New York City at booth #3441! With a jam-packed schedule of panels, signings, exclusives and more, there’s a little something for everyone to enjoy including imprints, Papercutz and Maverick. Readers of all ages can…

[towritecomicsonherarms]

Hunt. Kill. Repeat. #3

[gingermintpepper]

For the longest time, the quintessential song describing Apollo's wrath and consequent murder of Coronis for me was Marah in the Mainsail's 'Your Work isn't Done'.

It's dark. It's seething. Its image of Fate pushing the scorned speaker to complete his foul, terrible work of killing the man who stole his lover away from him is particularly powerful and it's always evoked this gruesomely tragic evolution of a glassy eyed Apollo stumbling through the streets, weak-legged and trembling from the betrayal growning more and more wrathful 'til he can think of no other course than to aim his bow and shoot. The price of betraying his trust is death and Coronis betrayed so much more than just his trust by taking Ischys as her lover.

The song itself captures that sensation of building wrath so well too. From the lonely guitar and vocals at the beginning which evoke this lonely, stripped back but distant grief to the way the singer is practically screaming his refrain of "Your work here isn't done" by the end, accompanied by the full blasting of instruments and an omnious chorus at his side, everything about this song is centered around building stakes, building realisations, building tensions and it creates this feeling of the speaker growing closer and closer with each new verse and chorus that adds to his anger.

There's also the absolute treasure trove of lyrics that work so well for specifically this tale. A brief overview of some of my favourites include;

- There's a crow overhead singing "Oh, Death is my friend."

- And though you think your time has come, the wheels of Fate have spun. Death has declared your work here isn't done.

- There's a girl on my heart safe ashore in her lover's arms

There's just such a vivid image to be drawn here - of Apollo's emotions being swallowed by his rage, of his resolve to end everything the more he bears witness to Coronis' brazen affair. There's even a strong female voice in the first two verses which seem to egg the speaker on in his spiral - a perfect opening to include Artemis who wishes for her brother to hunt that which brought him such pain alongside her. An Artemis who reinforces just what Coronis has done, an Artemis who does not want her brother to repress his anger after such grave an insult just because love was once there.

To me, it was perfect. Apollo's killing of Coronis was a crime of passion, an execution he sometimes cannot even bring himself to commit according to who is telling the tale. It's a wretched situation, harrowing, suffocating and cruel but if not by Apollo's hands, Coronis would simply die by another's. She cannot live after what she has done. The gods simply would not allow it.

AND THEN MY BIAS WAS COMPLETELY WRECKED BY LORD HURON.

Now, let it be known, I am a huge Lord Huron fan. Strange Trails is perhaps the most Apollo-coded album I've ever heard and songs like Yawning Grave and The Balancer's Eye capture such a visceral, gorgeous portrait of cosmic grief and anger that they haven't really left my brain since I first listened to them. Still, 'Setting Sun' from their Lonesome Dream album completely flew under my radar. Maybe it's because the commercial version is so much snappier than the Alive from Whispering Pines recording, maybe it's because I just hadn't listened to Lord Huron's discography in a while but my god. My god.

This song has it all; a quiet menace in its music, a strong male singer who sounds only barely restrained, an absolute HOST of lyrics that are so wonderfully perfect for the scenario -- after getting over how wonderful the song itself is, I immediately dethroned Your Work isn't Done because ultimately, 'Setting Sun' has something in abundance that 'Your Work isn't Done' minimised in order to focus on the wrath driving the song forward.

And that's love.

Setting Sun is so powerful because it's not just a revenge ballad - it's a dirge, a breakup song, a lament, a regret manifesto. So many times during the song, the speaker wonders when his lover stopped loving him. He recounts intimate moments and wonders if his lover was thinking of the other man when she was enjoying herself, wonders if anything she'd said was even real. And I love that so, so much.

Ultimately, Apollo adored Coronis. As inevitable as her death was, he regretted every second of it. No matter how angry, no matter how betrayed, no matter how intensely he was shamed, he still loved her. He weeps for her when she dies, he screams and grieves and cries when he's faced with her corpse. In some tales, no matter the cocktail of emotion driving him, he simply cannot bring himself to kill her. He'd rather cry in Artemis' arms and take his anger out on his own servant than hurt her. His own father has to dispatch Ischys since Apollo can't even bring himself to hurt that which Coronis once loved. Of course, in this case, Apollo's going to kill someone but the point is, it's not a decision of pure anger so much as its this complicated, horrible mix of resolve and lost love.

And my god does Setting Sun capture this conflict, passion, grief and love so well. UGH, I'm vibrating just thinking about it -- there are so many points where I hear its lyrics and can vividly picture Apollo, jaw clenched looking Coronis in her eyes and quietly confronting her.

Coronis, returning home at twilight after spending the day with Ischys to Apollo stringing his bow, "Oh? Is he ready to die for you baby? No, but you know I would."

Coronis lying to him about who she's spent her time with and Apollo's soft, near pained, "Does it hurt when you lie to me? If you asked, I would set you free."

I even really love the image of a Coronis who runs away from Apollo upon realising what will soon happen, not to escape his arrows but to warn Ischys who does not know what will happen. Of Apollo getting into his stance, taking aim at them and gathering his strength as the final refrains rings out "I know I'll never reclaim your love and that's as hard as it gets, so I'll be taking a life when the sun sets."

Other favourite lines of mine include;

- Oh, is he ready to die for you baby, now that the deed is done?

- Tell me when did I lose your love? Was it him you were thinking of?

- And I could never betray your love, you had me heart and soul. You might never have known it girl, but I was all yours.

And ultimately, I just like this conflicted portrait of premeditated murder much more than the crime of passion 'Your Work isn't Done' paints. Crimes of passion - especially when Apollo is concerned - are tragic in their own right, but in Coronis' case, I think I prefer it so much more when there's no way for Apollo's action to be misconstrued for anything other than what it is, especially since he goes on to cut Asclepius from his mother's corpse then carry on with building her funeral pyre. I think there's something so much more impacting about Apollo being unable to hide away from Coronis' blood on his hands and him having to raise Asclepius with those selfsame hands.

Love of the mortal does not supercede the responsibility of the divine. If Coronis' sentence no matter what is death, who better to lead her gently to the knife than he who still loves her?

[shivunin]

Hi, I just wondered what your favourite part of the Fenhawke romance was? Like, a scene/moment that really made you fall more in love with him? I love your writing so much!!

Oh, that is very kind of you to say! 💗I'm glad you enjoy the things I've written. I've really been enjoying writing for this ship, especially the past few months c:

As for your question...

Man, that's tough. I have a hard time picking one thing---I mean, *gestures to all the fic* you know? But I can narrow it down to a couple of scenes/elements:

The fact that a romanced Fenris still calls you "my friend" even after the act 2 romance scene. This is just...the bedrock of their relationship to me. Yes, that night went very poorly (understatement, I know), but at the core they are friends and he trusts Hawke in a way he's likely never had the cause or opportunity to trust someone before. I believe he never stopped loving Hawke, and it was a matter of laying those feelings out and understanding them one at a time. Romantic love not replacing platonic love or eclipsing it, but building or twining together is just... *chef's kiss* that's the good stuff.

The moment during the romance conversation in Act 3 when you can see Fenris go from hoping (painfully hoping!) that there is still some way he and Hawke can be together to actually believing it will happen. There is a shift in his body language that I could watch (and...have) over and over.

The element of choice? This is not going to be coherent, but the fact that he is learning for the first time what it means to have options and preferences, and he spends a lot of time exploring and understanding himself...and after all of that, the thing he keeps coming back to is Hawke. I think it's gorgeous. A song with refrains of pain or fear and choruses of decision and hope. He's loyal to a fault, in many ways, but understanding how much of himself exists to share and then still choosing to share it is just...man. I said this wasn't going to be coherent lol, so there you are. "If there is a future to be had..." like he doubts its existence but he's willing to chance it for Hawke. Man.

But, honestly? I've played DA2 a lot of times and never romanced another character, even though I've played through multiple romance storylines in each of the other games. I can't shake the Fenris romance. Every time I open a new playthrough, I tell myself that this is the time I'm going to romance Isabela, and every time Fenris rips that dude's heart out and I just......alright, yeah. Okay. Here we go again.

[quietwingsinthesky]

drowley summer of love is iconic but i really wish we’d gotten demon!dean joining cain on his quest to kill all of his descendants. fully aware he himself is one of them btw.

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Hunt. Kill. Repeat. Vol. 1

Hunt. Kill. Repeat. Vol. 1 preview. When the Greek gods invade Earth, society is quickly forced to comply with their new rulers #comics #comicbooks

[towritecomicsonherarms]

Hunt. Kill. Repeat. #3

[sepiasys]

There is a horror in being attacked by something, and it replaces your being entirely

And. I realize as I type that, that it's just like one of the fazbear frights stories that was… haunting and gross. The seabonnies.

It's actually quite common in the fazbear frights and other short fnaf horror stories. For something to replace you. All this mimicry, as you lose yourself and are either left to watch it happen, helpless, or you disappear completely. You don't exist. But your replacement does.

And I know. I know with DID, OSDD, and so on where a system forms… that's supposed to be a normal occurrence? At least for some. It's normal, everyday occurrence for you to not have control over your body, that someone else not you is controlling it, living your life.

There's distress as the one watching because you are helpless, you have no control. But there's distress as the controller that this… isn't you. You were put in the wrong body, is how that feels. While it feels to the other that your body was taken from you.

This is something I can only understand from the possessor perspective. To be in a body that isn't exactly you. But It was never a strong feeling... because I could never care enough about it to be distressed. Never had to see myself enough to feel *wrong* for it.

I don't know if I'll ever understand a helpless, no control over my body feeling... I'll experience disconnect in I'm acting wrong, sure. That these thoughts, actions, things I say or do feel… different. But it ended up feeling closer to masking as "myself", even if I didn't really have total control over it. I stop existing for a moment and become "normal" off instinct.

[thethief1996]

Israel has cut water, electricity and food to Palestinians in Gaza. They are buying 10.000 M16 rifles and plan to distribute to civilian settlers in the West Bank to hunt down Palestinians. They're bombing the only way out of Gaza through Egypt, after telling refugees to flee through it, and have threatened the Egyptian government in case they let aid trucks pass through. Entire families, generations, are being wiped out and left to wander the streets hoping they don't get bombed.

Palestinians are using their last minutes of battery to let the world know about their genocide and are being met with a wall of "What about Hamas? What about the beheaded babies? Killing children on either side is bad!" even though the propaganda claims have been debunked over and over again. How cruel is it to ask somebody to condemn themselves before their last words? Or before grieving the loss of their entire families? When there's no such disclaimer to Israelis even though their government has shown over and over genocidal intent? Like who are you even trying to appease? What will your wishy washy statement do against decades of zionist thought infiltrating evangelical and Jewish stablishmemts?

Take action. Israel will fall back if public opinion turns its tide. The UK fell back on its bloody decision to cut aid to Palestine under public scrutiny. The USAmerican empire spends $3.8 billion dollars annually solely on this proxy war while its people suffer under a progressively military regime as well. News outlets are canceling last minute on Palestinian speakers while letting Israelis tell lies unchecked. Palestinian refugees are being targeted in ICE establishments and mosques are already being hounded by the FBI. France and Germany have banned pro-Palestine protests, while Netherlands and the UK have placed restrictions . You have the chance to stop this from turning into repeat of the Iraq war.

I want to do something but there's hardly anything for me to do from Brasil besides spreading the word and not letting these testimonies fall on deaf ears. I'm asking you to do this same ant work from wherever you are.

Follow:

Eye On Palestine (instagram / twitter)

Mohammed El-Kurd (instagram / twitter)

Decolonize Palestine (website with a chronological explanation of the occupation and debunking myths)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Plestia Alaqad (directly from Gaza. Many of her videos are interrupted by bombs)

If there's a protest in your city, please attend. Here's an international calendar of events:

Friday, October 13

ALBUQUERQUE, NM (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 3 pm, UNM Bookstore, University of New Mexico. Organized by Southwest Coalition for Palestine.

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA (US) – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, Sproul Hall (Vigil), University of California Berkeley. Organized by Bears for Palestine.

DOUAIS, FRANCE – Fri Oct 13, 6:30 pm, Place de’Armes.

GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Brunnsparken. Organized by Palestinska samordningsgruppen Gothenburg.

GREENSBORO, NC (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 4 pm, Wendover Village, 4203 W Wendover Ave, Greensboro, NC. Organized by Muslims for a Better NC.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Fri Oct 13, 5 pm, Keir Starmer’s Office, Crowndale Center, 218 Eversholt St, London. Organized by IJAN UK.

MEANJIN/BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, King George Square.

MIAMI, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Bayfront Park. Organized by Troika Kollectiv.

NAPOLI, ITALY – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Piazza Garibaldi, Napoli. Organized by GPI and Centro Culturale Handala Ali.

NGUNNAWAL/CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Carema Place.

PERTH/BOORLOO, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct. 13, 5:30 pm, Murray Street Hall, Boorloo/Perth. Organized by Friends of Palestine WA.

PORTLAND, OREGON (US) – Fri Oct 13, 3 pm, 1200-1220 SW 5th Ave, Portland.

PORT RICHEY, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 7:30 am, Route 19 and Ridge Road, Port Richey. Sponsored by: Florida Peace Action Network; Partners for Palestine; CADSI

PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA – Friday, Oct. 13, 7 pm, UP Main Campus, DSA Building opposite Thuto. Organized by PSC UP.

WITSWATERSRAND UNIVERSITY (SOUTH AFRICA) – Fri Oct 13, 1 pm, Great Hall Piazza, Flag demonstration. Organized by Wits PSC.

Saturday, October 14

ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, St. Nichlas Square. Organized by Scottish PSC.

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Aotea Square, Queens St, 291-2997 Queen St. Organized by PSN Aotearoa.

DETROIT/DEARBORN, MICHIGAN (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Ford Woods Park, 5700 Greenfield Road. Organized by SAFE, PYM, SJP, Handala Coalition, more.

DUNDEE, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, Place TBA. Organized by Scottish PSC.

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct 14, 2 pm, Princes Street at Foot of the Mound. Organized by Scottish PSC.

FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm Hauptwache, Frankfurt am Main. Sponsored by Palestina eV, Migrantifa Rhein-Main and more.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – Sat. Oct 14, 2 pm, Buchanan Steps. Organized by Scottish PSC.

HOUSTON, TEXAS (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Organizd by PYM, PAC, USPCN, SJP and more.

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND – Sat Oc 14, 12 pm, Church St. Organized by FRFI.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Oct 14, 12 pm, BBC Portland Place, London. Organized by a broad coalition.

MILANO, ITALY – Sat. Oct 14, 3:30 pm, Piazza San Babila. Organized by Young Palestinians of Italy, UDAP, Palestinian Community, Association of Palestinians.

ORLANDO, FLORIDA – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm, Lake Eola at Robinson and Eola, Orland. Organized by Florida Palestine Network.

TORINO, ITALY – Sat. Oct. 14, 3 pm, Piazza Crispi. Organized by Progetto Palestina.

VALPARAISO, CHILE – Sat Oct 14, 6 pm, Plaza Victoria, Valparaiso. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Oct 14, 1 pm, Lafayette Square. Organized by AMP.

Sunday, October 15

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, March from Dam Square to Jonas Daniel Meijer plein.

NAARM/MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, State Library Victoria.

TARDANYA/ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, Parliament House.

AUSTIN, TEXAS (US) – Sun Oct 15, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Organized by PSC ATX.

GADIGAL/SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 1 pm, Sydney Town Hall.

SANTIAGO, CHILE -Sun Oct 15, 11 am, Plaza Dignidad, Santiago. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 2

<— previous

It was your scream piercing through the forest that had Sukuna dropping everything and speeding up his steps.

He was coming back from a hunt while you and Uraume were walking through the woods, foraging for ingredients.

It's been a few weeks since Uraume joined you both and since then, you had showered them with nothing but love and affection. Like the child you always wanted.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was teaching the kid how to properly control their technique. It wasn't something he would ever do for anyone but he has grown to... have a soft spot for Uraume.

But when he dashed through the woods and arrived at the scene, Sukuna would never admit the way his heart sank at what he saw.

Ice.

Ice everywhere.

With you slumped against a tree, shaking uncontrollably while Uraume was next to you in tears, screaming and crying as they apologised profusely. Half of your body was covered in ice.

"No! No! My lady, please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! It was an accident—!" The child wailed. Memories of the frozen corpses of their parents rushing through their head.

It was just like that time.

"What have you done?" Sukuna's angered voice had Uraume backing away in fear as he got closer.

Your husband was by you in an instant, taking you in his arms. His eyes raked over your body to assess the damage. He quickly used his RCT to heal you. His heart was in his throat and he didn't stop until color returned to your face and your breathing was even.

You were going to be okay.

You were going to be okay but Sukuna was not going to let this go so easily. You... His everything... was harmed. Had almost brushed against the brink of death.

But when he looked up at Uraume with a rage of a furious storm, he paused.

The child was bowing deeply against the forest ground, body uncontrollably shaking from sobs and their little fists digging into the dirt as they repeated the same thing over again.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean—I-I didn't mean to hurt her—!"

And those words stirred something inside Sukuna. A memory. A memory he had buried deep into his mind and vowed to never look back upon ever again.

Of a small, deformed child who had just discovered his dangerous technique.

"How could you do this?!"

"Please, I'm sorry!"

"Do you think sorry will fix this?! Will fix the damage you caused?!"

"I didn't mean to! Mother, I swear—"

"Stay away from me, you wretched thing!"

"Monster!"

"Four eyed demon!"

"He'll bring a curse upon our village!"

"Kill that deformed thing! Kill it—"

"Enough. Stand up and let's go."

"B-But my lady is—"

"She's fine."

The walk back to home was quiet. Uraume had expected their punishment the moment they stepped into the house. But after Sukuna had gently laid you on the futon, the punishment never came.

Instead, the King of Curses placed his large hand on top of the child's head and scowled disapprovingly.

"Brat, did you not get what I taught you? Focus on a single damn point and breathe. That way you'll be able to control your technique. Now—"

Sukuna lead Uraume outside again and stopped a few feet away from a deer and a fawn.

"Kill the fawn and only the fawn." The man ordered.

Uraume was in disbelief. They had fully expected a punishment for what they did but when they looked at Sukuna, there was no malice in his eyes. Instead, impatience clouded those bloodied rubies as he tapped his large foot on the ground, waiting for the moment the child would do something.

With an impossibly warmed heart Uraume turned to the fawn with a smile and followed the malevolent king's instruction.

--

You awoke a few hours later, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as memories of what happened slowly came back. Your heart sank and you tried to get up.

You had to find Uraume. The poor child!

But then you felt small cold arms secured tightly around you. Uraume was curled next you as they slept.

You calmed down and smiled tenderly, running your fingers across their snowy locks.

"They refuse to leave your side."

You looked over to see your husband leaning against the door frame. Your smile widened and you reached out to him.

Sukuna didn't hesitate, pushing himself off and walking over to you. He sat down next to you on the floor and took your delicate hand in his large one.

"I'm surprised they're even at my side."

Sukuna grunted. "They can control their technique now. So expect the brat to be glued to you more often."

You laughed softly. "Oh? And does that have something to do with you, my lovely husband?"

Of course it did because he simply refused to look at you and gave you a mere shrug. He was embarrassed. You could tell.

"My lady...?"

You turned your focus to a sleepy Uraume, gazing at you with an apologetic look.

"My lady, I'm sorry..."

You shushed them, stroking their hair affectionately. "Hush now, little one. It wasn't your fault. Sleep, okay? I'm here..."

Sukuna looked on at you and Uraume quietly. You, his beautiful wife, whispering soothing words to the child who, moments ago, was nothing but terrified of who they were.

And then he thought back to the little deformed boy with four eyes and arms running away with a tear streaked face from a mother who begged the villagers to kill him.

He knew that boy was at peace now.

<— previous

[blythesarchives]

Masterpiece. | B.B

summary: You show Bucky some love in Wakanda.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Wakanda!Bucky | Fem!reader | Insecure Bucky | Soft & emotional sex | P in V | Unprotected sex

a/n: I had this idea for a really long time but finally finished it after having it in my drafts for months. A little shorter, so it was a quick little thing. I have some WS!Bucky fics in the works too, so hopefully those will be out soon! I made Bucky's time in cryo about a year and a half, between the release of Civil War and Black Panther. Idk if that's accurate or not, but for this fic it is. ;; wc: 3.6k

You stuck around. Honestly, nothing could tear you from his side.

T'Challa had arranged for you to have private accommodations within the medical wing where Bucky's cryogenic chamber was, ensuring you could maintain a constant vigil over him. The aftermath of the confrontation between Steve and Tony in Siberia had left you deeply shaken - when you discovered the extent of Bucky's injuries, including his violently dismembered metal arm - you had been horrified and it took a lot to calm you down. It was more than just the physical dismemberment, but the repeat amputation and the weight of the emotional turmoil for him and you was a lot to handle at once. Upon finally reuniting with him, you couldn't help but frantically check over his wounds, your hands trembling as you assessed the damage.

His body covered in various injuries, dried blood caking his skin, and his once-powerful metal arm now completely destroyed from Tony's repulsor blast, the metal once white hot now blackened as the circuits and wiring were completely melted and fried. The intensity of your concern was completely justified given his condition, though Bucky repeatedly tried to ease your fears with gentle reassurances. Steve also attempted to comfort you, though he mostly let you and Bucky have the time you needed.

When you arrived in Wakanda, Bucky's anxiety about potential discovery had been eating him - the fear of being found and captured again weighing heavily on his mind. The peace you had in Romania felt like it would never come again, it wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. Steve stepped in, promising that Wakanda's advanced defenses and T'Challa's protection would keep him safely hidden from those who wished him harm.

While T'Challa approached the situation with grace and hospitality, you couldn't help but maintain a defensive posture around him initially. The memory of his vendetta against Bucky was still fresh - his determined pursuit with the intent to kill still dominating your thoughts. As he approached your group for the first time without his panther suit, your protective instincts remained heightened, positioning yourself slightly closer to Bucky's side.

"I assure you, my hunt for Sergeant Barnes is over, though I understand your hesitation," T'Challa’s deep voice carried a gentle tone meant to soothe and reassure you. His eyes held sincerity as he continued, "I was foolishly deceived and have seen the error in my previous pursuit and regret my actions. We offer both him and yourself sanctuary here in Wakanda, where you will find peace and protection. I give you my word as both a king and a warrior that no one will be permitted to threaten your safety. He will be free to stay as long as he desires."

You exchanged a meaningful look with Bucky, unable to fully mask the lingering hesitation that flickered across your features. When he met your gaze with quiet reassurance, you mentally scolded yourself for being so overtly cautious, though you couldn't quite shake the protective instinct. You felt like you were being unnecessarily paranoid, but after everything that had transpired - the chase, the fighting, the constant looking over your shoulders - you felt justified in harboring some anxiety about the situation.

Despite Bucky's outward display of calm acceptance, you could sense the underlying tension radiating off of him in waves, even as he maintained a brave face for your benefit. His stoic demeanor couldn't completely hide the wariness that years on the run had instilled in him.

You stood before him in the sterile medical bay as the team of doctors prepared the cryochamber. His warm hand gently cupped your cheek, those familiar eyes gazing at you with an endless depth of affection. "It won't be too long..." He spoke softly, his gentle words attempting to calm the storm of anxiety that swirled within you.

"Maybe not for you." Your voice trembled despite your best efforts to keep it steady, barely rising above a whisper to match his tender tone. "You're gonna be frozen in there, suspended in time - just a blink of an eye for you, while the rest of us watch the world keep turning."

He chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curving upward in that familiar way that always made your heart skip. "Yeah...well, Shuri seems to be pretty smart - probably the smartest person I've ever met, so hopefully she figures something out, so I won't be in there for too long." His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek, a silent gesture of comfort.

Your hand drifted up to cover his, fingers intertwining as you squeezed gently, seeking anchor in his touch. "We'll get through this..." The words escaped as barely more than a breath, a quiet promise meant more to convince yourself than him.

The doctors signaled the chamber’s preparation and you began your gentle goodbyes. “You could always come in with me.” He hummed against your ear as his arm wrapped around your body, holding you close. You smiled against his white tank top, sighing shakily.

“I don’t think my body is enhanced enough for that,” You muffled against him, “But I’ll be waiting.”

He continued to comfort you, his whispered promises of return that hung in the air like morning mist. When he finally stepped into the cryochamber Shuri had engineered, your eyes never left his face. You watched, heart aching, as his eyes fluttered closed and the chamber activated, crystalline ice slowly creeping across the glass, gradually obscuring your view of his rare, peaceful expression.

Through countless days and endless nights, through seasons changing and the world moving forward, you remained by his side until the day finally came when the ice melted away and those eyes opened once more.

It took quite a bit of adjusting, but life in Wakanda was gradually becoming more manageable. The climate was intense, with the relentless African sun beating down mercilessly throughout the day, making even simple tasks feel more challenging. Thankfully, the pristine lake situated just steps away from your shared cozy hut provided a welcome respite, offering an escape from the sweltering heat whenever you needed to cool down.

Bucky's adjustment period, however, had little to do with the weather. The recent removal of his prosthetic arm left him feeling deeply unbalanced, both physically and emotionally. The titanium appendage had been a significant part of his body weight distribution, and after decades of having it surgically integrated into his body, learning to function without it was proving to be a considerable challenge. The sudden absence of the familiar weight threw off his center of gravity, leading to a persistent sense of insecurity and mounting anxiety about his capabilities.

Doing things one handed was difficult.

Bucky's stubborn nature only complicated matters further, as he refused any offers of assistance, no matter how simple or necessary. Whether it was moving heavy objects around their living space, managing his increasingly long hair that now required more maintenance, or handling basic daily tasks - he remained determined to maintain his independence.

You backed off, knowing that he needed space to process and work through things independently. While your nurturing instincts urged you to do more, you consciously resisted the urge to be overly protective or maternal. He was undoubtedly capable of handling himself, yet you couldn't entirely suppress your natural inclination to provide support where possible.

You focused on offering practical assistance - preparing meals when needed, keeping the living space tidy and organized, ensuring his sleeping area was comfortable with fresh linens and proper cushioning if he’d allow it, and providing help with daily tasks like dressing when his mobility was limited.

Small gestures of support.

Though Bucky was grateful for your help, there were moments when the frustration of his situation manifested in terse responses or visible tension. He would become a little snappy at you or too moody when you spoke, but you kept reminding yourself that this was hard for him. The psychological impact of being without his arm for the first time in literal decades, regardless of its origins, was something you knew was incredibly difficult. To try to subtly ease this behavior, you made conscious efforts to help redirect his thoughts from dwelling too heavily.

Your days took on a gentle rhythm - spending time with the playful goats that roamed the area, playing with the curious children who would gather around the hut. But with every day came night, and as the sun's light faded and dusk settled in, accompanied by the persistent chorus of cicadas echoing through the trees, you saw how raw Bucky's psychological well-being was being affected.

Most of his tears flowed from deep-seated anger - anger that burned within himself for seeing weakness in his own reflection, for feeling unable to maintain his composure despite all the hell he had gone through already. In his mind, he was stronger than this moment of vulnerability, he was better than this; the act of crying over the loss of his limb felt almost juvenile and shameful to him, even though in reality it was obviously not - it was a natural, human response.

But he was still used to being human after spending a lifetime as a machine.

You were silent beside him, supporting his trembling form as the tears fell, holding him close against you as you offered what comfort you could through gentle touches and steady presence. Your heart ached to see his pain in the endless stream of tears, but there was a small measure of relief in knowing he felt safe enough to break down in your presence rather than bottling everything up until it inevitably erupted in a more destructive manner.

"I...just can't...handle this anymore." He hiccupped against your chest, his fingers desperately clutching at your top as if it were an anchor, grounding himself from everything that threatened to drag him under. You carefully considered your response, walking the line between wanting to comfort him and needing to help him face reality without pushing him further into distress.

"It's okay to feel this way...I know this is hard for you," you soothed while you rubbed comforting circles across his back. "I'm here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it. You don't have to worry about asking for help or showing your feelings..."

He let out a trembling breath, slowly shifting his position until he wasn’t so crunched up against you. His face was flushed and tear-stained, cheeks mottled with emotion, so you reached out to brush away the wetness with your thumbs. "There you are...handsome man," you cooed, your lips curving into a soft, nurturing smile that reached your eyes. It was a familiar look he loved, no matter how he was feeling.

"...I don't feel handsome," he muttered back, his voice barely above a whisper as he deliberately avoided your gaze. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the intricate patterns of the weathered rug beneath you both, while the sturdy walls of the hut sheltered you from the biting night air that whistled outside. His words were heavy with self-doubt, pierced straight through your heart like shards of ice. Every fiber of your being ached to chase away his demons, to somehow make him see himself through your adoring eyes, to help him understand just how perfect and whole he was.

But this wasn't about your feelings.

You focused on soothing his wounded spirit, placing his needs above all else. "You are handsome, Buck Buck," you assured him, your voice steady and warm. "Nothing could ever change that. Not the loss of a limb, not the absence of your prosthetic, not a single thing in this world. You are everything to me, absolutely everything, and I want nothing more than to show you just how true that is. Would you let me?"

He finally lifted his gaze, his watery eyes meeting your steady ones. "I don't think...you want to right now. I just...I don't feel whole anymore. Not like this."

"Let me try?" Your voice was hushed, gentle as morning light basking over his skin as you carefully guided him back until he was seated more comfortably against the cushions scattered on the floor. He obliged with visible hesitation, his eyes a mixture of trust and lingering anxiety. You began to pull the silken cloths away from his body, revealing the strong planes of his muscular chest. His breathing quickened noticeably, an edge of nervousness creeping in as your hand drifted towards the delicate silk that kept his amputated arm hidden from the world's prying gaze.

His remaining hand caught your wrist, stopping you with an urgent touch. Your eyes immediately found his face, offering wordless comfort and reassurance. "It's okay..." You whispered, keeping your movements completely still to honor his hesitation.

"They had to take the rest of it...there's...not much left there anymore. I don't even...have a shoulder anymore. It's just...empty space where something should be..."

"Hey...shh. It's alright...we can stop right here if you need to. Know that whether you have something there or not...I'll have you either way. Every piece of you, exactly as you are. That doesn't matter to me - it never has, and it never will. I promise you that..."

He swallowed thickly, his throat constricting as a heavy lump forced its way down. Gradually, his racing heartbeat steadied and his breathing evened out enough to allow you to continue. In all his years, through all his struggles, you had become the only one he truly trusted to see him like this - vulnerable, exposed, and completely himself. It took patience and time, but you remained steadfast by his side and proved you were worthy of seeing all of him.

His fingers loosened their grip around your wrist, slowly releasing you as if reluctant to let go. With the silent permission, you carefully pulled away the silk fabric. His eyes squeezed shut instinctively, the familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over him as he actively avoided looking at himself. But those tightly closed eyes flew open in surprise when your soft lips pressed against the jagged landscape of scars around the area. His body jerked away reflexively at first, the unfamiliar sensation sending tingles across his skin. The touch still felt foreign to him, but just as quickly as he had flinched, his muscles began to unwind and relax beneath your tender attention.

"There we go...just let me love you. You are so perfect." Your words drifted between tender kisses, each one a gentle reassurance as you traced a path up his neck and along his jaw. Your hands moved up and around his body, touching and caressing him as if memorizing every inch. Your touch wandered a deliberate path from his hips, ghosting up along his sides until finally reaching his face, where you cupped his cheeks and drew him close, keeping him anchored to this moment. "Look at you...so gorgeous...you couldn't be more perfect to me. You know that? Every single part of you."

Your kisses continued, dotting across his face during your gentle peppering. The attention made his nose scrunching slightly as a shy, almost boyish smile spread across his features, transforming his entire expression. "You're just saying that..." He murmured, but your earnest words had already worked their magic, warming his ears and cheeks until they glowed pink, each sweet affirmation making his stomach flip.

"Oh no, I mean it, Bucky..." You hummed with such conviction that he couldn't help but meet your gaze. Your eyes held his, full of nothing but pure adoration as you whispered, "I mean every single word, every single time."

You continued to warm him up with tender kisses and gentle touches, taking your time as you massaged his body while you lovingly peppered soft kisses all over him. Your lips traced a path down his sternum and across his stomach, your fingers dancing lightly as they rubbed soothing circles over the sensitive skin by his hips, occasionally mixing in playful little nips that made him shiver. Gradually, you felt his body responding to your attention, his desire evident as it pressed urgently against you through the remaining clothes he still wore on his lower half.

"Are you sure you want to be with me like...this?" He asked once more, that deep insecurity still festering inside him like an old wound. He kept his gaze averted from the loss of his limb, unable to bear witnessing the damage that marked him. The phantom pains that plagued him were already more than he could stand - they seemed to intensify tenfold whenever his eyes fell upon the empty space where something should have been. His mind played such cruel tricks on him, tormenting him with sensations from a limb that was no longer there, an endless reminder of what he had lost.

"I'm positive..." You captured his lips in yours, pouring all your emotion into the sweetest, most tender kiss you could possibly give, wanting him to feel just how completely and utterly you adored every part of him.

When you were both fully undressed, you straddled him once more, beginning a slow and sensual rhythm as you moved your hips up and down, grinding yourself against his length. Your breath caught in your throat as you spoke, your voice thick with emotion, "Y-you...you're so incredibly beautiful...every single mark, every scar on you...none of it bothers me the way you think it does. I can see all that fear in your eyes...hear the doubt in your voice…but I promise you, I swear to you...it doesn’t. I love you. Every single part of you. All of you, exactly as you are."

You sunk down on him before he could respond with words, his voice strained as he moaned loudly, his strong hand instinctively finding its way to your hip as you moved against him with passionate intensity. His deep, resonant moans drove you forward, fueled your desires, and you maintained your rhythmic bouncing. Your own satisfaction was the furthest thing from your mind - all you wanted in this moment was to show him just how much your love for him was through every careful motion. You channeled all your attention into performing every little movement you knew brought him pleasure, carefully swirling your hips in tight circles, rolling your body in waves, varying the tempo and pressure while you recalled previous nights of passion and how much he liked every individual change.

"I love you so much baby, you know that right? You know how completely I adore you, what an absolutely perfect, precious boy you are..." You moaned back breathlessly, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting but intense moment. In that brief connection, you made sure every word flowed directly from the depths of your heart, knowing he deserved endless reassurance and affirmation of your devotion.

"You are a masterpiece," you urged, your voice carrying both fierce determination and infinite tenderness. "And you are all mine to cherish and admire every single day."

Crystal tears began flowing freely down his flushed cheeks, nearly causing you to pause in concern. Your lips parted instinctively to ask if something was wrong, but he spoke first, his voice thick with emotion. "I-I love you so much, sweetheart, y-you've always been there for me, through everything. You've shown me nothing but love and patience...even when I was struggling and being an asshole...”

His breath hitched as he took in a sharp breath, steadying himself to continue. “You were my warmth when I was stuck in nothing but darkness and cold...when I had no one else to turn to...when I had nothing left." His movements synchronized perfectly with yours, his body rising to meet each careful swivel and roll of your hips in an intimate dance of shared passion.

“You are my world.”

He throbbed inside you, burying his face in your chest as he tried to hold himself back from finishing but couldn't. He cried out into you, muffling his tears into your chest as he came - shooting thick ropes of hot fluid deep into your cervix and warming you from the inside.

Bucky remained still afterwards, seeming hesitant and uncertain, his body tense with what could only be embarrassment at finishing so quickly without ensuring your pleasure first. But that thought couldn't have been further from your mind - his vulnerability in these moments only made your heart swell with even more affection.

You guided his face away from where he'd buried it against your strong sternum, immediately capturing his lips in a deep, reassuring kiss before he could voice the apology you could see forming.

"Hush now...don't you dare apologize, Barnes.” Your tone playfully firm with the use of his last name, “I need you to understand...I love you. So deeply, so completely...whatever you think you're lacking doesn't matter to me at all. I will spend every moment showing you exactly how cherished and adored you are through my eyes until you finally see yourself the way I do." You pressed another lingering kiss to his slightly swollen lips, letting it stretch on for several long seconds before slowly pulling back. "And I'll keep doing it for as long as it takes."

"For as long as it takes, huh?" He echoed softly, a hint of playfulness creeping into his voice though you could hear the genuine concern underneath. "What if I need that every single day?" The question held a weight to it - you could tell he worried about being too needy, too demanding of your patience and reassurance. But your expression remained unwavering, eyebrows drawing together with fierce determination.

"Every single damn day, Buck Buck...until my lungs have lost their breath."

Thanks for reading - 💙

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[smashpages]

Out this week: Tales from the Cave

As part of their annual talent search, Mad Cave releases an anthology featuring stories by some of the winners working alongside established talent. This year’s one-shot features the work of David Hazan, Keith Frady, Rachel Pinnelas, Shane Connery Volk, Luca Romano, Riccardo Cecchi, Marco Pelandra, Marco Tortella, Marcello Iozzoli and more, as they tell stories featuring other Mad Cave titles, namely Nottingham, Battlecats and Hunt. Kill. Repeat. (Mad Cave, $5.99)

See what else is arriving at your local comic shop this week.

[honeyblackberries]

whenever new sylus content comes out in game it all just further solidifies the fact that he's so much more than the typical 'morally grey villain’ love interest people could easily write him off as. i always find myself reminded of the fact that he’s not only such a well written character but a really good lover. 

he makes sure mc/the player is well fed before he starts to eat, he makes it a point to get her favorite drink for her when they meet up. when she challenges him he matches her energy, when she wants to do something he always indulges her and goes along with her plans. 

alternatively, when she doesn’t want to do something—even if he thinks it’s good for her or he would prefer for it to happen—if she says no then the answer is no. like while his first instinct was to kill the old lady who stabbed her during the zoion hunt he backed off when she told him to. he bandaged her up with care and didn’t simmer in his own anger or try to contradict her wishes like other depictions of that genre of man might have.

they play video games together. he fist bumps her when she does a cool move to shoot down their enemies. he’s trying to become a better singer so she’ll like it when he sings for her. he says the soul is one of the most precious gifts given to humanity and implies that she makes up half of his. he wants to help her become strong enough to protect herself. he says their connection transcends current circumstance and repeats constantly that their lives are bound together.

everything sylus has done previously was in preparation to meet her. everything he does currently is working towards having a future with her. when instinct and base desire tell him to devour her, take her strength and be rid of the power she has over him, he doesn’t give in. and with the hints to more of their past lore it seems like in each lifetime he’s stuck in a never ending cycle of having to kill her or be killed by her again and again, yet he persists.

he's the type of man i personally want to work towards deserving and i'm coming to understand how i've accidentally mischaracterised him in the past. i think i could write as many fics about him as i liked, but i would never do him justice.

[graphicpolicy]

Preview: Hunt. Kill. Repeat. #5 (of 6)

Hunt. Kill. Repeat. #5 preview. Artemis will come face to face with an old friend who has been cursed for centuries in hopes that her friend will support the fight against Zeus... #comics #comicbooks

[towritecomicsonherarms]

Hunt. Kill. Repeat. #5

[yzzart]

hiii! I don't see anything on Anime Dante and I was wondering what your headcanons are for him with a merc s/o, like another demon hunter or something and that's how they found out abt Dante being part demon was that the s/o had been at the night his apartment was raided. (Not as one of the people going for Dante, but she was sent in with Enzo for a reason you can come up with)

⋆˚࿔ TWO DEMON HUNTERS CAN GIVE YOU A HEADACHE. ── HEADCANONS

── content warnings: F!reader, demon hunter, references to anime and episode 2, mention of Enzo and DARKCOM, light content.

“Excuse me, big boy, — could you repeat that?”

⭑.ᐟ It was hard to believe that, in the middle of a bright, bright, and excessively violent night, the hunt for a necklace would end with a contemporary revelation; perhaps, it could sound something dramatic, melodramatic, or pathetic.

⤷ Also with great — immense, unlimited, monstrous — chances of becoming something extremely dangerous and catastrophic. — It was something very bizarre; something you had never witnessed or assimilated in all your work as a demon hunter.

⭑.ᐟ Dante, — the talkative, intriguing, charming and, unbearably, amateur comedian demon hunter; who you had the privileges and inconveniences of meeting during your work; since you had, in common, Enzo as a client — was a demon and well, it wasn't something that wouldn't surprise you.

⤷ That man could take countless shots, as he had taken minutes before, and simply regenerate like a superhero — a somewhat cliché comparison, he told you once — and you had already witnessed a similar situation, but you had no idea it could be possible. — From the looks of it, it was possible.

⭑.ᐟ Enzo remained stunned, tense and, strangely, excited by the idea that one of his favorite hunters — he only had two, so there was nothing he could do — had the DNA of a powerful creature and had completely and without killing several mercenaries; great, you could take some credit for that.

⤷ They contacted you, expecting your presence at the meeting to hunt for the necklace, and of course they didn't; you didn't want to and wouldn't accept, consent to the objective of that shitty organization and government. — Dante had revealed the origin of that amulet to you, during certain and coincidental work meetings.

⤷ It wouldn't be a lie to conclude that you and he had created a small friendship, perhaps, something more — Enzo claimed, with his grandmother's blessing, that you had something under the covers — however, work spoke louder at certain times.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to believe this shit.” — The man, half demon, exuded anger mixed with restlessness, disturbance caused by the theft of his necklace and the intervention of a DARKCOM lieutenant; who accused him of Dante’s true race. — “Me being a demon? I would believe you were one.” — He pointed at you, sitting on the window while cleaning the pistol and looking for ammunition.

⤷ It was better that damn ambitious Enzo and shameless Dante got you more ammunition and a raise. — Or that short guy would find out if paradise exists.

“Honestly, Dante, what’s going on in your head?” — You asked, not wanting an answer, because you knew that nonsense would come out of that mouth; Enzo tried to calm the situation, he knew that the mood between you and Dante would never change.

“You, pretty.” — He winked, bold and audacious and seductive at you; Dante didn’t waste time, he never gave up playing with you. — And you wanted to end all your ammunition on that pretty little face, since yours was a reddish tone, especially on the cheeks.

“What beautiful lovebirds, look at you two.” — You almost aimed your pistol at Enzo.