#ill try to do this in order top left to bottom right

[greyfeu]

girls!!!!!!!

[grimwalker]

Hunter knows. He knows and she doesn’t and it’s eating him up inside. He knows her, recognizes her from all those months ago, but she’s never seen him out of uniform so she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. He could keep it a secret, ask the rest of the group to keep it a secret. She won’t ever have to know.

Yet, that doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t want her to know but the idea that they’ll be within distance of each other for an undetermined amount of time and she won’t know, that bothers him. It makes his skin itch and hands shake.

He loses either way; whether or not she finds out.

Vee is so kind — too kind. It’s the type of kindness that would — should — make Hunter suspicious. But she digs up clothes from boxes in the attic and gives them to him, tells him that they might be a little big but they’re for him. A temporary set of clothes while his own are put to wash with the rest of the group’s clothes.

She shows him where the bathroom is upstairs, shows him how to operate the shower and which shampoo he can use. She gives him towels and points to the hamper where he can put them in afterwards. She looks at him with pity before she slips out of the bathroom, leaving him to his own devices.

Later that night, she takes him to the room where the rest of the group is — he’s the last one to arrive. Luz, Amity and Willow are huddled together on the bottom bed of the bunk bed. They hold their fingers up to their lips and shush him as he comes in. Luz points up to the top bunk and Hunter realizes that Gus is already fast asleep. He feels both guilt and pity as he walks over to the trio with Vee by his side.

A few seconds later, Camila walks in with three sleeping bags. Hunter helps Vee take them from her, and Camila bids them all goodnight with a hug for each of them. Says to not stay up too late and that they shouldn’t worry about getting up early. You’re safe here, you’re welcome here, make yourselves at home.

After Hunter, Willow takes a sleeping bag for herself, spreading it out a few feet away from his. Vee takes the last one, and although Amity and Luz try to argue, she doesn’t let them win. Vee spreads hers out on the other side of Hunter’s bag and it makes him feel ill. He doesn’t dare voice it, though. He knows not to be rude to his hosts.

The next day, after a breakfast of eggs and pancakes, Hunter sits with the rest of the group in the living room as Vee puts on a movie. She says it’s a comedy, lighthearted with a little bit of romance and a lot of friendship themes. Hunter sits on the floor in between Gus’s legs. Amity and Willow occupy the rest of the space on the couch, one on either side of Gus, and Luz sits on the floor beside Hunter, in front of Amity. Vee slides up on Hunter’s other side, sitting in front of Willow, who moves her legs in order to make room.

Hunter doesn’t dare look at her, but he knows that Vee sneaks glances at him throughout the movie. He can feel the sweat building up and all he can do to keep himself calm is by pulling at Gus’s pant leg. His fingers pinch the fabric and pull it out. At first, it earns him a nudge from Gus’s foot but after a while, he assumes Gus gets used to it. Hunter keeps toying with it through the movie, wrapping his other arm around Gus’s leg.

As the credits roll, the group sits in silence for a few minutes. The only sound being the ending song that’s way too cheerful and upbeat for how Hunter is feeling. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie, too lost in his thoughts of how much he wishes Vee would take another appearance. Her natural basilisk form is haunting him.

Camila left for work right after breakfast. Although she wanted to stay home and spend time with Luz and get to know the rest of them, Luz had insisted that they’ll still be here when she gets back. Camila was skeptical, but in the end, she had left with a promise from Vee to make sure they stay in the house.

After a few more minutes of silence, as the credits are finally rolling to an end, Luz insists that they do something. Not any planning, she specifies. As much as she wants to get back to the Boiling Isles asap, she promised her mother she wouldn’t leave anytime soon and that’s the least she could do with everything that’s happened. Since she sprung four more kids onto her and asked if they could stay.

So they agree to make cookies. Or brownies. They’re not sure yet. Luz leads Amity and Willow to the kitchen and Vee promises to follow just as soon as she puts away the movie disc. Gus is still sitting on the couch as Vee moves away. He nudges Hunter with his foot, and Hunter leans his cheek against Gus’s knee. It’s as comforting as it can get, what with having lost everything in the last twelve hours or so.

Hunter wishes he could go home. Back to the Boiling Isles and back to Gus’s house where Perry Porter welcomed him and let him stay. It was a temporary living situation until Hunter figured out what he wanted to do, but Perry never pushed him to leave and Gus always asked him to stay the following night as well. For those few days, Hunter had felt at peace. He had felt safe.

But now he’s here, in Luz’s home in the human realm. He’s with Gus, which grounds him, but he’s also facing a part of his past that he’s not comfortable with. A part of his past that he’s fought to forget. But all that work had been fruitless as he watches Vee put the disc in a box and put it away in one of the shelves under the television.

He bites his tongue when she asks if they’re going to help make the cookies. Hunter wants to decline, but then Gus nudges his shoulder with his knee and answers for both of them. And so Hunter moves out of the way, and let’s Gus help him to his feet. He watches Gus head to the kitchen, leaving him alone with Vee.

“You know, you seem awfully familiar,” Vee says quietly. Hunter almost doesn’t hear it since the pounding of his heart is loud in his ears. “It’s your voice.”

Of course it is. It always is. His voice gives him away to everyone he’s ever met. He hates it.

He lets out a nervous laugh and forces himself to respond. “I get that a lot.”

It’s stupid. He knows it as soon as he says it. But Vee doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles at him and insists they go to the kitchen.

Hunter follows her with sweaty palms and his tongue between his teeth.

[illegiblewords]

Personal ranting.

Right now I’m pretty stressed out. I’ve had a slew of medical crap happening, family stuff, and job stuff I need to get in order. Feeling very intimidated, sad, alone, and overwhelmed.

Referring to past relationships--I’ve repeatedly gone through points in my life where I bent over backwards to help other people, whether with tasks or by offering emotional support. Often when I’ve done this, I’ve found it was one-sided. Although not with family, there have been times with friends when I got treated like a side-character whose experiences were of no consequence. Someone who would never warrant anyone’s priority and only existed as a prop. When I was at the sickest I’d ever been, an IRL person I thought was my friend told me he hoped I didn’t get help because then I’d have to share a house with him and pay rent. There’s been a lot of shit like that. At this point I even get nervous about sharing things I think will brighten other peoples’ days or things that make me happy because that can go wrong too. It has repeatedly and I fucking hate it. I guess I’m also trying to sort of... steel myself, and fix this shit alone. And I’m scared that I’ve struggled with it for too long and too much time has passed for me to get on top of things. In a weird way what I’m trying to hold onto is that there are people who lose decades to addiction or illness before coming out the other side. There are people whose rock bottom involves losing their homes or having no family left--and they pick themselves up to find happiness. Because if those people, who have gone through their own fears and hells can do it--I can too. I’m kind of angry and upset that I feel scared to confide in others one-on-one right now. It’s mainly just a series of bad historical experiences that have me skittish, combined with guilt/worry that I’d be looked at as a bad person or dishonest for admitting I’m having trouble right now. And then at the same time in my heart going ‘why can everyone else feel shit but not me?’ I saw a post earlier where people lashed out at a stranger online for sharing a happy routine she’d formed with her husband. They were snapping that it upset them to see her happy when they’d had terrible times, that she wasn’t humble enough about having a shred of happiness, that she couldn’t actually be happy if she’d bothered to express it to others. Life is hard enough! There’s enough darkness in the world! Why the fuck if you see other people experiencing and expressing joy would you take it upon yourself to snuff that out instead of use it as a reminder that things can get better? If you have a choice in whether to let people have a positive experience or twist it into something ugly, why would you do the latter? Not everyone WANTS to do the weird manipulation power-game garbage. And like... I know there will always be people in the world who hate me for existing as myself. I’m not unique in that respect. Human cruelty and pettiness is very much a thing and it’s a lesson not to let those sorts run your life. But seeing crap like how people reacted to that post makes me nervous to speak or act in good faith, because my happiness could also get warped and used as a weapon. Assuming those efforts aren’t just ripped away and stomped on so I can’t have them either. Basically I’m trying to reject the negative garbage and push myself somewhere better. It’s just really hard and I feel like I have to do it by myself.

[brown-little-robin]

My dearest beloved clone sons, happy. (src)

This is a collection of the moments from within the timeline of Strange Redemption when each clone is experiencing real happiness of one kind or another. And, because of the Stress, I am writing the context for each one. In order from top left to bottom right:

Two: proud of Three. He’s experiencing the Big Brother Emotion. Look at that beautiful lopsided smile! When Two is uncontrollably happy, his smile squishes up his whole face.

Three: in his element: talking to someone! Three smiles almost all the time; it’s his nature; but here he’s at his most genuine. He’s had an awesome idea and he’s explaining it—or maybe he’s expressing his excitement for someone else’s good idea. Three’s generous with his energy and he LOVES cool ideas.

Four: in his lane. relaxed. flourishing. Four doesn’t smile much around other people—too heavy with guilt and sin—but when he’s alone, maybe surveying a good day’s work weaving baskets or doing laundry? Yes, he’ll allow himself a real smile. This could be either of his main two alters—Thaddeus, the “older” one, or Thad, the “younger” one. Their smiles are fairly similar—tired, awkward-looking, slow, satisfied.

Inertia: Yes, finally, I’m introducing one of Four’s alters as his own person. This is Inertia, the black-and-green vigilante. Inertia is mission-focused and highly competent, a better runner than the others (who are more clumsy), but he’s less emotionally mature. And to feel like himself, he needs the Inertia outfit. I couldn’t put him in the Inertia outfit for two reasons: 1) the picrew doesn’t have it, and 2) Thad burned his Inertia outfit immediately after he defected. Inertia was furious and stopped communicating with the rest of the system. But he wasn’t upset about them rejecting the mission; he was upset about losing his suit and being misunderstood. The two main alters try to make peace with him eventually, and one of the first methods is a green-and-black cowboy outfit. It’s close enough to Inertia’s ‘real’ outfit and aligned enough with his values (highly competent keeper of right and wrong) that it actually works; the system slowly starts to be back in communication. Anyway, Inertia is smiling here in absolute euphoria at getting the visual trappings of his identity back.

Five: I bet you thought I was done with the angst. It took me a long time to convince Five to smile for the picrew. I made four (count ‘em, four) picrews of him in various scowls and pensive/yearning expressions before I finally realized that the only smile that makes sense for him is laughter. He’s talking to Two here, as he often does on his visits to the past. Two surprised him with a joke about mental illness, and Five laughed. Five comes to Two when he needs a reminder of what he’s fighting for, and he is getting one.

Six: he has finally gained some stability after becoming a magician. Six has embraced his entire story here; he’s wearing a shirt with the words All Time Low on it. (it’s a joke. he lost his speed so he’s at an all time low. he finds it funny. he might also listen to the band idk.) He’s in Two’s mansion; they’re going to have a movie night together. He’s smiling in a moment when Two isn’t looking at him, just a quiet, pointless smile because he’s happy. He’s looking forward to the movie. He’s looking forward to the traditional goodbye forehead kiss Two always gives his brothers. He’s looking forward to life.

Seven: Oh baby. baby baby baby boy. Okay I’m normal again. He’s smiling because he’s always smiling, because he has teeth like a shark, and if Seven closes his mouth he’ll bite himself and it will be literally and metaphorically ugly. He knows he looks horrifying with his jaw hanging open, so he smiles whenever he’s around people so that people aren’t afraid / don’t think he’s sad. But right now? He’s saying hello to Two’s best friend, Waylon Jones, also known as Killer Croc. He’s a little nervous, but his heart is soaring; he’s so so happy to meet someone who won’t be afraid of him, someone who can really truly understand what it’s like to have this awful mouth. He’s looking forward to commiserating about how hard it is to eat.

Eight: eight is experiencing that most blissful of emotions... clothes fresh out of the dryer. only for him it’s a hundred times better because he is also experiencing the emotion of pride at success. His whole life was Being A Supervillain. He had one (1) outfit, which he hated: the Inertia suit, thin, cold material that always made him feel naked and horrible. Yadda yadda, he died, he was in the speed force as a spirit of lightning. He’d never had a chance to live as a normal person before, but after his death, he discovered an ability to manifest himself into the world, at first as a human-shaped pile of lightning, then better and better, more and more like a real body until he was finally able to be mostly human. He can wear clothes now. Anything he wants. He can feel their weight and softness on his body. And now, in this moment, he’s just put on this giant purple hoodie (from Max) and the worm-on-a-string earrings (from Helen). He is so warm, and he is so happy, and he’s about to thank them for the gifts.

Nine: okay, so, the only uncomplicated happy smiles I have for him are outside the timeline of this fic... when he’s a lawyer triumphantly arguing a winning case, for instance. He smiles a lot in the fic, but it’s usually mean-spirited. For actual happiness, I have only this tremulous, ashamed smile (with the one-eye-closed habit that he picked up from Seven). This is when he admits that he forgot Two’s name, that he forgets everything, he’s sorry. (his brain is all messed up. there were problems with his cloning. he’s never been all there.) And two already knows that; Nine knows he knows that; but it’s such a relief to say it out loud. Nine is happy. He might start crying in a minute but Nine is happy. He can admit it. He’s safe.

[astraltrickster]

I revised the disability pride flag.

[Image ID: A revised disability pride flag. It features five parallel zig-zag lines, running diagonally from the upper left to bottom right corners. The colors, in order from top to bottom, are red, white, yellow, green, and blue. The lines are placed over a black background with a gray border. The version on the right features thin black lines between the colored lines; the version on the left does not. The versions above have been desaturated and the contrast has been reduced. End ID.]

The reason for my revision is that, while I love the original "lightning bolt" flag and its symbolism, it was quickly discovered, in one of the most striking displays of bitter irony I've ever seen, that its....intensity? The sharp angles and high contrast - could cause pretty severe eye strain, or something of a strobe effect while scrolling on digital displays, which could cause migraines or even seizures in some people, so modifications were necessary. Since then we've switched to a version with the line straightened, which is good, but I...don't really like throwing out the zig-zag symbolism, and I wanted to make it easier to modify for any other unforeseen conflicting needs (or just artistic preference!) without becoming unrecognizable (I already mistook one with the straight line for a nautical signal flag initially), so I decided to take a crack at my own modification.

The symbolism of the original, from the original creator's posting about it:

The Black Field: Mourning for those who've suffered and died from Ableist violence, and also rebellion.

The Zigzag Band: How disabled people must move around and past barriers, and our creativity in doing so.

The Five Colors: the variety of Disability, our needs and experiences (Mental Illness [green], Neurodiversity [red], Invisible and Undiagnosed Disabilities [white], Physical Disability [yellow], and Sensory Disabilities [blue])

The Parallel Stripes: Solidarity within the Disability Community, despite our differences.

My modifications are as follows:

The zig-zag angles are now shallower, such that the pattern never doubles back on itself, to prevent any hazardous strobe effects while scrolling, and the line is designed in such a way that it somewhat resembles a heartbeat line, to represent not just the demands of adaptation, but tenacity and survival and the oft-denied value of our lives - heavily stylized enough, however, to hopefully avoid being a trigger to the many of us with medical trauma (a criterion which I feel personally qualified to judge).

The colors have been arranged into an order that should be gentler on the eyes for most people, and I made versions both with and without the colored lines separated, because I am well aware that either way will be better for some people and worse for others.

Finally, I added an element - a gray border around the black field, for community in the face of directly conflicting needs - because sometimes we can't move in parallel, and that's okay too; we can build workarounds for that in our own way, stay united as the same community even while distant due to those conflicting needs, and meet at the "end" all the same. I chose gray because, well, nothing is black and white with disabled people; it's difficult, in the fairly rare cases that it's possible at all, to design something that truly works for everyone - whether that "something" is an accessibility aid, a community symbol, or even a model of what "disability" even means - but we keep trying anyway, because it's not just necessary, but it also connects us as people. This element, by extension, is also an explicit invitation to modify the design according to your needs and preferences - after all, half the reason I reintroduced the zig-zag is to make it easier to do that and keep it immediately recognizable!

These are free to use, repost, modify, and sell - though if you want to pick up something featuring it directly from me, you can find all four versions (spaced lines/touching lines, full saturation/low-contrast) in my RedBubble shop right here! I've created it in both the low-contrast screen-friendly versions shown above, and full-contrast versions for printing.

EDIT: It has come to my attention that tumblr's "helpful" new feature to shorten long posts ends up bypassing any user-inserted cuts in a post this length. Therefore, the full-contrast versions of the flag have been removed from this post. Instead, I'm including links to them - the version with black spaces between the parallel lines can be found here, and the one without is here.

[szayelapowo]

uuuugh i fukked up my hip last night chasing a scorpion around the house and now my whole leg is sore and its giving me rly bad anxiety

like i was born with my entire pelvis tilted forward which causes my hips to not sit right in the sockets and makes me walk weird. it also makes my spine curve out on top and in at the bottom, it just generally makes my whole posture weird and painful. my mom asked the doctor abt it when i was a baby but they said it was fine, itd sort itself out

GUESS WHAT TF EXACTLY IT DIDNT DO

so then a few years ago i had xrays done and was told i have hip dysplasia, but its just been steadily getting worse. originally it was just the left hip that would randomly feel like it was trying to slip out with just normal walking, but now its both and it happens multiple times a day. fkn hurts. doesnt help that i basically have no muscle mass to hold everything in place bc i never get out of bed due to chronic pain, headaches, nausea, heart issues, etc...

i know i need to get screened for eds but i dont think my doctor even knows what that is or its relation to autism. i doubt ill be able to convince her to order the tests...

[thestrangest-doll-inthe-valley]

About the Doll:

Commissions: Open, Details or see link at the bottom of post.

Names: Doll, Ary, A, most terms of endearment or pet names are also fine if we are mutuals with some DM contact

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: 26 ==> 27 🥲😞

Zodiac: Taurus, Sun: Taurus, Moon: Libra, Rising: Taurus

16 Personalities: INFJ-T: “Advocates gravitate toward work as counselors, therapists, psychologists, social workers, teachers, yoga instructors, and spiritual leaders. They may enjoy service industry positions that allow them to interact directly and build genuine relationships with their customers. Careers in health care can also be rewarding options, including occupations such as nursing, physical or occupational therapy, medicine, nutrition, or more holistic paths such as acupuncture.”

Education: Eventually going back to school for Paralegal studies and Massage Therapy, early Human Services training completed, Early Childhood and Psychology independently studied, Registered Behavior Tech certified (I help individuals with Autism acquire and improve life skills)

Personality: Mom/Dad friend (have adopted younger friends, will do again), neurodivergent, omnisexual, gender fluid, polyamorous (exercised only when partner is consenting), Borderline Personality (pardon my mental illness)

Hobbies: Writing (original and fanfiction), Visual Art (original, fan pieces, portrait, character, still life, traditional, digital), Reading, Knitting (not very well), Fairy/Wiccan Bottles (very proud, will sell customs)

Belief Systems: Ars Goetian (Lucifer, Astaroth, Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub), Norse (Loki, Thor), Greek (Athena)

Interesting Tidbits:

Top 5 ships: Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson), Hannigram (Hannibal Lector x Will Graham), Denji x Power (Chainsaw Man)- I will argue endlessly don’t try to tell me I’m wrong, Geto Suguro x Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen), Rin x Bon

Other Ships: Stilly (Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove- under Alternate Universe Billy redemption head canons only- we do not stan racism or anything of the like in this family)

Last Song Listened to: Frog by Cavetown

Last Movie Watched: actual = The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, YouTube= Sam and Colby’s The Conjuring House (paranormal investigations)

Currently Watching: Stranger Things (re-watch all seasons), The Boys (re-watch all seasons)

Currently Reading: Chainsaw Man (manga), Fanfiction mostly (last read: Can’t Fight This Feeling by thatbitttchbeanie on A03), In Search Of and Other Stories by Will Ludwigsen (I have a signed copy from a writer’s workshop at a university that is in the lap of a haunted porcelain doll I bought from a secondhand/thrift shop)

Collections: Tangled/Rapunzel dolls (i.e.: Disney Masquerade edition, Disney 10 year anniversary, porcelain variations), Porcelain dolls, dead moths (ethically collected post mortem), dried flowers, four eyes tees/shirts from Spencers, Wizard of Barge shirts and blankets, stones (ex: aventurine, Opal, and more)

Tattoos: moon and stars below corner of my right eye, a giant chest piece of a tree of life with a Celtic knot shamrock as the trunk and Aurora borealis behind it, left hip has Sans the skeleton with an echo flower crown and two Gaster blasters one on each side of him, right hip has Rin Okumora with Kuro, neck right side has a little water color fox

Piercings: nose on the right side (current), belly button (former, rejection from agitation- hit it with too many boxes while working order fulfillment), snake bites (former, took out for a surgery but holes closed before I could get the jewelry back in)

Other Appearance Facts: fun size/short, somewhat visually impaired (glasses/contacts at high strength)

Links:

Stories I’ve Written: Master Post

I love to interact! Send Asks and Requests!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 21 Chains

Summary: The day that Avery Hawke found a chained dragon deep in a dungeon was a day that would change her life forever. Maybe she should stop picking up cool rocks...

---

Nothing like a dungeon to make Avery Hawke glad she could see in the dark.

Now, some may argue that a house wasn’t a dungeon, and they would be right. However, when the house on the coast had a cellar that went into an underground series of caves, then she was going to say it was a fucking cave.

And since she had the sword and shield, what she said stood.

They were there to find some lord’s sword that had been lost in one age or another. Honestly, she hadn’t been paying attention. She didn’t need to know the age or how it was lost – just that it was a sword, it was lost, here’s where it might be, and this was what she was going to be paid.

Avery was a simple woman that way. She left the details to those who cared about them.

“How deep does this damn thing go?”

Varric was grumbling next to her – he hated caves. Well, he hated everything that had to do with nature. It was part of his dwarven nature, or so he said. Really, he was a nerd who would’ve preferred staying in the Hanged Man and avoiding his editor, but that was a story for another day. In a way, she was doing him a favor by getting him into the fresh air and sunshine.

“It’s starting to level out.” Moses had his hand to the wall because unlike his favorite older sister, he was human and couldn’t see in the dark. “We should see the bottom soon.”

Avery didn’t need him to tell her that – she could hear it. The dripping was getting louder and louder, indicating they were getting close to a big room. How big, she wasn’t sure, but it was big enough to echo.

Electricity ran across her skin as she glanced over at Fenris. “You ready for a fight?”

Her lover – well, shared lover – had his hand by his sword. “If need be. But I believe we took care of the mercenaries up top. There may be none here.”

Maybe… but she could go for another round. She was itching for a fight thanks to the fact she had gotten kicked in the stomach. The reaver urges were burning bright, and she had nothing to use it on. It was like fire under her skin, making her twitch.

She needed something to sink her teeth into – animal, human, she’d bite a fucking rock if she had to in order to work the energy out.

The floor stopped sloping though, and the room opened up to a large cavern. Water dripped from stalactites and low torches burned around the room to provide faint sources of light. There were burnt bodies in a ring on the perimeter, covered in twisted, melted metal as if it had melted while they held it.

“What the-“

Avery’s eyes focused in the dark to the center of the room. There, chained to a platform, was a dragon. Was, because it was clearly dead. It hadn’t started decaying yet, but it wasn’t moving, and the number of spears and arrows sticking out of it was proof it was no longer with them.

At least it had gone down fighting – it had a qunari between its arms, head bitten off and front clawed to hell.

“Maker, who the hell could chain up a dragon?” Varric’s voice was barely above a whisper as he made out the details. “And why did the qunari want it?”

Fenris carefully edged forward to examine it. “Some qunari believe they can be controlled. They may have heard about this one and attempted it to ill effect. It had enough fight in it to put them down.”

That it did. Really, it was a magnificent beast, all obsidian black scales and dark purple wings. It was small though – probably not full grown. She had to wonder if it had ever made it outside to try those wings. Something about it made her stomach shift as she grit her teeth.

A dragon shouldn’t be chained. It should’ve been free.

“Well, we better look to see if the sword is here.” Moses stepped forward, the end of his staff glowing. “Spread out and look.”

Avery nodded as she headed towards the dragon. “I’ll check around the body. It might have been guarding it.”

The group broke after that, searching around the room for what they had come there for. Avery wound up in front of the corpse, poking around and hoping it hadn’t landed on the damn thing before it had died.

If it had, they were going to have to wait until it was bones… and that was a long time to wait for payment.

Her chest still went tight as she pressed her hand to the creature’s side. “I’m… sorry you had to go through this. It wasn’t right.”

It was her reaver side, no doubt, that made her heart call out to the poor thing.  Though, that didn’t stop her poking around the corpse to see if she could find the sword. She still had a job to do, after all.

A job she was failing at – no sword. Just a bunch of corpses, a few broken weapons, a couple loose scales…

And a really neat rock.

Avery blinked as she stopped walking. The dragon was on its side, and its tail was curled around something in death. Gently, she nudged the tail aside, revealing what it had been hiding. There were a number of rocks there, about the size of a small shield. Two of them were broken, leaking dark goo, but one was whole.

“Huh… that’s neat.” Avery reached out, one finger brushing against the surface. Thunder struck as a deep sound reverberated in her ears in a strange, quick pattern that her heart sped up to match.

She fell back hard, groaning as her bony ass hit the ground. As soon as she broke contact, the sound stopped. Yet, she could see in the dark that the surface was shimmering a little, as if her touching it had activated it.

“What the fuck?” Avery, never one for being sensible, reached out to touch the rock again. Just as she thought, the rhythmic pattern returned. It wasn’t like she was hearing it – instead, she was sure she felt it.

It felt… kind of like a heartbeat.

“Avery, are you alright?”

Fenris voice drew her away from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder – he had the sword in his arms and concern written all over his face. No doubt it was because she had landed so hard, but it was kind of his job to be worried when his girlfriend did something stupid.

She stood, glancing back to the rock. “I found this weird pulsating rock… thing. It’s neat.”

That made Fenris cock an eyebrow as he approached. “A weird… pulsating rock?”

Avery nodded as she pointed. “Yeah, it’s between the tail and body. Every time I touch it, it starts pulsing. What do you think it is?”

It wasn’t a bomb – she would be dead by now – but that was as far as she got. Magic wasn’t exactly her domain, so if it was mage-made she was in the dark. All she could hope was that they could pick it up and bring it home.

Fenris reached out carefully, laying his hand on the sword. He held it there for a second, face quizzical, before he pulled it back. He then stood back, shaking his head as he gave her a confused look.

“I felt no pulsating.”

“You didn’t?” Avery frowned as she reached out again. As if on cue, the sensation started anew. “It’s doing it right now!”

That just got her another confused look. “Are you sure you were not injured during the fight?”

No, she knew what a concussion felt like… this wasn’t it. What it happened to be was frustrating, especially because he didn’t seem to feel it. She would’ve said it was the armor, but she was wearing gloves.

Go fucking figure…

“Well, I’m taking it with me.” She grunted as she pulled it away from the goo, almost stumbling back. “Maker’s scrote, it’s heavy! Must be full of that goo!”

The sensation was still there, annoying as ever, but it settled in as she fit it into her pack. At least it was insulated by the material and allowed her to carry it without feeling off. Better yet, since they had found the sword they were going to get paid.

She liked getting paid… almost as much as she liked a mystery trinket.

---

That night, Avery found herself unable to sleep once again. So, what better time was there to experiment with her new toy?

“Alright, let’s see what you are.”

She hefted the egg onto the table in her workroom, grunting from effort. Under the torchlight, she could see it was the same black color as the dragon with some inclusions of dark purple. Obsidian, maybe, or something with amethyst?

“Definitely not a natural gem… maybe it’s made by the dwarves to hold something?” She grabbed a hammer from her tool chest and glanced over the surface. “Let’s see how hard you are.”

Avery tapped lightly and instantly regretted it. A soundless ring of energy shook the room, making her vision go blurry. She dropped the hammer, holding her head and grimacing as pain beat behind her eyes.

“Ok, ok, sorry! I won’t do that again!”

Why she was apologizing to a rock, she didn’t know, but it worked. The pain stopped, and she could see clearly again. Her hammer hadn’t left a mark, so she hadn’t damaged it at the very least.

So… hitting it was a bad idea.

“Alright, so you don’t like being hit.” Avery frowned as she rubbed her hand on the surface. Before, it had been hot to the touch, but now it was starting to cool. “And… you’re getting kind of cold actually…”

She had a small forge in the room for more complex metal work. Something about the cool rock made her think shoving it in there was a good idea. Maybe if it melted she could figure out what was inside it?

It took some time to get the forge hot, but soon it was blazing and sweat was dripping down her forehead. Avery wiped it with the back of her hand, then glanced back to her specimen. Carrying it over was going to be a pain…

But she did it. She felt like she had to.

Soon, the rock was nestled amid the flames, almost glowing under the heat. Avery stood there, watching as it glittered in the fire. She wasn’t sure why she was watching – it would be bad if it shattered, maybe?

Weird that it wasn’t glowing hot, though… was it not hot enough?

“This is stupid, I’m heating up a rock and expecting something…” Avery shook her head. “I must be tired…”

She trailed off at the sound of cracking. Her sharp eyes realized a crack was slowly beginning to form down the center, glowing red. Cracking was never good – it meant explosions. She wasn’t going to risk pulling it out and getting cut, so she did the only thing she could.

Time to hit the deck and roll for cover.

Just as Avery found a safe place to shield herself, the cracking sound grew louder. Then came the sound of it splitting – half fell out of the forge and lay smoking on the ground. The other half was in the forge still…

And there was a bubbling sound.

“What the hell?”

Avery grabbed a shield she had been working on and approached the flames in case it spit or cracked at her. At first, all she saw was the fire and the other half of the rock, glowing in the heat. It looked normal.

Then she saw the… thing… sitting on the top of the forge.

It… was a little thing, jet black and shiny as if it was wet. It was shaking off, sending the goo in a circle around it. Then it stretched out its arms – no, wings, it had wings – and opened its tiny mouth to show sharp needle teeth.

Two eyes peered at her, bright purple, and it let out a squeaking noise.

“… It was an egg.” Avery’s voice came out flat as she got a little closer. “The dragon had a nest… you’re its baby.”

She had a baby dragon in her workroom.

The little dragon’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. It fluttered its little wings and let out a peeping sound, as if it wanted her to come closer. No doubt it wanted to bite her – it was no doubt hungry – but she found herself drawing closer, hand outstretched.

“Please don’t bite me, I’d really appreciate it…”

Her hand found the top of the dragon’s head. In that moment, a soundless grinding of metal rang out and everything grew red hot. Avery fell back hard on the floor, groaning as her vision spun and the world made no sense.

Then the dragon landed on her stomach.

“Oww…” she glanced up. “I guess I should’ve clarified don’t do any weird shit, huh. You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

The dragon cocked its head, as if it understood her to some degree. Then its little head reached out, bumping under her chin. It crawled up, nestling itself on her chest with its head under hers, breathing slowly.

It… was taking a nap on her.

“Really, you just hatched and you’re already tired?” Avery chuckled softly as she reached out to pat it on the head. It was softer than she expected… almost squishy, honestly. “Guess I’m going to call you Squishy then, you’ve got some hardening up to do.”

Squishy didn’t respond because it was fast asleep. Moving was out of the question for the moment – it was rude to wake a baby. No doubt in the morning she was going to have to figure out what the hell she was going to have to do with it.

What did dragons eat anyway? Templars? She could probably find one…

“We’ll try a bunch of meat tomorrow, see what you like. You’re not allowed to eat Chewy or Dog, got it?” She paused. “Or any of Anders’ cats… or the dwarves… or anyone in the house ,ok? My friends are off limits when you get bigger.”

Laying ground rules was important, right?

She would worry about it in the morning. Right then, Avery was content to pat Squishy and watch the little dragon sleep peacefully on her chest. No doubt her back was going to kill her when it was all over, but she didn’t mind.

Weird, she had never wanted to be a parent… now she had a baby dragon to worry about. Life was weird sometimes.

[visuallanguagerhianna]

Collage - Pain

(Please click on images to see them in full, click ALT for description)

These collages focus on the pain the hoarders can face as the individual going through the battle. The struggle to speak up, and if they can, the push to get them to take advice and move forward with their life. It's not something that can easily be moved on from, if they even can.

The top left has a woman trying to defend herself from an onslaught of pins being shot towards her from various taps. Hoarders can collect things that don't work in the hope that they will fix it, but in reality they never really do. Thus leaving a mess around them that can in turn hurt them if it topples onto them.

Top left is a contrast between the beauty of butterflies and the restriction of the woman's free speech. Using twine, I stuck it across the mouth of the picture and then place a cut out silhouette of a butterfly. The contrast of the freedom of the butterfly against her rights being removed, was to illustrate how hoarders can struggle to reach out for help. Realising something is wrong is the first hurdle mentally ill (or any sufferer of an illness for that matter) people have to make it over.

Bottom left is of the same meaning, executed in another fashion. A man is having his mouth covered in order to stop him speaking out against the misfortune he is being pushed through. The sink here is to reference the phrase 'circling the drain', which is used to describe when someone is unable to move from their situation. Going round and round towards what feels like their inevitable doom. I embroidered water droplet like imagery, to portray the weight of their problems pushing them down to the drain.

Finally, the bottom right is a little more straight forward. The hand stapled together to ripped, useless paper. The thread is there to imply being stuck with the items the hand picks up, them getting tangle in the hoarders web, red here signifying the danger of this. This one is on cartridge paper compared to the other 3, but I think it's just as effective here.

I really like these collages, each tells it's own story with less help needed from the creator. I placed them on my walls as well, helping to build up the larger collage.

[demonslayedher]

How Does Eating Humans Work?

Hello, Gotou here. We’re shamelessly borrowing from the format of a KnY Fanbook #2 comic to launch an investigation into demon metabolism and development by crossing the Sanzu River again to interview demons in the underworld. While we’ll be using canon materials as a base, the analysis and conjecture herein is personal, so we ask for your understanding. Also, please note that consuming any food in the underworld will make you unable to return, and we cannot promise your safety even though the interview subjects are dead, so please come along at your own risk.

Some of the questions we’d like to answer are, why do demons need to eat humans? How much do they need to eat to survive? Are there factors that influence how eating humans makes them stronger? If they don’t want to kill humans, what are their other options? We’ve rounded up some special guests below the cut (hidden for length and grossness), everyone from the lowly Temple Demon to the lovely Tamayo, to see what their actions in canon might tell us.

First, a review of what canon tells us, mostly as summarized in Fanbook #2: 1. With one exception named Yushirou, all demons were created by Kibutsuji Muzan, for his own purposes. They all have some amount of his blood, and can be divided into four classes depending on how powerful they are. From top to bottom, the Upper Moons, the Lower Moons, demons with special abilities, and other demons without any special characteristics. 2. Demons may be stronger depending on how much of Kibutsuji Muzan’s blood they have. Most beings’ cannot handle a large amount of his blood, and it will rupture the cells and that being will die, but there are demons who adapt well to it. 3. Typically, sunlight is the only way to kill a demon, by either bathing them in sunlight or cutting of their head with a Nichirin blade. However, there are powerful demons for whom chopping off their head does not work, and if it’s strong enough, demons can also be killed by wisteria poison.

4. Demons eat human blood and flesh. The more they eat, the stronger they become, and the faster their regenerative abilities become. Some humans have “Marechi,” a rare blood type, which is especially nutritious to demons, and eating one Marechi is the equivalent of eating several humans.

That’s an interesting thing we’d like to come back to, especially since we’re looking for quantitative information about how demons gain nutrition (though I have my doubts we'll get enough for statistical analysis). As an interesting note, Fanbook #2 also tells us that if demons try to consume the same edibles humans do, they’ll vomit it back up.

I’m told that Miss Tamayo drinks tea, though. That’ll be an interesting question for later. In my notes, it seems she’s also explained to Tanjirou back in Chapter 15 that demons will normally go berserk if they go a long time without consuming any blood or flesh. Berserk is one thing, but I wonder if they can starve to death? We’ll see if these canon clues will lead us to anything. We’ll begin now in an interview format. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I’ve got a feeling it won’t. First up, we’ve the Temple Demon.

Temple: Who were you calling ‘lowly’ just now? Up there, above the cut?

Gotou: That was in a literal sense, not having Blood Techniques means you’re in the bottom common tier of demons.

Temple: Argh. Fine. What do you want to know?

Gotou: In Chapter 2, you were spotted with three human victims. However, it seems you left their bodies mostly intact and only ate small parts instead of consuming one full human at a time. Could you comment on this?

Temple: I’d have gotten to more later if that whelp with the strong legs didn’t interrupt me! Who’s got time to eat entire humans anyway? I went for the easy stuff first.

Gotou: I see. It appears you might had focused on key organs, like the heart and the liver. Would you say these are especially nutritionally dense?

Temple: I guess. If I’m going to eat humans, I’m going to start with what’s worth bothering to digest. Blood’s easier on the stomach, so that’s what I was busy with on the lady there.

Gotou: Then it takes effort to digest? Hmm. Let’s come back to this later. How many humans would you say you consumed, including these three?

Temple: Not a lot… I tried to get a variety so I could get stronger faster, but…

Gotou: I’ll put down a guess as ten or less. Let’s move on to someone who has a sharper memory for numbers. One of our longer-lived guests at Mt. Fujikasane for 47 years, the Hand Demon. While most of the demons on the mountain had only eaten two or three humans, you’ve eaten a whole 50 of the children who headed into the Final Selection, didn’t you?

Hand: Yes, that’s right. It was hard at first since I wasn’t very strong, and the demons usually all went crazy there eating each other, just like that one brat who got away in Chapter 7 said. If you could manage to kill any of the kids, you had the other demons to fight off to even get a piece to yourself. That was enough to get me by, and stronger, little by little. Your body learns to make your meals last, and make the most of what you can get. I usually only had a bite of one child a year, can you imagine how horrible that was? Most demons who survive usually figure out some way to develop and survive better, and once my cells found something that worked for me, I kept doing it. I got really good at snatching away prey from other demons, and soon enough I was a bigger threat than any of them. None of them could, you might say, lay a hand on me.

Gotou: That’s an interesting point about self-development. A demon named Nezuko was spent two years doing that in her sleep.

Hand: She must have had a big meal before that!

Gotou: Well, anyway. It seems that in near starving conditions, your metabolism made the most of what you had, leading to the most efficient use of whatever food was available to you.

Hand: That’s right, I got really good at it. Wasn’t always pretty, but I made it work. I got to a point where I could go two years without eating and still keep my wits about me while the other demons were going mad. But I chose to eat. I liked to keep my appetite for specific children.

Gotou: That smile is not reassuring. Some humans taste better than others, I guess?

Hand: That’s for sure. This one kid tasted awful, like rust and man sweat! I still don’t have that disgusting taste out of my mouth! But he was one of my more satisfying meals, so I ate more of him.

Gotou: Then why would you… nevermind, I don’t like that smile, no further questions. While I had hoped to keep these interviews focused on quantities of humans consumed, it does seem personal taste is worth asking about. I had tried to invite a Swamp Demon from Chapter 11, but it kept arguing with itself and it felt like I’d be wasting my time. The one definite thing I learned was that this demon is picky, with a distinct preference for 16-year-old girls. Based on the number of trinkets he kept, it seems he had consumed at least seventeen of them, including several in one town. Sheesh, that’s sort of a rough mission to send a first-timer on. I’ve got a more cooperative guest here to discuss her tastes, a Snake Demon who, according to Chapter 188, has a special taste for baby flesh.

Snake: Thank you for having me here. It’s good to be appreciated again.

Gotou: Did you only eat babies?

Snake: Goodness, no. Babies are delicious, but they aren’t very nutritious. And their skulls certainly aren’t that big, the ones I lounged around with were from the people whom I killed and stole from. But you know the nice thing about baby skulls? They’re still soft. They take a long time to digest, but I can swallow them whole.

Gotou: Like… like a snake, then. Sorry, I’m a little ill hearing that. Let’s back up, were all those skulls the remains of adults you ate, then?

Snake: Meh, I ate some of them of better-looking ones, but most of them I only killed. I could usually kill a lot more at a time than I could bother eating, my killing record was fifty women all at once.

Gotou: And you didn’t find that wasteful?

Snake: Wasteful? Not at all. I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, I lived a more luxurious life than most demons do. That meant I could afford to wait for a truly delicious meal, like how you humans might leave something in a slow-cooker to enjoy the perfect combination of doneness and tenderness, plated in the most appetizing of ways.

Gotou: I guess demons and humans are similar in that regard.

Snake: I’m so glad you can relate! Then you understand the frustration of a meal you’ve be preparing for years opening up the slow-cooker and running away right when they were just about done.

Gotou: I have never had that experience.

Snake: I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little snake, too.

Gotou: I think we might have gotten a little off-topic here. It does seem digesting humans comes with some difficulty. I’d like to invite the Drum Demon in next. Your name is Kyougai, I hear?

Kyougai: !!

Gotou: Kyogai, right?

Kyougai: You’ve heard of me! You know my name!

Gotou: I happened to, yes.

Kyougai: What have you heard???

Gotou: That you were kicked out of the Lower Moons for being unable to consume enough humans.

Kyougai: Oh. ……..yeah, that’s me.

Gotou: I thought demons go berserk if they go a long time without consuming humans. Wouldn’t that make an inability to consume them problematic?

Kyougai: It wasn’t that I couldn’t eat them! Like I said in Chapter 24, I had to in order to sustain myself, just like any other demon. But, at some point, I couldn’t eat as much as I used to. That happens to humans too, doesn’t it? When you just can’t stomach anymore?

Gotou: You mean like when you’ve overeaten? In a human’s case that feeling may go away within a few hours.

Kyougai: Sort of like that, but you know, humans reach a time when nothing is appetizing or the thought of eating makes them feel sick, right? Isn’t that the human condition?

Gotou: …uh… maybe if they have a medical condition? Or anxiety? Do demons get anxiety? Or eating disorders?

Kyougai: I… I don’t know. I just wasn’t good enough.

Gotou: I think it’s plenty good if you stopped eating humans. Though to have developed Blood Techniques and been a Lower Moon in the first place, you must had eaten a great number of them.

Kyougai: You think I’m great?

Gotou: What?

Kyougai: No, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. It’s true, I used to be able to eat as many as the other Lower Moons always consumed. Our stomachs were stronger, you might say. Demons got strong by eating humans, and then the more you did that the better you usually got at it, so the strong ones would eat more and more and keep getting stronger and stronger. At least, that’s how it usually worked. I’ve seen other demons below me reached that point too, where they feel the drive to eat, but then they have trouble digesting it for a long time, so they don’t wind up eating that many people.

Gotou: Then it would make sense to eat the most nutritionally dense parts first.

Kyougai: Or a Marechi.

Gotou: Yes, or a Marechi.

Kyougai: It was a great idea, wasn’t it?

Gotou: I cannot condone any consumption of humans as a good idea.

Kyougai: I knew it. I’m nothing. Go ahead, stomp all over everything I ever tried to accomplish.

Gotou: I think I’m going to move on to my next interviewee now. It looks like we’ve got… oh, would you look at this? Lower Moon One. Enmu, I believe.

Enmu: You can believe whatever you want. I’m happy to help.

Gotou: I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m curious, since you were one of the stronger demons out there, it seems you had a stronger capacity for consuming humans.

Enmu: I did, I was always careful and paced myself so the Demon Slayers wouldn’t notice me. I took my time. I liked to enjoy e-e-e-a-c-h one.

Gotou: Then you had tastes too? Like babies, or 16-year-old girls?

Enmu: I could season any human to my liking. They’re all very easy to prepare.

Gotou: I’m still trying to get quantitative data. Can you tell me at least a rough estimate of how many humans you consumed?

Enmu: I told this more precisely to that boy with the earrings back in Chapter 59, and I can tell you this too. At my best, I could had eaten over two-hundred people at once if I took my time.

Gotou: OH MY GAW----sorry, I dropped my pen. Two hundred, at once?

Enmu: Yes. If I had just. Had. A little. More. Time.

Gotou: Clearly there is a huge difference between what common demons are capable of and what the Twelve Moons are capable of.

Daki: Psh, those were all any random common people. That’s nothing to brag about.

Gotou: Excuse me, and you are?

Daki: Daki, Upper Moon Six. You want something really impressive, you talk to the Upper Moons.

Gotou: I’m sorry, I don’t see you on my list.

Daki: What! Your list is stupid. Look me in the eyes, I’m Upper Moon Six!

Gotou: Very well, then. What can you tell me about your diet, Miss Upper Moon Six?

Daki: That’s more like it. It’s true that digestion takes a while, and takes some effort. Even though we Upper Moons may have eaten hundreds of people in our lifetimes, it’s not as if we gorge ourselves. The clever ones among us save prey for later to eat when we feel ready for it.

Gotou: Food storage? How do you keep them fresh?

Daki: You leave them still alive, numbskull. Nobody wants to eat something cold, that’s gross.

Gotou: I see, so that’s why demons prefer to go after new kills instead of saving what they’ve already managed to kill. That also might explain why the demons on Mt. Fujikasane wouldn’t had eaten many humans, if they found long dead ones in edible.

Daki: You want to know the real secret to eating humans? You can eat what you find tastes good, sure. But to get stronger, you eat strong people. Like your Corp members, the ones besides chumps like you? Using all that Breath makes their muscles really lean and potent, it’s like they come offering themselves as protein bars for us.

Gotou: You make them sound like a fad diet…

Daki: The real secret is eating Pillars. Besides Marechi, they’re the strongest meals out there. Guess how many I’ve eaten?

Gotou: I don’t have the data to make an educated guess.

Daki: Then get educated! Look back at Chapter 88! I’ve eaten seven Pillars, and my brother has eaten fifteen!

Gotou: Your brother? Who is he, then, Upper Moon Five?

Daki: What? Ew. Gross. Gross! No way, ew!

Gotou: Hmm… eating Pillars, huh? Well, I can think of one Pillar who was…

Douma: Me too!

Gotou: Speak of the devil.

Douma: Actually, we Upper Moons can! And he's not Satan, that's not how this works. But I guess Muzan-sama’s curse doesn’t effect us now. Ask me anything you want!

Gotou: That Chapter 143 reference was such a rude entrance. I understand that Pillars are particularly nutritious—

Douma: Oh, please don’t misunderstand! I don’t even eat all the Pillars I’ve encountered. There was the one Flower Pillar who got away from me, but some of the boy pillars I just leave around. What’s really the key to consistent nutritional intake is women! It’s really unhealthy for a demon not to get enough women in their diet, that’s why even if you’re only looking for Marechi or Pillars, your metabolism is going to get thrown out of whack with sudden big meals. You grow a stronger metabolism with consistency, I believe!

Gotou: If I could stop you there, I had an image from Chapter 142 I preferred to focus on for this case study. I see you keep a wide collection of skulls, from victims whom I assume you ate.

Douma: Yes, they all stayed together inside me for eternity, but the room looked lonely without décor.

Gotou: It seems other demons usually go for nutritionally dense organs like hearts or livers, or easy to digest parts of the body, perhaps just blood sometimes. Eating the entire victim, bones and all, doesn’t seem to be the norm.

Douma: Bones are organs too, you know! That’s where blood is made, at its freshest. They do take more practice in learning to digest, and I had to find a way around not having to chew them, but the bone marrow is very, very good for you, so I make sure to consume it frequently. It may take more time and it causes some of my followers to panic more while they wait, though, that’s a bit of a downside. Oh, and I guess bones can make good storage for some sneaky poison. Even fingernails and hair follicles, who’d have thought?

Gotou: I don’t think hair would have much nutritional value in the first place. In all my years, I can never recall seeing a victim with their hair eaten.

Douma: Tsk, tsk! Clearly you haven’t done much metabolism research in advance. I was really impressed by how well Shinobu-chan understood how my digestion would work. Eating hair can do amazing things! Isn’t that right, Genya-kun?

Genya: ?????????

Gotou: Genya-kun!?

Genya: What am I doing here?

Gotou: I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t there, you know, another side? The other direction?

Genya: What are you doing here? Did you die?

Gotou: I’m here doing research on demon metabolism and how they get stronger by consuming flesh.

Douma: What can you tell us about what up with having your friend feed you hair you found on the floor in Chapters 170-171, Genya-kun?

Genya: I’m not a demon!! Why the hell are you asking me?

Douma: ‘Hell’! Haha, good one!

Gotou: How do you even know about that? You were dead almost a full volume before that. And Genya’s different, he’s not a case study in how demons consuming humans works!

Douma: Are you certain?

Gotou: I hear the term get thrown around a lot that he’s ‘half-demon’, but—

Genya: I’m not a demon!!!

Gotou: --how would that even work? That would imply that one of his parents had to be a demon, and that—

Genya: What did you say about my mother!?!

Gotou: What? Nothing—

Genya: You say that to my face! You just trying saying something about my mother to my face! My mother never actually ate any flesh, you got that? She doesn’t deserve any of this!

Gotou: Genya, calm down, what—

Douma: I see we’re learning nothing about hair at all. Maybe Kokushibou-dono would provide better commentary on that?

Genya: Mom? Mo-o-o-o-m? Are you down here somewhere?

Gotou: And there he goes… wait, did you say Kokushibou? Upper Moon One? Oh no—he—he didn’t want me bothering him, he did not agree to another interview—

Douma: He-e-e-e-e-y, Kokushibou-dono! How did that work with Genya-kun eating your hair? Hair can be nutritious, right?

Kokushibou: You would gain… nothing… from consuming human hair… it’s not… flesh… you wasted your energy digesting it…

Douma: Aww, cutting it off them would had been sad, though.

Kokushibou: Demon hair… like demon weapons… is made… from our unique cells. It’s not dead… like human locks. Because that boy ate my live cells… it affected him…

Gotou: Yes, because he had a very, very unique metabolism, analyzed separately in this post. To be perfectly clear, Genya is completely human with cells that could temporarily transform, and he never consumed human flesh.

Kokushibou: He… vexes me…

Gotou: Um… while I’ve got you here, you’re one of the longest lived demons, clocking in at over three, maybe four centuries. Do you have any estimate of how many humans you’ve consumed?

Kokushibou: ……I see in… Chapter 100… that you are 23 years old?

Gotou: That is correct.

Kokushibou: Do you bother… remembering how many meals… you’ve had in a mere 23 years?

Gotou: I’m very sorry to have bothered you.

Douma: Kokushibou-dono’s ancient compared to the rest of us! But if I tried, I could probably recall. Let’s see. One, two, three, four…

Gotou: Is that? Your finger in your brain? Oh—ohhh—that is disgusting---I really don’t need to know numbers that badly, please stop. Is there maybe just some average you can give me for the Upper Moons instead? Like how many you’d eat in a month?

Douma: I wish I could, but a certain someone was an annoying outlier and didn’t like to eat so many humans. He made me worry all the time about his health.

Gotou: Really? Who might that be?

Douma: Hello-o-o-o-o-? Akaza-dono? Yoohoo! He spends all his time with his wife now and never answers when I call, it makes me so sad. Akaza-dono did eat humans, plenty of strong ones, but any time he wasn’t under orders from Muzan he liked to spend his time training instead of eating. Fanbook #1 says he did that way more than eating!

Gotou: Training? What sort of training?

Douma: Similar things to what your Corp members did, I imagine. Doing squats, throwing punches, things like that.

Gotou: Then demon muscles had similar function to human muscles, and could be strengthened through hard work? That’s surprising.

Douma: I know, right? I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t think it was the physically repetition that did anything. I think it was his willpower getting honed and shaping his muscles.

Douma: I had to focus when I acquired new skills too, like breaking down poisons. A lot of sad, lowly demons, like that Hand Demon fellow? They focus as hard as they can in their desperation, or focus on some strong emotion or attachment or whatever, and they grow and develop because of it. Sometimes all their weak bodies can manage is an ugly mutation, but that’s proof enough of how much focus they had.

Gotou: That sheds a lot of light on Nezuko, actually.

Douma: Shed “light” on Nezuko-chan, hahaha! Sunlight! You humans are all so witty!

Gotou: Speaking of willpower, I’ve got one more interview I need to get to down here. Of all the demons I have records of, only Nezuko went her whole time as a demon without consuming any human flesh, although she did go through moments of berserk cravings for it. It’s possible that other demons were killed before they could consume anything, but typically they will consume flesh as soon as possible, which is why its common for their family and close relations to be among the first ones killed. Tomioka-san even mentioned in Chapter 1 that these close relations are especially nutritious.

Gotou: A demon about as old as Kokushibou, if not older, is a special case of her own. She was one of the only demons we know of to have escaped Kibutsuji’s curse and acted in dependently of him, including having created a demon of her own after two hundred years of trying. Most notably to our purposes, she trained herself to subsist on small amounts of blood, after having survived on corpses and wild animals for a time, according to the extensive Taisho Secrets at the end of Volume 21.

Tamayo: I explained this in more detail to Tanjirou-san in Chapter 15, but I went on to purchase blood from poor people, and extracted it in ways that wouldn’t be harmful to them. The one demon I created, Yushirou, could subsist on even less. I gained enough self-control that I could treat injured humans without feeling tempted into a berserk state.

Gotou: I was just talking to Douma about willpower making demons capable of accomplishing new physical developments. Was that how you were able to gain this state? I heard you even enjoy a cup of tea now and then.

Tamayo: Yes, I’ve taken a liking to it. I’d offer you some if not for this, you know, being hell. It’s nothing like the hell I went through when first resisting consuming humans, though. My demon body refused to take anything but fresh human flesh at first, but in the hardest moments, I always remembered a kind demon hunter who said he believed in me and my desire to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan. I believe Nezuko may have summoned her strength to resist the call of her demon cells in a similar way; she knew she had her brother there to rely on. Once she mastered something as remarkable as resisting the need for human flesh, it gave her the freedom to prioritize other developments.

Gotou: You spent centuries researching demon cells, especially how demons may break down and metabolize poisons.

Tamayo: I had not studied the metabolism of poisons until working with Shinobu-san. The medicine we concocted for Kibutsuji was only possible thanks to her work, and I couldn’t had worked with many of those wisteria-based substances on my own. I feel I was only there to fill in the gaps of her brilliant understanding.

Gotou: You’re very humble. I would pass along my thanks and compliments to Shinobu-sama too, but I’m pretty sure she’s not down here. On that note, did Genya-kun go back home?

Tamayo: He did after a nice reunion with his mother just now, it was very sweet. Shizu-san and I get along well, after all, we both carry similar guilt.

Gotou: Wait, was his mother a demon? That means Wind-sama’s mother was too? Wait?? What??

Tamayo: The worst hell I went through, or that any demon has gone through, is to realize what you’ve eaten after the hunger-driven madness clears. Being similar to your own cells, they’re easy on a volatile new anatomy to break down and digest. That’s why many demons may have driven themselves to forget everything all over again, or to twist their personalities to justify the horror, saying that because they ate the hearts of their loved ones and because demon flesh can live forever, then they never truly killed them. The truth always remained untwisted for me, and to this day, it torments me more than anything in this underworld can try.

Gotou: …

Tamayo: You should wake up now, Gotou. You’ve been through a lot; the nightmares must be taxing on your health. Please remember to eat well.

[scarletwidowaf]

broadway, baby. (part 1)

Florence pugh x female Reader

Summery: reader is a singing waitress in a new York restaurant (like in glee) where many famous people go to, and one night the little women cast are are there and R is their waitress.

Warnings: there's some cursing and harassment. Its not revolve around it but its there.

A\N: im soft for florence pugh and this is a complete shit.

masterlist

Credits: Glee Gif Credit • Florence Gifs Credit

“I'm just a Broadway Baby, walking off my tired feet, Pounding Forty Second Street to be in a show. Broadway Baby, learning how to sing and dance, waiting for that one big chance to be in a show.” - Cast of follies

Life can be hard and some days can be rough, especially in your line of work where people competed for the spotlight on a daily basis. but that's life and that’s the road you chose to walk through.  And it's alright, after all, what's life without a spark? A movie without a breaking point? or a shift at Clayton's without drama?

This was one of these days, the kind of days who kept you on an edge as your body and mind both ached for a break.

'Just roll with it. just a few hours for your day off.' You silently said to yourself.

Being a young artist in New York was a challenge you’ve taken on yourself, luckily for you working at "Clayton's" was a good way to start a career.  most people who started working there were young talented artist who were determined to make an impression over the industry. The place was always packed with many famous people, from actors to singers and producers. So, in many ways, working in "Clayton's" could be a ticket to Broadway or the music industry. And that was the reason you moved there in the first place.

You tried the traditional way, but after months of trying to get into college and fix your past mistakes, like your high school career, you decided that this path wasn’t for you. no matter what you did or how hard you tried your ADHD still managed to kick your ass. So, that’s how you ended up as a singing waitress in NY. You liked your job, truly. You liked singing and dancing and meeting cool people along the way, but sometimes it was just too much.

"You look like shit" Aaron said from his spot at the bar.

Aaron was a sweet guy and probably the only straight person in your group of friends. He was charming and talented and most importantly; he was the first friend you got in NY.

Aaron pulled his long brown hair into a bun as he chuckled at you. You huffed in frustration in return.

"Thanks" you muttered as he passes you a mug with coffee, hoping to help you get a grip before the restaurant opens.

"You need to rest" he said. "properly" 

"that’s overrated" you joked and took a sip.

You felt an hand on your shoulder and you turned around to meet your friend's stern gaze. "You, okay?" she asked

"Always" you answered Mackenzie's question and she raised her eyebrow, knowing full well you were lying. 

"we should sing as a warm up!" David, another one of your coworkers and Aaron's twin brother said.

"Let's not" Aaron said as he rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm. 

You laughed quietly as the two started bickering. Mack and you glanced at each other knowingly. Both of you already know who will win in the stupid argument.

15 minutes later, after a group warm up and Aaron's dramatic sighs 'Clayton's' was open for business.

It was a nice evening, not too full, not too loud. And most importantly, not too many known faces.

Of course, you liked to have famous people on your shifts, and it could obviously be a game changer for you but it can get intense at times and you want in the mood. Seriously, how can you be the only one who found singing "defying gravity' in font of Idina Menzel as a very stressful experience?? You were terrified by the idea you'll fuck up in front of the original singer- and make a total fool out of yourself. 

When 10 pm rolled around, every opinion you had about the evening flew out the window. at this point, the restaurant was full with costumers and some known faces as well, and you found yourself holding every inch of you together as you approach the table who was occupied by the one and only Meryl Streep, and some fellow little women cast members.  

 *rule number 1 of working at Clayton's: don't make costumers feel uncomfortable. Don't annoy the costumers, don't ask for autographs if they're famous and generally treat them as normal and respectfully as you can. *

 "Hello, my name is Y/N and ill be your waitress for tonight" you introduced yourself with a small smile. The women smiled at you brightly.

"How does it work" Meryl held the tablet with a puzzled expression. "Am I that old?" She joked

"Barley" One of the other women, Emma fucking Watson, said. 

"I know it looks complicated-" you told them as you took the tablet from Meryl's hand."-But it's pretty simple, actually, I promise. As you can see the top part of the tablet is divided into two sections: The right one who says 'ask for a waiter'- which means that your waiter- which in this case, me, is busy- probably performing at the moment, and you can ask for a different waiter." You said with an ease, knowing the explanation by heart.

"The left section says 'ask for my waiter' which is a pretty simple one to understand... I guess- if you'll need me for whatever reason, you can press it and it'll page me. Feel free to use it."  You said with a smile as you scanned their faces, making sure they understand the first part.

"And the bottom section?" Saoirse asked. 

"The bottom section is the 'refill' sections. It will get into validation only after ill place your order in my own tablet and send to the kitchen." You explained as you gestured to your own tablet. "It's pretty useful, the point of it is that you can ask for a refill without having to social with me. Its awesome"

You noticed one of them, Florence pugh, scanning the tablet with a small smile- as she listened to your explanation. She was absolutely a sight for sore eyes, that's for sure.

"Thats pretty cool" she said and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got really excited over it when I started working here" you admitted awkwardly "most importantly- When a section isn't relevant its will be grey instead of in color so you won't get confused. Like, for example - if You haven't ordered anything yet you can't get a refill, for the obvious reason. or if I'm not performing you can't ask for another waiter... which means you're stuck with me for the time being" you finished with a small chuckle.

"I don't think any of us mind that" Florence smiled and the others agreed. The blonde smiled at you again and you blushed slightly. "You're singing, right?" she asked out of the blue, just when you were about to leave and let them look through their menus. 

"Yeah, i do. In a few minutes, actually" 

"Thats cool! Good luck" she smiled and you wondered if Emma, who set the closest to you, could hear how fast your heart's beating. 

"Thank you" you said with a smile and turned around to the stage. 

__________________

"you paged? I'm guessing you guys ready to order then" You said as you approached their table after your performance. 

"YOU WERE SO GODD!" Florence said excitedly.

"Thank you" you blushed slightly. 

What. The. Fuck. Y/N?! You scolded yourself.

The others joined into the conversation with their own compliments and you thought you'd die when Meryl Streep, the legend herself, complimented you.

After another few moments the conversation calmed downed and moved to the next, and most important topic: the food. You tried your best to not blush under Florence's soft gaze and keep your focus on the other members of her table as they consulted you about the dishes, but damn, that was hard.  luckily for you it didn’t take long and a few minutes later, their order was sent to the kitchen. 

 The next hour and a half weren't much different. you sang and placed orders, you smiled to costumers and even pretend to laugh at some old man's joke. And maybe (just maybe) you glanced over to Florence every now and then.

The thing about Clayton's is that apart for the famous people who visit there frequently, it also contains many of the rich and the snobs of New York, so you weren't surprised when you got paged from a table who was occupied by two guys with fancy clothes and their parents credit card.

"Hey" one of them said to you as you approached them. 

"hey, welcome to Clayton's! You're David's table, right?" You said and pointed at your friend who started his own performance.

"Yeah, the fag one" the other guy said and your smile fell.

Take a deep breath, Y/N. It's not worth it. 

"I see you guys already ordered a few minutes ago" you said as you checked your tablet.

"Yeah" the asshole confirmed. 

"Okay, in that case, how can I help you?" You asked politely as you could. 

"we would like to get the check." The first guy said politely as he pulled out a few bills from his wallet. "Keep the change" he said as you took it and made sure it was enough.

"Thank you" you smiled politely and made a mental note to give David his well-earned tip.

"my brother want to know if you're single" the asshole said and the nicer guy looked at his with his eyes wide.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a relationship" you lied after a moment, hoping the lie will spare both his feeling and any more questions in the subject.

The guy nodded in understanding but on the other hand, the other guy didn’t seem to get the massage.  

"I'm sure he won't mind sharing" the asshole said and you felt sorry for the poor guy for being related to this ass.

"What the fuck Chad" the nice guy said as chad smirked at you.

"yeah... that’s not going to happen." You glared at him "have a great weekend tho" you gritted out and turned around to leave.

you were taken by surprise when you felt chad's hand on your ass. Again, what the fuck?!

"What the fuck is wrong with you' asshole" you gritted out and moved away from him. 

Don't make a scene. He's not worth it. 

"C'mon-" he started to say as he got up. You moved away, knowing you were cornered since the place was full, the lights were deemed and the music was loud. 

"Don't touch me" you said and moved away; you're back hitting an empty table who stood nearly.

"Hey what's going on here?" You heard and turned to catch Florence walking to you.

If a look could kill chad would’ve been dead. that’s for sure. It's like the sweet and excited Florence had left and a different, intimidating (and hot) version of her took her space and so help you god, you were glad she was on your side.

"Nothing! we were just leaving, really" Frankie said.

"None of your business" brad said and Florence raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow, daring him to cross her.

"I see" she said "well, I'm sure y/n won't mind my intruding" 

'Thank god for Florence Pugh.' You thought.

Before chad could press the subject any further David, who just finished his performance, got there. You were sure he noticed that something was happening.

"what's going on here?" he asked after he scanned the situation quickly.

"nothing as I said to your friend, we were just leaving" Frankie said again. 

he didn’t want to draw any negative attention, just like you, and thankfully for the both of you, not many people noticed the situation.

This time chad didn't answer, he just glared at Florence and you while his brother pulled him away from the place.

"so, are you going to tell me what happened?" David asked Florence and you after the two left.

Florence looked at you, waiting for you to answer him. 

"Nothing" you lied. "it's okay David, you can go" you promised your friend. David looked at you with his 'I done believe you' expression, but he didn't press it any further. He just nodded before he turned around and left. 

 Rule number 2: do not make a scene under no circumstances. At Clayton's, everything you do while you're on the clock is practically showcased. You slip? you fall? you sing out of tune? Its under a spotlight, everyone can see that and everyone will have something to say about it. Thats the thing about this place.  most people who started there and moved on to bigger things as Broadway or Hollywood were practically trained to keep their best poker face, act on the demand or pretend that everything is okay when it was clearly not. 

 "You should go back to your table" you said to Florence 

she looked at you with an unreadable expression before she went back to her table. You didn't have much time to read into it since a few minutes later you found yourself at her table, printing their check and having a small friendly conversation with the women. You smiled at them as they left before you turned your tablet off and went to cover for Aaron at the bar.

 "I thought you guys left" You said with a smile when the blonde approached you a few minutes later. 

"Why did you lie?" Florence asked with the same unreadable expression from earlier.

Okay. No smiling then.

"I didn’t" you pulled out two shot glasses and filled them with tequila. The blonde gave you a 'are you kidding me' kind of look and you couldn't help but to chuckle. "I didn't see a reason to make a scene over nothing" you explained and downed one of the shots.

"It wasn't nothing Y/N" she said before taking the other glass. 

"its fine. I'm fine. He didn’t do anything " you said as she downed her shot.

"Yeah, because I was there" she argued.

"I can handle guys like him. Seriously, at this point it might as well be a part of my job" 

"you're not helping yourself"

"I liked you better smiling" you chuckled as she glared at you.

"I'm sure you did"

"shut up" 

"How's your back?" She asked/

The blonde definitely didn't seem convinced about the chad situation but you were just grateful for the change of subject.

"It will be alright"

"Good"

"I appreciate your worry, truly. But I'm fine and I really don't want to hold you back here over it" you said  

"Who said I was worried" she smirked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, you don't?" You played along 

"Nope"

"Then why are you still here? Its almost 12 am, don't you have something better to do" you teased her 

"no. Do you?" She turned the question and you laughed. 

"I guess not - considering the fact I work here and I'm still on clock"

"Oh, please we both know this place is about to close" she argued your logic

"True" you admitted

"So, if you have nothing better to do, and you don't, would you like to go out with me? You kinda owe me after I saved your ass earlier"

"Uh, and here I thought you did that as an act of kindness" you joked. A small smile playing on your lips.

"Ew no" she said and You laughed. "Well?" Florence pressed with a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like I have something better to do" 

"Just what I wanted to hear" she joked.

[snowsanji]

more dad!schlatt hcs:

(this will be following immediately after my first hc list you can find here) 

- phil awoke to the ringing of a door bell. he opened the door and saw an asleep tubbo with a stuffed bee next to him. there was also a post it note on the bee. 

‘phil. ive got some things to take care of. i cant look after tubbo anymore. please take care of him for me. ill miss him a lot but its for the best. -schlatt’ 

‘oh schlatt. why?’ phil asked, looking out to the night sky. he picked up tubbo and brought him into their spare room. he tucked him in and stayed up the rest of the night, thinking about how he would break the news. 

- it was a little rough at first. tubbo wouldn’t speak to people, it took him days to eat anything. he would sit, bee in hand, at the window, looking out hoping to see his father return. but eventually tubbo came out of his shell. he started playing with tommy more, spending less time waiting for schlatt to return. over the years he seemed to forget, adopting phil, tommy, techno and wilbur as his new family. and then things changed. l’manberg happened, and with it was the election. and with the election, came schlatt. 

- at first schlatt didn’t recognize tubbo. his hair had grown out, covering the horns, so schlatt had assumed the names were just a coincidence. but then, as tubbo and he started to spend more time together, schlatt noticed something. 

“hey tubbo, what’s that on your jacket?” 

“oh this? it’s a bee pin. fundy got it for me. bees are my favorite animal.” 

“cute.” schlatt dismissed. maybe the names weren’t just coincidence. could this be...schlatt’s son? after all these years, tubbo finally came back to him. schlatt’s eyes widen and he excused himself, walking back to the white house solemnly. 

“the plan for tomorrow must continue. traitors must be made an example of. even if he’s my...son. goddamnit he’s my fucking son! i can’t kill him. i finally got him back. but he’s betraying me, and i can’t allow that. he needs to...go. but not by my hand.” 

and so the events of october 16th played out. tubbo looked into the eyes of his father and begged for his life but schlatt didn’t waver. technobalde carried out the order and tubbo was taken care of. and the two never made contact, once again slipping apart. 

-tubbo was in the camarvan, alone. he heard a ghostly whisper behind him, echoing inside his mind. 

“tubbo....” the whisper called. the voice seeming so familiar, but tubbo couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“hello? is someone there?” tubbo asked. 

“it’s me tubbo....” the whispers replied. “your father...” 

“phil?” 

suddenly, a figure materialized before him. wearing a blue turtleneck, horns a top his head, was jschlatt. 

“i try so hard to make a fun dramatic entrance and this is what i get.” schlatt shook his head. 

tubbo stared at him in shock and horror. “you...you’re dead. i saw you die right in front of me. and what’s this about being my father?” 

“hey, what happened to your face?” schlatt floated forward, hands gesturing to the scars lining tubbo’s face. 

“don’t you remember? when you tried to kill me?” tubbo spoke sternly. 

“kill you? why would i do that?” 

“can we please backtrack. are you....are you my dad, schlatt?” 

“of course i am. where else would you have gotten those glorious horns from?” 

“so you- you left me. you dumped me at phil’s house cause you didn’t want me.” 

“no that’s not it.” 

“than what is it?” 

“i...i can’t remember. i don’t think it was a good memory.” 

“well at least you felt guilty for that. unlike murdering me publicly.”

“no i don’t remember that either. tubbo, i really only can remember you.” 

tubbo looked down. he didn’t say anything for a while. 

“we’re going to ask phil. i’m getting to the bottom of this. come on...ghost schlatt? should i just could call you ghost schlatt?” 

“you could call me dad?” 

“no way im not there yet.” 

“glatt works then. just combine ghost and schlatt.” 

“alright then come on glatt. were going to visit phil.”

[jilyyall]

Everything Has Changed

One evening on the shore of the Black Lake as they bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, everything changed. Or, the first ‘I love you.’

They hadn’t been officially dating very long, but they’d shared a few snogs before they started dating – if just about every day since the beginning of the school year counted as a few snogs –  and they had been open and frank about their feelings for each other for weeks before they’d made it official, and she’d known him since they were eleven, so when James was silent all day, Lily knew something was on his mind. She didn’t think he was upset with her; it wasn’t an angry silence. It wasn’t as if he was trying to hurt her feelings or punish her by not speaking to her. That wasn’t something that James would do – it was what Sev would have done, back when they were friends and he thought she had done something wrong and was trying to guilt her into apologizing to him.

Rather, she got the distinct impression that he was wrestling with something in his mind, taking his time mulling it over. It was so rare that he took the time to think things through rather than diving in head first that she let him have the day, the whole damn day, even though it drove her mad. She would even let him have the night, if she thought he still needed it. Tomorrow, however, all bets were off. Her boy was going to get this off his chest, whatever this was.

They were in the Great Hall having dinner quite early tonight, their two separate friend groups sitting near each other, but not entirely together – James sat on Lily’s right, and his friends sat to his right with only Sirius sitting across the table from Remus, two bodies down from James. On Lily’s left sat her friends Mary and Dorcas. The only indication that the two groups were at all connected was how close Lily and James were sitting, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, knees knocking, feet tangled beneath the table, even as they turned their heads away from each other to focus on their respective friends.

If he were physically distant, she thought, then she would have worried because anyone who knew anything about James Potter knew that he could not keep his distance from the people he cared about. Be it an arm slung over a mate’s shoulders, fingers threaded with hers or carding through her hair or dancing down her arm or brushing down her side, or the simple disregard for personal space, the boy was incapable of not showing physical affection. She doubted the idea of not touching her or Sirius or Remus or Peter at any given time ever even crossed his mind.

Not ten minutes ago, for instance, he’d walked in with his mates, a dejected Peter tucked under his arm, spotted her seated at the table and sat all but on top of her with nothing more than a graze of his lips to the side of her head in greeting as he continued to devote his sympathetic attention to Peter’s woeful tale of rejection. He’d even had to pull his place setting over in order to maintain his proximity to her. So, no, she didn’t have cause to worry that he was upset with her, or contemplating ditching her or anything of the sort.

Still, she was having a difficult time concentrating on Mary’s story about the Muggle boy her mum wanted to set her up with back home. Instead, she was wondering what exactly could be taking up so much space in James’s head. Currently, she knew, it was Peter’s heartbreak. She tried not to be very obvious as she studied him; none of the boys were paying her any attention. She could hear James’s soft, earnest, comforting tone as he spoke to Peter, told him not to worry about Melinda Sprockett, the pretty sixth year Ravenclaw girl who must have turned him down earlier. It should have comforted her to know that James wasn’t being quiet with everyone. It only made her more concerned that he seemed to be holding something back from her.

“Right, Lily?” Mary said loudly.

Lily snapped her gaze to her friends, embarrassed to have been caught not paying attention. “Er, yeah, of course!”

“I told you she wasn’t listening,” Dorcas giggled as Mary rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I was!” Lily insisted, but she knew she was arguing in vain. She had been caught out, but she wasn’t going to just admit it.

Dorcas wanted to drag it out - Lily could tell by the smirk on her face and the mischief in her eyes - but Mary, sweet, sweet Mary, took pity on her. “I was saying it might not be such a bad thing, you know? There’s obviously nothing wrong with Muggles on the whole - I am Muggleborn; it would just be stressful trying to keep magic a secret.” 

“But do you even want to date him?” Lily asked. 

Mary shrugged. “Well, he’s cute enough, I guess. But I don’t even know anything about him.” 

“Well, it may not be a terrible thing to just have some fun getting to know him; then you can decide if he’s worth potentially breaking the Statute of Secrecy for,” Dorcas said around a mouthful of Yorkshire Pudding. 

“Certainly it’s not really breaking the Statute of Secrecy?” Mary said, looking shocked at the thought. “If you fall in love with a Muggle, there’s got to be some sort of bylaw that says you’re allowed to tell them. Just like the Ministry told our parents about it when we got our Hogwarts letters.” 

Mary looked at Lily as if expecting her to argue with her or confirm that surely it wasn’t illegal, but Lily simply didn’t know. She’d never dated a Muggle.

“You’re probably right,” Dorcas hummed and lifted a shoulder. “I really don’t know much about it, honestly.” 

James’s fingers tangled gently in Lily’s hair and she glanced over at him, distracted, expecting it to have been an unconscious thing he did while still deeply invested in his own mates. She was surprised to find him staring at her, eyes soft and warm and glowing with something akin to awe behind his glasses. There was a small, fond smile on his lips as he let his hand fall from her hair to twine his fingers with hers. 

“D’you want to go for a walk?” he murmured. 

“Sure,” she said, and was about to stand and eagerly lead him away when she noticed the plate in front of him. Before she could say anything else, he was standing and gently pulling her to her feet. “But you’ve hardly touched your dinner.”

He shrugged and began to lead her towards the wide doorway.

Their friends watched them go without a word. Despite the fact that they had both been at least somewhat involved in conversation, there were no protests from either the boys or the girls. Though she hadn’t said anything, she knew the girls were aware that something was on her mind and she suspected that the boys knew much more than she did about what was going on with James.

“I’m not hungry,” he told her.

“What?” Lily couldn’t honestly remember a time James had turned down food when he wasn’t deathly ill or on the brink of collapsing from sheer exhaustion. 

As if reading her mind, he gave her a look as they reached the Entrance Hall and headed out onto the grounds. “I’ll go to the kitchens if I get hungry later. It’s not a big deal.”

Lily let it go, but she still found it rather odd until she noticed how jittery he was. James was never one to sit still, was in constant motion be it a bouncing leg in class or long slender fingers tapping the desk during Prefects’ meetings. But this was a bit more than usual, she thought to herself as she watched him drag his hand through his hair for the fifth time since they’d walked outside. His head was swiveling this way and that and Lily would have worried he was looking for a getaway were his hand not so steady and secure in hers. 

She realized as he gnawed on his bottom lip that he was nervous and despite the fact that she had been so convinced all day that he wasn’t planning on ditching her, ignoring the warm, fond look he’d given her just moments before, Lily suddenly felt herself growing paranoid. What in the world could possibly have James Potter feeling nervous around her? Unless he was planning to break up with her. Or had some other likewise bad news to share.

There weren’t very many people out; it was that time of year where it was beginning to get cold out and the sun was just starting to sink beneath the tree line of the Forbidden Forest so most of the student body was inside. 

James led her over towards the Black Lake, and Lily watched him closely as he cheerfully greeted Martin Greene, his fellow Gryffindor Chaser, who was on his way up from the greenhouses. He didn’t seem nervous as he promised to see the younger boy at their early morning practice the next day, but his hand immediately jumped to his hair when Martin was gone. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” Lily said softly, bumping her hip against his gently as they ambled along the shore of the lake. They had made about a half-circuit by the time she spoke. 

James hummed, and she saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. 

“A lot on your mind?” she asked. She had told herself he could have as much time to process his thoughts as he needed, but he’d invited her on this walk, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want to talk to her. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He sighed, and his thumb stroked along the back of her hand. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be pensive sometimes,” she assured him. Then that awful nagging worry struck again. What if she was reading all the signs wrong? What if his hand in hers wasn’t a sign that everything was fine after all? “As long as you’re not trying to ditch me.” 

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but she knew she failed when he halted in his tracks and pulled her around to face him. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and his jaw dropped as if nothing had ever shocked him more than that one suggestion.

“What?” he said, still gawking at her. Then, “What?”

“I was only joking,” she lied weakly.

Though his shock had done more to assuage her sudden worry than anything she imagined he might say, she still felt oddly vulnerable. Ever since she had accepted her feelings for him at the end of Sixth Year, she wasn’t used to feeling off-kilter around him. Even before they were officially dating, when they were in that odd will-they won’t-they limbo, she hadn’t felt nearly so uncertain than in that moment.

When she tried to turn away to keep things light, he held her there by the hand, once more turning her to face him. His free hand lifted, stroking her face, cupping her cheek as he stepped closer and peered down at her, that same awed look as before mixing with the confusion. 

“Lily,” he breathed, then shook his head as a bemused smile played on his lips. “Honestly, that’s the farthest thing from my mind. That’s the last thing I would ever do.”

She didn’t try to convince him she was joking, not again, not knowing that he could see right through her. Instead she bit her lip and tried to duck her head, but his nimble fingers on her cheeks kept her eyes on his. She felt her face flush, and she sighed. 

“I’m mad for you, Lily,” he mumbled, and brushed his lips gently over hers. 

“I feel the same about you,” she whispered, but she realized quite suddenly that maybe it was a bit more than that, actually. Maybe she a bit more than fancied the boy before her, judging by the way his silence had nagged at her all day until it had her on the edge of panic, fearing the worst even though she knew, logically, that her fear was unfounded. 

And since when had being single again been the worst possible outcome her brain could conjure? It had only been a few weeks and already she couldn’t imagine her life without James Potter taking up so much space in it. 

He smiled at her soft admission and then let go of her hand to bury both of his in her thick auburn hair. He kissed her, gently again, but much more solidly than a mere brush of his lips to hers. His mouth fit perfectly over hers, moving overs once, twice, thrice, before he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. 

A piercing wolf-whistle broke them apart after what may have been several minutes and they looked across the lake towards the castle to find their friends, his blokes and her girls, gathered near what was widely considered the best tree due to its full foliage and location mere steps from the shore of the lake. It was fairly obvious who had made the obtrusive sound as Dorcas was currently hitting Sirius’s arm none-too-gently. 

Lily looked up at James, surprised to find him looking somewhat disappointed by the arrival of their friends. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him anything less than thrilled to be reunited with his boys regardless of how brief their separation. 

“Shall we?” she asked when he met her gaze. 

He sighed, and his hands trailed slowly down her arms until their fingers were linked once more. “I suppose.” 

They continued on their course, not bothering to speed up despite Sirius’s distant and persistent urging. James tugged her to a halt again just as they were about to round the last little curve of the shoreline, mere meters from their friends. 

She peered up at him, mesmerized by the way the orange glow of the setting sun bathed him. He looked unreal; he looked perfect; he looked like a figment of her wildest dreams.

“I am sorry for worrying you today,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to be distant. I was just… thinking about something.” 

“It’s okay,” she told him again. “I didn’t actually think you were going to ditch me all day. I don’t know why I suddenly got afraid of that.” 

He smiled at her, and there was a slightly manic look to the way his lips curved up. “It’s just that… I got myself all worked up and nervous over it.” 

She laughed at him because, well, she’d already realized that, hadn’t she? Almost as soon as they’d left the Great Hall he’d made it obvious how nervous he was. As he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her just a little bit closer, his expression dead serious, she suddenly realized why he was so nervous. And it was so obvious as well, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she all but come to the conclusion for herself mere moments before? Her breath hitched as he opened his mouth. 

Suddenly, the wild Gryffindor in her wanted nothing more than to beat him to the punch. The softer, more caring part of her recognized that he had been struggling to work himself up to this all day and she had only had a few minutes of the realization, and she couldn’t take that from him. So, she smiled up at him and waited. 

He was quiet for another second, then took a deep breath, and on a sharp exhale said, “I love you.”

Though she knew it was coming, the declaration made her heart sing and a little relieved giggle passed unbidden from her lips. Lily beamed up at him and it wasn’t until she registered the lingering anxiety in his eyes that she realized he was waiting for a response. 

“I love you too, you idiot,” she said with a fond shake of her head. “I can’t believe you’ve spent a whole day stressing about saying three little words to me when it’s so obvious how I’d respond.”

“I’ve fancied this girl for four years and finally got her to date me and she thinks I want to break up with her,” he shot back, but he was grinning now, a mischievous teasing glint in his eyes. “Honestly, and all these years I thought you were clever.” 

She rolled her eyes and he shook his head at her, splitting grin still in full effect, before he slid his arms around her waist, pulled her to him, and lifted her off her feet to swing her around in the air. Lily wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and threw her head back, laughing freely as he made her dizzy with all his spinning. 

“I love you,” he said again as he finally set her feet back on the ground. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“You know it doesn’t make it any more meaningful if you repeat it incessantly,” she teased, but he clearly wasn’t bothered as he lowered his head, his mouth covering hers completely, hands leisurely trailing up her body until one rested tenderly on the side of her neck and the other cupped her cheek. 

He jerked away from her as a stream of water from the lake suddenly shot out and struck him in the side of the head, magically missing her by inches. They both whipped around to see their friends all laughing at them, Sirius’s wand hanging limp in his hand at his side as he was all but doubled over. 

James took several hurried steps away from her, clearly intent on retaliation, before he turned around again, kissed her quickly and with a flash of a grin, and repeated, “I love you.” 

Then he was gone, and was nothing more than a tangle of limbs as he wrestled Sirius to the ground Muggle-style. Remus and Peter stood close by, laughing, as Mary and Dorcas retreated hurriedly to avoid falling casualty to the boys’ roughhousing. They stopped in front of Lily and all three of them watched warily as James and Sirius rolled into Remus’s legs, causing the poor boy to fall on top of them as Peter dashed a few steps back. 

“Boys,” Dorcas said, shaking her head as she watched Remus, usually the most composed of the lot, laugh and throw himself wholeheartedly into the pile of wrestling limbs. 

“So immature,” Mary agreed with a little dismissive sniff.

But Lily couldn’t stop smiling as she watched James play with his mates like children. “Still love ‘em, though.”

[mygalfriday]

pity the man that stands in my way (River/11)

Prompt #2: You. Me. Handcuffs. 

The old earth saying about doctors making the worst patients must have originated with her husband. River can cope with his stubborn refusal to take any medication that isn’t grape-flavored or eat anything that isn’t covered in custard. Even the constant whinging is bearable. If those were her only problems, she’d consider herself fortunate. But the Doctor can’t even admit to being sick at all. No matter how many times River orders him to bed – unfortunately not in the fun way – he always ends up sneaking off to the control room the minute she isn’t looking to try convincing the TARDIS to take him somewhere. He can barely stand up but is absolutely confident in his ability to calm a rebellion on Drahva. 

In the middle of making him a cup of chamomile tea that she secretly hopes might make him drowsy enough to get some rest – if nothing else, the sedative she plans to mix in should do the trick – River glances up when the TARDIS lights flicker. The Old Girl always finds a way to let her know when the Doctor has escaped again. She sighs, mutters a thank you to the ship, and abandons the kettle on the hob. Marching out of the kitchen, she doesn’t bother checking their bedroom first. She heads right for the control room and sure enough, the Doctor stands at the console, clinging to it for balance as he plots new coordinates. 

“Going somewhere?”

He jumps guiltily at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her and pasting on a wide grin. “Ah, there you are. I was just looking for you.” At her baleful stare, he wilts. “Alright, so I was very much not looking for you. I was actively avoiding you, as it happens. Come on, dear. Aren’t you bored?”

“No, my love. I’m not bored.” River crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “As a matter of fact, just this once, I would love to be bored. I would quite literally kill for it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two days chasing my husband around with a syringe.”

His brows lift and he mutters to himself, “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream.” He frowns, attention returning to her. “I’ve got to say, not one of our better honeymoons.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Doctor,” she sighs, dropping her arms and crossing to his side. “You’re ill.”

He scowls, lips parting and brow furrowing in offense. “I am not! I’m perfectly fine.” Eyes fever-bright and cheeks worryingly flush, he insists, “I’ve never been better.”

River presses the back of her hand to his forehead, ignoring him when he tries to swat her weakly away. “Just as I thought.” She strokes her fingers along his cheekbone, gratified when he sighs and leans briefly into her touch. “You’re burning up. Get back into bed.”

“You always say that,” he mutters, petulant. 

She smirks, patting his cheek. “Well, it is my favorite place to see you.”

He sighs. “River, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to see and do and-”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” She raises a brow meaningfully, watching understanding dawn in his clouded eyes. 

He brightens, that adorably nervous smile curving his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She sways into him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as she meets his gaze. “You said you feel fine. Care to prove it, Time Lord?”

The Doctor lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, tugging at his bowtie. He looks down at her and despite her certainty that he must feel terrible, the desire in his expression is almost enough to make her forget herself. “Prepare to be impressed, Dr. Song.”

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him out of the control room, risking another remark about her fussing over him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Troublingly, he doesn’t say a word. He leans his weight into her as though she might not notice and even with her guiding him, he stumbles more than once. She wonders briefly how he’d made it from their bedroom to the control room in the first place. What had he done – crawled there? Even his breathing is a bit off, a slight rasp after every inhale that worries her. She doesn’t dare let on. 

The moment they cross the threshold into their bedroom, River turns and takes his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. The Doctor makes a soft, startled noise against her lips before his mouth opens and his tongue brushes hers. His hands grip her hips as they stumble toward the bed and he feels hot against her, his body temperature higher than usual. His touch is almost searing even over her clothes. 

Divesting him quickly of his tweed and bowtie, River nips sharply at his bottom lip before nudging him onto the bed. She watches him fall back onto the pillows, looking weak and tired. His mouth is red and swollen from her kisses and his hair is rumpled from her fingers. For a moment, she considers climbing on top of him and giving him exactly what he wants – he’d still be resting if she’s on top, wouldn’t he? 

But no. No matter how tempting he looks right now, he’s very ill. He needs to sit still and drink his tea and take his medicine and bloody well sleep. There will be plenty of time to ravish him when he’s feeling better. River likes him best when he’s a full participant anyway. 

His eyes are dark and interested as he watches her strip out of her clothes; he licks his lips at every piece of clothing that drops to the floor. When she has nothing but her knickers left to remove, River joins him on the bed. She crawls up the length of his body and straddles his narrow waist, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss. The Doctor melts under her, his limbs going loose and deliciously pliable. It takes no effort at all to pin his arms above his head and secure them to the bedpost.

The Doctor goes still at the sound of the lock clicking into place, his mouth slipping from hers as he mutters, “Why do you always have handcuffs?”

River smirks, dropping the seduction act as she sits up and slides out of bed. Reaching for her clothes piled neatly on the floor, she tugs on her shirt and says, “Maybe now you’ll actually get some rest.”

He growls under his breath, watching her slip back into her trousers. “River, uncuff me right now.”

“Sorry, my love,” she says, shrugging unapologetically. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll release you when you can be trusted to stay put.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she admits, “Well, I suppose I should say when you’re well enough that I won’t care you can’t be trusted.”

“Oi!” He pouts, tugging at the cuffs. “I’m very trustworthy. Ish. I know loads of secrets I’ve never told you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, sweetie.” She pats his knee. “I’m going to fetch your tea. Would you like something to read while you wait?”

The Doctor twitches irritably. “How would I turn the pages?”

“Good point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, listening to the sound of the cuffs clanking against the bedpost as he tries unsuccessfully to free himself. “Then might I suggest you lie there and think about how lucky you are to have me?”

He stops struggling long enough to offer her a doe-eyed glance. “But I do that all the time.”

“Nice try.” River pinches his thigh, smirking when he yelps. “I’m still not letting you out.”

He huffs. “River-”

She levels him with her sternest look – the one that wins wars and terrifies her prison guards; the one that says I’ve killed a man before and I’m happy to do it again. “The more you complain, the longer I’ll leave you here.”

Properly cowed, the Doctor snaps his mouth shut and settles for a silent glare. 

“Good boy.” River leans in and presses a kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Back soon, sweetie. What is it you always say to your companions?” She tips her head to the side, grinning down at him in victory. “Oh yes. Don’t wander off.”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Nine

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Smut (Somnophilia, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Power Kink, Anal), Language, Injuries, Minor Violence, Trigger Warning: Neglect, Childhood Trauma, mentions of mental illnesses

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: Nat goes on a rant in this part that is very relevant. If y’all have any questions about her rant, ask and I’ll answer based on my own personal knowledge with the subject matter. I hope you all enjoy!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

SORRY IF SOME TAGS ARE FORGOTTEN!!!!

Series Masterlist

You anxiously wait in the pristine office, looking around nervously at everything in the room.

There isn’t a lot, and hardly anything super personal, but it’s something to get your mind off of impending doom.

The door opens and you jump to your feet, staring at the tall man as he walks in.

“Miss (Y/l/n).” He nods. You wring your hands out and gnaw on your bottom lip before speaking, voice small and hoarse.

“H-have you heard from James?” The blond man stops in his tracks. “What do you mean?” You shake your head, sniffling and taking a deep breath.

“H-he hasn’t been home in a few days... I’m worried. The last time he was home the soldier was off the rails... he was really rough... and then he disappeared. I-I know I’m just supposed to be his stress relief but I’ve grown to care for him and if something happened to him I-” Steve places a hand on your shoulder, gently ushering you to sit down. He can’t help but glance to where your skirt rides up as you move.

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’s okay.” Your bottom lip wobbles and Steve’s eyes are drawn to it.

“I-I... what do I do?” He sighs and sits on the edge of his desk, arms crossing over his broad chest.

“First of all, relax. I’ve known Buck my whole life. I’m sure he’s fine. He probably felt bad for hurting you so now he’s trying to figure out how to make amends.” You take a deep breath then nod, clenching your jaw tightly.

“I hope he’s okay.” Steve watches you, proud of how you’ve grown attached to his friend and a little envious of the relationship the two of you have.

“I-I’m sorry for wasting your time, Captain. I was just... I don’t want anything to happen to him is all.” He nods, leaning forward and smiling softly at you.

“Call me Steve. And you haven’t wasted my time.” You smile, eyes darting down to his lips for a moment then back up to his baby blues.

He swallows hard and takes a deep breath.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home.” You hesitate, looking down and shrinking in on yourself.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head and scoff at yourself. He crouches down in front of you, shouldering his way gently between your legs and for a moment he wonders what it must be like to be between them in a different setting. His eyes find your panties and he licks his lips. The light blue fabric has a small damp spot in the middle and he finds himself fighting the urge to bend you over his desk.

He rests a big hand on your thigh, smoothing over the bare skin for a moment before smiling encouragingly up at you.

“I just... I don’t like being in the house alone. Especially when I don’t know where he is or if he’s safe. I just... it’s scary,” you whimper, closing your eyes tightly.

‘Oh Lord, Buck’s gonna kill me,’ he thinks, knowing that he’s about to take full advantage of your fear.

“You can stay with me until we find him. If you want.” Your eyes snap to his and you nod, fighting a smile.

“Yes, please. If it isn’t too much.” He shakes his head, lips brushing against your thigh for a moment.

“Anything for you, Princess.” The nickname makes you shiver and you can’t help but smile this time. He stands up and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

Instead of backing up like you know you should, you stay pressed against him, head back so you can look into his beautiful eyes. His cock twitches in his pants at the innocent look in your eyes and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to step away from you.

The ride to his apartment is filled with tension, and he nearly breaks more times than he’d like to admit.

The final straw, however, is when you’re looking around his bedroom (which he so kindly offered up for you to sleep in) and make yourself comfortable, not giving a rat’s ass that he’s there.

You look over your shoulder at him, making sure he’s still standing in the doorway watching you. And sure enough, he’s there.

With nimble fingers you pull off your top, skirt dropping to the floor a moment later.

“You know,” you begin, climbing onto the bed in just your underwear. “It’s been so lonely since he’s been gone. Could you... stay with me for a while? I’m not used to sleeping on my own.”

He watches you bat your eyelashes at him and mentally curses himself for what he’s about to do. He pulls his shirt off, his jeans following closely after.

“Come here.” It’s not a request, it’s an order, and it sends sparks flying in your belly. You crawl to the edge of the bed and look up at him, holding your breath in anticipation as he steps towards you.

One hand comes up, long fingers gently tracing over your throat before wrapping comfortably around it and giving a light squeeze.

You let out the breath you were holding, eyes falling closed as he leans down and brushes his nose over your neck.

“You miss having a cock in that tight little pussy?” You squeak at his words then nod, whimpering when his other hand trails down your shoulder to your chest.

He pulls back slowly, eyes raking over your figure as if he’s pondering something.

“Lemme help you with that,” he murmurs, crawling onto the bed with you. You move backwards then lie down, heart thumping loudly in your chest as Steve crawls on top of you. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat then peppering kisses down down down until he gets to the middle of your bra.

“Gonna let me take this off?” You nod breathlessly, arching your back as he reaches under you. He pulls your bra off easily and his lips are immediately latched around your left nipple. A moan slips past your lips and he grins against your chest, teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive skin.

“S-Steve...” he adores the way you sound. “That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-You, Steve. Only you... please... I need more....” He nods, pushing himself up to his knees and sitting between your legs.

“Such a pretty colour on you, baby. You look so pretty.” You hum, body alight at his praise, and he chuckles.

“Bucky doesn’t take care of you the way he should, does he?” You shake your head, looking up at him through lust-clouded eyes.

“He doesn’t. Can you? Take care of me the way he should, show me how he should treat me.” He nods, chest puffing out a bit at the challenge.

In an instant, he’s ripped your panties clean off of your body and he looks ready to devour you.

“You want me to eat this pretty pussy? Show you how a real man eats pussy? Yeah? Ask daddy nicely.” You absolutely love this.

“Please daddy. Please eat my pussy.” He leans down and attaches his mouth to your dripping centre.

Your back arches off the bed at the contact and you moan loudly, eyes rolling back into your head as he laps at your folds then focuses his tongue on your clit.

He expertly works the little bundle of nerves, flicking and smoothing his tongue over it in a way that has you seeing stars. Your hands find his hair and you tug him closer to your centre, cursing as he slips two long fingers inside of you.

His mouth continues its assault on your clit while his fingers search for the spot that’ll make you see stars. When he finds it you let out a gasp, thighs clenching around his head as the coil in your belly tightens.

He’s unrelenting, tongue and teeth working your clit while his fingers continue pounding against your g-spot, making you see stars. He has you cumming in no time, gushing and creaming all over his handsome face, and he licks up every last drop.

When your legs stop trembling and you seem to have regained your breath, he climbs up your body to lie beside you, watching with pride as you struggle to open your eyes.

His fingers find your lips and you take them into your mouth, sucking the taste of yourself off of him. He grinds his teeth together and before you can comprehend what’s happening, he’s got you flipped onto your stomach, legs forced apart by his knees while he slides a pillow under your hips.

“You ready for daddy to show you how a real man fucks?” You nod desperately, wiggling your hips back a bit. He chuckles and grabs onto them, stilling your movements. The tip of his cock, all hot and wet and perfect, presses against your slit and you can’t help but moan, arching your back a bit more.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” You nod, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as he slides his cock through your drenched folds, gathering your wetness on his length and coating himself in it.

“Your pussy is so nice and small, bet you’re gonna squeeze me so tight, huh? Gonna have this pretty little cunt wrapped around me so damn tight and you’re just gonna take it, aren’t ya? You’re just gonna take the fuckin’ beating my cock’s gonna give you, huh?” You nod again, desperately wanting him to fuck you.

He pulls back, then slides his cock through your folds again, then pulls back, and slides through again. On the third time, and just when you’re about to snap at him to hurry up, he plunges right into you, successfully silencing any thoughts you had.

A smug smile spreads across his face at the way you gasp and choke, his length throbbing inside of your tight heat.

“B-Big,” you whisper, eyes rolling and toes curling at the feeling of him just sitting inside of you. “Y-you’re so big.” Granted, he’s not quite as thick as Bucky, but he’s longer. He hits every perfect spot inside of you while still making you feel like you’ll fall apart if he moves but die if he stays still.

“Look at that...” he whispers, eyes focused on where the two of you are connected. He slowly pulls out, groaning at the way your cunt clings to his cock. He traces the rim where your pussy is stretched and tight around his cock and you can’t help but shiver.

He grins to himself for a moment, pulling out even more until only the tip remains in you, and then he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again.

You let out a broken shout of pure ecstasy and he feels himself fill with pride nat the fact that he’s the one getting you to make those sounds.

His hands stay tight on your hips as he pulls back then pushes in, starting up a steady pace and making you feel every inch of his deliciously long cock.

“You my good girl? Huh? You gonna be a good girl for daddy and take every inch of me? Yeah, you’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?” You nod dumbly, tears leaking out of your eyes as he fucks you senseless. “I’m daddy's good girl.” He nods then speeds up.

The feeling of his hips slapping into your ass combined with the stretch of his cock in your pussy and his balls brushing your clit has you balancing precariously on the edge, almost ready to fall into your second orgasm.

He leans forward and grabs your hands, pushing them into the mattress with his weight but you absolutely love it. His hips speed up and his lips find your neck, licking and sucking on the tender skin while his cock absolutely abuses your pussy.

“S-Steve! I... can I cum? Please. Please, I’m gonna cum, please!” His teeth find your neck and he bites at your skin, the pain pushing you headfirst into your second fiery orgasm of the night.

“Cum around my cock,” he murmurs, thrusts unrelenting even as you clench around him. He basks in the feeling of you, slowing his thrusts but putting more force behind each one. You’re not sure where your second orgasm ends and third one begins, all you know is that if he keeps this up you’re gonna pass out.

He groans into your neck, muscles trembling as his own climax approaches.

In a matter of moments, he’s spilling his seed deep in you, coating your walls in his cum.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs, pumping his hips while your cunt milks him of everything he has to offer.

“Gonna mark this pussy up so you always know who you really belong to.” You clench around him at his words and he groans, hips slowing before stilling.

He stays on top of you for a moment, just catching his breath, then pulls out and flops onto his back. You’re perfectly content to remain where you are, but he’s having none of that. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you onto his chest, one hand between the two of you to help you sink back down on his cock.

You whimper as his softening cock presses against your tender walls and he can’t help but chuckle.

His hands rub soothing circles on your back and a small part of you wishes that this was the man you were forced to be with.

You squash that thought quickly but cuddle closer to Steve, post-orgasmic bliss taking you to sleep quickly.

You fall asleep on his chest, but he finds himself unable to fall asleep just yet. Not with the way your breasts are pressed to his chest, or the way your cunt clenches and flutters in your sleep.

He spends hours trying to fall asleep, trying to ignore the throbbing in his balls and the way you’re keeping his cock so warm. But he can’t.

Steve Rogers isn’t done with your body just yet.

He carefully rolls the two of you over so that you’re on your back, hovering over you and making sure you’re still asleep. When you show no sign of having regained consciousness, he slowly starts thrusting his cock in and out of you again.

Your body is pliant and lax and he finds himself so entranced by it. He leans back onto his haunches, grabs you by the hips, and hoists you up so that you’re at the perfect level for him to fuck.

He wastes no time in taking what he wants from your body, fucking you hard and fast and borderline brutally, not giving a single fuck if you wake up.

You stay asleep for far longer than he thought you would, what with the way he’s fucking your abused and swollen pussy. The squelching sounds of your soaked cunt is almost enough to drown out your confused groans, but he hears them. Over the pornographic sounds your pussy is making, you’re calling out for Bucky, wondering what’s happening.

And that fact alone only spurs Steve on.

He fucks you even harder, cock hitting every spot inside of you that makes you see stars, and you moan.

“Go back to sleep, Princess. Daddy’s just finishing up here,” he whispers, hands holding your thighs so tightly that he’s definitely leaving bruises.

“m’kay,” you whisper, head cloudy with sleep. He watches the way your eyes fall closed, the way you just succumb to him and allow him to do whatever the hell he wants with your body.

His abs clench and soon enough he’s cumming inside of you again, adding to the white mess inside of your puffy pussy.

He pulls out after a long moment and gets on his stomach between your legs, eyes focused on the way your pussy twitches and gapes, a thin line of white trailing from your pussy to your tighter hole. An idea strikes him and before he knows what’s happening he’s got his middle finger in your pussy, coating it in a mixture of his cum and yours.

Once he deems it wet enough he slowly pushes it into your lower hole, eyes focused on the look of pain that crosses your features. He hums to himself, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he fucks your ass with his middle finger.

“Bucky never take this hole? Huh? Nah, he just sticks to that cunt of yours. So this pretty little ass is all mine.”

He pulls out of your ass to coat his ring finger in the slick oozing from your cunt, then pushes the two fingers back into your ass.

“Would you look at that? A fuckin’ natural.” He fucks you with his fingers, working your ass open slowly until he can fit all four fingers inside.

“You’re gonna take my cock in your ass, Princess. And you’re gonna like it.”

He positions his cock at your ass and uses his fingers to scoop the cum out of your pussy. He covers his length in it then slowly eases into your ass, face scrunching up at just how tight it is.

“Jesus... Fuck, you’re tight,” he rumbles. Your face is contorted with pain and your eyelids flutter for a moment before slowly opening.

He pulls your legs up over his shoulders and grabs both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head while he slowly rocks in and out of you.

His hips don’t stop, even as you’re on the verge of waking up. He continues fucking your ass because fuck, you’re so tight and so perfect. You whimper at the pain but he continues, hips speeding up as he feels ready to burst again.

You start squirming beneath him and that's what does it. The fact that he has you pinned and you can do absolutely nothing to free yourself. The absolute power he feels over you. He cums hard, shooting his load into your ass and making a mess that matches that in your pussy.

Only when he’s sure he’s been milked of all the cum in his balls does he pull out, and even then he’s not finished his assault on your sleeping body.

Now that he has you, has an outlet, he intends to make full use of it.

~*~

“You look tired,” Fury notes, eyeing the super-soldier warily.

“Had a long night,” is Steve’s reply.

The blond man pushes open Bucky’s front door, listening carefully and trying to find any evidence that the man has been home in the past 24 hours.

“Buck?” He calls, walking through the house and pausing every so often to listen for any noise.

He almost doesn’t notice it. It’s so faint and so far away that if he was even the slightest bit more distracted he would’ve missed it.

“Someone’s here,” he whispers, feet pulling him to the basement door. The sound of muffled arguments only gets louder the closer he gets.

Fury follows Steve down the stairs, eyebrows raising as the blond jogs over to the cellar latch.

He pulls it open, the sound of the argument ceasing in an instant.

“Buck?”

There’s an audible sigh of relief. “Steve! Nat’s here too. You’ve gotta help us, man.” Steve hurries down the ladder, confusion slapping him in the face as he takes in the scene before him.

Bucky is on the ground clutching at his chest, blood staining his shirt and dribbling from his chin while Natasha is bound and naked beside him, a bar spreading her legs apart.

Steve’s cheeks flush and he quickly glances away from her, tugging his jacket off and covering her body with it while he works to untie her bonds.

When she’s finally free, she wraps herself in his jacket and stumbles away from Bucky, heart racing in her chest.

“What happened?” Steve asks, grabbing her forearms and pulling her into an embrace. She takes deep breaths, trying to compose herself and not lash out before giving a proper explanation.

“He broke her, that’s what happened. He broke her and she finally exploded.” She pushes past him and up the ladder, Fury waiting to help her out of the house.

“What the hell does she mean?” Steve asks his friend, grabbing his arm and hoisting him to his feet.

“She’s gone fuckin’ crazy, man. She kidnapped Nat and she stabbed me! Yeah, I was a little rough with her, but I didn’t think she’d go ape shit!” Steve thinks back to the night he spent with you, trying to piece things together.

You seemed so genuine. And yet you’ve caused so much damage.

“Where is she?” Bucky asks suddenly, his hand pressed tightly to the wound below his ribs.

“She uh... she spent the night at my place. She was still asleep when I left.”

The brunet stares at his friend, different emotions playing through his body. He opens his mouth to speak but a voice that isn’t his comes out, a metal hand reaching up and grabbing Steve by the throat.

The blond grabs his arm, confusion in his eyes as his friend chokes the life out of him.

“Buck!” He rasps, calmly fingers sliding down the metal of his arm. “Buck, stop!”

The brunet shows no sign of even hearing his friend, and Steve quickly finds himself running out of options.

He thrusts his fist out, striking the injury at the brunet’s ribs.

He drops Steve and grabs at his chest, panting hard and shaking his head a few times.

“Fury, get the tactile team here. And have a second team at my house now!”

Steve grabs the brunet, pushing him to the ladder while he’s still disoriented and in pain.

He climbs up the ladder then up the stairs, collapsing on the floor in the kitchen.

“Where is she?” He demands, his voice caught between Bucky and The Soldier.

“We're finding her,” Steve says warily, eyes focused on the man on the ground before him.

“She’s dangerous, Steve, she’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

~*~

“So you really didn’t think to do a thorough background check before you went and grabbed her?” Natasha asks, arms crossed over her chest as she glares at the three men before her.

“I had nothing to do with it! Fury and Steve brought me files of different women and told me to pick one so I did,” Bucky defends, raising his hands from where he sits in front of Steve’s desk.

“You’ve got different problems, problems that we’re gonna discuss later,” She hisses, levelling him with a glare that tells him to shut the fuck up.

“We did a background check. Her mother is supposed to have died years ago, her father too,” Steve defends, “the legal documents were hidden deep. It took a while for Stark to find them.” The redhead raises her eyebrows in confusion.

“So what’s the deal then? What secrets needed to be hidden?”

“Her father commit suicide. He was a paranoid schizophrenic, got removed from the family after the neighbours reported him exhibiting... strange behaviour and teaching his daughter... unethical things. He then escaped the psych ward and jumped out of the twelfth-floor window, died on impact,” Steve says, eyes scanning the document on his computer screen.

“Her mother raised her until she was fifteen, then she got admitted to a psychiatric hospital, official diagnosis: Narcissistic Personality Disorder with recurring episodes of intense psychosis that included visual hallucinations.”

“So craziness runs in the family,” Bucky mumbles, wincing when Nat elbows him in the ribs.

“They’re not crazy. You of all people should have some sympathy and empathy when it comes to mental issues and disorders.” His jaw clenches but he otherwise says nothing.

“So what about (Y/n). What’s her... official diagnosis? If she even has one,” Natasha urges.

Steve’s eyes rake over the screen before finding the part where you really come in. “She was removed from her mother’s care after her teachers noticed patterns of neglect. The official diagnosis she was given was Conduct Disorder, but they thought nothing of it considering her upbringing. She bounced around through group homes and foster families until she turned eighteen, which is when she moved to New York and got her own life.”

Natasha is silent for a moment, mulling over Steve’s words.

“Conduct Disorder is the precursor to Antisocial Personality Disorder, isn’t it?” She asks, eyes flashing to the blond. He nods, having read in-depth about that particular disorder.

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks. Steve sighs and pats his friend on the shoulder. “It’s what, back in our day, we’d call a psychopath. Or a sociopath. Those aren’t the politically correct terms anymore, but that’s pretty much what she is.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully, thinking over the words for a moment before speaking. “That explains the stabbing.”

Natasha grabs Bucky by the collar, her eyes full of fiery anger.

“No, James! She’s had this disorder her whole life and yet she has not one smidge of a criminal record! Her disorder isn’t what made her lash out and do that terrible shit! You are! You’re the one who beat her and broke her! You destroyed her, mentally and physically! You don’t get to shove off what you’ve done onto a disorder that she had under control!”

She’s panting, her chest heaving as she finally gives him a piece of her mind.

“You fucking destroyed that girl, James. This is her mind’s way of protecting what little sanity she has left. She isn’t a bad person because of her disorder. If I remember correctly, she was nice, she was liked by people, and she was a functioning member of society. So don’t you dare go and blame your actions on her disorder because I can guarantee that if you hadn’t fucked her up so bad, she wouldn’t have lashed out the way she did!”

The two other men are silent, Steve trying to figure out what Bucky could’ve done that was so bad while Bucky hangs his head in shame.

“I know that what I did was wrong, but I couldn’t... I couldn’t stop myself.”

Nat snorts, “bullshit. I don’t care if it ‘wasn’t you’. You still started treating her badly. Fuck, you agreed to this whole thing in the first place. You caused this, James.”

“What happened?” Steve finally asks.

“What happened is that your war buddy over here decided to see how much torture it takes to break a person. Turns out it’s a lot less than you’d think. Fucker took a video of it and everything.” She turns to Bucky with her arms crossed over her chest. “Show him the video.” He shakes his head, hand instinctively going to his phone.

“Show him the fucking video, James. Show him what you did, why she is the way she is. Do it.” He grinds his teeth together, trying not to lash out at her.

“See? He knows that what he did is too fucked up to even show you.”

“I agree that things haven’t gone the way we thought they would, but that’s a fact we need to accept,” a new voice chimes in from the doorway. Natasha glares at the man as he walks in.

“How could even suggest something like this?” She demands. Fury shrugs, lips pursed for a moment.

“There are certain people in this world... whose roles are expendable. They don’t serve one significant purpose. So I gave her a purpose.” She shakes her head. “You don’t get to decide the importance of people’s lives. That girl was doing just fine, and then you decide to ruin her fucking life.”

“There was no way we could’ve known things would’ve gone this way.” He sounds so unbothered by this and that only pisses Natasha off more.

“No, but there was a chance you could’ve realized that if he needs an outlet so bad, maybe he should be the one we’re focusing on! If the soldier is that uncontrollable, maybe we shouldn’t have him here with us! Maybe we should lock him up somewhere where no one will find him if that’s how dangerous he is.” She points aggressively at Bucky

He’s out of his chair in an instant, chest heaving as he glares at her.

“I care about her! I value her and she’s important to me! To both of us! I’m not fucking happy with what I did to her but we made it work! We were happy! We were functioning perfectly!”

“Then why the hell did you sleep with me?!” Natasha counters, stepping forwards so she’s toe-to-toe with the assassin.

“If you were so fucking happy playing house with your little sex toy, why did you feel the need to start something with me?! Not only were you dishonest and deceitful with me, but you were fucking lying to her too! You lied to us both! You fucking deceived us both! If you cared about either one of us, you would’ve told us both what was happening from the start!” She’s shouting herself hoarse but she doesn’t care. She hopes everyone in the building can hear her.

“It’s not that simple! I couldn’t just confess to you what my coping method was! You’d never understand! And she was just starting to trust me again, to be good for me. I didn’t want to lose that.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, scoffing slightly at the absolute idiocy of the man before her.

“James, you don’t understand. That woman doesn’t trust you. She’s terrified of you. She’s been mistreated her whole life and now you come on the scene and you fuck her up even more. She’s realizing that giving in to your sick fetishes and desires is what makes you give her attention, and she’s gone her whole fucking life without having attention so she’s gonna do everything in her power to keep it.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“That woman doesn’t love you. She’s afraid of you. Afraid of the monster she knows you are.” She turns around and shoulders past Fury on her way out.

“You guys have fucked up. We’re supposed to be the good guys. The good guys don’t fuck people up the way you have,” she calls over her shoulder before storming off.

The three men are all silent before Steve clears his throat.

“So what are we going to do about her? We can’t exactly have her running around telling everyone what happened.” Fury nods, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll try talking to her, see if we can work something out,” Bucky suddenly says while avoiding the eyes of the men around him. He slips his phone into his breast pocket and makes for the door, stopping when Steve speaks.

“She stabbed you, Buck. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his hand grabbing Bucky’s shoulder. The brunet nods with a sigh. “She wanted me to pick her over Nat. And maybe that’s what I should do. For the time being anyway. Just until we figure out what to really do with her.” Steve nods, his hand patting his friend on the chest before allowing him to leave.

Bucky walks out without another word.

“I trust that you’ll be able to make the difficult decision, right Captain?” Fury suddenly asks, eyes going pointedly to the phone in Steve’s hand. Steve holds it tighter, clearing his throat after a moment.

“Yes sir.”

“Remember when you sacrificed your life to save the lives of thousands of people?” Steve nods warily, trying to figure out where Fury’s going with this. 

“Sometimes, we need to sacrifice one to save the many,” Steve replies, realizing what Fury is implying.

“Make the right choice, Rogers. That’s all I’m saying. The right choice for everyone.” He leaves the room without another word and Steve sighs, closing the door then plopping down at his desk and unlocking Bucky’s phone.

He scrolls through the camera roll until he finds the video, beyond curious as to what Natasha was talking about.

His eyes are focused on the video, watching the way Bucky uses your body and degrades you. When the camera pans up to your tear-stained face, he groans, blood rushing to his cock.

It’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong to find something like this so very arousing and so satisfying but he can’t help it. The absolute control Bucky has over you is something Steve yearns for, something he's been wanting for quite a while.

And he makes the decision then and there that maybe Bucky isn’t so much in the wrong after all.

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #11 ~ Reclaimed Living

♫Overpowered♫

Another cleansing of the soul came with reinvigorated steps loudly revisiting a place of his bearings. His latest and most formidable enemy awakened him from a ghostly remnant he served. He wasn't the same. The last Crew finding them behind his follow weren't the same that collapsed, or buried with his old ship. The rover returned to a rancid pub front-steps. In a dead and remote location, where used to be celebration, came to cease. Now it was just nesting drunken sailors who held no direction. Majority of the Crew that served a Captain were family members, other associates, all drowned and dead brought by his endeavors, curses, afflictions. It was never easy to confront a past, but proper healing cannot begin without it, that's where his wisdom had found of recent date. It was the most despicable and deplorable thing a feeling could present in a leader. The people under your helm perished but the Captain didn't go with his ship and men. Although all held belief he remained deceased, this would be soon uncovered in a twist. He unstrapped his holstered revolver. Swallowed nerves. Then proceeded. Inside were grievers those at the bottom of bottles, they felt too. Sapped of motivation. Chained, jailed, life had no meaning. The peers that died, killed them too. Outsiders didn't come to this enclosed location. So as creaking old planks of wood were heard they drew alert. Until a stoppage. A shadow between the doors. Even in their rancid and intoxicated states they drew arms. The two loose doors flung open as the perished ghost became alive. In a series of insurmountable clicks and aim's hundreds of trained gun's re-positioned. Dirks, brass knuckles, a plethora of last resistance shown. If they were to be raided, they'd go with bangs.

"Minfilia's oversized tits, blimey o' bastard... I don't believe it. Ye chose a poor choice t' ruse us n' appearance." They didn't follow a leader. Each of their voices left were who seized first in their mass. The interloper had them cautiously on standby. "Nay. It b' me." The Seeker discarded his only means of defense and slid a kick over. They had the right to take their shots. Tension was stacked in disbelieving soaring heights. Each still felt a beguile footman who stood at their gate. "Ye inconceivable fool. T'is a reason why, Dead men tell no tales..." Cocking mechanisms of flintlocks surged. Another chimed in when Captain went to peace. "Best ye tell a helluva' tale. Of what ye live..." This served a code, a message in a bottle, but parchment became waterlogged, useless. If there was ever a moment etched within his time, to become unspoken, now was it. He would be a preaching to a choir. Chewing and clacking his gums, he'd lower the tricorne to his heart. A ferocity lit in his hues, rebellious. "From conception we're met with opposition. There ain't a single-choice upon what we calls origins being dealt, whether by some invisible puppeteer, deemed an author, or some putrid sack ov' excuse-spinner." Revving up, "Educated, groomed, taught t' be the same way, that results t' a history never ending but repeats, wondering why we live under th' same shadows ov' all our dated descendants who fell. Constantly wishing or reflecting back, things were simpler, better, desiring do-overs. No-one looks forward t' a clock, only backwards when bloomed." The fulfillment of dreaming in youth, gets devoured, in due age, later when matured. What could've been, spawns. He took brash steps even while being trained on with blunderbusses. "Thrust into environments where eating metal, doing whatever it takes to survive! --- They call us problems." Speaking out to the rebellious that still swelled, "Sentence t' unexplained diseases, festering rot n' us. We start giving into instability, alongside insecurities, it racks us into a trail of bottomless failures, believing we've nothing of importance... Told by our closest endearing whispers, who mutter the same air of our doubting thoughts... It encourages demons, t' vices, to a point, a visit only ov' ferryman can accept us." He registered and conveyed a lot of personal emotion. "Bein' pirate everyone thinks our take ov' freedom means pure unadulterated chaos, anarchy, destruction. To be feared... Truth it means we're standing against what governs us all, growing bone's where they've gone missing." Showing teeth and taking a stand on top of a tavern table between, the disheartened. "Authority, Order! These things are presented as principal things that are required to function, n' keep peace... But it's artificially made-up. Think to yourselves! How many label's have been created to categorize yourself? To try separating you from being an individual, just so someone can stand-out against on a perch! you don't even know how t' stand anymore! ...Thinking by being on your two-legs that's all? You b' so far drowned, you cannot impose those who wear their crowns, cause you accept it as all-purpose... O' if a mass-herd flocks, it's natural to' fall in that line and try to be included at all costs, thinking it'll grant you an audience, notice, give you validation." His speech began boiling up, resonating something in a few, they became domesticated too. "Words, like 'martyr', 'rebel', thrown around. Placed to maintain control, they subjugate, they'll bend rules, whatever it takes! They'll use their fancy speeches t' rile you into a false-sense to stay kneeled over, stating it's a 'we' or 'us', ignoring really they're out their own business." He presented as their so called pirate king was faceless, removed, abandoned all the free-spirited left. That continued with the powers in place. "Same almighty forces that are throwing us into forgotten. Trying to remove us, are the some who were us, once..." The red-coats weren't someone to be all idolized. Innocent's rain rampant on

those, it was not-self sacrificial, they were govern. "Free. Isn't exclusive. It's within us all, a lifestyle, something that any are capable of taking with zero discrimination, no hierarchy, or diversities preventing you at some barrier for entry! Reach down! Battle against your illnesses, wounds, oppressors! Wobble on your soles and fight to stand against what you disagree with, crawl even, gnarl at that hilt! Die fer passion, what makes you feel who, who gives you it! That's what actual breathing looks like! This IS yer rightful treasure, yer CLAIM. Get it back into your hands and you'll know this is a world you own!" Climatically blew through in his renegade passion. The very air he exhaled into these words weren't laced, they came from personal, raw emotion! Casting away not only to his own liberation but his former folks. "This is living's meaning!" Reaching down grabbing a bottle and smashing it against his arm into a tearing cut, bloodied arms formed outwardly, like wings he threw his arms. Drops of resolve and armed weapons fell in unity. 'The Captain ov' the Five Seas' approached them, and said, I am alive, but so are all those who died, they're in me! I haven't lost this War, It's only getting started. Waves, winds, change, so I've adapted. Here, I am.'

The lawless bellowed out an uproar outcry and jolly, shooting their guns into the ceilings. Smashing and slugging each other with haymakers, drinking and thrusting into debauchery, they were free, once again! Label's no more! Defined, never again! Each saw their passion, the moment was seen! What went obscured. Captain leapt into the brawl, of celebration, he was home, alive! The storms were still remaining but he found many places to call shelter when they came.