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tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM.

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help.

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths.

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air.

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression.

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you.

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you.

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place.

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head.

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building.

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting.

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended.

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly.

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit.

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place.

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags.

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her.

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound.

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious.

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage.

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in.

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought.

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same.

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation.

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it.

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered.

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out.

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either.

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms.

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet.

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound.

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train.

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could.

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse.

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away.

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself.

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped.

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you.

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session.

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone.

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt.

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower.

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips.

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader

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gyusimp · 4 months

Note

I’d like to request Gyutaro and fem reader having a disagreement so they play a game doing the 69 position and whoever cums first wins

°•Competing with Gyutaro (Nsfw)•°

Thanks for this request, hope u like it, it's a little short but it unblocked me and I had a lot of fun!

⚠️WARNINGS: NSFW| Smut | 69 | Minors PLS DNI!! | Modern AU

Today was Sunday afternoon, outside the sky was covered in clouds and it seemed like it could rain at any moment, you and your boyfriend were alone in your apartment so since both of you felt brave enough to cook dinner or something so you simply decided to suggest watching a movie or a series together, to which Gyutaro gladly agreed. You two went to your room and got on the bed to turn on the television and enter one of the series platforms.

Gyutaro took the remote control and, together with you, navigated through the entire repertoire of series and movies. It was quite an extensive catalogue, from comedy and horror to romance, action and documentaries. A few days ago you saw a summary of a romantic comedy on social media so you suggested that movie to watch together while Gyutaro suggested an action trilogy, bloody and exciting. You didn't dislike these types of movies, but you didn't feel like watching them at this exact moment, your eye was on that romantic comedy and you wanted to give it a chance.

"I'm not gonna watch that thing, I'll end up asleep within the first 15 minutes." Gyutaro told you, with reluctance in his voice.

"Well, I don't want to hear gunshots every 5 seconds and see guys running on roofs either, not now at least."

The two of you continued debating on which movie to watch, it was taking you longer to look for one than it did to watch a movie, it would even be close to dusk. Neither of you two got a second choice to propose, so the only two candidates were the films you had chosen from the beginning.

"Well, we have no choice..." You said, placing one of your hands behind your back, looking at your boyfriend squarely. "Rock, paper..."

"Wait a second." Gyutaro said, to which you listened to what he had to say. "What if we better play another game to decide?" His smile was unpredictable, bold and malicious.

"Sure, that's what I was about to do."

"No, not that kid shit. How about we do this: let's do a quicky 69, and whoever cums first will be the winner."

His idea surprised you, you were not horny at the moment and Gyutaro was usually very easy to get aroused so both things were a disadvantage for you at the moment, you thought about the game for a few minutes while planning how to obtain a sure victory so you ended up accessing.

"Ok, I accept!"

Gyutaro began to take off his clothes just like you, you undressed easier since you were only wearing a bra, panties and a long, loose t-shirt, you got rid of all your clothes until you were completely naked just like him. Gyutaro laid down on your bed and then patted his lap for you to climb on top of him.

"Make yourself comfortable, honey." He invited you, his voice deep and provocative.

You straddled Gyutaro, placing one leg on either side of him but with your back to him, you positioned yourself so that his wet cock was in front of your face, your breasts were crushed on his abdomen and you could sit almost on his face. Gyutaro's view was perfect, he could admire on his face your thighs hugging his sides, your butt on his chest and your small pussy half open in front of him, making him spank you on impulse, making you moan. The idea of this game was to make your opponent feel the slightest pleasure to prevent him from cum but still make a little effort since it was against the rules to stay completely still.

"Ok, go ahead doll. Start sucking" Gyutaro said.

Chills passed through your entire spine when after hearing him speak, you felt a wet and hot sensation on your slit making you moan, it was Gyutaro's tongue running through your folds, sliding between your lips. You couldn't stand by and do nothing or Gyutaro would automatically win, so you turned your gaze forward and found his cock in front of you. You took it between your fingers and began tracing small lines with your tongue over his slit at the tip, causing Gyutaro to move his hips as he sucked on your pussy and thighs. You had to do whatever it took on their own to cum as soon as possible, so you settled yourself better on top of Gyutaro and spread your legs wider, opening your cunt better so that Gyutaro's tongue had better access. You began to move your hips on top of him, slow, circular movements to make your clit slide out of your folds and rub against Gyutaro's mouth as you slid your hand down his length again and again. You could feel your core wet and throbbing just like Gyutaro's cock in your hand. You decided it was time to take him out of your mouth and instead began sucking on his balls and leaving wet kisses along his length and both thighs. Gyutaro's moans told you that you were doing an excellent job, even if he didn't tell you in words. You continued to move your hips on top of him, wanting your orgasm badly but you didn't feel wet enough yet. You saw Gyutaro's tip in your hand, dripping with precum so your instinct led you to immediately lick it before he noticed, you looked at his face again but he was drunk enough with lust between your legs to notice that his liquid was appearing. Gyutaro took his tongue out of your hole and decided to thrust one of his fingers in, making you arch your back along with a loud moan.

Wet sounds could be heard every time he arched his finger inside you, stretching you and you sucking on it to clench around him. You wanted to keep your moans hidden as much as possible so as not to let him see how good he was making you feel and suddenly stop so you took his length in your hands again and took it almost completely into your mouth to start sucking him while you accelerated the movement in your hips. You felt on your lips how Gyutaro contracted and his moans became louder which meant that he could cum at any moment so your hips went faster and faster making his finger start to get wetter inside you. You felt a couple of gags in your throat and your mouth became wet, drooling down the sides tasting Gyutaro's precum giving you the idea that he would be the winner until due to your rough movements on his face and your clit rubbing against him, you had to take it out of your mouth to scream with pleasure and feel how all the discharge of your orgasm came out of your body and seconds later that of Gyutaro. Gyutaro approached you and took care of separating your lips with his fingers and eating you whole until the last drop, leaving you with a slippery, wet and hot sensation between your pussy and your legs, sliding down to your butt. Now you were the winner.

"Well...we'll see what I want, okay?" You said, feeling victorious.

#gyutaro x reader #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro #gyutaro smut #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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the-griffons-saddlebag · 1 month

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⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Rose of the Queen Valkyrie Weapon (spear), legendary (requires attunement) ___ A sharp and coiled rose blossom rests at the top of this gilded spear. A pair of silver, winglike leaves stretch outward from either side of it. You gain a +3 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon, which has the finesse property. When a creature is slain with this weapon, a red rose grows from the corpse after 7 days. 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙠𝙚. Whenever you hit a target with the spear, it takes an extra 1d6 piercing damage from the attack. Once on each of your turns when you deal this extra damage, you can cause up to two other creatures that you can see within 5 feet of the target to also take 1d6 piercing damage, as a spray of thorns fly outward from the spear. 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙨. You can use an action to spin the spear above you, sending a cascade of magical thorns out from you in a 20-foot radius. Each other creature within that area must succeed on a DC 17 Dexterity saving throw or take 4d6 piercing damage. Any creature within 5 feet of you has disadvantage on the saving throw and takes an additional 1d8 slashing damage from the effect on a failed save. 𝙍𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜. When you make a ranged attack with this spear, it returns to your open hand immediately after the attack. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

#illustration #digital art #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d

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gilbirda · 4 days

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Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 27

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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Jason knew it was going to be an interesting day when loud knocking woke him up way too early than when he was supposed to wake up.

He glanced at his phone, wondering if one of his more annoying siblings had decided to torment him for fun, but there were no new messages.

“I know you are there! Open up!”

Jason had half a thought to ignore Danny until he gave up. Or phased through the door—

“You know I can just phase through this thing, right? I’m being polite— this is me being polite and respecting boundaries. So open this door and let me in!”

He groaned loudly and sat up on his bed. “Whatever, man. Come in or welcome to my abode or whatever you guys need to access.”

Surely enough, after a few seconds Danny walked in looking at him with an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t even fazed by his naked chest and the scars on his skin.

“Did you just call me a vampire?”

He shrugged. “Jazz was a bit weird about permission to enter the first time she came over.” He yawned. “And made the same face when I asked about the vampire thing.”

“That’s because Vlad is a creepy vampire wannabe.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway of his bedroom, watching him get up and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. “Ghosts can be weird about entering territory when it’s about a haunt, but you are too weak to make a claim yet.”

Jason hummed, washing his face and deciding to talk about his ghostliness later. Maybe this could be a good chance to bring up the idea of that visit to the yetis.

“In any case, Jazz has no actual reason to be weird about coming into your apartment… apart from the fact that she likes you.”

Jason looked up and glanced at Danny’s reflection in the mirror, watching him with a small smirk. Was the shovel talk going to happen now? He sighed. Better get that over with.

“Why are you here, Danny?”

The younger man uncrossed his arms and glanced away, thinking. Was it that bad?

Finally, he looked at him with new resolve, his blue eyes steeled with determination. “You are treating me to lunch.” It wasn’t a question.

“Am I?”

“Yes. We are going to this Batburger place that everyone talks about online.”

Jason walked back to his room and picked up his phone. It was almost one in the afternoon. No wonder he was hungry. He shrugged and went to get some jeans and a shirt, ignoring the burning stare of his guest on his back.

Soon they were on the move to the nearest Batburger that was just around the corner. It was the only one that ventured into the Narrows and it showed — Red Hood had stopped a robbery in this place enough times that he knew the day and night shifts by name, and had gotten enough free burgers as well.

Danny was quiet the whole way, checking his phone and humming and/or groaning at the texts on the screen.

Once at the Batburger, both placed their order and Danny abandoned Jason to pay as he searched for a place to sit down. Jason didn’t miss how the chosen booth had perfect vision of the exits and was away from any windows or prying eyes from the staff.

He checked his phone one more time, but he didn’t magically have more messages from Jazz that could offer a light on what Danny intended to get out of interrogating him. He was pretty sure by now that a shovel talk was not the goal of the conversation, which opened the question, what the fuck was Danny’s deal with the silence and seriousness.

Finally, their order was done and he brought everything to their booth, noticing that Danny left him the disadvantageous seat that made him face only Danny and give his back to the door. He didn't like it, but would survive just this once.

“Okay,” he didn’t beat around the bush, “whatever it is, just say it.”

“How do you know I have an agenda?”

Jason didn’t even grace that with an answer. Surely Danny must know his poker face was non-existent. He had seen Jazz make better faces, and she was the one who body slammed a thug in front of one of Gotham’s vigilantes and then pretended to be a normal human.

“Okay, okay. World’s best detectives.” He made a dismissive gesture and shoved a bunch of jokerized fries in his mouth. “Hm. These are good.”

They were good, despite the name. Jason loved the damn fries. Still looking Danny in the eye, he picked a fry and slowly bit into it.

“This is not a shovel talk.” Danny started, carefully sipping his drink. “I don’t— Jazz can date whoever she wants and unless you give me reason to think you’d hurt her in any way—”

Jason kept his face totally blank, flashes of her bruised wrist coming to the front of his mind, but Danny narrowed his eyes and stopped eating, interlacing his hands instead.

“I see.”

Jason swallowed. Did he know? How much did he know?

“Jazz told me. About what happened.”

“And?” He tried to act nonchalant, but he knew if Danny could read him when he kept a blank expression, he could see through his attempt.

“Relax. She barely said anything about you. Which,” his eyes glowed green, “tells me more than what she could actually say in words.”

“What do you mean?”

He took his time, grabbing his burger and taking a bite of it. He also chewed slowly, smirking, knowing that he was being a little shit by making him wait.

Finally, he swallowed. “You are not going to eat? The burger is pretty good.”

Jason picked up his burger and bit down, eyes fixed on Danny and his little smirk, waiting what he would do next. He somehow didn’t feel like it was an interrogation and more like he was being watched by a predator taking its time to delight in their prey’s fear.

“I know about the gun.” Jason choked. Danny didn’t move or showed concern. “I know about Batman’s and your interrogation. I know how you treated her.”

Jason felt cold, but kept it together and took a sip of his own drink trying to recover from almost choking to death.

“I—”

“I’m the one talking.” He leaned in, picking another fry and putting it in his mouth. “Again, Jazz didn’t tell me much but I know her and I know how to read her.” He chewed, eyes still glowing green. “I need to know what happened.”

“But you said—”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Jason could almost visualize the crown burning over Danny’s head. He was talking to the King, not his girlfriend’s younger brother.

He briefly considered trying to hide, or maybe offer a shitty excuse, or maybe a watered down version of the facts — but Danny had already let him know he had ways to know he was bullshitting him.

He sighed and bit more of his burger.

He knew Jazz valued Danny’s opinion, but in the case of the young king deeming his acts enough to keep them apart, would she go against his wishes and still want him? There was a real possibility that after this conversation their already complex relationship became even more impossible.

He felt a pinch in his chest, the familiar resentment he felt the previous night coming back full force. Was all of this worth it? Was she worth it? Worth of being stared down by this unnerving creature, ruler of another dimension, who could easily smite him out of existence?

He watched his hands, almost feeling the touch of her skin. His scarred knuckles softly caressed by her fingers as they watched a movie. The familiar weight of her hair as he pushed it aside to kiss her.

Jazz was… She was… Jazz made him feel wanted. No conditions, no fine print, no agendas. After thinking about it, he was more and more convinced that Jazz was not the kind of person who hid a secret plan or exit strategy. That she was as broken as he was, forced to be a warrior since teenagehood and stumbling through life searching for purpose.

He understood they weren’t so different after all, so maybe she understood that side of him too.

Jason looked up at Danny, who patiently waited for an answer. His small smile betrayed that he knew about his internal turmoil, and was just humoring him while he gathered his thoughts.

“I love her.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He nodded. “I don’t— She and I—” He grumbled, one hand ruffling his hair. “I have been betrayed before, and when Bruce came forward with all that stuff… I thought I was being deceived again.”

“You didn’t ask Jazz if it was true.”

“I didn’t. It was just too perfect. Made too much sense.” Danny narrowed his eyes. “I understand now that it was all bullshit, but I found out then that Jazz gave me that damn green stuff and I don’t how much you know about me, but me and the Lazarus Pits don’t have a good history.”

Danny nodded and bit his burger. His eyes also stopped shining. “She saved your life, you know.”

“I know.”

He remembered waking up and finding her eyes watching him. He dismissed them at the moment, but they had been clearly shining green. If he wasn’t so focused on the euphoria of being alive and with her, he would have stopped and accepted that there was a lot more than meets the eye with Jazz.

It didn’t make sense to dwell on that now.

“I already owe her too much.” He admitted after a moment. “But I will repay her with my life if needed.”

Danny’s eyebrows went to his hairline and he started laughing. He slapped the table, laughing so loud that the other patrons of the Batburger were looking at them now.

He sighed. Danny found that even more hilarious and continued laughing.

“Oh man, that’s… You don’t need to be cute with me.” He wiped the few tears gathered in his eyes. “And no need for such declarations of love. Or staking your life on it, pal. When you die, your ass is mine. With how contaminated you already are, and with a previous resurrection, you are definitely one of my subjects when you die.”

Jason had suspected it, but this confirmed it. He wouldn’t know peace even after he died.

Okay.

Whatever. He would deal with that later.

“Jazz and I talked, after what happened. I apologized. I— I won’t do that again. I don’t… I know I’m not exactly—” He stopped to glare at his food. He wasn’t getting anywhere. He breathed in and tried again. “I’m not boyfriend material. I'm a crime lord. I can be violent. When I came back to Gotham, I introduced myself to the criminal Underworld by arranging a meeting with all the lords and giving them their second in command’s heads in a duffel bag.”

Danny nodded along but didn’t say anything. If he was judging him, he wasn’t showing.

“Jazz says she understands my work and from what we learned yesterday maybe she does, but still —”

“Why are you dating my sister, Jason?”

He looked up, and somehow he couldn’t see anything human in Danny. It wasn't just his eyes, it was… everything. Shadows coalesced around him and the bright fluorescent lights from the ceiling blinked in and out of existence. Danny himself looked older, bigger, sprawled on his seat like he was sitting on a throne and lazily watched him from above.

If it were another situation, he would have tried to find out what tricks he used, what kind of magic he possessed to do this to him and not raise alarms in the Batburger.

“What do you mean?” He cleared his throat, feeling it dry, but couldn’t move a finger to reach for his drink.

“If you are such a dangerous man… If you understand you are not ‘boyfriend material’ — “ he made the air quotes “ — and cannot provide the stability or security my sister needs… Why are you still with her?”

Because he loved her? Because she understood him? Because she wasn’t trying to change him, like everyone else?

He couldn’t choose which one to say. And somehow he knew that “love” wasn’t a good enough answer for the Ghost King.

Danny’s left eye twitched. He leaned in. “What tells me that you won’t wake up one day and realize she’s not worth it, Jason? That one day you won’t think that you actually want to go back to the severed heads and the recklessness?” Jason felt his breath leaving him with every pointed question. What was Danny doing? “How can I be sure that my sister is a priority for you?”

As the King leaned back on his seat, Jason could finally take a much needed breath. He pondered the words, how familiar to his own thoughts they were. He had decided that he would let the insanity of Jazz’s life permeate in his, that it wasn’t such a big deal, that they would deal with things as they came.

But was it ever so simple?

Nothing was simple with Jazz. Or with him. He knew that he could never have any resemblance of a normal relationship with a civilian, and even hero relationships had a high chance to fail — the Mission, after all, took place over everything else. Bruce had taught him that, on top of his crime fighting knowledge.

He had already given up by the time he met Jazz, but he said yes because she was supposed to be something simple, something temporary. Mundane.

Was she really those things? Simple? Temporary? Mundane?

No. That’s not what she was, and that’s not why he got into a relationship with her.

Danny’s eyes followed him as he controlled his breathing, the green changing colors as he probably followed his inner turmoil.

“So?”

Jason licked his lips. Why was he staying? Why was he willing to try?

“She chose me.”

Danny arched an eyebrow. He wasn��t expecting that answer.

“She wants me. That day, when I—” he swallowed “ — When I pointed a gun at her and asked her questions like she was some kind of criminal,” he closed his eyes, haunted by her hurt eyes while he accused her, “she was honest when she said she wanted me. Everything else I could easily tell she was hiding something, but about her feelings… there was no deceit.” He remembered her phone, the lock screen picture, his smile. “It could have been anyone else, could have been my own brother, but she chose me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does. It really does. I hurt her, I questioned her, I threatened her, and yet she wanted me. She wanted to give me a chance. I won’t let it go to waste.” He let his shoulders drop, trying to ease the tension. “Not going to lie, I am… wary of this whole Ghost Royalty business, and I know it won’t be easy, but nothing has ever been easy for me.” He shrugged. “I have always had to work harder to get what comes easy for everyone else. I was born here, in the Narrows, and I grew up on the streets.”

“Bruce Rich Dude adopted you.” Danny nodded and looked aside, and the death grip the young man somehow had on their surroundings was eased. The lights stopped flickering.

Jason rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “Yes, but it was short lived. Just like me.” He smiled at Danny’s chuckle. Jazz wasn’t kidding about the death jokes being a norm in her life. “I was murdered at fifteen years old. When I came back, Brucie had another kid taking my place.”

“That’s rough buddy.”

The illusion was completely broken. They were back at the Batburger and Danny was just a guy eating his lunch again. No more eldritch horrors.

“You said this wasn’t a shovel talk.” Jason pointed out, reaching for his drink.

“I wasn’t intending to, honest.” Danny shoved the last of the fries in his mouth. “It’s difficult, you know — being her brother and the King.” He said as he chewed. The contrast of the Ghost King threatening him and not even five minutes later loudly chewing fries without any care wasn’t lost on Jason. “I just…” He made a vague gesture.

“It’s nice that you care.”

Danny glanced at him, surely noticing how charged that sentence was, but didn’t comment on it. “I’ve never seen her be so… careful.” He tilted his head, just like Jazz does. “No. That’s a lie. The last time she behaved like this was when she was covering for me.”

“Covering?”

“Protecting me from our parents.” His eyes glazed over a little bit, remembering. “She doesn’t appreciate dishonesty; but she would cheat, lie and fake smile to Jack and Maddie to keep them away from me.” His eyes were bright blue when he focused back on him. “Just like she tried to pull with me to protect you, bird boy.”

Jason chose to ignore the blooming warmth in his chest and finished the rest of his burger. Danny chuckled, probably knowing what he was thinking. It was getting annoying not being able to hide like he was used to.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the younger man said, placing his head on his hand and resting his elbow on the table. “Your story checks out with what she told me.”

“So you are fine with it?”

“No. Not in a million years,” his smile was definitely threatening, “but somehow you are what my sister wants and she was willing to fight me for you so… you have my interest.”

“Not approval?”

He hummed. “We’ll see about that.” He looked down at the table and lazily pushed aside the empty box. “Keep making her laugh and I will reconsider.” Maybe he noticed Jason’s confused face because he added: “I haven’t heard her laugh in ages.”

“You are joking,” he rolled his eyes, “she laughs and giggles all the time.” Danny wasn’t smiling. “What—”

“You don’t know how she was back there.” His smile turned sad. “I didn’t know how much she was hiding— No, I did know, but I didn’t want to think about it. My sister… She told you about David, but she didn’t say what happened after that. What happened after she killed for the first time. After… everything.”

Danny’s eyes became watery. “I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell me. Every damn time she came back, gave a report and pushed through. I kind of got used to her not coming to me for all this stuff, so I never…” he looked away. “I should have done something. Especially after David. I knew shit went down but I didn’t know it was… that.”

“And what happened? Did she swear off romance?”

“Nothing. She did nothing. She powered through it like she does with everything else — she says she is ‘fine’ and focuses on everyone else, bottling up her emotions, and crying alone when she thinks nobody hears her.”

“Why? Because it's a weakness?”

“Because right after she broke up with him, we had a Siege. I feel like the worst brother ever, but we couldn’t afford her being out of the battle, and then we just… never talked about it?”

Jason hummed and picked up what remained of his burger, shoving it into his mouth as he considered the new piece of information.

He didn’t know how much she wasn’t sharing about her past; but again, there was a lot he wasn’t talking about his. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to be ignorant of aspects of her life at this point.

“In a way,” Danny interrupted his thoughts, “I think it is a good thing she ended up with someone like you.”

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Someone like me?” A vigilante? A zombie? A criminal?

“She always waited for Robin to fly in and sweep her off her feet. I know this. I’ve read her diary.”

Jason froze. “I’m not Robin.” He growled.

Danny lifted his eyebrows. “You are Red Hood, which is way cooler.” Right. Danny was a fan. “And the Gotham hero she likes the most.”

“I thought you were the fanboy?”

The other chuckled and leaned in. “She had been researching you guys for a while before coming here. Boards, papers, internet forums — anything you can think of, she got her hands on it. She tried to hide it, but her rants about Red Hood were significatively longer than the others. She always said that the finesse and smarts of the execution of Red Hood’s exploits in Gotham were fascinating.” He sipped his drink. “She didn’t mention a duffle bag with severed heads, though.”

Jason didn’t even try to hide the blush. What was the point?

“It’s not public information. The others don’t know about this.” He considered it better. “Or I think they don’t. Bruce is not very keen on sharing with the class if he does.”

“But he has to if he wants us to work together.” Danny continued, eyes fixed on something behind Jason. “Tonight we are going through all the prep for the Justice League meeting… and meet up with the Spirit.”

Jason perked up. “Tonight?”

“Yep.” Danny sipped his drink, but there was nothing else but ice. He looked displeased.

“Can I join?”

---

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#dpxdc #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #jazz/jason #dp x dc #dc x dp #batpham #friendly neighborhood vigilante #neighbors au

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beardedmrbean · 1 month

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Black Americans like me are often guilted into defaulting to supporting the Democratic Party — but with friends like the Democrats, who needs enemies?

No matter the paternalistic garbage they regurgitate into party talking points about our existence, we’re supposed to hold our noses and show our support for our political frenemies.

And now the stench of racial-rhetoric bile has emitted from the mouth of Gov. Hochul, with insulting and ignorant comments about black kids.

While speaking onstage in a California forum about her desire to have more of a diverse workforce in artificial intelligence, she attempted to highlight the disadvantage some have — but instead made an unfounded presumption about them.

“Right now we have, you know, young black kids growing up in The Bronx who don’t even know what the word ‘computer’ is,” Hochul said.

“They don’t know, they don’t know these things,” she continued.

“And I want the world opened up to all of them.”

Of course, her statement about black children’s knowledge of the existence of computers was met with swift backlash, even from lawmakers within her party.

“Deeply disturbed by @GovKathyHochul’s recent remarks and the underlying perception that she has of Black & brown children from the BX,” lamented Bronx Assembly member Karines Reyes on X.

“Our children are bright, brilliant, extremely capable, and more than deserving of any opportunities that are extended to other kids. Do better.”

While many want to translate this moment as being a gaffe, I believe it served as a window into the mindset of many mainstream elitist Democrats.

Hochul inadvertently revealed how she’s a country-club Democrat who perceives anyone who isn’t a member of the upper class as being beyond ignorant and incapable.

To smother the mild guilt they feel for being fortunate, such people pretend to understand the plight of the unfortunate with leftist virtue-signaling.

Ironically, her twisted belief that black children are ignorant of a word reveals her ignorance about the world.

It would be bad enough to presume black children in The Bronx don’t have computers, but she verbalizes an even more putrid belief that the word “computer” isn’t anywhere to be found in their vocabulary.

It makes me wonder: How deep does the pit of Democratic condescension go?

Does she believe black people in The Bronx use rotary phones because they never discovered the wonders of an iPhone?

Would she be shocked to know that black people don’t walk barefoot in New York and that shoes are readily accessible to them?

There has yet to be a day that I regret leaving the Democratic Party and choosing political independence, because I know that this mentality of seeing people who look like me as expectedly pitiful — and being shocked when we are successful — is rampant.

Hochul and her country-club Democrats pass themselves off as being the saviors of black people when we didn’t ask them to be.

They’re self-serving narcissists who use our likeness for social clout and voter-base bragging rights — when, at the end of the day, we are nothing more than the help that caters to them at their exclusive clubs.

The party I used to support still argues that black people are less capable of getting a government-issued ID to vote, when I’ve yet to meet a black adult in my entire life who didn’t have one.

And now it makes sense: They think we can’t Google where the DMV is because we don’t have a computer to complete this task. I mean, what even is a “Google”?

I have a problem with being led by elitists who’ve disconnected themselves from the reality of the average American because they often invent falsehoods about our existence — as it’s more comforting for them to use their imaginations than to leave their gated communities.

I spent part of my childhood poor and homeless, yet I’ve defied the Democratic odds of not only knowing how to use a computer but previously having an entire career in the information-technology field.

Being poor is not the same as being incapable or unintelligent and lacking resources, and it doesn’t determine your outcome unless you want it to.

Gov. Hochul, that “black people not knowing about computers” line might get applause from your golfing buddies on the sand trap, but it doesn’t jive with anyone outside of those gates.

#nunyas news

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bloodyshadow1 · 2 months

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for the multiclassers with their level up to 14 there are options

Fabian is currently a level 6 fighter battlemaster/7 swords bard. getting a level in fighter means getting a battlemaster feature Know your Enemy. Which honestly I feel is underused in most dnd games, but can be very good for him where he's in school and has a much easier chance to observe potential enemies like the Ratgrinders. If he takes a level in bard, he doesn't get that much as it is an ability score level up so potentially he could get his 18 in charisma to 20, or he could get a feat. If he does go this route I think he should take a feat since Fabian's charisma is great already and he doesn't really use his spells in combat that much compared to the casters, he mostly uses it to get smites from Fandragor. There are a lot of cool feats that he could pick if he went this route, like sentinel that he had then lost in Sophomore year. Of course, there are other reasons to take a level, sometimes the most important thing is to take a level in a class to get closer to a higher level class feature. They don't have many more combats/episodes left, probably 1 before the finale so they could potentially have another level up. at 9th level get gets access to a 5th level spell.

Gorgug is in a similar space as Fabian, he's a 6 barbarian berserker/7 artificer barbificier. taking a level in barbarian would give him access to feral instinct that he lost when he took artificer levels. Advantage on initiative is good, but he's had disadvantage on initiative since he started getting stress tokens so I'm not sure how important that is to Zac. The level in Artificer won't give him much as it's an ability score level. He could boost his strength up to 20 to max it out or get his int to 18 for his artificer stuff. Or he could take a feat and then who knows what he's going to do. Of course, he could take 2 levels in artificer by becoming a 5 barbarian, and become a 9th level artificer to show off a feature of his new homebrewed subclass. I don't think he should since he would lose mindless rage that has saved him quite a few times and high level dnd has a lot of weird mind magic that can frighten and charm. As the biggest guy on the field he's the likely target. As we don't know much about Gorgug's barbificer subclass it could be worth it or it might not be.

Fig is more complicated since she has 3 classes, 10 lore bard/1 hexblade warlock/2 paladin. First off, I don't think she's going to take a warlock level, eldritch invocations are great, but she had them before and gave up a level of warlock for paladin. She seems to like the concept of Warlock, but mechanically it doesn't do much for her, the single level of hexblade is all she needs to be an awesome melee bard. Taking a level in bard would make sense given that we still have to see the outcome of her 30 or so roll on her new song. And doing so would give her access to 6th level spells. Also in regards to bard, I don't think Fig is going to switch her subclass again to swords or valor to get an extra attack. She might, but as a lore bard her magical secrets she gets have served her well, it's the reason she was able to use revify and counterspell. She has the normal magical secrets from being a bard, but who knows if she'd be willing to part with spells for another attack since Emily loves her spells. If she takes a 3rd level in paladin she'll be taking her oath, which is important to her story and what she's been struggling with. I'm not sure if she'd take a level this time or after their second to last fight, it might be more important for her then as a climax. She would get a class feature and honestly I could see it being a homebrewed feature since she doesn't really fit into any of the oaths currently available. Maybe conquest or redemption given how her storyline in intertwined with Ankarna, but who knows given how open Brennan is with homebrew. I also don't think Fig is going to give up her bard levels to get to 5 paladin by the end of the season. Her magical secrets she gets as a bard at 10 are just too good to pass up, she'd lose at least summon greater steed and another spell which I don't think would be worth it.

I am very excited to see how things turn out tonight to see how they level up.

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #the bad kids #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster

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todropscience · 5 months

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SOUTHERN RIGHT WHALE CALVES ARE LITTLE MILK THIEVES

Drone footages made during the nursing season, off Encounter Bay, South Australia have revealed an unknown behaviour in southern right whales (Eubalaena australis), with some calves involved in direct and intentional movement to steal milk from other lactating mothers, with the intention to drink some delicious extra milk.

This phenomenon called allosuckling has potential benefits for the calf as it may gain extra milk to help it grow in size and strength, but it may be disadvantageous to the non-biological mother as she needs to provide milk to her own offspring. According to lead researcher of the study, whales have a capital breeding strategy, where during the nursing season the mother does not feed and is not able to replenish her lost energy reserves.

Allosuckling, the suckling of milk from a non-biological mother, occurs in some species of mammals, whoever, this is the first time is reported in baleen whale calves.

Gif description: A calf performing allosuckling, and the non-biological mother showing an evasive reaction, Sprogis & Christiansen, 2024.

reference (Open Access): Sprogis & Christiansen, 2024. Allosuckling in southern right whale calves. Mamm Biol

#Eubalaena australis #southern right whale #motherhood #ethology #science #biology #marine biology #drone #marine science #scieblr #bioblr #scienceblr #biologyblr #australia #pacific

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 16

An: Happy Valentines Day! Take some time to love yourself and cherish your beautiful soul :)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 4100

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

The thud of his helmet against the empty wooden dresser echoes across the otherwise silent room. My eyes snap open. The muscles in my back tense. Who is in my room?

My head slowly turns to take in the shadowy figure just feet away. It’s too dark to see almost anything. The only source of light is what creeps under the door from the hall. But I know he’s here. I can sense his movements as he turns around to face me. I hold my breath as I feel my heart start to race.

The ominous soldier towers over my bed. His movements are almost inaudible. When I squint, I can just make out the outline of the bulletproof vest strapped to his chest. As he gazes down a deep sigh escapes his chest. The tension in my muscles eases. Not a stranger after all.

I was scared Ghost was going to keep giving me the silent treatment. For once, I’m happy to be wrong.

“What’re you doing here?” my voice is barely audible as I push myself into a sitting position. Somewhere in the haze, part of me wonders if he’s real. Or if this is all some wishful dream. If so, speaking too loud would be a mistake. Maybe even speaking at all.

A gloved hand brushes down the side of my face as his feet inch closer to the bedframe. I so badly want to lean into his touch, to be comforted by him, to pretend everything is going to be alright. But just as I feel myself give way, another sigh escapes his chest. My ears pick up on his ragged breathing. The atmosphere starts to shift. There’s something off about him.

Just as I shift away from his touch, the same hand shoots out and roughly grabs my hair, yanking me down so my neck is exposed. His other hand quickly presses against my mouth as a painful cry escapes through my lips. Strong arms pull me toward the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think you were listening to me earlier,” the mask brushes against my skin as his threatening voice hisses in my ear. My blood runs cold. Not Ghost. Not Ghost. This man is not a Ghost. Who the fuck is in my room?

My entire body freezes. Any fight or flight instinct becomes completely scrambled and my mind feels like a broken record. I am at every disadvantage.

The man tightly gripping my skin is one of the best soldiers in the world. Who is trained in hand-to-hand combat. Who outweighs me by over a hundred pounds. Who is stronger than me. Faster than me. And already has his hands woven into my hair, exposing the most vulnerable part of my body.

Even if I somehow managed a lucky knee to his groin, the only exit is locked and I don’t have a key card. Only authorized personnel have access to my room. Whoever this man is, shouldn’t even be able to get in. But here he is.

And here I am: completely at his mercy.

“I’m going to move my hand. If you scream, I’ll cut your throat,” he threatens. Two sets of wild eyes meet. His pupils are completely dilated and I find myself staring into terrifying black pits. Rage and excitement fight for dominance. “Understood?”

I attempt a small nod. What I do understand is that part of him wants me to try and get away. His fingers twitch against my scalp. He wants an excuse to hurt me. The hand around my mouth slips off as he reaches for something strapped to his chest. The silver hunting knife glints in the dark.

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“I just told you,” there’s a tightness to his voice, as though he’s restraining the rage that threatens to tear through the surface of his composed demeanour. “I won’t be repeating myself, so you better pay attention, little bird,” the name perks my ears. Little Bird. The other Ultranationalist, the prisoner, also called me by that name.

“I’m listening,” I feel the sharp blade of the knife shift around my throat as I force a dry swallow. The start of a panic attack pricks at the tips of my fingers.

“Good. Your father is hurt by your actions. He wants to know why you betrayed him-”

“I didn’t-” the urgency in my voice is quickly cut off.

“Don’t interrupt me you fucking snitch,” he snarls as the knife presses harder against my throat and his hand twists against my scalp, sending shooting tendrils of pain through my head. “You did. And now I have to risk being compromised to set everything right. So here’s what you’re going to do: You are going to help Price set a trap for your father. He expects it. When I stop by you will explain the details. All you have to do is tell the fucking truth,” the knife presses harder against my throat as he says this. “A lot is riding on this. Your father can only take so many chances trying to help you before the organization moves on.”

“Okay,” at this point I don’t know if the word even makes it past my lips.

“If you tell Soap – if you tell anyone, our contacts in America who are watching your friends and coworkers will take five of them. We’ve been tracking them with your father’s help. He wants you to know how serious this is. Their lives are at stake. Your life is at stake, little bird,” A sharp sensation tugs at the sensitive skin under the blade and I feel the first drop of hot blood roll down my neck and land between my collarbones. “If you think I’m the only one you have to worry about, you are even more stupid than I thought. We are everywhere and we are strong. And if you think you can keep hiding behind your father, you are wrong. The organization is the most important thing to him. Don’t be naive.”

Deep, visceral fear pulses through my veins. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as my breathing runs out of control. The air isn’t getting to my lungs. My chest burns as panic invades my lungs. I’m hyperventilating. Fuck. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

“You had so much potential,” his tone changes as the tip of the knife traces down my throat, threatening to break more skin. It follows the path of the drop of blood, coasting past my collarbones, and starting down my sternum. A gross sensation creeps its way up the back of my neck where his hand is tangled in my hair. The knife lightly presses above my undershirt as he approaches my breasts, but just when I fear the gloved hand will go further, I’m released from his vengeful hands and shoved back onto the mattress.

His weight quickly shifts off the bed and then the thud of his boots retreats further into the room. I barely make out the shadow grabbing his helmet off the dresser. Then as a stream of light filters through a crack in the door upon his exit, I can just make out the white numbers sewn to the patch on his shoulder: 141.

I dream of the echo of his shoes against the cold cement floor. My ears ring as the sound grows louder and louder.

“Y/n…Y/n?” my head throbs as the thuds turn into knocks against the door. Burning light floods the room as Soap flicks on the light switch. I recoil from the terrible brightness. “You okay? Ya look like shite.”

“Thanks,” the bitterness in my voice is palatable. Sour and expired. Like a thundering hangover.

“You didn’t eat,” I hear the disappointment in his voice as he stares at the plate on the dresser.

“Wasn’t hungry,” Soap steps closer to the bed, concerned eyes raking across my form, completely hidden by the blankets. I tuck my chin into the softness, hiding from his gaze. Soap’ll think I’m just upset about my father, but he’s the least of my concerns. He can’t know about last night. “Can you leave so I can get dressed?”

“Five minutes,” he reluctantly agrees. “Price is expecting us.”

As soon as he’s gone, I rush to the sink mirror. Red is smeared across the base of my neck from the small cut. It was real. He is real. And out there, waiting for me to slip up.

Something tells me the slip of his knife wasn’t intentional. If he’s as smart as he claims to be, then he wouldn’t have left any marks. Yet here it is, Just above the neckline of where my shirt sits. I wipe away the dried blood with damp toilet paper then pull my shirt back over my shoulders so it sits ever so slightly higher on my neck. Then I tuck the bottom hem into the band of my pants to hold it there. If I brush my hair over my shoulders it won’t be as noticeable.

“Can we stop for coffee?” Soap nods, unusually quiet. The dining hall is busy as they finish up breakfast. He stops to talk to Konig as I head for the drink stand. I need something to clear my head. This is as close as I’ll get. I keep an eye on them as I fill the Styrofoam cup and then immediately down the first cup. The liquid burns my tongue and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I drink half the second cup before refilling it and joining Soap. I just need to get through this morning and then I’ll have time to think. Just get through this meeting.

“You’re gonna get the shakes,” he says eyeing the half-empty cup outside of Price’s office.

“I’ll be fine,” my trembling hands betray me though. But that’s not from the coffee. I’ve always handled my caffeine well and this stuff is far from strong.

Inside I claim the same plastic chair as Yesterday. Price is quiet as he types on the laptop and Ghost is nowhere to be found.

“Just a moment, sir,” Soap slips out of the room leaving just the two of us. My eyes flicker from the coffee to Captain Price seated behind the desk. His light eyes intently scan the screen as his distinct hat sits in the same place it always is. At first, I thought it was a fishing hat until I heard someone call it a boonie. Like Ghost and his mask, I’ve yet to see Price without it.

“You thought about our conversation?” he lifts his head to meet my eyes. The laptop lid is slowly closed and I feel my grip tighten around the warm cup.

“I did,” I fight to maintain a steady voice. He thoughtfully glances over my face. Price’s brows furrow as he presses his lips together. I know I look like a mess. My eyes are hollow and my bags stain the skin underneath. I haven’t seen proper sunlight in weeks and the life feels like it’s draining from my skin. Parts of my bottom lip have split from biting at the skin. I hardly look like myself. I also know he doesn’t really care. I’m hardly the first person here who can’t get a full night’s rest. All that matters is that I’m in good enough shape to help them out.

The door creaks open as Ghost quietly slips in followed by Soap. They nod to Price and find their respective positions. This feels too formal. And also completely unformal, to the extent that none of this is actually happening. It won’t be recorded, that’s for sure. It will cease to exist. I will cease to exist.

“And did you reach a conclusion?” he asks, full attention turning back to me. The coffee swirls in my stomach. Nerves eat away at what little confidence I had walking in here. I tug the neckline of my shirt up, making sure the cut remains invisible.

“I’ll help,” I state simply before pressing the cup to my lips and swallowing the last of the liquid. I feel Ghost intently leering at me. I force myself to look anywhere but toward him. Price nods once. He expected as much.

“Right then, I’ll have a script drafted up so you have time to review before tomorrow. Someone will drop it off at your room,” he shifts in his chair, about to turn away. I nervously pull at my hair, brushing it around my neck and shoulders.

“A script? What do you mean by a script?” my brows furrow together in confusion as he pauses to consider his answer. Price never mentioned how I’m supposed to help. Not that I expected them to tell me anyway. I’m not exactly the first person on their briefing list. Or the last.

“Same time tomorrow morning, you are going to give your father a call. Let him know you’re alright. That we want a peaceful resolution and are willing to work with him for a fair exchange,” I pull at my shirt again when I notice how closely his eyes analyze every expression. But it’s not just him. Soap and Ghost quietly guard the door with their total attention glued to my every action. There’s an air of doubt surrounding my intentions. Now is the time I should tell them about last night. If I leave it any longer their suspicion will only grow. But I run the real risk of hurting people from back home. My friends. People I’ve spent years of my life with. People that I love and don’t deserve a single bad thing to happen to them. Guilt twists in my stomach. I don’t doubt for a second the Ultranationalists will kill them.

“I’m going to talk to him?” My heart skips a beat and the styrofoam begins to crumple under my hands. How the hell am I supposed to talk to him? After all his betrayal, after knowing the horrifying acts of terrorism he’s committed, I don’t think I can even look him in the eyes.

“Over the phone,” Price elaborates. “But you’ll have a script and be briefed beforehand.”

“What will I be asking him to do?” I force an uncomfortable swallow. The urge to feel for the cut along my neck tugs at my fingertips as I grasp the cup tighter.

“You’ll be briefed tomorrow,” Price is curt as he stands from the chair. There are a thousand other things on his list more important than my never-ending spitfire of questions. “Soap, you and I are in the bay with the demolitions team.”

“Yes sir,”

“Can I just ask one more question?” their eyes latch onto me again. This one has been nagging in the back of my mind for weeks now and there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up yet. “Where’s my mom? Is she okay?”

Price exchanges a knowing glance with Ghost. He answers with a quick nod and a small sigh. “Your mother’s fine. She’s at your home in New York, guarded by a team of Ultranationalists at all times.”

“Oh,” his answer is almost too simple. “Thanks,” I say more to myself than him. Is it even true? This wouldn’t be the first time they lied to me and definitely not the last. Maybe he thinks I’ll be more cooperative if I think she’s okay. Or maybe she really is okay. Maybe my father cares more about protecting her than me. We never had guards when I was growing up. I always thought that was something out of our tax bracket, but that’s not the case. I tug at the back of my shirt again, making sure it doesn’t slip down my neck.

“Ghost, escort y/n back to her quarters. She’s not to leave for the rest of the day, meals included. I’ll call later,” as he steps out from behind the desk, Soap is already holding the door open. There’s an air of urgency surrounding their plans. Can the rest of the task force detect it? Or is it under wraps like everything else?

I start to follow them out the exit, but just as I’m inches away a strong arm reaches out, blocking the frame as the door clicks back into place, automatically locking. My chest brushes against the black fabric of Ghost’s sleeve. As my eyes slowly follow up the length of his arm, I notice his attention already on me. I sense a storm brewing behind his mask. The air surrounding us is completely still: a warning of approaching danger. On a summer day, the sky would turn green as the flies swarm and cattle huddle in the corner of the pasture. I fight the urge to follow their instincts and retreat into the corner of the room, but they have strength in numbers and right now I’m all alone.

“I thought I was supposed to go to my room?” already I feel myself walking on eggshells around him.

“Right. What’s up?” Ghost crosses his arms. “Soap says you’ve been acting weird all day.”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to play off the building tension in the air. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” his tone is cold as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. There’s a different type of tiredness attached to him today. From lack of sleep? Sure, maybe that’s part of it. But far from the whole reason.

“Nothing’s up,” I double down, taking a small step away from him. But I don’t get far. Ghost’s hand snakes out and latches onto my wrist. My fingers clench around the cracked coffee cup folded in my hands.

“Y/n, I’m not doing this today. Tell me why you’re acting like that,” Ghost is short with his words. Borderline impatient. I don’t focus on what he’s saying though. My mind drifts to his black balaclava and skull mask. What I would give to be able to hide like that right now. To stop him and Soap and Price from being able to psychoanalyze my every microexpression. To be able to retain my thoughts and emotions as my own. To disappear.

I tug at my collar with my other hand and as his eyes flicker to my hand I realize my mistake immediately. “See, you keep fixing your shirt,” he states.

“Let go,” I try pulling my wrist from his grasp to no avail. “Ghost,” I tug again and this time the crushed cup tumbles from my hand as his grip tightens. I know well by now just how strong he is, but I think Ghost underestimates his own strength sometimes. As his hand twists around my wrist, a throbbing pain shoots up my arm. “Fuck. Can you stop doing that?” he pauses for a moment, considering my request. “Just don’t… don’t grab me like that.”

“And you’re shaking,” the irritation behind his eyes switches to concern.

“Just had too much coffee,” it’s already too hard to hold eye contact with him. My gaze stays on the remains of the coffee cup, but as his hand tightens yet again I can’t help but react to the discomfort.

“No. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Do I?” I bite back. “Is it not enough that I’m about to get my father put in jail? Killed? Do I need to tell you every damn thought that crosses my mind too?” I overplay my emotions on the off chance he’ll decide it’s not worth arguing about. But then in one swift motion, he tugs me closer using my arm.

I brace myself against his chest with my hands, putting what little space I can manage between us. It’s hard to think properly so close to him. His scent starts to twirl around in my thoughts and makes me want to trust him. His sharp words pull me back into reality.

“Do you really think I don’t know when someone is trying to hide something?” Ghost’s hand brushes up the length of my arm, landing on the side of my neck, urging me to make eye contact. “Don’t make me resort to other options,” his low voice threatens.

“Like what?” I jerk my head away from his grasp. “You gonna torture me? Pull a couple teeth? Break a few fingers?” my empty words fly through the room and hit him with at least some impact. Enough to distract him.

“Do you still think that of me?” I note his change in posture as he leans away from me. A pang of guilt hits my chest. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But it’s not like he’s respecting my boundaries either.

“You said so yourself, I don’t know how this ends,” I twist his words from the night at the cabin. Ghost’s dark eyes search for evidence against my claim.

“Y/n, I thought you trusted me?” his voice softens and mixes with confusion as his hands gently embrace my shoulders.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from taking my words back. I do. Fuck, I do. He’s seen me in my most vulnerable state, curled under his hands and gasping into his mouth. But I also trust the Ultranationalists to do everything in their power to hurt the people I love back home, if they haven’t already. I trust that we are in more danger here than anyone realizes. I trust that if I say something, people will die. I don’t miss the hurt in his eyes. But the urge to comfort him is overshadowed by the metastisizing fear growing taking over my entire being.

Fear courses through my veins and rattles my bones. It stains my every thought and desire. I’m terrified of more people getting hurt because of me. The weight of the possibility is crushing me.

But as Ghost’s intelligent eyes scan my frame once more and his arms pull me closer, his entire body freezes. I look up at him, his sudden silence concerning. And then I see where his eyes have landed: just above the neckline of my shirt. Ghost’s hands tense around my arms. His back stiffens and when he speaks I hear the thick restraint in his heavy voice.

“Who did this?” one hand leaves my arm, his fingers wrap around the hem of the fabric to pull it lower. His warm, bare knuckles brush above the swollen cut, a thin scab starts to form in a short, straight line. The air is so tense it feels hard to breathe. If I were to try and run now, it would feel like navigating through quicksand.

“I did,” I whisper. “It was an accide-”

“Damnit y/n.” my name reverberates through Ghost’s heaving chest. A strange mixture of feelings flood my mind: hurt, anger, guilt, pain, fear, sorrow, fear, yearning, fear, fear, fear. “Stop hiding from me,” behind the mask his brows furrow and his bottom lids pull tight, just trying to understand why the hell I’m acting like this. He thought we were past this.

“I can’t,” my shaky voice is just above a whisper.

“Did they threaten you?” he pushes. The familiar edge to his voice is back, but I’m not the intended victim of this blade.

“Please stop,” I beg.

“Was it the Ultranationalists?”

I start to shake my head, but the swell of terror in my eyes is all Ghost needs to confirm his suspicions.

The charged space between us starts to shrink despite neither of us moving. No one dares to make the next move. I see the thoughts racing behind his mask. I feel the vengeance buzzing under the pads of his fingers. Ghost is ready to unleash all Hell on whoever did this. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. If he acts now innocent people will die. I will die.

“Is there somewhere safe we can talk?” his eyes snap up, my soft words bringing him back to Earth.

Ghost nods so subtly, I almost miss it. His knuckles linger on the cut a moment longer, trying to absorb the pain he’s brought onto me. I break our contact and start toward the door before I get too accustomed to his gentle touch.

“Y/n,” I feel the heat of Ghost’s chest press against my back. Strong fingers press into my hips, urging me to turn around. My heart clenches at his softness. I long to feel his flesh mold with mine. To hear his husky voice against my ear as our breaths synchronize and our bodies connect. As I look up, those dark pools mirror my own, but with a deeper sense of urgency. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

I wrap both my hands around one of his and raise it to my neck. I press his calloused fingers to the ridge torn across my skin and revel in the tenderness.

“They already have.”

Pt 17:

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