#physical safety measures
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A newly published survey says 54% of teachers believe carrying firearms in school would make kids less safe. Still, 19% said they would be interested in carrying a gun to school, according to the RAND Corporation's survey of K-12 teachers — which would equate to more than 550,000 of the nation's 3 million K-12 teachers.
The remaining 26% said it would neither make schools more or less safe, according to the survey of 973 K-12 teachers conducted by RAND, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research organization, between October and November 2022.
In 2022 alone there were 51 school shootings that resulted in injuries or deaths, according to Education Week, an education news publication.
Last year's shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, left 19 children and two adults dead – making it one of the deadliest school shootings in the U.S.
While such events have sparked debate on how to best keep kids safe from guns in school, the issue teacher said they were most concerned about is bullying, according to the survey.
"Despite the prevalence of anti-bullying programs, everyday school violence is a concern for teachers. Bullying, not active shooters, was teachers' most common top safety concern, followed by fights and drugs," said one of the report's authors, Heather L. Schwartz, a policy researcher at RAND.
When it came to school shootings, about half of the respondents saw physical security measures like locks, ID badges, cameras and security staff as positive. 5% felt these measures had a negative impact on the climate at the school.
About 80% of teachers said their school had physical safety measures. The most common of these measures are visitor systems, staff IDs and exterior and interior locks.
White teachers were more likely to believe carrying firearms at schools would make them safer, compared to Black teachers. Male teachers in rural schools were also more likely to say they would carry a firearm if the school allowed, according to the survey.
As of Tuesday, the 150th day of the year, there have been 263 mass shootings and 327 victims killed in the U.S. – both figures the highest ever recorded this early in a year.
#us politics#news#rand corporation#gun rights#gun control#gun violence#mass shooters#mass shootings#school shootings#2023#cbs news#education week#Bullying#physical safety measures#concealed carry#open carry
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Me: I’m not worried about any of team rwby dying bc they are the main characters so whatever happens to them is fine bc I know they won’t die
Volume 9 Chapter 8: would you bet your life on that?
#rwby 9 spoilers#the answer is no by the way#I’m very numb I don’t I can’t even talk about any theories I’m just#also whoever is in charge of warnings I don’t care who or how#less distressing thems more physical abuse and suicide warnings#like I hate when ppl censor words as if that makes it better#don’t use the number 4 as an A don’t use a number one for the word kill#a character dying is one thing we’ve had that#suicide#and themes about it should be warned about its not a spoiler it’s a safety measure#not eveyone is going to see a tweet about it#ppl will stay off social media to not be spoiled#which is why trigger topics like abuse and suicide should be mentioned#you can keep the How and Why out of it but just say they will be present so ppl don’t get hurt and more ppl can enjoy the show bc they#were prepared to see sownthing super rough#also this was not a joke any Ruby dying#I meant the mental damage being worse than death and only just realized this post has a double meaning I did not intend that!
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Riley Gaines, a well-known critic of transgender athletes, has allegedly been attacked during a speaking event at San Francisco State University (SFSU). According to Gaines, she was physically assaulted by several individuals who disagreed with her views on transgender athletes competing in sports.
This incident has sparked heated debates and discussions about free speech, trans rights, and…
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#debate#discrimination#equality#free speech#inclusivity#outspoken critic#physical harm#public safety#respectful dialogue#Riley Gaines#security measures#SFSU#SFSU event#transgender athletes#transgender rights#violence
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just so you know, i am changing my alarm soumd to chrissy wake up
#i have the physical clock but the app is just a safety measurement because of boy my sleeping habits#stranger things#yeah downloading tiktok again has been fun idk why they think ive watched stranger things though
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me, an hour ago: "fuck, the stove is on! what do we do?" [immediately does all the wrong things]
PSA: What NOT to do when you smell gas
In this situation, we got home to a smell of gas throughout the house and discovered our gas stove was on without a flame. it was only a tiny stream, and everything turned out fine, but here's a brief list of everything we did wrong:
NOTE: this is for if you smell significant amounts of gas, not a blanket list for all possible gas situations. (If you aren't aware, the methane**/natural gas used in houses smells vaguely like sulfer, or rotten eggs - this is an additive, since it has no natural smell. It's a very recognizable smell, once you've smelled it once. It's not the same smell as gasoline.)
1. If your stove has an electrical/spark ignition, do NOT turn it off.
Spark ignitions often spark when turning on *and* off. Spark + Gas = Boom. Boom is bad. Avoid boom.
Instead, turn off the gas at the source, i.e. the physical valve at the meter. There may be a smaller valve near the stove. If you don't know where the shutoff is, the fire department will find it.
2. Do NOT turn on (or off) vents or fans.
In fact, don't flip any electrical switches - that includes lights, plugging in or unplugging appliances, etc. These cause sparks. Spark + Gas = Boom.
Also, don't start your car. obviously.
3. Do NOT open windows
counterintuitive, I know. This is mostly because you want to prioritize your exit, but it's also to keep the fumes from spreading outside, where you should be waiting for the ~professionals~ to come handle it.
4. DO take all people and pets outside.
Do this very first!! (one thing we actually did right - go us!)
This is obviously because you don't want to go boom, but you also don't want to suffocate. Gas is poison!
NOTE: the gas from your stove is probably methane (natural gas); carbon monoxide is what you get when methane burns, which is why your kitchen needs to be well-ventilated and the stove shouldn't be left burning for long periods of time, but the natural gas itself is *also* potentially deadly. Carbon monoxide detectors dont detect natural gas, so that's what the odorous additive is for.
Inhaling natural gas causes nausea, headaches, dizziness, and makes you just generally woozy, and eventually causes you to lose consciousness and potentially suffocate, just like carbon monoxide does. We don't want that.
5. DO call the fire department/emergency line
They'll check for other leaks, shut gas off if needed, then test for air quality and eventually clear your house for reentry. It takes like 1-2 hours for the gas to dissipate, generally.
Yay, you survived! Congrats!!
NOTE: if you find the stove has been left on with a flame, or it's on with no flame but you don't smell gas, then you should be safe to just open windows and turn on vents and fans to air it out.
idk, this was actually pretty scary, especially when we realized how much of our immediate response was wrong and could have turned a dangerous situation into a real disaster.
tl;dr: If you smell gas when you shouldn't be smelling gas, just get all the people and animals outside, shut off the gas line, and call the fire department or gas company. don't fuck around with gas. you're not overreacting, you're taking the proper safety measures.
**CORRECTED FROM ORIGINAL VERSION. Original said propane, but it's very much not propane, it's methane. too much Hank Hill on the brain, clearly.
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How to Write Your Own Spells
There are lots of ways to create spells, from planning everything to the minutest detail ahead of time to absolutely flying by the seat of your pants in the moment. If you'd like to write your own spells, either for use in your craft or as a creative exercise, here are some suggested steps that I use in my own practice:
1) Determine the intent or goal of your spell.
Decide, first and foremost, what you want the spell to do. Refine your goal if necessary and try not to be too nebulous. Your intent tells the spell what it's meant to do. A more focused goal may increase the chances of success.
2) Determine how you want the spell to manifest.
Decide how the spell should work and what the result should look like. This is a good time to build in a sign of success, especially for spells that may not work in an obvious or visible way.
3) Determine what or whom the spell will affect.
If the spell is to have a target, be it a person or a place or an animal or an object, decide what that should be and how they or it will be represented in the casting.
4) Determine how long the spell is meant to work.
If your spell is timebound or has a deadline, decide what that will be. If the spell is meant to work long-term, you may want to check in and refresh it from time to time. (Not every spell will be timebound. Many spells will simply expire when they have fulfilled their purpose or if they are blocked or circumstances are not favorable.)
5) Determine the timing of the spell, if applicable.
Not everyone uses celestial or astrological timing for their spells, but if you do, look into the prevailing conditions and decide on an advantageous time for your casting. (Please note that magical timing can only enhance your spell and casting something on the "wrong" day will not necessarily cause it to fail.)
6) Determine what methods and materials you want to use to cast the spell.
Decide how you're going to go about performing the casting, whether you're doing a ritual or making a charm or just using energy. If you're going to need a ritual space or physical components, plan that out and make sure it fits with what you want to do.
7) Determine the words, if any, which will empower the spell.
If you want to include a prayer or a petition or a song or an incantation with your spell, decide what that should be. This is not strictly necessary and the words need not be spoken aloud. (Rhyming incantations are not required, but if you prefer them that way, you can certainly do so.)
8) Prepare the materials for casting the spell.
Get all your necessaries together ahead of time. Make sure you have everything you need, that tools and components are in good and useable condition, prepare your workspace, and make sure everything is within easy reach so you don't have to stop and search for things in the middle of your casting. (And for goodness sake, if you're working with open flame, observe fire safety and tie your hair and sleeves back.)
9) Finalize details and perform the casting.
When you're ready to begin, try to eliminate as many possibilities for distraction or interruption as possible. Go over your spell and components one more time, then proceed with casting the spell.
10) Record the particulars for future reference and to determine how well the spell worked.
Make a record of the spell, including your goal, how it should manifest, the words and components used, the date of the casting, the casting method and procedure, and how the casting went. If there are any additional details or observations that seem important, include those as well. This will serve as a useful learning tool in the future and will allow you to check your work if the results make themselves known.
It's useful to write spells from time to time if the inspiration strikes you, in order to better understand how they fit together and how they work. Plus it's a fun and creative journaling exercise and recording the spells you cast a great way to measure your progress later on.
For additional tips on writing your own spells and helpful tricks for using timing and available materials to your advantage, check out my podcast, Hex Positive, Eps. 006-007, "Come In For A Spell, pt 1 & 2."
(And if you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)
Happy Witching! 🔮✨
#witch community#witchcraft#witchblr#baby witch#witch tips#spells#pagan#Advice for Beginner Witches#Hex Positive
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Safe Bliss*
Summary: A small glimpse into y/n and Harry’s life during pregnancy and his obsession with her.
Trope: CEO!H
Wc: 3.1k
Warnings: oral, creampie,doctor check ups, dirty talk, mentions of fertility and breeding.
A/n: My attempt at getting back
CEO H MASTERLIST
Harry’s love language is physical touch.
He’s obsessed with touching you at all times. His hands are rarely found clasped in his lap, they have to be on your skin.
It’s a sentimental gesture in your opinion, a very basic love language made special by him.
It’s not a surprise, after all, you met him during an orgy and he’s the CEO of a sex toys company. You’re accustomed to his antics but others aren’t. His dotting has become a daily routine in your life even before your pregnancy.
Your friends gave you weird looks whenever you went out on a double date, you were quite aware of what they meant but you could not care less. As for Harry, he would be far too gone to notice.
It’s safe to say that it’s always been you and him in a little bubble full of love and touches. This bubble grew bigger with peanut residing in your belly.
Every day you wake up and wait for your life to change, to realize that it was some sort of dream but it never happens. Harry changed your life upside down, it has nothing to do with money or power. He provided you with love you never knew existed, not even in fairytales.
Before you, Harry had no real purpose even when the world was at his feet.
One magazine cover after the other, interviews, meetings, invitations, events, fans, and even some offers from Hollywood directors. All felt mundane to him, things that any regular person would find astonishing.
Some sort of epiphany was fulfilled on a warm April night. He was trying to lose himself in sex, something he adored without shame. And where would he go if not his sex club?
 There are days where he likes to recall all the tiny details leading up to this life-changing moment, while on others he stares at you for a minute or two before letting out a silent prayer stemming from the disbelief of being yours.
It all happened so fast in a crowded room of sweaty bodies letting out their lustful energies. The air was charged with sexual tension as is normal, but the one that radiated off of you and Harry was different.
His entire body was on fire, his fingertips were numb and he felt intoxicated despite being sober.
He convinced himself that it was just the rush of adrenaline and that fucking you would get it out of his system.
He was wrong of course.
Barely 36 hours passed before he asked his secretary to find your number, followed by begging and pleading that he doesn’t necessarily wish to recall.
Now you’re pregnant with his first child, have some of his properties in your name, and will get his last name soon.
You both managed to change each other’s perspective about love and what it meant to be on the receiving end of it. He showed you how a real man should treat you.
His insistence on dating you had you feeling a bit paranoid. It’s a bit flattering when someone is infatuated with you, but Harry surely reached another level.
You were guarding your heart as a precaution from past experiences, so why would a famous rich CEO be any better?
Just like him, you were mistaken.
He went above and beyond to prove to you that he was not bluffing. Four months after your first date, you visited him at his office where you spotted a picture of you taken at a recent outing, framed, and placed near his computer.
That was a huge turning point for you, it opened your eyes to many of his actions that you did not notice before.
You didn’t notice that he bought you the flowers that were printed on your dress the night you met, that he changed his schedule so he could meet up with you, or that he protected your safety with many measures that could’ve hindered his public image.
His need for being around you intensified during the breeding period. He developed a new obsession where he would have you sit in his lap for cuddles, and easier access…
You would often catch him in the act of gazing at your tummy and most of the time, he fucked you senseless after.
His proudness of being your partner and baby daddy made him forget the fact that he’s a public figure. His tongue almost slipped on many occasions due to his excitement of becoming a dad.
The doctor checkups were a whole other thing. An appointment that usually takes around 20 minutes would end up taking an hour thanks to Harry.
Having read a load of books and consumed information from the internet, he would ask your gynecologist questions about your pregnancy and health that have the poor doctor questioning his career and tolerance.
It was moments like these that indicated what an amazing person he is. Every time you go for a check-up, he leaves you for a few minutes while you clean up and sort yourself. You’re aware that he does that to leave a donation and come back quickly but you never say anything.
His adoration for you seems to only get stronger with every passing day. He often worked from home because he “wanted to be around his loves”.
It is no longer a surprise to find his body clinging to you in the mornings instead of being at his office.
He’s simply in love.
Your pregnancy hormones are yet to kick in, but that’s not a barrier because you still take any chance you get to jump at each other like rabbits.
The slow growth of your breasts along with their tenderness and the prominent appearance of your nipples has Harry weak in the knees.
You could only wonder what will happen when you begin to lactate.
Today is one of those days.
You’ve been at it since the morning before he cooked you breakfast and served it in bed.
You both agreed that he should work so you urged him to lock himself up in his office and stay there till lunch.
Thirty minutes later, you found yourself arranging your shared bedroom and collecting laundry, but you couldn’t think properly, not when your fiancée was in the same house as you.
You were bending down near the bed when you felt something large pressing into your ass. You yelped and straightened your posture only to be met with the sight of a fed-up Harry and a bulge in his pants.
“Baby what are you—“
“I need you. Can’t stay away.” He pulled your body closer and attached his mouth to the back of your neck.
“It has barely been half an hour since we fucked.” You groaned knowing that he’ll fall behind on work if he continues behaving this way.
“Really? I knew it’s been a while!” His chuckle vibrated against your back as he engulfed you in a loving embrace.
“Did you even get some work done?” You questioned him with a bossy tone.
“No. Who cares? I’m the CEO.” He whispered lowly in your ear prompting goosebumps to rise all over your body.
Your entire system feels rigid whenever he mentions his power. He’s not someone who abuses it, and perhaps that’s what makes him attractive in your opinion. To explain it briefly, he’s fine with neglecting work just because he wants to be around his baby mama.
“Doesn’t mean you can boss me around mister.” You turned around to face him, cradling his face in your hand as you pressed your body closer to his.
“Never. You’re my boss.” And that is your man. Someone who’s not afraid to admit that their female partner has the upper hand.
Your giggles echoed in the room before joining your lips together in a rush as if you hadn’t seen each other in years. Harry is always extra excited to kiss you like it’s his first time (he cried during your first kiss)
“But..” He pulled back momentarily, gazing into your eyes as mischief took over his. “It doesn’t mean that I’m oblivious to the fact that you need to be fucked daily.”
You swallowed down your throat feeling his fingers travel over your hips and outer thighs. His lips attached to the nape of your neck, leaving subtle kisses that fuelled a fire inside of you.
It’s truly insane to think about the way your chemistry works. You just have to be near each other and everything else collapses.
“Baby..”. Your soft moans echoed in his ear as you held on to his bicep and grinded against his body. The laundry and his office work were long forgotten.
“Can never get enough of you my love.” He confessed breathlessly trying to keep his mouth attached to your skin.
The wetness between your thighs from earlier today having taken a load of his cum joined with the one being formed due to his pining is not helping you at all.
A wet patch covered your grey panties, the same ones he helped you put on claiming that he’ll stay away for good.
Obviously , that was a lie.
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. Harry’s arm was wrapped around your waist as you instinctively spread your legs for him.
“These pretty legs are always open for me aren’t they?” He grinned knowingly, rubbing circles to your inner thighs.
The pulsing in your pussy was unbearable. You could feel his cock brushing against your leg making you whine and roll your eyes backwards.
As of recently, all you could think about was his cock. How it was curved to hit the right spots, how it bred you perfectly and fucked you into madness . You simply want it inside you 24/7.
“H…”. It came out as a whimper when his fingers brushed purposefully over your sensitive cunt.
“Please just fuck me now.”
“Where are your manners sweetheart?” He tsked, slowly undressing you before prepping hungry kisses to your pelvis.
The gentle breeze from the open window invaded the room and tickled your skin as you closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of Harry’s touch over your naked body.
It felt like a prayer to him.
“Now let’s see if your greedy cunt swallowed all of my cum.” His voice, thick with lust and pleasure warned you of what was to come. This was not going to end with functional legs.
He refrained from mocking your soaked panties. Part of him knew that it would happen and the other part was proud that he caused it.
You stared at each other in adoration, ogling your bodies shamelessly. You could almost drool at the sight of his toned abs and pumped chest. The way his cock stood erect against his stomach ready to engulf your walls. If your legs weren’t spread beforehand, you would be squirming to relieve yourself. And if you weren’t pregnant already, your ovaries would be in pain.
He breathed in, attempting to hold back from pouncing at you like a predator. Your bump is slightly more prominent since you’re on your back, your nipples are erect and the change in your areolas is making his head spin.
“Wide hips, full breasts, swollen tummy and a dripping pussy. That’s my girl.” He spoke like a man who was proud of what he had done. If you didn’t wish to stay under the radar for a while, he’d probably tell strangers on the street that he’s going to be a dad.
“Well this pussy is feral and hormonal so get to it.” You were not here to mess around, you knew what you needed and he could never say no to you. Especially not when you’re using your hand to spread your lips and give him a glimpse of the stored load that he released inside you earlier today.
“Hormonal or not, you know I can’t get enough of you.” He positioned himself between your legs and lowered his face to inhale the smell of wetness mixed with his cum. It was like a ritual for him.
The only thing that didn’t change during pregnancy is getting your pussy filled with his cum. He was content in doing so pre-pregnancy and will continue to stuff you until you give birth.
His tongue caught some of the semen that was dripping down your inner thighs making you arch your back.
It felt so warm yet it stimulated your horniness. It made you aware that his cock wasn’t stuffing you to the brim. He’s obsessed with licking your pussy clean, and you know that he’ll fuck you when he’s done so you patiently wait.
He took a broad lick along your slit reaching to your clit, where he wrapped it around his mouth and suckled on it. You jerked your hips in reaction and tugged at his hair.
“Such a fertile pussy for daddy.” He spat on your vulva, observing how the saliva trailed down your already wet folds. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly in response.
Being inside the house every day with your fiancée felt like being in a sex club. The constant sex and foreplay prompted you to be wet at all times, but most importantly sensitive.
Your sensitivity increased and you didn’t care whether it was due to pregnancy or Harry’s hunger , because your orgasms have been countless.
“Ohhhh.” Your eyes were shut and your chest was rising up and down as you poured all of your focus on the way Harry’s tongue was suckling your clitoris.
The wet slurping sounds along with his moans were outrageous. His fingers dug into your skin but not as harsh as usual. He adored having bruises on your skin, the same way you leave crescent nail marks on his back, but he’s been very cautious since you began trying for a baby a few months ago.
“Should I praise this cunt for taking all of my cum or degrade it?” He looked up to you, his chin resting on your pelvis as he panted heavily with juices coating his chin and a fallen hair strand covering his forehead.
“Both.” You smiled reaching for his veiny hand that’s adorned with rings (and wetness) and brought it up to your breasts. Watching his pupils darken was a delight, your tits had gotten a bit fuller and you went only one bra cup up but that didn’t matter a lot since you never wore bras around Harry.
You knew intuitively that his lactation kink would kick in soon, he loves eyeing your breasts when you’re wearing a low crop top with your small bump on display. It makes him go down on his knees (literally).
“I’ve been ignoring these beauties haven’t I?” He cooed, towering his body over yours while keeping one of his hands cupped over your pussy.
You nodded at his question giving him fuck me eyes that had him hypnotized. He’s still not done with your pussy, but you loved making his head spin with your body. He’s aware that he can’t pleasure you everywhere all at once and it pissed him off.
“You’re a fucking goddess.” He kissed your sternum and moved slowly to your full tits where he swallowed down his throat upon laying his eyes on your perky nipples.
“You like them?”.Teasing him was entertaining. You tweaked one of your nipples followed by biting your bottom lip, before clenching your pussy knowing that his hand is placed there.
“I worship them.” He breathed out almost instantly and took the other bud inside his mouth.
“Gonna provide milk for our babies. Such an amazing mama aren’t you?”. Hearing him say “babies” in plural had you moaning. You can’t wait for him to breed you again.
He couldn’t contain himself once he began suckling on your breasts, his fingers that were cupping your pussy plunged inside it as he grinned at how your back arched in response.
“I can feel my cum deep in your pussy.” He whispered in your ear after reluctantly detaching from your bud.
“Guess I got used to raising my hips after all those breeding sessions.” He curled his fingers inside and he was not wrong at all. You felt the warm cum flowing inside of you and your whole body tingled knowing that you’ll get another load soon.
He suddenly retracted his body away from you and redirected his attention to your pussy that was dripping on his fingers. He tapped on your thighs, signaling for you to raise your legs over his shoulders. He was obsessed with being trapped this way.
He turned relentless with licking and suckling, balancing between overstimulating your sensitive nerve bud, plunging his thick fingers inside your warm walls, licking up your mixed juices, and slapping your vulva.
“Uhhh—fuck me.” You whined from the excessive pleasure he was providing you as you jerked your hips into his mouth.
“Oh, baby—I will. I’ll hit your cervix the way you like, the same way that got my seed into your womb.” He added in another finger while flicking your engorged swollen clitoris.
“But first, cum for me.” He ordered with a direct tone that dripped with authority. And who are you to refuse him?
Your orgasm washed over your body as your moans echoed through the room combined with curses. Your hand tugged at Harry’s hair who completely shoved his face in your pussy.
“Atta Girl. That’s it, sweetheart.” It was an intense orgasm and the aftermath was even more extreme. Harry pressed delicate pecks to your pulsating pussy and inner thighs as he murmured praises of love.
Your chest heaved and your pussy was clenching around nothing. It was one hell of an orgasm, more of a warm up even.
“Are you still going to fuck me?” You caught him off guard with your question. Your legs were shaking yet your grip on him was going to leave bruises. It seemed like you would cry if he didn’t stick his cock inside of you.
He moved your hair out of your face and kissed your temple. “Of course I will darling. Gotta take care of my pretty fiancée.” He took in your post-orgasm glow before leaving love marks over your bare skin.
You were intertwined together and the breeze from the window invaded the air with a rich aroma. Everything felt sweet and intimate. Harry’s body engulfed yours as he whispered the filthiest promises in your ear.
You were both stuck in a safe bliss.
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#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry styles oneshot#harry styles story#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry x reader#harry fanfic#harry styles fanfic#harry fic#harry styles boyfriend#ceorry#ceo au#ceo harry#ceo!harry#harry styles masterlist#harry styles book#harry styles wattpad#harry styles writing#harry styles mature#harry styles fic#harry blurb#harry styles request#harry styles fluff#harry styles one shot#harry styles filth
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Okay, wait, you know what? Yandere Sunday is terrifying.
Not physically. At least not until you push the very hard boundary he's kept.
Its very subtle when he eyes you. Whenever he comes up to you it's just casual conversation, pleasantries, and a few tidbits about some of the main tourist attractions. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He's terrifying in his status, aswell. The most important man on Penacony, almost too many things rest on his shoulders. A distant, fake warm gaze that he seems to put on to politely appease other people. He's well aware it creeps you out when he's talking to you. However, a bit into the conversation and he.. likes it. It's refreshing. Having to constantly read between the lines, find out someone's true intentions, negotiate constantly, and on top of that be polite for the sake of reputation,sharp and pointed words masked behind well-wishes.. it gets tiring. For once, your conversation seems to ease him. His fake smile is slowly taken over by a small, but real one. Oh, dear.. you have to leave? What a shame. You should check out the dreamscape. Him and The Family have worked very hard on it. He's sure you'll like some of the tourist spots he's personally recommended.
The dreamscape is lively and bustling, the wide expanse of it almost bizarre. Careful, or the crowd will sweep you away before you know it! And suddenly there's the Bloodhound family guards that are helping you so graciously, out into a variety of secluded and serene spots,which you remember Sunday having mentioned in the conversation..
And well, there's this feeling. Something's watching you. It's not the giant eyeball with the strange memory sales, unfortunately. And the feeling follows you around everywhere. Even when you were sure you were alone, in some or the other secluded spot. You ponder for a moment if it's just the guards keeping their eyes on a newbie who might cause trouble, but they seem disinterested and not engaged unless necessary. Certainly, even their gazes can't feel this heavy?
Of course, how would you know? Watching you flutter about is apparently a satisfying past time, according to Sunday. A stoic and unchanging face, many things circulating behind his eyes. Your uncomfortable face is.. strangely fascinating to Sunday. Something feels abnormal in the space between his ribs. He loves having you in his sights, the comfort of knowing where you are, what you are constantly doing.. isn't it romantic, too? He's essentially taking care of you. If anyone asks – well.. You're one of his guests, personally invited by The Family to Penacony. It's his responsibility to make sure of your well-being, no?
And oh, dear.. you don't look so well. You haven't been sleeping, have you? Its the first thing Sunday comments on when he sees you at the bar, face in your hands as your sleep-deprived mind makes you dizzy. You do understand it's essential to sleep well, not just to function efficiently, but for your general wellbeing? Its alright, he understands. He can deploy further safety measures if you feel your security is compromised. He hopes, "you do not mind the continuous pestering of the Bloodhound family guards", do you? They'll keep you company in The Reverie, and The Dreamscape, too. A danger to you poses a danger to every guest, please do comply to these.. compromising circumstances, will you?
And, unfortunately for you, reports just came in. Looks like investigation has to be done, and your stay in Penacony has been extended! Don't worry – just talk to him directly, and let him know if you have any problems. Oh? You need to be locked up in your room for a certain part of the investigation? That's a shame. Perhaps he can just finish up his work a bit quickly and keep you company? Hm? Oh, no, dear. He can't just command them to not do that. Oh? No one else seems to be getting investigated? Well.. they're quite important figures, you know! Whole planets need to stop their work for them to have a day off, and besides.. You're probably in more danger than them. Of course.. you wouldn't think being alone with Sunday of all people would have been a safer option, would you?
#moonink#hsr#hsr sunday#honkai star rail sunday#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr sunday x reader#hsr x you#yandere honkai star rail#hsr sunday x you#yandere hsr sunday#sunday hsr#yandere hsr x you#yandere hsr x reader#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail x reader#yandere sunday x reader#yandere sunday#yandere sunday x you#yandere sunday x y/n#sunday x reader#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader
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But once the babies are here, the state provides little help.
When she got pregnant, Mayron Michelle Hollis was clinging to stability.
At 31, she was three years sober, after first getting introduced to drugs at 12. She had just had a baby three months earlier and was working to repair the damage that her addiction had caused her family.
The state of Tennessee had taken away three of her children, and she was fighting to keep her infant daughter, Zooey. Department of Children’s Services investigators had accused Mayron of endangering Zooey when she visited a vape store and left the baby in a car.
Her husband, Chris Hollis, was also in recovery.
The two worked in physically demanding jobs that paid just enough to cover rent, food and lawyers’ fees to fight the state for custody of Mayron’s children.
In the midst of the turmoil in July 2022, they learned Mayron was pregnant again. But this time, doctors warned she and her fetus might not survive.
The embryo had been implanted in scar tissue from her recent cesarean section. There was a high chance that the embryo could rupture, blowing open her uterus and killing her, or that she could bleed to death during delivery. The baby could come months early and face serious medical risks, or even die.
But the Supreme Court had just overturned Roe v. Wade, which guaranteed the right to abortion across the United States. By the time Mayron decided to end her pregnancy, Tennessee’s abortion ban — one of the nation’s strictest — had gone into effect.
The total ban made no explicit exceptions — not even to save the life of a pregnant patient. Any doctor who violated the ban could be charged with a felony.
Women with means could leave the state. But those like Mayron, with limited resources or lives entangled with the child welfare and criminal justice systems, would be the most likely to face caring for a child they weren’t prepared for.
And so, the same state that questioned Mayron’s fitness to care for her four children forced her to continue a pregnancy that risked her life to have a fifth, one that would require more intensive care than any of the others.
Tennessee already had some of the worst outcomes in the nation when measuring maternal health, infant mortality and child poverty. Lawmakers who paved the way for a new generation of post-Roe births did little to bolster the state’s meager safety net to support these babies and their families.
In December 2022, when Mayron was 26 weeks and two days pregnant, she was rushed to the hospital after she began bleeding so heavily that her husband slipped in her blood. An emergency surgery saved her life. Her daughter, Elayna, was born three months early.
Afterward, photographer Stacy Kranitz and reporter Kavitha Surana followed Mayron and her family for a year to chronicle what life truly looked like in a state whose political leaders say they are pro-life. [...]
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Hiiii friendssss! What the FUCK is up. What the fuck is up. What the Fuck is up. On todays cute little cookin excursion we are going to be deep frying things and using a wok. If you dont feel comfortable deep frying, and dont have a wok, im sure theres other ways to do it silly :DDD
I believe in you.
From LotR online we're gonna be making Fried Beetroot Sticks!!
(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)
MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS
SO, “what goes into Fried Beetroot Sticks?” YOU MIGHT ASKSlices of sweet little beated root dipped into a batter with, watch out, special flavors too.
2 Beetroots
Corn flour
Salt
Red Chilli Powder
Garlic Paste
Baking Soda
Water
Peanut oil
And we'll also be making some horseradish sour cream dip to go along with it;
Sour cream
Prepared horseradish
1 Green onion
Few splashes of lemon juice
Salt to taste
Ground pepper to taste
"Cooked, tender beetroot sticks are dredged in a light batter and fried to give a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet interior. Served with a bracing horseradish sour cream, this snack is both filling and delicious."- LotRO Tooltip
AND, “what does Fried Beetroot Sticks taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is like homemade fair-food and it sounds like a contradiction but its not
But maybe its just because its fried food? American brained, sorry.
Retains the inherit sweetness to beetroot
And similar to pickled beetroot the sweetness contrasts the spicey of the batter
(which i encourage you to amp up if youd like more spice)
The horseradish sourcream dip is to die for
Measure with your heart for that one, and save some green onion to top it with when you serve
This would pair very well with a lime italian soda or with shaved ice cones
Im always very anxious about deep-frying things, or working with oils at high temperatures, but i didnt run into any complications with this dish. Just make sure to keep best practices and safety precaution in mind, especially with a wok as it can tilt!
. If you dont have corn flour, you can substitute all-purpose flour
. If you dont have peanut oil, look up oils with the same smokepoint to decide what else to use
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The recipe stuck out to me, as i was assembling a list of foodstuffs from tolkiens work, for being such a "regular" named food. Also its worth 19 silver 69 copper in the LotR MMO and im immature.
I think the dip has the most room for improvement and tinkering. I've never made horseradish sourcream before, so more practiced tastebuds could perfect a simple thing like this. In the future id also like to try adding red pepper flakes along with the the powder and garlic paste, to give more visual variety and spice. I think cumin in the batter would be a nice midtone flavor too.
I give this recipe a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its relative simplicity and modularity with things you could add.
🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁
Beetroot Sticks Ingredients:
2 Beetroots
130 grams corn flour
1 tbsp salt
1 tsp Red Chilli Powder
1 tsp Garlic Paste
1/4 tsp Baking Soda
178 grams Water
432 grams peanut oil
Horseradish Sour Cream Ingredients:
225 grams Sour cream
200 grams Prepared horseradish
1 whole green onion (green and white parts VERY finely chopped)
1 tspn lemon juice
Salt to taste
ground pepper to taste
Beetroot Method:
Peel all beetroots and cut them length-wise into rectangles.
Combine flour, salt, chilli powder, garlic paste, baking soda, and water in a bowl.
Mix well into a smooth batter.
Heat peanut oil to medium in a wok and dip beet roots into batter. Deep fry until golden brown in color.
Stack beetroots on paper-towel lined plates to cool and dry as you go.
Serve with horseradish sour cream!
Dip Method:
Mix all ingredients
Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour for the flavors to blend.
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The Bet
summary: The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
word count: 7.7k
warnings: canon level violence, bucky’s internalized self-punishing issues, shield agents being real pieces of shit, badass reader who would defend bucky to the death
a/n: I know I’ve been really inactive lately (life’s actually been going well so I’ve been busier but that leaves me less time to write unfortunately), but I’m still lurking here! This is a fic I wrote several months ago but finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy!
Bucky wasn’t sure how you managed it – the punch to his gut every time you walked in the room. You were dressed in your tactical suit; black fabric draped over every inch of your body, protective layers of Kevlar and technology beyond Bucky’s years, a weapon strapped to your thigh and knives hidden in your belt and at your ankle. Your hair was tugged out of place, sweat beaded on your temple from the sparring match in the gym moments before the two of you were called to service. In your right hand, you carried your combat boots, the laces hanging low enough to touch the ground.
And still, Bucky held his breath as you approached. Stomach in knots, chest tightening until his heart threatened to stop entirely.
“My offer is fifty this time,” you announced, winking in his direction before you turned to head for the landing bay. “Take it or leave it, Barnes.”
It was a game you’d been playing since your first mission together. A running bet to determine the better combat fighter. You’d insisted on measuring it not by the number of Hydra agents taken down or the bullets left in the magazine at the end of the mission, but by who walked away with the least damage on their body. A competition in the lack of scars.
He suspected it was your effort to distract him, to center his mind on something other than the crushing weight on his chest as he stepped into yet another Hydra stronghold. With his pardon only coming through the official channels three months prior and the nightly news still debating whether he should be locked in a psychiatric hospital or executed for his crimes, Bucky didn’t mind a little distraction.
He wasn’t sure what to make of you at first – this woman who cared so little for the eggshells scattered around his wake. Thin, broken pieces shattered under your steps, sharp edges digging into the soles of your feet and you did not flinch. You never hesitated in your teasing, never withdrew a cautious touch from the hardened steel of his left arm, never treated him as though he were fragile or unhinged. Instead, you placed bets on the outcomes of your shared missions as if his lethality was something to respect, to admire.
Part of him wondered whether it was your attempt to keep him unharmed. The winner would have the least number of cuts and bruises – the least physical pain endured. Bucky had no problem using his body as the weapon it was designed to be, even if it meant being reckless in his own skin. It was what he’d been trained to do for decades; constantly reminded that his body was not his own to command, not his own to protect and shield. The mission came first. The mission always came first. Above his safety. Above his comfort. Above his sanity. Hydra cared little for how damaged he walked away from a fight as long as he did as he was ordered. But not you.
No, you never could seem to hide the subtle twitch of relief as he won bet after bet. How your shoulders seemed to lose the tension aching in your muscles as you handed over the winnings he did not want. Because it meant you’d lost – that you’d been injured more than he had – and Bucky wanted no part in celebrating such a win.
“I don’t want your money, Y/n,” Bucky said as he did before each mission. He fell in line beside you as rookies parted down the hallway with each approaching step. Most kept their head down, eyes averted. But not all. Some openly stared at him as if they might bore holes into his tactical suit.
“Who says I’m paying you shit?” you scoffed, a smirk edging at the corner of your mouth. “Fifty, Barnes. You on or what?”
Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, fine. I’m in.”
You walked with a slight bounce in your step after he agreed and Bucky could not stop the smile as it tugged on his cheeks.
By the time you reached the quinjet, the team of agents was huddled in the loading dock awaiting orders. Steve stood with a hand leaning against the pilot’s chair, the other hooked on the font of his belt. The rest of the team – a group of highly trained SHIELD agents dressed in full combat gear tensed as Bucky followed you onto the jet.
“Thanks for joining us,” Steve welcomed sarcastically though there was humor in his grin. You rolled your eyes and held up your unlaced boots as if that would be answer enough that you were caught off guard for the unplanned mission.
“Not all of us wait eagerly outside Fury’s door for scraps of adrenaline,” you teased and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Bucky.
Steve bit his tongue to hold back a laugh. He turned to one of the agents lingering by the cockpit. “Get us in the air.”
“Yes, sir,” the agent responded and quickly jumped into the pilot’s seat.
Steve made his way to the table at the center of the jet where the building’s schematics were illuminated in three dimensional holographic lasers. Bucky exhaled a heavy breath as he followed, studying the lights as they detailed every inch of the building he would infiltrate in a matter of a few hours. He kept his right hand down by his side in an effort to not reach out and touch the floating blueprints.
“Y/n will lead Team B through the back entrance and up to the second floor,” Steve explained as he widened the schematics with a single swipe of his hand. The floor print zoomed into the level he was describing.
“Meanwhile, I’ll lead Team A through the main floor,” he continued and adjusted the visual to display the path he intended to take. “We’ll come in hot through the primary entrance. Draw as much attention as we can. That’ll give Bucky the time he needs to track down the Berlin files.”
Bucky swallowed as many of the agents turned to look at him. Steve had briefed him ahead of time on the mission so he knew he would be taking this one on his own. He knew the building better than anyone else, better than anyone who had studied the blueprints. He knew Hydra better than anyone else. Whether he was stored in this particular site was irrelevant. He understood how Hydra operated, enough to determine where they’d keep the sort of information that could bring the organization to its knees. It made the most sense.
Clinical. Rational.
“He’s going alone?” you questioned, your voice quieter than Bucky was expecting. Your focus was solely on Steve, brows knotted at the center. There was a soft waver of concern in your tone he was sure did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team. You’d seen Bucky’s right-hand curl to an aching fist enough times at the mention of his former captors. You knew the wounds were still fresh, the ink on his pardon barely dried.
Steve nodded reluctantly. “We’re going to make a lot of noise, but don’t mistake me. This is a stealth op. Giving Bucky a team is only going to slow him down.”
“You could at least give him back up,” you argued, the gentle hesitancy dropped from your tone. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. Tension coated thick into the room.
Bucky was about to step in, to put a careful hand on your shoulder and tell you he could handle himself just fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe he’d crack a joke. Maybe then he could brush off your concerns and the knots in his stomach as simple worry for a reliable partner. But one of the senior agents – Hanning – cleared his throat first.
“She’s right, Cap,” Hanning said. “It’s not a good idea to send him in alone.”
You exhaled a sigh of relief, looking to Steve with a challenging smirk, but Bucky knew Hanning’s words for what they were. His stomach bottomed as he started to reach for you, to pull you back from the room before you could hear the rest of what Hanning was surely about to say. Bucky could read it on each of the agents’ faces – how they all looked down their noses at him, how thier gazes flickered to the reflection of his left arm in disgust, how they tensed the moment he stepped on board the jet. Humiliation burned hot in his cheeks before Hanning even uttered another word.
“See!” you hit Steve lightly on the arm. You grinned back in Bucky’s direction and did not see the dread weighing in his eyes. “Just give him two guys. Just enough to make sure he’s—”
“—watched. We all know the Winter Soldier can’t be trusted alone in a Hydra facility.”
You stilled at Hanning’s words. Bucky watched the edge of your jaw flicker as you clenched the muscle, your hands gripping tight to the edge of the table. Bucky wondered if it might splinter under your hold.
“Excuse me?” Venom dripped from your tongue on every syllable.
“You said it yourself,” Hanning replied with a short shrug of his shoulders, as if you had simply misheard him. “The Winter Soldier shouldn’t be left on his own. No telling what he’d do unsupervised. Especially around his old buddies.”
You flinched – actually flinched.
To Bucky, this wasn’t anything new. The serum has cursed him with heightened senses strong enough to overhear the quiet whispering when he entered the gym, the nervous murmuring of rookie agents who had grown up on ghost stories of his most prolific crimes. He noticed every frantic skip of a frightened heartbeat and every cold, seething glare of an agent whose loathing outweighed that of his fear. There was little room for anything else amongst the agents within SHEILD.
You – and only a few others among the Avengers – were the exception.
His pardon was conditional. He couldn’t afford the kind of trouble these agents were egging him into. One step out of line and he’d find himself with a lifetime sentence on the raft. Maybe that was what he deserved, but he couldn’t risk retaliating against the agents, couldn’t so much as chance a bitter word thrown back in their faces. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that it was only in fear of not seeing you again that held his tongue.
Bucky had grown numb to the taunts and the stares long before he stepped foot in the tower. He knew how to keep his head down, how to swallow back his pride at the expense of his dignity. He learned how to endure the humiliation, the shame. Hydra had taught him well.
You, however, did not tolerate it.
“He can’t be trusted, Cap,” Hanning went on, turning to meet Steve’s warning stare. “We’ve lost too many guys to his friends at Hydra. I don’t care what papers the President signed. You can’t let the Winter Soldier—”
“Stop calling him that,” you hissed, pounding a fist against the table. The holographic blueprints flared in response. “I said Bucky should have support in the field. Not a fucking parole officer!”
Hanning rolled his eyes; a dangerous choice to make to mock a superior agent in front of her own team. Steam billowed from your ears as several of the agents behind him began to laugh. Hanning wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze slipping down the length of your body as if to size you up, but he lingered too long. A power move, Bucky deciphered. A means to belittle you. Bucky gritted his teeth.
“He’s a war criminal,” Hanning challenged, ignoring Bucky’s calculated step in your direction.
“He was a prisoner of war!” you shot back, voice raising on every word. “Who was pardoned, by the way!”
“You think that changes anything? A piece of paper doesn’t erase the shit he’s done. Doesn’t bring back any of the SHIELD agents he murdered. Doesn’t make him any less of fuckin’ monster and we shouldn’t have to put up with his—”
“Enough!” Steve ordered, slamming a hand down on the table. The blueprints flickered out until the table powered down. “Hanning, get your men in order. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of you until we’re back in New York. Y/n, walk it off. We land in an hour.”
Betrayal seethed in your eyes as your gaze whipped to Steve. You expected him to defend Bucky as fiercely as you did, but Bucky knew better, as did Steve. Steve’s involvement would only worsen the division between Bucky and the rest of the team. They’d turn themselves into martyrs; jump on their high horse and twist Steve’s defense to align with what they already believed – that the Winter Soldier was dangerous, untrustworthy, and corrupted everything he touched. Including the Avengers and SHIELD itself.
And maybe they were right, but it wasn’t a fight you had to be a part of. He worked very hard to ensure you knew little of it at all.
You clamped your jaw shut to keep yourself from handing Captain America his ass next and quickly turned on your heels. Your hand slid around Bucky’s wrist and without much resistance, you dragged him along with you to the other side of the jet. There, you sank against the bench along the frame of the cargo hold and began sliding your hands along your thighs. As he watched you, Bucky wondered if you might tear the fabric of your suit with how intensely you were digging your palms into the muscle.
“Hanning’s an asshole,” you grumbled. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know shit.”
You spoke as if you believed it was an isolated incident – a single, rare occurrence he should brush off his shoulders – and perhaps you did. Perhaps you truly believed that no agent would be as brazen as to mock the former Winter Soldier to his face, but you would be wrong. Their confidence grew each time he kept his head down, each time he swallowed back the rage and humiliation at their taunts.
Bucky sighed, sinking down on the bench beside you. Your hands were still raking against your thighs, your pointed glare still finding its way to the agents huddled on the opposite end of the jet. He figured if he didn’t say something soon, you might lose the battle for your better judgements and take a swing at Hanning before the jet so much as crossed Hydra airspace.
“Make it a hundred.”
You furrowed your brow, your gaze shifting to him. Already, your features began to soften. Your hands stilled against your knees. “What?”
“The bet,” Bucky clarified, forcing a smile. It didn’t touch his eyes and it ached, but it was all he could muster. “Make it a hundred this time.”
A smirk slowly lifted the corners of your mouth and Bucky felt a weight slip off his chest.
“You’re on.”
***
“Do you want know what I’m going to do with your money when I win?”
Bucky dug his teeth into his bottom lip to repress a determined smile as your labored voice crackled through his coms. He could hear the static of the radio waves and the frequent draw of your breath as you led your team in combat on the second level. You’d learned early on to switch your coms to an off-channel frequency while you were separated. Steve was the only one who was aware of the isolated channel, but he knew better than to listen in unannounced.
“Huh, Barnes?” you challenged. He could practically see your smile edging up your cheeks. “Should I tell you how I’m going to spend your hard-earned cash?”
“You do remember you’re the one engaged in combat right now and I’m on an abandoned floor alone, right? Do you hear those odds?” Bucky smirked to himself, imagining the hard roll of your eyes as you scoffed into the coms.
“You’re not as stealthy as you think, Barnes. Maybe you’ll stub your toe on a desk. Don’t underestimate my skill against these... amateurs,” you spat the last word as if to make a point to the man you were currently barreling a fist into. “Now let me tell you how I’m going to waste your money.”
“Go on,” Bucky chuckled. He stalked through the empty hallway, passing by old offices and labs as he scanned in search of the vault in question. Hydra was rather predictable that way.
“Well,” you exhaled and clearly threw a punch at your opponent by the grunt that followed, “Sam’s birthday is coming up."
Bucky froze in his tracks; any trace of a grin wiped from his features. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Your laugh echoed in his ears and damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard – took him right out of the Hydra facility he wandered through, out of the memories attached to the lifeless, concrete rooms, and brought levity back to his chest. How you managed to do that while fighting your way through a hoard of Hydra agents was beyond him.
He turned into a promising office at the end of the hallway. Lavish enough to be one of the higher officer’s, with priceless stolen art on the walls and a desk chair that resembled a small throne. He rolled his eyes.
“Six ahead! Erikson, McKinley! Go now!” You shot an order at one of your men before returning focus back to your side conversation with Bucky. He smiled at the sharpness of your tone – the authority, the respect you commanded. Just as easily, your tone shifted to the gentle teasing reserved only for him. “Maybe I’ll replace the side camera on Redwing you shattered in Guatamala last month.”
Bucky groaned and drew out your name in a long, exasperated tone as he began fumbling through a pile of stray papers on the messy desk. You started to laugh again and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the ends of his mouth. It was damn near infectious.
“Fine, fine.” Your voice was breathless; either from the fight or the laughter, Bucky wasn’t sure. “I might venture a trip out to Coney Island. I hear they have life changing soft serve.”
Bucky chuckled just as he tore open a locked drawer, shifting through the contents. “You’d have a hell of a lot of cash left over.”
“Well let’s see,” you began, a short pause followed as you knocked out another combatant. Bucky could hear the thud of the body at your feet. “Two tickets on the train, two world-renown ice cream cones. It adds up, Barnes.”
Bucky furrowed his brow. A sudden unwelcomed pit formed in his stomach as he straightened his back, his hands slipping from their task at the desk. He swallowed, though his throat was dry.
“Two? Who would you—”
“Are you really telling me you don’t want to show me around your old stomping grounds?” you teased, as if he should have assumed you’d only ever been talking about him. “I can be generous with your money, Buck. I’ll even treat you to a funnel cake if you want.”
Butterflies swarmed in his stomach, his teeth gnawing at his lips to suppress the grin and the flush in his cheeks. He didn’t dare look up at the Hydra symbol painted on the wall ahead of him, but he wondered then if the memory of it might have any effect at all in the wake of your laughter through the coms.
“That so?” he managed to reply, trying to find a piece of himself from the forties that could talk to a woman without stumbling over his words. His heart was pounding. Thundering. His hands gripped the edge of the desk in effort to stop the shaking of adrenaline, but it was such a lovely feeling.
“I might even win you a stuffed animal.”
Bucky exhaled as if it might relieve the pleasant aching in his cheeks. “Those games are rigged, you know.”
“I have my tricks.”
A throat cleared at the doorway.
Bucky jolted, his hand on the trigger and safety unlatched before he got a good look at the face of the man watching him from the hallway. His smile fell as he froze – the sound of your voice calling to him through the coms went unanswered. You must have heard the sudden hitch in his breath, noticed just by the short gasp of air that something was wrong.
Hanning didn’t so much as flinch as he stared down the barrel of Bucky’s gun. His arms were folded over his chest, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. Bucky didn’t dare wonder how long he’d been there watching. He was losing his edge. Distracted in the one place he was supposed to be clinical above all else.
Slowly, Bucky lowered the gun and latched the safety. Hanning cracked his neck to the side as six of his men emerged from the hall behind him. Bucky gritted his teeth and raised a hand to his coms.
“I’m going dark.”
No time at all passed before you argued, “don’t you dare! Not while you’re out there alone.”
Bucky kept clear watch of Hanning and the six agents slowly making their way into the room, knuckles cracking against their hips, stretching their arms. A quiet anger simmered under the surface – boiling in his veins though no steam would release him from the rage it carried.
“I found the vault,” he said, the lie slipping too easily off his tongue. “It’s heavily armored. It’ll cause interference. I’ll meet you on the jet.”
He didn’t like the short clinical statements he was giving you, as if you were little more than a handler requesting report. It wasn’t like him and you knew it.
“No. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.” Desperation clouded into your voice.
“I said I’ll meet you on the jet,” he replied sharply; harsher than he ever intended to be with you, but Hanning’s patience was wearing thin and Bucky would not stomach you being able to hear what was about to happen.
“Okay.” You were quieter now, your breaths more labored. Bucky’s stomach wrung in knots. “Just be careful.”
He turned off the coms before regret could sink in.
“No more Avenger in your ear now, huh?” Hanning jeered, a cockeyed smirk hanging on the left edge of his mouth. He shook his head, a darkness sinking into his features when Bucky refused to answer. “Christ. She’s just as pathetic as the groupie sluts camping outside the tower.”
“Leave her out of this,” Bucky growled. He knew full well of the crowd who chanted his name, holding picket signs in support of an innocence he wasn’t sure belonged to him. Bucky wasn’t convinced they knew much of anything about his crimes. He often wondered if they would still draw hearts around his name if they knew the volume of blood on his hands.
Hanning scoffed. “She used to be a damn good agent before you started fucking with her head, you know that? Maybe if I take her to bed next, she’ll start defending my honor, too.”
The desk cracked under Bucky’s grip; splintered under his palms. It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you in that way. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t so much as whispered a breath to the torch he carried for you. But reputation and rumor weighed stronger than truth. And Hanning didn’t seem to mind which served him best.
“We both know why you’re here, Hanning,” Bucky said, his voice taunt in the effort. “Stop beating around the bush.”
A vicious smirk warped Hanning’s features as he signaled to his men. Bucky steeled himself – an agonizing, familiar feeling – and he waited for the first blow to land.
***
Bucky took his time returning to the jet. He didn’t bother turning his coms back on after he begrudgingly tore open the vault door at the back of the office and obtained the files SHIELD was after. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to stomach the onset of questions you’d throw his way, the inevitable concern in your voice, or the lies that would slip too easily from his tongue.
You and Steve would have already returned to the quinjet by now and he was certain you were wearing a tread into the floor of the debrief room. If he closed his eyes, he might have been able to picture your arms folded tightly across your chest, the scowl creating lines down your forehead, and the hushed grumble as you muttered under your breath, eyes constantly darting back to the door in search of him.
Bucky took no pleasure in his lies. He did not enjoy the slight hitch of concern in your voice as you begged him to stay on coms. No— it tore into his chest in such a way he was left wondering if there would be anything left at all if he continued this way.
But you couldn’t know.
You couldn’t know the truth of how far men like Hanning would go to appease their fragile egos. How agents of an organization you dedicated your life to abused their power and a loophole in the system to ensure they could pull one over on the Winter Soldier in favor of bragging rights and a misguided sense of justice. You couldn’t know it wasn’t Hydra that left him bruised and battered after these missions, but instead the agents under your watch.
Bucky paused as he came up on the ramp to the back of the jet. In the vague reflection of the charcoal surface was a trail of welts and bruising covering most of his face. Red had seeped into the white of his left eye. The center of his bottom lip was split open; blood dripped down his chin and left stray droplets against the chest of his jacket. He quickly brushed his wrist against his mouth, smearing the blood onto his hand instead and made his way inside.
Hanning was standing at the edge of the debrief room as his team passed behind him. He raised his hand to you in what appeared to be a mocking salute. You did not react; your arms folded over your chest just as Bucky had imagined and an irritable glare compressed most of your features. But your eyes shifted to the bloody and broken skin on Hanning’s knuckles as his lowered his hand back to his side. You turned and watched him as he joined the rest of the agents.
Bucky swallowed and pressed the button at the mouth of the jet to retract the ramp. While you were distracted by Hanning, Bucky shook his hair into his face, keeping his head down, and made his way to the debrief room as he was required to do. He would not be able to hide the damage to his face for long, but if he could at least conceal your reaction from Hanning and the rest of the team, it might be enough to preserve what remained of his dignity.
You turned and walked back inside the debrief room and Bucky exhaled a heavy breath. As he followed shortly in behind you, he wasn’t surprised to find you had quickly resumed pacing along the back wall of the room. The carpet was slightly discolored under your path.
Only when Bucky closed the door behind him did you notice his presence.
You froze, eyes darting across the room. The relief that sank your shoulders was instant, but brief, because the moment you took in more than just his physical body safe inside the jet, a wash of anger and panic absorbed any traces of solace.
You rushed across the room to him, hands hovering over his shoulders, his forearms, his torso – as if you were seeking to touch him but would not dare to lay a hand upon his body in fear of shattering him whole. Your eyes frantically scanned the open scarring and bruising on his face, searching for more wounds you could not see.
“What the hell happened to you?” You made no effort to obscure the panic trembling in your voice.
“Hydra,” he replied shortly, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He looked across the room to Steve, who was standing with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Reluctance clouded the blues of his eyes but he did not contradict Bucky’s story.
“There shouldn’t have been anyone on that floor. You said it was abandoned! That was the whole point of drawing them all to us. You should have been clear!” you tried to reason and shot a glance at Steve to confirm, but his gaze lowered to the floor. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Did you get the files at least? Since you insisted on turning off your damn coms to get them?”
Your anger was a mask. Bucky could tell that much for certain by how your eyes shifted consistently to the blood in his left eye and the split on his lip. Fear was not an emotion you took kindly to, especially a fear you had no means of controlling.
Bucky steeled his features the best he could and pulled the rolled file from the inside pocket of his jacket. Blood stained the corners of the crumpled folder and he set it on the table behind you. You did not seem even remotely satisfied by its presence.
“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’d been compromised?” you argued, shoving the folder further down the table. “I could have sent back up to you! Dammit Bucky, I would have come to you myself! You know I would have!”
Steve cleared his throat as he stepped away from the wall, a pleading heaviness filling his eyes as his head shifted towards you – a means of begging Bucky to come forward with the truth. You deserved as much, didn’t you? You cared for him for reasons beyond what Bucky could comprehend. But there would always be that sliver of doubt; that sickening voice in the back of his mind that questioned whether you might think he deserved the retaliation he got. Bucky only shook his head at Steve to warn him into silence.
Your eyes narrowed on him, gaze following his path to Steve and back. Your instincts were not something Bucky should tread lightly around if he was intent on keeping this from you, and yet – there was some ache of relief to see the questions spinning behind your eyes, the stubbornness drawn to the surface to simply accept his ruse and pretend as though he wasn’t beaten into submission.
Just as you parted your lips, you paused; your attention caught on the monitors just beyond Bucky’s shoulder. Upon one of the screens, Hanning was dramatically mimicking a fight scene to the entertainment of the surrounding agents. The video carried no sound but it was not easy to mistake the arrogant grin upon Hanning’s face as he showed off the bloodied cuts on his knuckles. Bucky resisted touching the bruise along his jawline.
Bucky watched as you slowly moved closer to the monitor, studying every muscle in your body as you deciphered what you were seeing. Perhaps he might have been able to play it off as another one of Hanning’s pathetic attempts at boosting his ego by dramatizing a basic combat training move against a weak-willed Hydra agent, but while some of the agents looked to Hanning as if he were a god among men, some carefully – fearfully – looked over their shoulders to the debrief room. As if they were awaiting retaliation. Or punishment.
Bucky swallowed bile as your spine suddenly went taunt. A gasp drew in a sharp breath to your lungs as you quickly turned to Bucky for confirmation. Suddenly he couldn’t speak – not with the way your eyes were pleading with him to deny it. You turned to Steve next and it only took a second before you saw the weight in his eyes, the truth he’d been hiding at the will of his best friend – how it ate away at him until there was little left. Your hand clasped over your mouth.
“I’ll be outside,” Steve said quietly, sending an apologetic look in Bucky’s direction.
When the door closed behind him, you turned back to Bucky, waiting for him to say something – anything – to help you understand what happened. Hanning was an asshole, but to do something like this was unheard of. To attack a member of their own team under the ruse of a mission...
And maybe he should have confessed everything then and there, but his own fears were too strong – the possibility you might laugh in his face and side with Hanning, that you might believe him to be as vile and violent as the rest of them, undeserving of a second chance.
So instead of an explanation, he reached into his back pocket and watched as your face contorted into something akin to horror and grief as he handed you a crumbled hundred-dollar bill. His hand trembled as he extended it to you.
“What are you doing?” Your voice was barely a whisper; gaze fixated on the speckles of blood on the corners and under his nails.
Bucky released a breath, though it burned on his exhale. “You won.”
You looked as though you might suffocate under the silence that sank into the room. Tears blurred into your eyes as you slowly took the bill from him, your fingertips lingering against his hand, and tossed it onto the table behind you as if the paper had burned you.
“I don’t care about the stupid bet, Bucky! I don’t... I don’t want your money! I never wanted your money. Not ever,” you told him, voice shaking. You clenched your right hand into a fist as if it might quell the lump building in the back of your throat. “How long has this been happening?”
Bucky’s own throat was coated in gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So, it has happened before.”
His stomach bottomed as he realized he’d given himself up. You were always too smart for him, too smart to fall for this pathetic ruse. He should have known better than to think he could keep this from you. He prepared himself for your anger, for your disappointment, for your mockery, but instead something akin to guilt sank into your features and Bucky swore his knees might give out entirely.
“Our own men have gone after you like this... they’ve beaten you on these missions, reported it off as field injuries, and I... I just didn’t know?”
You brushed at your tears. Bucky suddenly felt nauseous.
“This isn’t your fault,” he said quickly, giving up on any attempts at concealing his lies further. He could not stand for you to think that you played a single role in this mess. This was on him. Only him. You were only ever the light in his darkest days. You could not hold an ounce of blame for what happened. He wouldn’t allow it.
“You were in the med bay last month,” you realized suddenly, an awful mix of remorse and agony coating your features. “You were separated from the team when you were jumped. You said... You said it was Kingpin’s men but... it wasn’t, was it? SHIELD agents put you there. They were the ones who attacked you.”
Bucky clenched his jaw, his hand curling tightly to a fist as if that might stop the trembling. “This isn’t your burden to carry. I can take care of myself.”
“Not my burden?” you scoffed. “Look at you! Jesus, Buck. How is this even possible? You should be able to take these assholes on without breaking a sweat! I’ve seen you spar. I’ve fought alongside you. I know what you can do! Hanning barely has a scratch on him. You should have been able to knock him on his ass without—”
You froze and slowly, your shoulders sank.
“God,” you exhaled, the realization shattering every inch inside your chest as you met his eyes. “You don’t fight back. You can’t, can you? Your pardon. It’s—”
“—conditional,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair. “One word to the council that I’ve stepped out of line and they could revoke it. I could end up on the raft for the rest of my life. And maybe... maybe I belong there anyway but I’m trying to better. To right the wrongs I’ve done. To... to be on the right side of things again. I can’t do that from behind bars. And if word got out I’m throwing punches at the good guys, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.”
“I won’t let that happen,” you swore, wasting no time in your promise. Before he realized it, you were standing only inches from him, your fingertips gently tracing the golden lines on his left hand. He wondered then how he could have ever feared mockery and disgust from a woman who touched him so tenderly.
A tired smile tugged at his broken lip. “Steve doesn’t even have the power to intervene if it came to that. Let this go, Y/n. I can take a few punches if it means getting a chance to start over.”
You winced at his words, clenching your jaw as if to choke back a sob. “You can’t keep letting them do this to you. I won’t let you.”
“What would you have me do?” Bucky asked, his voice absent of anger or challenge. It simply carried the heaviness of defeat, of acceptance. “You know what would happen if I gave the council a single reason to doubt which side I’m on. My hands are tied.”
He realized his mistake the moment a deadly calm swept over you. Clarity, like standing under the eye of storm. Your gaze darted to the monitor where Hanning was still mimicking his fight with Bucky.
“Y/n, wait!”
But you were already halfway out of the room. You did not turn back at Bucky’s plea as you stormed around the corner of the short stretch of hall and into the primary deck of the quinjet. Steve straightened from his position leaning against the wall, his eyes darting behind you where Bucky was quickly following behind. But it was not Steve you’d come in search of.
Hanning was laughing with a hoard of his men, gathered around the holograph table worth more than any of their miserable lives combined. He rolled his eyes at the sight of you, making a mockery of the fury raging into every line upon your face as you sought him out as he swatted his buddy on the arm.
The bastard even had the unearned arrogance to smirk as he foolishly turned his attention to Bucky. “Enlisting your girlfriend to fight your battles for you, huh?”
You did not so much as slow your pace, did not draw in a full breath or acknowledge the slight furrow in Hanning’s brow before you threw a punch directly to his left cheekbone. He cursed as he jolted away from you, hands flying to his face as blood began to gush down his nose.
“What the fuck is wrong with—”
You didn’t give him time to finish before you grabbed a firm hold of his collar and tossed him to the floor. Agents scrambled out of your warpath as you stalked after him.
Hanning looked up at Steve, holding onto his broken nose. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Do something!”
Steve did not avert his gaze as he replied, “I didn’t see anything.”
Hanning’s eyes widened as you dropped to your knees beside him and fisted his collar. “Sergeant Barnes may not be able to fight back without breaking his pardon, but I sure as hell can. And unlike you, I don’t need my fights rigged to win. Lay a hand on him again and I’ll ensure you walk away from your next mission on a fucking stretcher!”
Hanning clawed at your grip, fear seeping through every line upon his face. “You can’t threaten me!”
“Wanna bet?” Your nails nearly tore through the Kevlar fabric of Hanning’s shirt. “I’m an Avenger, asshole. You’re no one. I can make sure you’re transferred to the furthest corner of this planet. You’ll wish you were in space with the tree and the goddamn racoon!”
Hanning’s panicked eyes darted back to Steve who only shrugged and turned his attention to the passing of clouds outside the cockpit windows.
Bucky couldn’t help the smirk as it tugged at his mouth. He folded his arms firmly over his chest, sinking back into his stance. This image of you – baring your teeth, vicious in every muscle, seething in defense of him – was one he would commit to memory. He’d return to it in his darkest hours when he could find no answer for the cruel voices in the back of his mind – to draw upon this moment to chase away his demons with your anger and protection.
“Are we clear?” you ordered when Hanning was too stunned to respond. He nodded frantically, as did the rest of the crew. You released Hanning’s collar and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He stayed still as stone as you slowly rose to your feet and brushed off his blood on the thighs of your pants.
Your chest heavy and steady – each breath longer than the last. You did not tear your eyes away from Hanning for even a second, ensuring he felt every ounce of the rage burning inside of you.
Bucky took a step forward, unbothered by the stares of the agents as he approached you. He set a hand on your shoulder, instantly noting the rigid tension in your muscles.
“Come with me,” he requested, his voice quiet enough only you could have heard him. You expelled a breath as if it were made of fire and slowly followed him from the room.
Bucky stepped inside the debriefing room first. He looked to the windows where clouds were passing by below the jetstream. Steady. Even. He took as much of their calm as he could manage and picked up the crumpled hundred dollar bill from the table. When he turned to face you again, he attempted to hand you the money but you held your hands up defensively and took a cautious step backward.
“Bucky, no. Please, I don’t want it,” you resisted, your voice hollow and pained. “I only made the stupid bet to get you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want your money.”
He smiled at your stubbornness, at your scheming means to keep him safe. Bucky inched closer to you, extending his left palm up until you cautiously set your hand in his. His thumb drew a careful line along your palm and you watched him with such startling precision, he wondered if you might have been committing the feeling to memory.
“What happened to our plans for Coney Island?” he asked softly.
Tears spilled over your cheekbones as a tired laugh escaped you. He pressed the bill into your palm and closed your grip around it – holding it tight at the center of your hand as gently as you might his own heart.
“I should have said something the first time it happened,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze still fixated on your closed fist resting on his palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”
“No, I do.” He sighed, concentrating on the smooth skin of your hand. He skimmed his thumb along the tender skin on your knuckles, his heart suddenly heavy in his chest. “You didn’t even hesitate to defend me. Didn’t even second guess why they might have gone after me. You... you didn't question if I deserved it.”
Your face slacked at his admission. “Bucky...”
“I should have told you,” he repeated despite the burden of grief in your voice. He knew now that if he’d offered you a share of this weight from the start, that maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. Hanning wouldn’t have planned each mission to ensure he cornered Bucky on his own and got in enough swings to fuel his pathetic, sheltered ego. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t have spent so long believing this was his penance.
You lifted your free hand to the side of his face, gently settling against the bruising to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling. Your thumb brushed along a tender ache on his cheekbone but there was no pain under your touch.
“I know now,” you told him softly, “and it won’t ever happen again.”
Bucky smiled though it tugged at the split on his lip. “I know.”
You lowered your hand from his face and gently pushed the hundred-dollar bill back towards him. “Take this back, Buck. Take it back and promise we’ll still go to Coney Island.”
Bucky closed his fist around the crumpled bill and slowly nodded. You did not release his hand. You did not pull away. You only held him – touched him as though you could not stand to pull away from him.
“I swear it,” he exhaled, his gaze still fixated on your hands.
You sighed, relief slipping through your body as you smiled at him. “Think you can win me a giant bear?”
Bucky chuckled and he didn’t mind when the split on his lip ached as he smiled. “Should we bet on it?”
---
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
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Ghouls are, put simply, humans suffering from advanced, prolonged radiation sickness and whose bodies have mutated such that gamma radiation extends their lifespan past natural limits.
The process of ghoulification is outlined in canon sources, but I wanted to make a guide that goes into more detail on the effects of radiation sickness in various cases, since the level and type of exposure significantly affects the outcome.
This is the first in what will be a series of posts exploring both real-life cases of radiation sickness and the sci-fi concept of ghoulification in some depth. Graphic descriptions of the physical deterioration of the body are included for informative purposes; reader discretion is advised.
For this first case study, I examine the effects on the human body of exposure to high levels of radiation in a short period of time, with a focus on the real case of Hisashi Ouchi.
On September 30, 1999, a lack of appropriate safety measures and the proper materials resulted in an accident that caused three workers at the nuclear power plant in Tōkai-mura, Japan, to suffer from severe radiation poisoning while purifying reactor fuel.
Point of Criticality
An uncontrolled fission reaction was produced when technicians poured nearly seven times the legal limit of uranium oxide into an improper vessel containing nitric acid. The men reported seeing a bright blue flash—indicative of Cherenkov radiation—when the mixture reached critical mass, flooding the room with radiation. The workers evacuated to the decontamination room, but already, the two who had been handling the reactive solution were overcome with intense pain from radiation burns, severe nausea, and difficulty breathing. Hisashi Ouchi, who suffered the highest level of exposure, also experienced rapid difficulties with mobility and coherence. Upon reaching the decontamination room, he vomited and fell unconscious.
~1 Hour Post-Exposure
Ouchi regained consciousness in the hospital about 70 minutes after the criticality accident, where doctors confirmed that he had been exposed to high doses of gamma, neutron, and other radiation.
The maximum allowable annual dose of radiation for nuclear technicians in Japan was 50 millisieverts. Exposure to more than 7 sieverts is considered fatal. Yutaka Yokokawa, the supervisor, had received 3 sieverts. The technicians who had been handling the uranium, Masato Shinohara and Hisashi Ouchi, received 10 sieverts and 17 sieverts, respectively.
~1 Day+ Post-Exposure
During the first few days in the ICU, Ouchi appeared to be in remarkably good condition, given the circumstances: the skin of his face and right hand was slightly red, as if by a sunburn, and swollen. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reported pain under his ear and right hand, which had received the most direct exposure, but he could speak normally, and he joked with the doctors and nurses attending to him.
6 Days Post-Exposure
Tests revealed that the high energy radiation that Ouchi had been exposed to had obliterated the chromosomes in his bone marrow. They were unrecognizable—some severed, some fused, all out of order. This damage meant that his body was unable to create new blood cells. The red blood cells that transport oxygen could not be replaced, and Ouchi's white blood cell count was near zero, leaving him extremely vulnerable to infection.
~1 Week+ Post-Exposure
Intensive treatments, including numerous skin grafts, blood and bone marrow transfusions, and revolutionary stem cell transplants were conducted in an attempt to stabilize Ouchi, but ultimately without lasting success.
The skin grafts couldn't hold; when medical tape was peeled from his skin, his skin came with it, and the marks left behind couldn't heal. Blisters like those of a burn appeared on his right hand.
Ouchi reported frequently that he was thirsty.
~10 Days Post-Exposure
By this point, Ouchi's oxygen levels were so low that even speaking required tremendous effort. Ouchi was placed on supplemental oxygen and required sedatives to be able to sleep.
2 Weeks+ Post-Exposure
Ouchi was no longer able to eat and required an IV. By day sixteen, most of the skin on the front side of his body had fallen off.
His low platelet count and lack of healthy skin meant that his blood and bodily fluids leaked through his damaged pores, resulting in unstable blood pressure.
Donor stem cells that were meant to allow his body to create new tissue were also destroyed by the radiation present in his body.
~1 Month Post-Exposure
On the 27th day following the accident, Ouchi suffered from intense diarrhea. The mucus layer of his large intestine had vanished, exposing the red submucosal layer beneath. His body could no longer disgest or absorb anything he ingested; even water was excreted as diarrhea.
The skin of Ouchi's right hand was almost entirely gone, leaving the surface of his hand raw and dark red. Blisters spread across his right arm and abdomen, then over his entire body. Gauze was required to replace his skin, and his fingers had to be individually wrapped to prevent them from sticking together. Without skin to keep him warm, Ouchi required an electrothermic device to maintain his body temperature while his bandages were changed—a daily procedure that took hours. Every time the gauze was removed, more of Ouchi's remaining skin went with it. His eyelids could not shut, and his eyes bled. His nails fell off.
Ouchi's right arm was necrotizing, leading to an increasing amount of myoglobin—a protein in muscle tissue—flowing in Ouchi's blood. Untreated, this could result in renal failure as the kidneys could not process the amount of myoglobin present.
Ouchi's body could not regenerate the platelets that form scabs, meaning the risk of hemorrhage was extreme.
By day 50, more than two liters of fluid seeped from Ouchi's damaged skin each day. The amount of fluid prevented skin grafts from adhering. Furthermore, he began to suffer from blood in his stool, and permeated blood seeped between his inflamed small and large intestines.
2 Months+ Post-Exposure
On the 59th day after the accident, Ouchi suffered the first of many heart attacks. His kidneys and liver were also failing. He no longer showed reactions to stimuli.
By day 63, Ouchi's macrophages—the immune cells that normally attack and consume bacteria and viruses—were attacking his own healthy blood cells.
After 67 days, Ouchi suffered internal hemorrhage. He bled from his mouth and intestines.
Ouchi would continue to suffer from heart attacks, as many as three in one hour. Each time, he was revived, but he suffered increasing brain damage, until multiple organ failure ended his life after 83 days in the hospital.
Ouchi's colleague Masato Shinohara underwent numerous successful skin grafts and a stem cell transfusion as well as radical cancer treatment, but he, too, died of multiple organ failure after seven months. Their supervisor, Yutaka Yokokawa, was treated for minor radiation sickness and was released from the hospital within three months of the accident.
This detailed chronology was referenced from the book A Slow Death: 83 Days of Radiation Sickness by Iwanami Shoten, translated by Maho Harada. My post, of course, focuses on Ouchi's physical condition in his final months, but it’s important to remember him not just as a victim or a patient. He was a loving husband and father whose sense of humor and resilience left an impression on everyone he came into contact with. The book is available in its entirety here and provides a moving, nuanced account of the incident and the efforts to save Ouchi's life.
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The idea of the handmaiden being shorter than the harbingers (like she's 5’0 ft) gets me going since they could easily lift her if they wanted to while having a rather rough lovemaking session.
Might have already sent this though, if I did then I'm sorry but my brain is failing to remember properly.
— THE HANDMAIDEN. PT2.
In the frozen land where the outcasts belong and the peculiar is home, tomorrow is never promised. Intertwined your fate with the harbingers might be, it’s in your best interest to remember: the cold swallows the weak and Snezhnaya knows no tears.
★☆ ! f!reader. part / installation of these drabbles. size kink as was stated in the ask. unprotected. not proofread. warnings for each character are as follows (lmk if i missed anything, it’s almost 2 AM here, my mind is foggy):
pierro — undertones of manhandling.
capitano — mentions of finger-fucking && foreplay. dacryphilia.
dottore — exhibitionism. voyeurism. he lets his other segments do you. creampie. undertones of overstimming just to be sure.
pantalone — rough sex.
tartaglia — foul legacy form. he’s sooo leaky.
PIERRO !
who would’ve thought that there’s a hidden gem in the throng of servants in the palace? the fascination pierro has for you seems to go on unceasing. it is why he keeps you close. apart from your obedience, there’s one more charming thing about you that utterly has him bound and enthralled: you are small.
yes— small. he can control you in anyway he wants. flip you to his satisfaction, drive you mad with his brawn, and fuck you so deeply it will leave you mousy for weeks from the memory. sometimes he fears of breaking you, especially when he gives your little pussy such a fervid pounding that renders you shivering. you tell him it’s alright, i can take it: words that seem to drive him mad that he fixes you on his lap, holding your waist while watching your pussy sucking only his fat crown. impatient, he would dig his nails to your flesh, releasing a gutted moan as he slams you down and fills you with his hard shaft. all virility and nothing less than that.
CAPITANO !
despite not divulging the reason for his lusting after you, capitano thinks that it’s clear as crystal to anyone who possesses good eyesight. the equation is simple: he’s huge and you’re small. aside from the surge of adrenaline it pumps into his veins, the sight of you in bed is one he finds hard to forget.
capitano makes certain that your cunt is drooling before ramming his cock in you. call it safety measures, because it is. despite his infamous nature, he wouldn’t deliberately hurt you if he can help it. however, he sees your wet cunt with white trails of arousal dripping from the hole, and he’d drive himself in with force that takes away a little bit of his sanity. and yet, after all the preparation of finger-fucking, his cock remains a tight fit. your hole gapes around his veiny shaft, utterly small and struggling and fluttering. he releases a grunt, then, pitching his hips slowly despite the physical ache it causes. and even with the measured thrusts, he finds you trembling and crying from being filled to the brim.
DOTTORE !
dottore is a keen observant. and perhaps that is an innate nature that shapes who he is today. there are things that he realizes only after thorough scrutiny. and one of his favored thing— or person— to observe is you. he has been aware of how small you are ever since you’ve started to stand meekly beside him, hoping to get a good look on his experiments while trying your hardest not to be a nuisance. it’s such a foolish little thought: one that has managed to slip through the piles of ideas inside his brain and one he’s more than willing to carry out for the sake of his curiosity.
it has taken him only a few tweaks to use the clones fit to accomplish the experiment. this particular study gives no relevance to his existing ones, and yet it has brought him great pleasure to see you fucked out and senseless by his segments lining up to shove their cocks in you. dottore overlooks the whole experiment, rejoicing at the sight of your puffy cunt expanding based on whose cock and how large said cock is while fucking and abusing your walls. you look so good on his table with your pussy leaking from too much cum jammed inside it. the loads of his segments are an unstoppable current, thick in consistency and languid in motion while running down from the table. an experiment of self-indulgence— one that will keep him awake and one he will continue observing.
PANTALONE !
he likes to measure things. especially the mora that flows in his hundred bank accounts and in snezhnaya. for a man as ambitious as pantalone, seeing the actual size of something gives his ego another shove. he’s probably not the only one who have seen it, as it is palpable whenever he observes how the other harbingers look at you. the difference in your height is one that is not hard to miss— and most certainly the reason that drives him in a frenzy whenever he fucks you stupid.
pantalone grows a habit of pushing the back of your weakened thighs to display your pretty little cunt. before fucking you senseless, he’d press his cock just above your pussy lips, as if measuring how deep he’d go once he’s sheathed inside. he has the image tattooed on his brain, and yet he couldn’t seem to get enough of its sight. you can say it boosts his pride, fucking you with his sheer length, watching the pulsing veins around his shaft shape their thickness on your plumped pussy. until he’s out of order, going ballistic with lust. he fucks you with a need of one deprived man, savaging you to the point of surrender. because as much as he loves the sight, he loves how you cling to him and rake your nails from his back to his buttocks more. you love it as much as he does. and there is no denying, especially when you lock your legs around his body, securing that his cum would go straight to your perfect cunt and nowhere else.
TARTAGLIA !
tartaglia has nothing but adoration whenever you wallow in his wildest fantasies. which sometimes makes him think that it is due to your work as a handmaiden in the palace. although he has not heard any objection from you, this particular fantasy he’s been concealing for so long planted doubt on his mind. and so his joy had been immeasurable after obtaining your approval.
he was not wrong, though. it is truly a magnificent sight. tartaglia finds it fascinating how your pussy seems only slightly bigger than the crown of his cock in his current form. you can barely take him in: pussy hole stretched and gaping around his tip. the pre-ejaculate he’s squirting since earlier seems almost enough to pump your womb swollen. for a second he fears that his cock wouldn’t go in, debating whether he should change back on his human form instead. but you have urged him to go on— giving him full consent to ram his whole length in you. with patient thrusts he did— or at least tried to do so— until he couldn’t endure it any longer and pistoled his hips between your thighs, penetrating your cunt to the root and pumping thick loads that looks exactly like pre-cum. you have a long night ahead of you, it seems.
#tw size kink#tw dacryphilia#tw voyeurism#tw exhibitionism#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#pierro smut#capitano smut#dottore smut#pantalone smut#childe smut#ajax smut#tartaglia smut#pierro x reader#capitano x reader#dottore x reader#pantalone x reader#child x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
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Soft!Yandere Black Noir w/ Spouse!Reader
You and Earving had shared your lives for many years, forging a bond that had withstood even the disfigurement caused by Soldier Boy. Your love had persisted through the darkest of times. Before Black Noir’s transformation, you two had been inseparable, and even as his appearance changed, your commitment to each other remained unwavering.
When the scars from Soldier Boy’s cruel act marred Black Noir’s once-handsome face, he feared that you might abandon him. He went to great lengths to conceal the disfigurement, even in the intimate moments you shared. However, his sudden withdrawal and the cessation of communication did not escape your notice. With concern etched across your face, you gently implored, “Please, Earving, tell me what’s wrong. Why won’t you speak to me or remove your mask?”
Black Noir shook his head, refusing to divulge his inner turmoil. He adored you deeply, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. He was willing to resort to any means to prevent your departure, even if it meant resorting to physical measures. You were his world, his anchor in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.
After persistent persuasion, you finally persuaded him to unveil his masked face. The sight of the burnt half of his visage and his milky eye bulging from its socket was almost too much for you to bear. He noticed your distress and hastily replaced his mask, shaking his head as if to say, “No, no, it’s still me. I’m not frightening. Please don’t abandon me.”
Tears streamed down your face as you asked, “Soldier Boy did this?” In response, he nodded, clutching your arms tightly, ensuring you couldn’t escape his grip even if you attempted to flee. You bestowed upon him a tender, loving smile and inquired, “Were you afraid to tell me?” Black Noir nodded slowly. His fear of losing you, regardless of the extent of his disfigurement, was overwhelming.
In a surprising move, you gently lifted his mask and planted a soft kiss on the burnt part of his mouth. This gesture sent Black Noir’s heart into a flutter, and his knees nearly gave way under the weight of his emotions. He yearned to express his love at that moment but couldn’t. Instead, he fashioned his hands into the shape of a heart, conveying his feelings. You understood his unspoken message and reciprocated, your actions concealed beneath his mask, causing him to blush.
Now, the two of you are united in marriage. Black Noir has provided you with a home specially designed for your comfort and privacy, a sanctuary away from those who might covet you, such as The Deep or Homelander. Black Noir relishes the moments spent at home with you, where he can remove his mask and relish in your reassuring words that you love him. In the safety of your private haven, you belong entirely to him, and he has the privilege of taking care of you.
#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere black noir#the boys#the seven#soft yandere#black noir x reader#Earving x reader#black noir#yandere male#yandere husband#male yandere#romantic#romantic yandere
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Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.
---
“Agent, are you in?”
“I’m in position.”
“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”
That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.
You were collateral.
... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card- in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.
You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south.
“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”
...
“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”
...
Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.
A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.
“... this seat... taken, doll?”
You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...
... the eyelight of Sans Serif.
Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.
... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.
“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.
He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.
... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.
“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”
Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.
“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not.
“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.
You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”
He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.
He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.
The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.
“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?
You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”
He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”
He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.
“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”
“what brings you... to a casino, then?”
“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”
... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”
You nearly flushed. “Of course.”
His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”
Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.
“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”
The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”
You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”
His smile grew. “why?”
“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”
He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.
He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”
“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”
“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”
... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.
“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.
He grinned, and looked to the bartender.
“two tequila sunrises, rob.”
---
Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.
“Sir?”
“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”
“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”
He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”
The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”
He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”
“Yes, sir.”
“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”
“Yes, sir.”
... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.
“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”
“Yes, sir.”
#llama writes#was stuck between mf and hmf for this#but i feel like hmf gives more bond supervillain vibes#which was what i was going for#i had a dream where i was a spy at a casino and that is what inspired this whole thing hksdjfds
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Would it be okay to see a Poly!Kagaya and Amane x reader? The reader in this could be one of Kagaya’s retainers when they were younger before they left, only to return as a traveler and find themselves stuck in headquarters by the overprotective couple.
Yandere Kagaya & Amane Ubayashiki
Naturally, neither of them is particularly strong
So they couldn’t stop you as they made that transition
Amane preparing to become his wife and full-time caretaker
Shadowing his friend and retainer who’d been doing this for years
“What will you do, after this?”
“Ah I’m going to er…ah–”
“(Y/n) are you trying not to offend me by mincing your words?”
“Well…”
“Go ahead, I don’t mind!”
He does but not for the reasons you worry about
“...I’m going to travel! Become a merchant! Or a wanderer but I’m leaving!”
“Wow those are…some big dreams…”
“Don’t forget us okay (Y/n)?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Back then all that measures is that it hurts when you leave
It hurts when you detail your adventures in your letters
And both of them find themselves jealous of the world around you
That gets to see your smiling face and hear your harmonious voice
It's a pain that both Amane and Kagaya share
Bonded by that misery remembering you and regaling stories to their babies about you is their favorite activity
But as their prayers would have it, you would return
“Ah, it's just a visit! I plan to stow away on a ship to the new world! But until then I’d love to be with you guys.”
“Of course, we’re always happy to have you forever!”
Naturally, they will not be letting you run away
At least not now
While having the toddler quintuplets keep you busy distracted
In the meantime, Kagaya and Amane set the precedent
“My children, I wish to call upon you to protect someone dear to us. (Y/n) is someone of a wanderer for their safety we’d like to quell that.”
The Hashiras need nothing more as they are eager to welcome you into the family
Casually showing their immense strength
When they hold your feet off the ground
Speeding up to you from across the compound
Becoming physical walls when you try to leave
Well since your horse seems to have died of some mysterious disease a sword slice
Why not stay and help Amane
Surely you haven’t forgotten your old duties as his caretaker
And you three just happen to fall back into that closeness you all had when you were younger
So entrapped in this new family it's up to you whether you’ll learn the full extent of their love obsession with you
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yandere kny#yandere demon slayer#yandere kagaya ubayshiki#yandere amane ubayashiki#yandere demon slayer x reader#yandere kimetsu no yaiba
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