#even more formidable as parents

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

Saya forgot how to scheme, Taelha is a mother, Mubaek is dead, Yangcha is talking, that's not the Arthdal i remember

to be fair, Taelha is exactly the kind of mother i thought she would be

i feel like the other Joon Ki showed more nuance. (which is so weird to me, i always believed this one was a better actor, even if i haven't seen either in much.) this one mostly looks tired. although that may be the way the twins are written now.

also i'm mildly bored and annoyed. idk if it's just because the writing got worse or because i never was passionate about it in the first place and 4 years in between seasons didn't help, or both. i mean i'm 10 minutes into ep3 and i honestly wouldn't care if i never saw the rest of it.

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

[barblaz-arts]

I've come back to drop some Next Gen Nevermore lore, this time about Sora and Regine's parents 💕

Yukiko Toriyama

Because of my love for parallels, she's a doctor to match the adult characters in the show (Principal - Weems/Bianca; Sheriff - Galpin/Walker). She's a surgeon though, not a therapist like Kinbott, but still a doctor!

Yukiko's around Wednesday and co's age, so she was also in Jericho High when they were in Nevermore. She has a huge respect for Outcasts, thinking that they are very cool. In fact, she thought this one siren girl that she first saw during Outreach Day was especially cool. Soon she will find out that her name is Bianca Barclay and that her classmate Lucas Walker will end up dating her.

She met Sora's father some time after graduating from high school. She fell for his confidence, and was especially impressed that he was an Outcast. Unfortunately she realized too late that he's all talk. When she got pregnant with Sora, his rich parents essentially sent her hush money, which she accepted and used to pay for med school. Sora's grandparents helped raise her while Yukiko finished her studies, so she wasn't as present as she probably should have been during Sora's childhood. She tries her best though, really.

Hugo Schuyler

Sora's father. He came from a rich and reputable family of psychics that specialize in spirits, also known as Herons. Because of his family's reputation, he developed a huge ego and has delusions of grandeur.

He's a glutton for attention, a trait that Sora unfortunately inherited as she also always makes an effort to fit in with "the popular crowd" among her peers. However unlike Sora who is ashamed of her outcast status and prefers to hide her power, Hugo has a superiority complex and overcompensates for his weak psychic abilities by being obnoxiously loud about his outcast status and his family's name.

He ends up starting a YouTube channel as a paranormal investigator after Nevermore. When he finds out he has a daughter, he's quick to head over to Nevermore and rope Sora into his paranormal shenanigans. No, it doesn't end up being a cute father-daughter bonding activity.

He sees both Wednesday and Enid as rivals. Wednesday for her formidable psychic powers (and reputation!), Enid for, well, her more successful YouTube channel(which isn't even hers, it's the Wolf Preserve's). Wednesday does not remember him from their high school days though, and Enid purposely mixes him up with Xavier when addressing him.

Vega hates him because he thinks aliens don't exist.

Erica Gutierrez

(I don't have her design and personality fully conceptualized yet, sorry)

Erica is Eugene's ex-wife and is a famous actress who started out when she was a teenager. She used to be a celebrity crush of Eugene's when he was in Nevermore, and dating and marrying her was a dream come true that sadly didn't last.

Erica makes an effort to see Regine when she can, and she usually has her daughter stay with her throughout the summer. Her fame comes with its own cons, particularly the excessive attention she(and by extension her family) gets hugely contributing to Regine's overly reclusive personality.

Erica had nothing to do with Outcasts before meeting Eugene and is every bit of a Normie. She and Wednesday never liked each other. She gets along well with Enid because she thinks Enid is normal enough when she isn't wolfed out. Enid likes her for getting her Michelle Yeoh's autograph and a video message as a birthday gift once. (Wednesday hates that Eugene's ex wife of all people showed her up that year)

None of the Nevermore student knew Regine's mother was a celebrity until Erica decided to give her daughter a surprise visit during Family Day(coincidentally the same day Hugo goes to meet Sora. It was a long weekend for the girls)

(masterpost for my AUs here)

EDIT: I ALMOST FORGOT!

Partial credit to @whitebeltwriter for coming up with Yukiko's background with me. I no longer remember which parts were my idea and which is hers, but pls know that it was a collaborative effort

[deliciousangelfestival]

Mission Dad

Character: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky is just your average dad in his daughter's eyes. But deep down, she yearns for a father with more influence and power, like her friend's dad. Little does she know, Bucky is anything but ordinary.

Words Count: 3,712

Warning: Slightly bullying scene.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The midday sun streamed into the principal's office through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the abundance of light, the atmosphere inside remained heavy and gloomy.

"I’m sorry; it’s my mistake as a parent." You bowed your head to the people in front of you: two couples who wore formal suits, along with their teenage daughter, and the principal, who kept wiping the sweat from his head.

Your daughter, Faith, who stood beside you, clenched her fist. Her expression was ugly as she looked at her mother, apologizing and bowing to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Mom, don't apologize. it’s not even my fault.”

You glanced at her and nodded, assuring her that you didn’t feel hurt or offended.

Sabrina, your daughter's classmate, smirked at you and Faith. With her mouth silent, she told Faith, “You can’t win.”

“Yes. It’s just a small matter.” Roy, Sabrina's father and also a senator, patted his daughter's head. “I think this matter doesn’t have to go public, right?” He turned to the principal.

“That’s right.”

With that, the problem was solved. But the scar still felt fresh on Faith’s heart.

As you drove the car back home, the silence hung heavy between you and Faith. Then, unexpectedly, her voice broke the quiet. “Why did you marry dad?” Faith crossed her arms beside you, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her question. You hadn't anticipated such a query from your daughter.

“Why did dad let you go alone and allow you to be humiliated?” Faith wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. The memory of you apologizing on her behalf still fresh in her mind.

You felt a pang of heartache seeing your daughter in distress. Today's events had revealed a truth you hadn't known before. The reason for your confrontation with Sabrina's parents was rooted in the bullying Faith had endured.

Faith had gathered evidence – recordings and screenshots of text messages – hoping it would be enough to put an end to the torment. But the power and influence wielded by Sabrina's family proved formidable.

With the evidence at hand, Faith had the potential to tarnish Sabrina's family name and derail her father's career as a senator.

Your fists clenched at the thought of Sabrina's cruelty towards your daughter. You wanted to scream, to exact some form of justice for Faith's pain. The urge to confront Sabrina and her allies gnawed at you, a primal instinct to protect your child at any cost.

But you held it in, knowing that today you didn't have the power to fight back. Another reason was because your husband wasn't here. Bucky Barnes had been gone for months for his job, a job so complicated that contacting him was nearly impossible.

You caressed Faith’s hair gently. “I'll try calling your father again.”

Faith sighed, her frustration evident. “He better answer, or else I'll find a better dad.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the circumstances. “Honey, don’t joke like that. Your father is the only one in my heart.”

She pretended to gag, a playful gesture that reminded you of the teasing banter you shared as a family. Whenever Bucky returned home from his job, you would become lovesick teenagers, unable to keep your hands off each other.

******

Back at home, you glanced around to ensure no one was near before your hand slid open a secret shelf, revealing an old flip phone hidden within.

You dialed a number and waited anxiously until a voice finally answered, "Hello?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Steve, can you find him?"

“Not yet,” came the disappointing reply.

You sighed again, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "Alright, I’ll call you later."

Closing the phone, you rubbed your temples, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. Your daughter was right – you needed Bucky.

Just then, you heard heavy footsteps descending from the second floor. "Mom, I’m going out for a sec."

You glanced up in surprise, realizing Faith was already on the move. "Faith, we just arrived!" But it was too late – she had already slipped out the door.

******

Faith heard your voice, but she sprinted faster. She had caught the name "Uncle Steve" in your conversation, indicating that he might know where her dad was. They had been friends since childhood, and she trusted him.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop owned by Uncle Steve, she pushed open the glass door and was greeted with a warm "Welcome."

Steve was taken aback. "Faith?"

Approaching him, Faith cut to the chase. "Uncle, do you know where my dad is?"

Steve hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he shook his head. "You know he has to travel all the time."

Faith rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yeah, cleaning up someone else's mess. He keeps saying that, but when there’s trouble at his own home, he's never there."

Sensing the tension, Steve tried to diffuse the situation. "Hold up, the topic is getting heavy. Let’s sit down." He gestured towards a nearby table, inviting Faith to sit and talk more calmly.

Steve offered Faith her favorite chocolate mint drink to cheer her up. Taking a sip, Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her. She grumbled and sighed, “I don’t understand why mother married my dad when she can’t depend on him.”

Steve widened his eyes in surprise. “Your dad would be heartbroken to hear that,” he said softly. Having a daughter could be both sweet and scary, he thought, realizing the impact of her words.

“But it’s true. I also found out that mother came from a well-known family. But she cut ties with them because she married dad,” Faith sighed, her gaze drifting to the café window. “I wish I had a powerful dad.”

Steve sighed sympathetically, picking up on Faith’s frustration, as well as your own from the last phone call. “What happened, Faith?”

As Faith recounted the events of the day, Steve listened intently, his expression growing increasingly enraged. “How dare they do that!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table, causing the café patrons to jump.

“There’s nothing I can do since her father is a senator,” Faith lamented.

After a moment of silence, Steve spoke firmly. “Faith, don’t worry. Your father will handle this.”

“But—” Faith began.

“It’s not my place to tell you. Believe in your father. He’s stronger and more powerful than you think.”

Faith couldn’t argue with her uncle’s words. “Fine,” she relented, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll go back.”

Steve wanted to offer her a ride home. “Let me drive you,” he suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I need some alone time. And it’s not far,” Faith declined.

Steve nodded understandingly. “Text me when you get home,” he urged.

“Okey dokey,” Faith replied before heading out of the café.

Back at home, you continued to wait anxiously for your daughter to return. Dinner time had long passed, and worry gnawed at your insides. You picked up the phone and dialed Steve. "Is Faith with you?" you asked urgently.

Steve's voice sounded grave on the other end. "She was, but she left around 4:50 p.m.," he replied.

Your heart sank. "Steve, she still hasn't come home," you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

Without hesitation, you jumped into your car and raced to Steve's café. He was waiting for you at the park nearby, his expression as pale as yours. You could see the worry etched on his face as you approached him, your breath coming in heavy gasps.

Coming closer, you noticed that Steve was holding Faith's smartwatch in his hand. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Faith had been kidnapped.

You panicked, struggling to catch your breath, and Steve steadied you with a reassuring hand on your back.

"I'll call for backup," Steve declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"I—" you began, but the sudden phone ring interrupted you both.

The familiar ringtone brought a wave of relief flooding over you. With trembling hands, you quickly accepted the call. "Bucky!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just got the chance to call you. I—" Bucky's voice sounded cheerful, relieved to hear his wife's voice again.

"Our daughter has been kidnapped!!!" you blurted out, the urgency in your tone cutting through the cheerful facade.

"Who dares lay a hand on our daughter?" Bucky's voice dripped with icy resolve, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

********

As Faith struggled to focus through her pounding headache, Sabrina's taunting voice cut through the dimly lit room.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice as she leaned in closer to Faith. "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"

Faith clenched her fists, her jaw set with determination despite her fear. "What do you want, Sabrina?" she managed to grit out, her voice trembling slightly.

Sabrina's laughter echoed off the grimy walls, sending shivers down Faith's spine. "Oh, just a little payback for ruining my life," she replied, her tone dripping with venom. "Thanks to you, my parents are furious with me. I'm grounded, all because of your little stunt."

Faith's heart sank as she realized the extent of Sabrina's anger. She knew she had caused trouble for Sabrina, but she never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Sabrina, sensing Faith's vulnerability, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Well, let's see how smart you really are when you're at my mercy."

Fear gnawed at Faith's insides as Sabrina's words sank in. She knew she was entirely at Sabrina's mercy, with no one to help her in this dark, desolate place. She braced herself for whatever torment Sabrina had in store, steeling herself for the trials ahead.

As Faith scanned the dimly lit room, her heart sank as she noticed an array of menacing tools laid out on the table. Were they planning to kill her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

Sabrina's malicious grin widened as she picked up a baseball bat, swinging it menacingly a few times. The sound of the bat cutting through the air sent a chill down Faith's spine, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Closing her eyes tightly, Faith began to pray silently, her mind racing with desperate pleas for someone to come to her rescue.

With an evil smile stretching across her face, Sabrina walked menacingly closer to Faith, raising the baseball bat higher with each step. Faith could feel the weight of impending doom settling over her like a heavy blanket. She wished she had stayed home with you, safe and sound. She longed to see her father, to feel his reassuring presence beside her.

"Dad, help me," she whispered desperately, her voice barely audible amidst the tension of the moment.

"I'm here," a deep voice rumbled through the darkness, sending a surge of hope coursing through Faith's veins. Could it be? Was it truly her father?

"I'm sorry I'm late," the voice continued, each word like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, Faith couldn't believe her ears. Was she in heaven? But then, a second time, the voice pierced through the silence, more tangible than ever. "Dad!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping open.

Standing tall and imposing in front of her was Bucky, her father. He stood alone but radiated a sense of power and strength that dwarfed everyone else in the room. With a swift motion, he halted Sabrina's advancing bat, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Sabrina had always thought her father, Roy, was intimidating, but the aura of power emanating from Bucky now was on a whole other level. She could sense a palpable bloodlust emanating from him, a primal energy that seemed to course through his veins.

With a voice that trembled with fear, Sabrina managed to stammer out, "Who... who are you?"

Bucky's gaze bore into Sabrina with an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively. "I'm Faith's father," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "And now, I'm going to teach all of you a lesson."

*******

At the grand mansion, Roy lounged in his armchair, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully as he gazed into the crackling fireplace.

The sudden ringing of his phone shattered the tranquility of the moment. "Hello?" he answered, his voice laced with annoyance at the interruption.

"Dad!!!" Sabrina's panicked voice came through the line, causing Roy to furrow his brow in confusion.

"Why are you screaming like a crazy person?" he retorted, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Someone tried to kill me!!!" Sabrina's voice trembled with fear, sending a chill down Roy's spine.

"Stop being dramatic," he scoffed dismissively, though a flicker of concern flashed in his eyes.

"She's right," a new voice interrupted, sending a shiver down Roy's spine.

"And who is this?" Roy demanded, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Your nightmare. And you're next," came the chilling response, causing Roy's blood to run cold.

"Tsk. Empty threat," Roy scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"No, Dad. He's serious. Call all the bodyguards!!!" Sabrina's urgency cut through the air, leaving Roy no choice but to take her warning seriously.

Roy wasted no time in taking action. He swiftly dialed his secretary's number, his expression tense with determination as he issued his orders.

"Get ready for an intruder," he commanded tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Call in all the bodyguards. I want the mansion secured from every angle. Do whatever it takes to protect us."

As he spoke, Roy's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, his mind racing with thoughts of the potential threat looming outside.

*******

As the night wore on, tension hung thick in the air of Roy's mansion. The threat from the mysterious voice had put everyone on edge, and they remained vigilant, acutely aware of any unusual sounds or movements.

"Good. Let that kid stay there for a while. She only brings trouble," Roy remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke of Sabrina's misfortune.

"Who tried to hurt us?" Roy's question hung heavy in the room, unanswered and unsettling.

His wife, equally on edge, offered her own speculation. "Do you think it's the Barnes?"

Roy pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Impossible. I looked it up. Barnes is just a nobody."

But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. Could he be wrong? Was there more to the Barnes family than he had initially assumed?

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house turned eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Then, piercing through the silence, came the sound of screams echoing through the halls. "AARGH!"

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The sharp cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves of fear through the inhabitants of the mansion.

"What the fuck is going on?" Roy demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Are we going to be safe?" His wife's voice trembled with uncertainty, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, the bodyguards in this room with us are former special ops," Roy reassured, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own anxiety.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, his posture firm and resolute. "It's alright, ma'am. We can handle this," he assured, his words instilling a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The door swung open, revealing just one figure standing in the doorway.

As the bodyguard moved to intercept him, Bucky strode forward confidently, his eyes fixed on Roy. "You have to stop before you get hurt," the bodyguard warned, his voice tinged with concern.

But Bucky paid no heed to the warning. With a swift motion, he grabbed the bodyguard's hand and effortlessly snapped it, causing him to curse in pain.

"Shit!" the bodyguard exclaimed, clutching his injured hand as Bucky swiftly took down the rest of the security detail with brutal efficiency.

The bodyguard, his eyes wide with shock, leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Do you think it's him? The lunatic?"

His friend's expression mirrored his own disbelief as he muttered back, "Shit. You're right."

Their hushed conversation carried a sense of unease as they watched Bucky's brutal efficiency in dispatching their colleagues, leaving them wondering if they were genuinely facing the infamous lunatic they had heard whispers about.

With blood streaked across his face, Bucky closed in on Roy, who tensed, assuming a defensive stance. "So you're strong, huh?" Roy challenged, his fists clenched as he prepared for a fight. "I was in the military too. Which special force are you from?"

"Black ops," Bucky replied curtly, his words sending a chill down Roy's spine.

Before Roy could react, Bucky unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Roy staggered backward under the onslaught, his face contorted with pain as he struggled to defend himself against Bucky's relentless assault.

Roy, already on the floor, bloodied and battered, pleaded desperately, "Wait. Wait!!! Are you Faith's father? The problem between our daughters is done. And this morning your wife also agreed to it. They're just kids."

The words "just kids" rang hollow in Bucky's ears as he thought of Faith, bruised and battered, her innocence shattered by the cruelty of others.

His heart ached at the memory, and he felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over him.

Bucky laughed darkly, the sound chilling to the bone. "My wife gave you a last chance. But your daughter blew it," he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain.

Roy's eyes blazed with fury as he struggled to rise. "Who do you think you are? You're just a fucking nobody. I'm a senator. Even if you raze my house to the ground, tomorrow you'll be sleeping in jail. Along with your wife and kid," he declared, his voice trembling with rage and defiance.

"Oh, so you're that powerful, huh?" Bucky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at Roy.

"I'm that powerful, you son of a bitch," Roy shot back defiantly, his voice strained with anger and frustration.

With a cold smirk, Bucky reached for his old flip phone, his fingers moving with calculated precision as he dialed a number. "Senator Roy? You know him? Yeah, that one. Could you erase him? Thanks," he said casually into the phone before ending the call.

Roy's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to convey his disbelief and fear.

But Bucky wasn't finished yet. With a swift motion, he snatched Roy's phone from his trembling hands and quickly scrolled through the contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he dialed the number without hesitation.

"Call him. Tell him there's a lunatic who wants to kill you," Bucky commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he handed the phone back to Roy.

Roy's hands shook as he brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding with dread. "Hello?"

"Commissioner!! There's a lunatic trying to kill me, he's hurt my daughter," Roy screamed into the phone, desperation and fear lacing his words.

But to his horror, all he heard in response was a calm voice saying, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What?" Roy's voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the phone in trembling hands.

"Who are you? You're just a guy from a cleaning company." Roy looked up at Bucky, dis, belief etched across his bloodied face.

"You messed with the wrong daughter," Bucky replied coolly, his voice dripping with a quiet menace.

Bucky Barnes, known by the nickname "Cleaning Service," earned his moniker through his unparalleled expertise in handling the toughest missions in black ops. With hundreds of missions under his belt, not a single one had ever failed. His reputation as a lunatic preceded him, but he wore the label with indifference on the field.

However, when it came to his family, especially his daughter Faith, Bucky preferred to shed his tough exterior and play the role of a regular dad. He didn't want to frighten her with tales of his dangerous exploits; instead, he chose to shield her from the harsh realities of his profession.

But now, as danger loomed closer to home, Bucky realized that pretending to be someone he wasn't no longer served him or his family. It was time to embrace his true self and unleash the full extent of his capabilities to protect those he loved.

Before Roy could react, Bucky delivered a devastating punch that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

*******

As Bucky stepped out of the mansion, a cry of relief and joy erupted from both you and Faith.

"Bucky!" you exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.

"Dad!" Faith called out, her voice choked with emotion as she joined in the hug.

Steve watched the heartwarming family reunion scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, especially with the backdrop of the burning house behind them.

Bucky held his daughter close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "I'm sorry. I let you and your mother get hurt," he murmured softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Faith shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "No, Dad. You're not late. You're so cool," she reassured him, her words filled with love and admiration.

Bucky smiled, a rare warmth spreading across his features as he looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said softly before gazing at you. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm back.I will never let anyone else underestimate us ever again," he whispered, his voice filled with determination and love.

Taglist:

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[after-witch]

Alone in the Dark [Gojo x Reader]

Title: Alone in the Dark [Gojo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re training alone and Gojo has some… ideas for how to improve on your training. 

Word Count: 6000ish

notes: noncon blowjob, noncon cunnilingus (done on reader), degradation/humiliation, some misogyny, mentions of reader childbearing, Gojo being a nasty creep

There was no place in the world of sorcerers for someone like you. You were too kind, too sweet--too soft.

That’s what everyone (or almost everyone) told you, almost for as long as you can remember. Yes, you can remember being a child and hearing adults tut-tut at the way you served others before yourself; at the way you made everyone stop so that a group of ducklings could cross the road; at the way you fretted over your brother when he came home black and blue and scratched-red from fighting curses. 

It was bad, they said, for you to focus so much on caring for others and not enough on developing the strong skills to do what is necessary. Even when what is necessary might not be what is just or kind or thoughtful.

If you were to lament about these frustrations to the average non-sorcerer, you imagine they might widen their eyes, put their hand to their heart, or maybe even rest a hand on your shoulder. You poor thing! They might say. How cruel.

Was it cruel? You weren’t sure. You didn’t have anything else to compare it with--this was how most generations-long sorcerer families raised their children. You had to excel, you had to be strong, there was no room for weakness.

Kindness, it seems, was a weakness.

But… maybe your sweet personality wasn’t a complete weakness. Because your family didn’t throw you out, as some families did with the weaker leaks in their formidable chains. Instead, they pivoted. 

If you weren’t going to be a stony-hearted sorcerer who could take down curses with their eyes closed (no pun intended, they would say, if they had a sense of humor) you would serve the family in another way.

You must still be strong, yes, but you could keep your tendency to dote and devote yourself to others if you were to take on another role: a wife. More than that--a mother. Marry a strong sorcerer, have lots of children, continue the line until your body could no longer stand having children. 

And so you grew up learning duties of a different kind. How to manage a household--from the servants you would be expected to order around to keeping track of linens and pantries; how to sew, because while servants would no doubt do any heavy lifting, you could at least be expected to fix your husband’s garments or embroider a family crest on them; how to dote in the right way, acquiescing to your husband while doing your best to maintain the honor and reputation of your old and new families. How to raise children--the right way, so they hopefully don’t end up like you, needing to be delicately placed into a niche. 

All this, while strengthening your jujutsu, while practicing harnessing your cursed energy, while knowing that you were not what your family wanted but you weren’t entirely useless, and you had to make the best of that. 

Now that you’re an adult of marriageable age, it’s only a matter of time before they find a suitable husband for you. He must be from one of the great families, of course. You were too important to marry off to some low-level sorcerer without a stellar reputation. Not only that, but marrying someone from a prominent family (a strong family) would increase the chances that your children would be strong.

Strong children--strong sorcerers. More sorcerers--more soldiers in the ongoing battle against curses.

And if you wanted to do your duty, then you needed to be strong enough to perform it. No sorcerer wanted a weak little thing for a wife, did they? Of course not.

That’s what brought you here, alone, isolated and tired but so damn determined to improve yourself. It was your idea to come here, which seemed to please your parents. Your cursed energy has been running a little too wild lately, seeping out of you, escaping in little trickles.

It’s your own fault. Admitting this also seemed to please your parents, though it made a low pit form in your stomach, and you didn’t dare divulge into why it was your fault that cursed energy was streaking out of you like a stubborn dripping faucet. 

You have too much self-doubt. You’re too worried about letting people down. You’re not confident enough, strong enough, and if you aren’t strong enough then you aren’t good enough regardless of how well you might perform on the wifely front in front of the increasingly judgemental matchmaker your parents brought in to monitor your progress.

But, no, you couldn’t say any of this to your parents. It’s not that they wouldn’t understand. It’s that they wouldn’t care. Self-doubt? No room for that here. Get rid of it. No confidence? How could you lack confidence, given your heritage? Change. No no, to be more precise, they would say: shut up, deal with it, then change. 

The only person you did explain any of this to was Satoru Gojo, a friend (or colleague? Or friend-colleague? Or colleague-friend? You were never entirely sure where you stood with him) who would at least listen without completely dismissing you. Not that he did much more than cluck at you condescendingly and offer to marry you--in jest--to get your folks off your back.

You’d laughed and swatted him in the shoulder (which he didn’t mind you doing, leading you to think friend-first-then-colleague is the more appropriate moniker) and asked him for advice.

Which is what has led you here to train, alone and hard. But training was meant to be hard, so you couldn’t complain. And training alone would give you the focus you needed to actually improve.

And you would improve. You had to--not just for your family but for yourself, and your future. The wife of a sorcerer (you tried not to think too far beyond that, to what your parents had been grooming you for: to become a matriarch in the continuing line of your family’s clan) still had to be strong enough not to let cursed energy seep from her so easily.

With the right training, you were going to get better. 

Right? 

Right.

--

This is what you needed: time alone. 

Because although you plan to be here for much longer, you can already tell that you’re sewing up those weaknesses within you, preventing cursed energy from sneaking out like it had been doing so readily for the past few months. 

Confidence was key, after all. Your family had never been wrong on that front. You just needed to get away from the stresses of life to regain that confidence. 

You sigh through your nose. The air down here is stale, but it’s not surprising. It’s not like there was anyone down here but you and the darkness and--

“Hey!” 

You and the darkness and… Gojo Satoru.

“How are your leaks?!” His voice rings out cheerfully in the empty space, almost echoing. 

For a moment, you fracture, and you can feel something trickle out of you. But you hold your breath and regain your senses, forcing yourself to regrip the focus you’d been maintaining for hours now.

Breathe in.

It’s just Gojo. 

Breathe out.

Coming to check on you. Which means he cares, in his own way, which is more than you can say for a lot of people. But you wish he’d told you that he intended on coming. It’s a bit jarring, and a whisper of embarrassment begins to build in your chest. He was, as he didn’t mind saying (it could not rightfully be called bragging)-- “the best.” 

You hear his footsteps before you see him in the dim lighting. His slow, aimless walk might have even seemed a bit creepy, if you weren’t already used to it. Or if he hadn’t called out beforehand. 

He grins when he comes into view, hands in the pockets of his trousers. He’s wearing his sunglasses today, his hair down and loose. He gives a short wave, and you bite back a sigh. You don’t want to stand up--you’re still training--so you merely straighten your back a little and wave back.

“Ah, Gojo. Have I really been down here that long?” You wonder if anyone in your family has bothered to wonder where you were or took the time to track you down. 

“Ah, Satoru,” he says, idly. “Oh, it’s only been a few hours.”

Just like that, there’s a sting in your chest. A few hours? Why would he check on you so early? Did he think you were that weak? Were you that weak? No--you shake the thought away, willing yourself to maintain focus, maintain the layer that keeps your cursed energy from releasing. 

No, he was just… concerned about you. This would be the first time you’ve done something like this, after all. And he was always telling you that he’d be happy to give you advice, and he didn’t have the same sarcastic twang in his voice reserved for people he didn’t care for. 

“So…” Gojo crouches down, getting close to your eye level. “You think you’re doing well?”

You let a smile show. A shy little smile, the kind you gave when you were feeling genuinely proud. Those smiles were few and far between when it came to your family, but you didn’t mind them in front of people like Gojo.

“Mm-hmm. I think coming here is helping me regain a sense of…”  Your eyebrows furrow as he stands up and begins walking around you in slow, lazy circles. “Purpose?” Your head follows him, but he doesn’t stop or acknowledge what he’s doing. “Or um, confidence.”

He stops only when he’s right in front of you, but instead of crouching he merely leans down and gets right up in your face, a smile with a hint of teeth showing. The proximity brings heat to your face, and you lean back. He follows your motion, blue eyes behind his glasses peering at you in an almost uncharacteristically serious manner.

After a few moments, he speaks--

“I’d like to conduct a test.”

You fidget in your seated position.

“A test?”

Your heart beats a little faster--one, two, three. But you’re not worried. It’s more like you can feel the first creepy-crawlies of self doubt making their way back up your spine. Why does Gojo want to test you? He’s smarter and stronger and there’s a reason he’s consulted so much on teaching others, so… so…

You swallow that “so” while you wait for him to answer.

He taps his chin in a dramatic way, and it makes you feel better. At least, until he starts talking and seemingly confirms those creepy-crawlies. Not intentionally, though--he wouldn’t do that.

“Yes, a test! A truly great jujutsu sorcerer must be able to maintain control in all situations, no?” He waves his hands around at the surrounding space, the emptiness except for you and him. “Not in isolation. You won’t be fighting curses in isolation, will you? You won’t be fighting curse users in isolation, will you?” He asks these last two questions slowly, kindly. It makes you feel younger and more stupid, and you make a note to talk to him later about that, since he wouldn’t knowingly hurt your feelings.

“I…” You lick your lips. You brought a case of water, but you haven’t yet opened it, and your mouth is dry. Too dry. But that’s not important. What’s important is that Gojo has presented you with a very realistic, all-too-true conundrum. 

You shake your head too slowly for your own liking. “No, I… I guess I won’t be.” 

“You guess?” He asks, voice taking on an almost sing-song tone at the end that plucks at one of your fraying nerves. 

Your heart pounds just a little harder, you feel a trickle of sweat on your forehead that you don’t wipe away. You force your breathing to even, your muscles to relax. 

“I won’t be,” you reaffirm, removing all traces of doubt in your face. “I know I won’t be.”

He already started the test, you think, he just didn’t tell you. You might be mad but you’re not, not really. It’s just like Gojo to pluck out your weaknesses so he can help you better them, isn’t it? That’s what he’s here for, what he’s always been here for. To help you improve. To help you. 

And you? You can do this. You were born and raised, literally, to do this. To be the best sorcerer you could be, and if you need someone like Gojo to help you, who were you to reject him? Nobody.

And so, when Gojo hums happily and plops himself down in front of you, crossing his legs to mimic your own position, you take a breath and remind yourself how lucky you are to have someone like him ready to help instead of quietly watching you fail, waiting for your downfall and wondering if it would help boost their own family’s status to knock you down a peg.

Gojo wouldn’t do that, not to you.

You take another breath, and Gojo stares at you, blinks--once, twice.

“Ready?”

You smile a little, sigh a little, and nod.

“Let’s do this.”

It takes your brain a few moments to process what happens, because it’s like there is a disconnect between your brain and your body and your soul and you don’t know how to tether them altogether again.

Gojo kisses you.

Not a chaste peck, either, but warm and wet, his tongue sliding over your lips; a slimy feeling you’ve never experienced before. 

You jerk back before you know you do it, your eyes wide, knuckles pressed to your mouth.

“What--G-Gojo--”

Gojo doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t even seem bothered by your reaction or anything at all.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, eyeing you through his glasses. He looks above you, around you. “You’re leaking again.”

Your chest seizes. He’s right--when he kissed you, what control you’ve been confidently rebuilding was completely lost. 

“I… I don’t understand how this is a test,” you get out. The words are slow and you feel stupid for saying them. 

“Oh!” Gojo grins, then. “Sorry. Guess I should have explained, huh? I bet you never had training like this. Ah…” He leans forward, leaning his elbow on his knee and resting his chin lazily on his hand. “You have to be able to control your cursed energy in any situation, right?”

He waits for you to nod, so you do.

“And curses or curse users don’t always play fair. They may do something you don’t expect.”

“They won’t kiss me,” you say, but as soon as you say it, Gojo’s expression makes you question yourself. “Will… they?” 

Gojo sighs, and moves to stand up.

“I guess I was wrong about you.”

Your chest hurts. 

“You aren’t ready for this type of training.” He’s almost talking to himself now, getting ready to stand. “Maybe in a few years. Or, ah, maybe your family would rather you get married and your husband can decide if he wants you to reach your full potential. Maybe they won’t care, if you have enough kids…”

You try to clamp down on a stream of energy steadily making its way out of you. It’s like soured milk, bitterness, self-doubt, all clawing their way up your spine and out of you. 

“Wait--” You reach for him and grip his sleeve. “I-I am ready, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting… that. I’m sorry. Please train me.” If Gojo won’t train you, won’t help you, then no one will. 

Gojo tilts his head at you, considering. Then he slowly sits back down.

“Ooo-ookay. But you have to let me do my job, okay? I know what I’m doing.” He pokes you above your chest, on a clavicle showing above your shirt. The touch makes you jump. Almost makes you forget the lingering warmth on your lips… almost. 

“Control your energy,” Gojo says casually. “No matter what, okay?”

You nod. And you wonder if he’ll kiss you again, but no, he’ll do something else. Try to attack you without warning or bring up something strange or maybe even try to dig under your skin with some sort of verbal spitfire. 

He doesn’t do any of that. 

Instead, he grips the bottom of your shirt and begins peeling it upwards with such quickness and strength that your arms go flying up with the fabric.

A noise escapes you, something like an undignified squawk, but you’re too unprepared and Gojo pulls the shirt up and over your head before you can protest or even try to stop him.

You do, however, regain your reaction time when your shirt is tossed to the side and quickly cross your arms over your bare chest. You didn’t even wear a bra, wanting to keep yourself to as few layers as possible, although it was more uncomfortable to go without because of your larger breasts. 

Your cheeks burn terribly hot and you don’t know what you want to say. You just know 

“S-Stop, this is, that is--this isn’t…” 

This isn’t training, is it? A kiss, okay, okay, that’s something Gojo might do to tease you. Even if he went too far. But your clothes? No, no, no--

Gojo doesn’t stop smiling. You want him to stop smiling, to apologize, and to leave. But you don’t get what you want. 

“This isn’t what?” He asks. There’s a stickiness to his voice that is like a filmy layer growing in your gut. 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he reaches out and grabs your wrists, pulling them down so you can’t keep them crossed over your chest. You gasp but he keeps them held down while he leers down at your bared breasts.

He’s faster than you, and his hands are underneath your breasts, pushing them up and jiggling them before you can blink. 

“These are pretty bouncy, huh?” He murmurs, to himself or maybe you, you’re not sure which would make you feel worse. Your face burns hot and your feeble attempts at batting his hands away get you nowhere. “But you’re always hiding them…” He continues to bounce your ample breasts up and down. 

You can’t take it. Your skin feels like it’s on fire and you’re being touched in a way you’ve never been touched, and it’s Gojo, he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t be, doing this.

“St-stop,” you spit out, finally getting the presence of mind to jerk your body away. Amidst the embarrassment and shock is a thready bit of indignity. You aren’t some… some floozy, you’re part of a highly respected sorcerer family. He can’t just--

“This--this isn’t training! You’re just being perv--”

He presses a finger to your lips, and you hush stupidly with it. He takes it away and regards you with an expression you’ve seen him use with particularly stubborn would-be sorcerers. 

“Aren’t I stronger than you?”

“Yes,” you say, helplessly. “But--”

Your hands go to cover your breast, and he bats them away. 

“Don’t I know more than you?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then let me help you,” he says, taking and squeezing your hands with such earnestness that it throws your mind off balance.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you admit, voice mumbling and stumbling. Your eyes widen and you feel hot tears working their way to the corners of your eyes. He shouldn’t touch you… he shouldn’t! 

Gojo merely uses his grip on your hands to clap them together.

“But it’s working, isn’t it? The more distracted you are, the more likely you are to leak energy. And that’s bad, right?”

While he speaks, his fingers release yours, only to slither down to the waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches.

“Y-Yes,” you mutter.

“What is it?” he asks, fingers latching onto your waistband and tugging it down. You squirm, but he persists. 

His question only dimly registers until he yanks down your skirt, pulling it down your seated legs.

“B-Bad?” You should tell him to stop. You should leave. But he’s… Gojo… and you’re just--

“And if you can control yourself, that’s…” He drawls out these words,, placing a finger on your clothed pussy and dragging it down the middle. 

“Good,” you squeak, voice tight and tinny. 

“Right.” He grins, all praises.

Your legs do kick then, and you try to scoot backwards, away, away, away. But he presses one hand down on your bare thigh, and you’re stuck.

“This isn’t training,” you plead, mouth opening and closing like a fish, shocked and stupid. 

He peers down at you from behind his glasses.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Your heart lurches. It aches. 

“I d-d-do,” you spit out, jaw trembling as much as your body. “But…”

He gives your thigh a good squeeze.

“Th-th-then just let me do this for you, okay?”

The growing knot in your stomach twists and pulls terribly. 

“How is this for me?” 

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead he grips your inner thighs and pulls your legs apart. You’re aware, suddenly, of how physically strong he is--stronger than you, certainly, enough that what feeble attempts at struggling you’re still giving do nothing at all.

“I’m helping you,” he says, pulling out the word so that it’s almost a whine. “You help people all the time. I just want to return the favor. Now try to focus, okay?” As he speaks, he finally pulls at the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down your legs that have begun to feel like jelly.

“Wow.” He pulls his glasses down his nose and stares directly at your naked sex. “You have a really pretty pussy. I bet it tastes just as nice, huh?”

If your cheeks got any hotter, they might be on fire. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, your arms, your forehead. 

“D-Don’t,” you say, wishing you had the guts to shut your legs and leave. But you can’t, or you won’t, you’re not sure which. 

“Shhh,” he says, kneeling until he’s sprawled on the floor in between your legs. You couldn’t close them now if you had the strength. “Try to focus. That’s why I’m helping you train, right?” 

The teasing glint in his tone only makes you feel worse, but it’s nothing compared to the first puff of his breath you feel against your sex.

You make a sound almost like a squeak and Gojo lets out another puff of air, on purpose this time, murmuring something happily when you keep making those noises. 

“St--” You don’t get to finish the word before his mouth is on you, not bothering with any tentative licks but sloppily eating you out.

It’s an entirely foreign sensation, wet and warm, uncomfortable and strange. The fact that he keeps making positively lascivious noises only makes you feel more incapable of ignoring the reality. You shake your head and dig your nails into your palm, trying to process what’s happening as an uncomfortable heat builds between your legs. 

Before long, he pulls away, and there’s a sick sensation in your stomach when you see that his lips are glossy with... with… you. 

“You’re leaking down here,” he says, with the utmost of seriousness. “But I guess you can’t clamp down on that kind of leak, huh?” 

You press your lips together and refuse to acknowledge him with a response. 

He shrugs and goes back down between your legs, lapping at your clit with short licks of his tongue. The direct stimulation is different--tighter and more intense, and the sounds you can’t help but make are wholly undignified, short gasps and high-pitched grunts.

“Has anyone ever done this before?” He asks, pulling himself away by a fraction of an inch.

“Of course not!” Your cheeks burn at the audacity of the question. “I-I don’t, I’m not supposed to do… that before marriage.” Why you can’t seem to explicitly talk about sex to the man who is currently devouring your pussy, you don’t know. 

“Ohhhh,” he says. The words are practically spoken into your twitching clit. “That makes sense… well.”  He looks up at you, and flashes a smile. “Maybe we’ll get married. Can’t say I haven’t heard that rumor before.”

Before you can utter any sort of response, he leans forward and pushes you onto your back. With his body in between your legs, your legs fold over at the knee awkwardly, almost making it look like you’re displaying yourself for him.

“S-Satoru,” you say, voice hoarse, “I want to leave now.”

He shakes his head and holds up a finger.

“No way! We’re not done with training yet. Look at all that energy just seeping out of you. Tsk-tsk.” He puts the finger on his chin. “But don’t worry. I have another technique that should help… remember to focus!”

You don’t know exactly what he means until you watch warily as he lowers his finger and presses it against your wet entrance.

“No--”

But he doesn’t wait. He pushes his finger inside of you and your breath is taken away at the sudden intrusion. There’s pain and ache and the unusual foreign sensation of something inside you. You can’t help it, you clench around his finger and he coos appreciatively.

“I appreciate it,” he tells you, all honey, “but save that for my cock.”

“S-Satoru!” You whimper the words out, squirming, wiggling your legs in the air like it might actually stop him. You can feel cursed energy seeping out through you, like there’s a hole you can’t quite patch up. You fight between acknowledging what Satoru is doing--pushing his finger in and out now, sliding inside you, it hurts and feels weird but there’s a warmth, too--and keeping your cursed energy inside. 

“Don’t worry,” he teases. “Not today. Don’t got the time…” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the hot tears that leak out, and stare up at the ceiling. Focus… focus… focus. You do focus, then, on keeping your energy from leaking out. Not because this is training--it’s not, you’re naive, not stupid--but because maybe it’s easier to bear all of this if you keep part of your mind elsewhere. 

“That’s it,” he praises. “Keep concentrating… gee, you’re doing great.” The snicker in his voice makes your stomach lurch. You wish he would stop pretending this was training. It only makes it worse. 

And then suddenly there’s another sensation of intrusion, and you look down to realize that he’s pushed another finger inside you.

“Hmm,” he muses. “You know, I wonder…” 

Your jaw trembles as he pushes his fingers in further and wiggles them around, almost like he’s feeling for something. And then--

You shriek, your body jolts upward, and you sit fully up and instinctively grab his wrists.

“That’s the spot!” He grins, laughing, and pulls his fingers out only to bat your hands away. Then he gently pushes you back down onto the ground. Your thighs are trembling and you can feel wetness trickling out of you, slow and uncomfortable.

“I bet you’ve never been able to reach this far with your little fingers. Don’t worry, I’ll help you…”

You push yourself up on your elbows and shake your head. 

“No… you,  you don’t have to. You don’t need to, I’m--”

He interrupts your pitiful pleads by pushing his fingers back inside, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“’Course I do! Gotta teach you everything. What kind of sorcerer would I be if I left you in the dust?” He watches you intently over his glasses, the blue in them agonizingly beautiful, and he finds that spot again. 

But this time, he doesn't graze it in curiosity. Instead, he presses down and strokes it and it’s like an immediate shock to the system. A burst of almost painful pleasure, causing your legs to aimlessly kick and shudder without you controlling them and you let out a primal groan, not words exactly, just mumbled pleas. You feel something squirt out of you and hear Gojo’s surprised sound, a little pleased exclamation. 

He doesn’t stop, though, but keeps going. The white-hot pleasure is like being touched in all the right places in all the wrong ways, and you can’t stop your thighs from quaking. 

“Too much too much too much!” You get the words out, just barely, drool dribbling down your lips. 

Mercifully, he pulls his finger out. You can see him look down at them through his tears, and he tsks lightly. 

“You know, for such an innocent girl, you're soaking. Or is that why you’re so wet? Because I’m the first one to touch you?” He leans in and presses an almost chaste kiss to your lips. You can taste something on them, salty and almost earthy. Yourself. 

 “I hope I’m the last, too.”

When he pulls away, you eventually sit back up and, arms shaking, reach over for your underwear.

At this, Gojo tilts his head.

“What are you doing?”

It’s your turn to tilt your head, though you can’t tell if you’re mirroring him intentionally or not.

“My… clothes,” you say, slowly. “I’m putting them on.” Because this is over, right? He’s had his fun and you can leave and never talk to him again. 

“We’re not done yet, silly.” He grabs your underwear and shoves them into his pocket, then stands up and stretches his arms casually. 

You stare up at him, naked, warm wetness between your legs. Feeling dazed and spent and tired. 

You’re about to ask what he means when he simply unbuttons his pants and pulls them down, boxers and all, without a word or a warning.

He grins, like he’s just shown you a present. What he’s shown you is his erect cock, glistening at the end with a wetness of its own.  You’ve never actually seen a man naked before, a few photos in a pilfered naughty magazine that you snuck out of a friend’s house notwithstanding. It’s fleshy and slick, thick. 

“Now,” Gojo says, looking down at you in more ways than one. “Here’s the real test!”

His name comes out of your mouth pitifully, but he just pushes a finger to your lips and smiles.

“C’mon.  You’re sweet, aren’t you? Always helping everyone else. I helped you just now, so now you return the favor. Easy.” 

Your face screws up in a grimace. You can feel hot tears still pricking at your eyes, threatening to fall again. Then you look up at his face and down at his cock and then back at his face.

You’re not entirely ignorant of what he wants you to do--you just know that seeing a picture or reading about it in a spicy novel is far different than experiencing it for real. Especially like this. Especially with him.

“I don’t… I’ve never…” 

He pats the top of your head gently, but strangely, keeps his palm on the back of your head afterward. 

“I know, I know. But I’ll teach you. Besides,” and there’s that awful grin in this tone again, “it’s not enough to control your energy while things are being done to you. You have to control it while you do things to others, right?”

He shifts forward and his cock is right in front of your face. You can’t really look away. You can smell him, even, a musky smell. Not wholly unpleasant but like the taste on your lips from his own, there’s an earthiness to it. A primal sense.

You want to run. You should. Others would in this situation, wouldn’t they? But he’ll just bring you back, if you do. Or worse, let you go and… who knows what he might say to others? At least if you do what he wants, he can’t do anything worse than this. 

You hope.

“What do I do?” You whisper. 

He releases his grip on your head only to clap his hands twice. 

“There’s my girl! You’ve got the right spirit.” He beams down at you and you hate how the blue of his eye peeks through the top of his glasses and the way his smile should make you feel good, but only makes you squirm. 

He shifts forward again until his cock brushes up against your cheek. You gasp and lean backward, only to find that his hand is back against your head, keeping you in please.

“Open your mouth,” he says, almost sweetly. 

And you don’t want that thing on your face anymore so you do, opening just a little. 

“Wider. Like you’re at the dentist. Watch your teeth.”  He sounds more serious. Like he’s instructing you--and he is, isn’t he? you think, sickly.

You open wide, feeling stupid, feeling sick, as he guides his cock into your mouth. He lets out a sigh of appreciation as he pushes inside, and you instinctively make a muffled noise of protest--this isn’t right, this isn’t right. In front of you are his naked hips, the base of his cock, a smattering of pubic hair. 

The taste of him is vaguely salty and warm, but it’s the sensation of having something--having him--filling your mouth that makes you back your head up, wanting him out. But the hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, pushing. His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag. Tears stream down your cheeks from reflex and the realization of what’s happening. 

He snickers, but pulls back a little. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be more gentle.” 

He begins to move, then. Slowly at first. You don’t do anything but keep your mouth open, keep your tongue pressed flat to avoid touching his cock, though you soon find this to be an impossible task. You can’t help but gag a little when he pushes, but at least he seems to be trying to avoid doing it on purpose. 

It’s a small mercy, you think, though what counts for “mercy” right now is highly debatable. 

Your cheeks are hot like fire as you begin to taste more of him, feel more of him. He’s inside you, all flesh and warmth, an extension of himself that he’s using to--to what? Tease you? Use you? Something else? 

He begins to move faster, and you gag, trying to mumble his name in plea around his cock. He groans and the hand on your head grips harder.

“Oh, fuck, don’t do that. I won’t be able to control myself.” 

You want to sob but you’re afraid of moving your mouth so much. The tears fall down your face, regardless. 

“Good girl, you’re being so good… you were born for this, weren’t you?” 

When you look up, Satoru is looking down at you the way you think someone might look at a nice collectible figurine. A precious item to be touched and dusted at whim.

“Born to be a good sorcerer’s wife,” he continues, and it’s almost as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. “That’s what we’re doing now, aren’t we? Practicing that? There’s all sorts of training for sorcerers, you know…” His thrusts begin to get less controlled, quicker. “Practicing controlling energy… controlling techniques… all those little nuances of life as a sorcerer. Like this.” The thrusts are so quick that you start making helpless noises around them, little grunts. “You’d be a good wife, m-maybe--” His breath hitches, the first time you’ve heard him lose control. “Even a good mother, after a while.”

You make a sound of protest--it’s the last thing you want to be thinking of right now--but he shushes you and starts thrusting sloppily, clearly lost in his thoughts. “You’ve even got nice big tits, don’t you? Perfect for breastfeeding or, fuck, holding onto while we fuck…” He sighs, languid. “I’ll try that next time, okay? Gotta be patient.”

His words seep into you like cursed energy, confusing (it is true, you were raised to be a wife, raised to have children,--but this?) and hurtful and twisting in your stomach.

Suddenly he pulls himself out of your mouth. Your lips make a wet plop and you open them to start to ask what he’s doing, but you don’t have the time to ask, because there’s suddenly something warm and thick all over your face. Something lands on your lashes and you blink, feeling a salty sting on your eye.

Your pussy clenches and you don’t know why.

As you sit there, shocked, dazed, you hear a click.

Oh.

He took a picture.

You wipe at your eye, cringing at the feeling of something wet and globby on your hands, and look at him with wide, teary eyes.

“Just for safekeeping,” he says, tucking the phone into his pocket. “Wouldn’t want this to get out, would you? Would definitely put a damper on your marriage prospects…”

There’s no reason you shouldn’t sob, now, without Gojo in your mouth. So you do.  Your face crumples and everything that just happened hits you all at once, until you’re weeping pitifully in front of him.

You’re dimly aware of him leaning down before he pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his cum off your face like he’s wiping at a bit of stubborn dirt. He wipes at your tears with his fingers, at least. 

“Don’t be so glum! You did great!” 

He presses a kiss to your cheek and straightens up. 

“I’ll be sure to tell your father about your improvements in cursed energy control. He’ll be happy, don’t you think?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t have words anymore. 

He leaves, his footsteps receding loud.  You don’t watch him go. Instead you sit there in the same position, naked, wet, feeling sticky and used. 

And like that, you’re alone again. 

You don’t try to dampen down the energy that leaks from you this time. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Capture the flag was coming up and your cabin was next to participate alongside the formidable Hermes cabin, but instead of being overjoyed at the opportunity to finally bring glory to your cabin like the rest of your siblings, you were off sulking elsewhere and busying yourself by plucking one blade of grass at a time; unaware that someone had notice your absense and decided to follow after.

‘Hey stranger.’ A voice came from beside said, making you flinch, only to relax when you saw that it was only Luke. ‘Why so sad, you normally love capture the flag.’ He adds, nudging your arm playfully as he flashed you a charming smile.

‘Yeah but after a string of repeat losses, you naturally begin to resent the game you once loved.’ You replied. There was no point denying the obvious fact that you cabin never had the best of luck when it came to capture the flag, it had always been that way even before you first arrived at camp, but at the time all you truly cared about was getting claimed by your godly parent.

You had only started truly resenting capture the flag after your second or third loss by the Ares cabin. Ever since then you hated the game because each time it ended the same, with your cabin loosing while the opposing cabin mocking you by rubbing their victory in your faces. Luke, much like everyone else, was well aware of this but didn’t feel it was necessary to keep bringing it up, especially not when he was trying to cheer you up somewhat and would try to divulge your attention elsewhere instead.

‘Well nows the chance to change all that.‘ he began. ‘To bring triumph to your cabin and be the one to revel in victory for once.’

You scoffed. ‘Yeah because we’ve had the great Luke Castellan, best swordsman in camp half blood, carry us on his back to our first ever win.’ You said bitterly, looking anywhere else than the boy with the dark, kind eyes. ‘What a joke.’

‘That’s not true.’ Luke tried to argue.

‘Yeah it is, you don’t need to lie in order to save my feelings Luke, I’m not stupid and neither is my cabin, why do you think we look our most happiest when any other cabin that’s not ours is up to play?’ You asked rhetorically, knowing that he very well knew the reason why. Luke, not wanting to wave the white flag of surrender then said, ‘even if that maybe the truth then they’ll also have to recognise that out of your entire cabin, you are the most determined and hardworking even in the most dire of circumstances.’ You could only look at him with an unreadable expression as Luke continued his speech.

‘Even when you know you’ve already lost, you still give it your all to make even the slightest bit of change. If it was anybody else, they would just give up but not you, not my y/n.’ Luke said fondly as he clasped one of his hands with your own, smiling softly when you squeezed his hand. ‘You’re too stubborn to accept defeat unless all other options were exhausted. An admirable trait to have if you ask me.’ You chuckled, feeling somewhat better from his words, not entirely but it was better than sulking the rest of the night and well into the next morning.

‘Some people would call that desperation to win.’ You told him as he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then they’ve obviously never had to fight for something they always wanted but could never have.’ He replied oddly serious, looking at you intently as he said those words; which made you wonder if you were still talking about the same thing. ‘What do you mean by that-‘ before you could finish, Luke stood up abruptly, pulling you up with him as a result of your hands still being firmly clasped with one another. ‘Give me a warning before you pull that shit again, yeah?’ You said, smacking his arm lightly, causing him to laugh.

‘I’ll take that into consideration for next time, but we should probably try and get as much sleep as we can so we don’t look like the walking dead before the game even begins.’ He playfully chided and it felt more of an excuse as to avoid having a deeper conversation about something, but you were already staring to feel the effects from that mornings activities beginning to weigh on you as you tried to bite back a yawn.

‘I second that decision.’ You said, tugging your hand from his own, feeling Luke’s hesitance in letting go and thinking nothing of it other than something your mind made up as you began to depart for your cabin. ‘I shall see you bright and early tomorrow, will I?’ You questioned.

‘Yes but you better not try and wake me up earlier than necessary like last time.’ Luke replied as you made a face. ‘Me? Prank you? I would never.’ You said dramatically at the accusation being thrown your way, seeing you get back to your old self was enough to reassure Luke that you’d be more then ready for tomorrow as he crossed his arms over his chest, brow raised as he smirked. ‘Oh yeah? How do I know you and the Stoll brothers haven’t done something to my bed back at the Hermes cabin, hmmm?’

‘You’ll just have to take my word for it that I don’t have any connections in any one of their pranks that may happen tomorrow, and if they tell you otherwise, they’re dead wrong.’ You said before disappearing up the trail towards your cabin, leaving Luke to watch on as he chuckles to himself. ‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see.’

[crematedcow]

She couldn't simply surrender what had been the very essence of her life, the one thing that no one was supposed to have the power to take away from her. Her freedom? Nobody was acutally free. Her love? She could find a way to cope with it. Her child? A heart-wrenching sacrifice, but she could endure it. Yet, this vital part of her, this very core of her being – she would never allow anyone to snatch it away.

And that marked the tale of a parasite.

Of a Patron and Its Chains is a 18+ interactive fiction in a fantasy and steampunk setting inspired by the worlds of The Witcher Series and Fullmetal Alchemist. You are a seasoned hunter tasked with tracking and eliminating dangerous supernatural threats. However, your story takes a turn when you decide to become also a pactbearer.

In this realm where the intricate dance of magic and technology creates a canvas of possibilities, one could easily envision an idyllic existence.

The ability to traverse into other realities, though often at a steep cost, promised rapid advancement that could border on madness. Yet, amid these innovations and developments, lurking dangers remained ever-present. The very act of opening portals to other realms could inadvertently usher in creatures not meant for this world, seamlessly intertwining them with reality.

It was a world where the choice was to either be the hunter or the hunted, and most succumbed to the latter fate. However, your father instilled a different path in you. As a hunter of those creatures, he ensured you absorbed all the survival knowledge you needed before eventually got wrongfully accused and executed, a tragic turning point that reshaped your plans. Rather than simply following in his footsteps to become a hunter, you decided to become a pactbearer.

Summoning a Patron, a legend from diverse worlds and realities, your mission was to unite with fellow pactbearers. Together, you would confront an encroaching evil, all while seeking the fulfillment of a cherished wish granted by a god. Yet, even with the support of numerous companions and your trusted Patron, each victory over a monstrous foe revealed a looming threat waiting just beyond the horizon...

You are the hero... right?

This is an 18+ interactive fiction that is being written on Twine.

be a hunter that kills monsters or embroils into unwanted drama

fully customizable mc from appearance, pronouns and personality

several sidequests to develop your skills as a hunter (includes: Possession, Witches, Ancient Beasts and more)

a beastiarium with further information to every creature you meet on the way

the big world of Vestria & Co. with a lot of lore that you can all uncover - or not!

a cryptic voice inside your head that occasionally breaks the fourth wall

meet the other pactbearers and their patrons and decide what relationship you want to have with them

choose what animal-form your patron is going to have

a total of six companions (including your patron) who will be with you a majority of your journey

all of them are romancable, plus a hidden romance option for those who can be patient

lots of parental issues!

figure out the truth of your world, or fail to do so - there is no right or wrong

and a... cow?

CONTENT WARNINGS: depicitons of death, violence, mental illness, gore (in the territory of body horror), animal cruetly and death, abuse, pornographic content, strong language

More might follow

DEMO TBA

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 21000+

but nothing demo ready yet

The RO's include:

✸ Cú Chulainn (M/F)

In ancient tomes and tales, Chulainn stood as a formidable legend — an indomitable hero whose laughter echoed in the face of enemies and even death itself. They reveled in the thrill of combat, never yielding without a proper battle. Yet, such was the image you held dear until the moment you summoned them into your realm, making them your esteemed Patron. The being before you shattered the illusion you once cherished. No longer did they exude the vigor of a warrior; instead, bitterness clung to their spirit, entwined with a profound disdain for the world and all its inhabitants. Longing for the solace of death they once fervently evaded, Chulainn relinquished their ardor for combat, dismissing it as a hollow pursuit devoid of significance. As a consequence, their role as your Patron proved less than… helpful. Nevertheless, a flicker of optimism lingers within the depths of their desolate heart. Perhaps, against all odds, you possess the power to reignite the flames of purpose within them, offering a renewed sense of hope and the chance for a remarkable new beginning.

✸ Lysander/Lysandra (M/F)

Within the illustrious court of the High Queen, there exists a figure of great repute: Lys, a distinguished servant renowned for their unparalleled ability to fulfill any given task. Their name has become synonymous with perfectionism, as they consistently meet and surpass the lofty expectations placed upon them. The mere mention of their name evokes awe and respect throughout the courtly corridors. Alas, despite their esteemed standing, Lys remains a figure of divisive sentiment. Whispers and murmurs abound among their colleagues, swirling in a ceaseless cycle of gossip. Tales of their rigid and occasionally insolent demeanor dominate these conversations, yet there is another facet that elicits both awe and envy in equal measure. Lys possesses an unparalleled loyalty to the High Queen, a level of devotion that others find almost unattainable. Yet, the reality surpasses the worst of these rumors. Lys' nature transcends the bounds of mere unpleasantness, particularly in their interactions with you. Adding fuel to the fire, they perceive you as a sort of rival, amplifying the tensions between you. One can only wonder if it is merely a facade in an attempt to hide their weakness or the reality of their identity.

✸ Holographic Entity "Holly" (F)

Holly, the Patron of Lys, assumes the guise of a long-haired housecat, but her true essence hails as a revolutionary from a distant reality, a realm of unparalleled advancement far beyond the scope of Vestria. For Holly, her presence in this foreign world feels akin to embarking on an elaborate holiday excursion plucked from the very pages of historical books she once heard of. Her insatiable curiosity serves as the driving force behind her existence, propelling her to seek new experiences and infusing every interaction with a buoyant energy that suggests no challenge is insurmountable. Unafraid to vocalize her thoughts and opinions, Holly fearlessly shares her insights, even when they clash with those of her companion, Lys, particularly when the subject of her candid musings centers around you. Or at least, that is the impression you choose to hold. Her unabashed honesty may lead some to believe that she is a simple, unassuming creature. However, the more time spent with Holly reveals that there is much more to her than meets the eye. After all, one cannot lead a revolution based solely on a smile and an unfiltered mouth.

✸ Elli Agilulf (M)

The Blessed Ones, the esteemed right and left hand of the Night Church, are figures known to all who have ventured beyond the confines of ignorance. Cloaked in an aura of mystery, their veiled faces lend an air of both authority and enigma. Among their ranks is Elli, who strives to embody the idealized image of a Blessed One. He adheres to a code of silence, speaking only when necessary and responding with a detached aloofness. True to form, he carries himself with an air of subtle intimidation. However, beneath his carefully crafted facade, Elli is easily rattled by even the slightest inconvenience or a quick-witted remark, his frustration and anger palpable despite his hidden face. He is short-tempered and stubborn, a nature that clashes with the expectations of his position. As a Blessed One, he is expected to be a mindless automaton, devoid of thoughts or personal desires, but Elli's mind is a swirling vortex of thoughts and emotions, overflowing with complexity. Perhaps it is this contradiction, this clash between his true nature and the expectations placed upon him, that makes Elli an actual enigma. You do feel yourself challenged when he decides that you are a criminal to-become.

✸ Irydion (F)

Irydion holds a perspective that challenges the notion of victory being achieved simply through diplomatic agreements and signed papers. To her, a war is not truly won until she has exacted revenge to those she deems responsible for the suffering inflicted upon her country. As a member of the militia, she is fueled by a desire to fight, her hands trembling with the power of her magic, ready to unleash it upon her enemies on the frontline. While others may perceive an undisturbed silence on the battlefield as a sign of these so called peacetimes, Irydion remains vigilant, recognizing it as a deceptive tactic used by the enemy to lure her into dropping her guard. Too bad she is always a step ahead of those who seek to harm her people! Her selfless dedication to protecting and caring for her fellow countrymen is unwavering, even if it means being seen as misguided or paranoid by those who don't fully understand her. Irydion's allies may acknowledge her kind-hearted nature, but they also recognize her single-minded determination and unwavering belief in the necessity of fighting back against an enemy that is just a shadow. Irydion does not care for these rumors, knowing that regardless of how many may stand against her, they will eventually come to understand the truth of her cause. She remains steadfast, believing that time will prove her right in the end. After all, you believe her… right?

✸ "Junius" (M)

Even as Irydion's patron, the line between their roles blurs, with Junius' approach to her and other humans carrying an arrogantly nonchalant air. His actions, delivered with ease and naturalness, ridicule or charm one without noticing. With a mere lazy wink or a mockish bow, he effortlessly asserts a sense of superiority, deliberately refraining from putting genuine meaning or depth in his antics. Maintaining an elusive detachment, he keeps others at arm's length, preventing them from ever truly getting close to him. Despite his mysterious past, he carries himself as if the weight of secrets hold little significance to who he is. Junius' personality dances on the edge of daring, akin to playing with fire, drawing allure and enticement from the very act itself. He fearlessly indulges in flirting with married women and engaging in challenges with those of higher social standing, defying conventional norms and embracing a provocative existence. There lies a subtle irony in his guise — a wolf rather than a lion — his pride speaking for another form. And even in conversation, he adeptly maintains the facade, never allowing his act to waver, leaving you to question whether it is indeed a carefully crafted performance or indeed the reality of his character.

???

If it wasn't the work of gods, maybe it was fate that brought you together.

And several other characters you meet on your way across the country; other pactbearers and their patrons, tragic lovers, a noisy priest, ill-ridden villages (there is only two but it's weird it happened twice), two twin-rulers who don't seem to get along, a talking book, and more.

[batrachised]

An Exploration of Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy

(do NOT judge me)

Anakin Skywalker holds the unique position of being one of the most famous fictional characters of all time. Instantly recognizable, the epitome of iconic villainy, he goes beyond beloved character to join the ranks of cultural icons.

Over the past 50 years, countless analyses have been written on Anakin Skywalker and his hero's journey. While virtually every aspect of the character has been explored, one remains critically unexamined: his similarity to another cultural icon, Miss Piggy from the Muppets. While both of their presences in pop culture are nearly ubiquitous, the two have curiously never been associated with each other in the cultural lexicon.

This paper aims to explore Anakin Skywalker's and Miss Piggy's similarities through the lens of their background, their general characteristics, and their relationships. In doing so, it argues that Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy share a common basis as people shaped by their rage and their love in equal measure.

Background

When examining Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy's backgrounds, the author finds that they share several common beats. Anakin Skywalker grew up on a backwater planet, abused and a victim of a violent system from birth. Irrevocably shaping him forever, it formed the backdrop for his complicated relationship with his mother and his eventual fall into deep evil. Miss Piggy's journey neatly parallels this, as demonstrated in the following quote from Frank Oz:

"She grew up in a small town; her father died when she was young and her mother wasn't that nice to her. She had to enter beauty contests to survive. She has a lot of vulnerability which she has to hide, because of her need to be a superstar"

Both Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy had troubled childhoods; both grew up in backwater towns; both had complex relationships with their parents, whether through absent fathers or painful memories of their mother. Both had to use their bodies to survive. In Anakin's case, living as a piece of property who did not own his own body; in Miss Piggy's, falling back on her beauty to participate in systematic objectification. Anakin risks his life in podraces; Miss Piggy stalwartly appears in bacon commercials. Both suffered insecurities as a result of their upbringing: Anakin, forever unsure of his personhood, and Miss Piggy, tied to a mother who never wanted her. Forged in similar fires, Anakin and Miss Piggy's lives show two beings sharpened by their experiences, made especially clear in their characteristics.

Characteristics

Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy are primarily defined by need to respond with violence. Miss Piggy is described as conveying a feminine charm - then suddenly flying into violent rages when thwarted. In the Star Wars trilogy, Anakin Skywalker is famed as the dashing Hero with No Fear, while savagely violent when it suits his purposes. Capricious, arrogant, and convinced that they're destined for greatness, both Anakin and Miss Piggy bear the marks of their childhood. After years of being treated as worthless, neither can handle critiques gracefully, although notably Miss Piggy shows herself to be more violent than Anakin in this regard. Pre-Vader Anakin complains; Miss Piggy goes for the kill. Regardless of response, both are convinced nothing will stand in their way.

Additionally, Miss Piggy and Anakin even share a few physical characteristics. Both are burly and physically intimidating compared to the others around them. Both wear gloves that are symbolic; Miss Piggy's, of the image she wants to convey to the world, and Anakin's, of risking being more machine than man. They also both are martial artists. Anakin Skywalker is frequently described as one of the most powerful and dangerous Jedi of his generation, a formidable and cunning warrior; Miss Piggy is famed for her karate chop that sends its target flying across the room.

Most essentially, both are figures of puppetry who still retain their agency. Anakin Skywalker is a victim of forces larger than himself, groomed to be a Sith Lord since childhood, and yet the inevitability of his fall is disproven by his own kindness and heroism preceding it. As with all muppets, Miss Piggy is a puppet but one who, within the story, has a will of her own. She, much like Anakin, makes her choices in the end.

Relationships

Lastly, Anakin Skywalker's and Miss Piggy's relationships mirror each other with similar dimensions. Their relationships are characterized by intensity and undertones of violence. Anakin Skywalker consistently shows an interest in Padme, pursuing her only to be rebuffed; Miss Piggy consistently shows an interest in Kermit, pursuing him only to be rebuffed. After a rocky road in the beginning, both experience rejection until they are rejected in no longer in a whirlwind romance - Anakin, after a respectful acceptance of Padme's wishes, and Miss Piggy, after a dogged pursuit. Once together, the relationships are unstable and dysfunctional. Anakin beats another man in a jealous rage, while Miss Piggy, "when not smothering [Kermit] in kisses...is sending him flying through the air with a karate chop." Both are on and off again with their partners; both are truly in love but struggle to form healthy connections after a childhood of trauma.

Conclusion

As seen above, Miss Piggy and Anakin Skywalker share similarities in background, characteristics, and relationships. While this paper attempts to begin an exploration into these similarities, future work is still needed to fully flesh out their radical extent. This paper did not cover issues such as the two both being incredibly melodramatic, among others, nor how both suffer the consequences of their rage. The author would like to close with a cautionary quote from Friedrich Nietzsche:

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

[lichpassing]

Let's talk about spring hounds!

Spring hounds are the analog for dogs on Aurum, occupying a similar niche to wolves. They became domesticated a lot later than ours did, having become genetically distinct from their ancestors about 20,000 years ago. Because of this, along with other factors, they aren’t as physically diverse as our dogs are, but they fill many different niches and do have distinct breeds.

Remains of their ancestor species were found in singer burial grounds as far back as around 48,000 years ago! That’s around 20,000 years before Aurum’s last mass extinction event! The working theory for why it took them so long to become their own species is that bands of C singers would kidnap pups and raise them as their own on occasion. Since that was uncommon at the time, domestication just didn’t have the chance to come about until later.

Later on, because of an asteroid impact, populations of most species dropped drastically or completely disappeared. Spring hounds ancestors had a hard time coping with the post-impact world, and taking more scraps from the species who can hunt large game seemed very alluring. Over the next few thousand years, as the two singer species started to get more and more intertwined, spring hounds changed a lot. Close proximity to C singers made them much more sociable, trainable, and visually appealing (yay neoteny).

The reason why working with this species specifically was so appealing to Cs was the difference in their hunting methods. Cs are ambush predators, they can reach extremely high speeds, but not for very long. Spring hounds are endurance predators, they can pursue prey for much longer. When whatever is being hunted tries to escape, spring hounds are there to cut them off or herd them back to the hunting party. It's a system that benefits both, and that forged a deep bond between the two species.

Spring hounds still exist in the modern day, they're a very common working animal and even more common companions. It's common practice for Cs who give birth to only one child to get their child a spring hound pup to play and socialize with.

E singers also keep them as pets, but their relationship with them is similar to our relationship with cats. Spring Hounds are slightly intimidated by Es size, and Es have a harder time forming bonds with them because of this. However, they are still pretty popular pets, and the two can form close bonds with each other like Cs can. Es just need to approach them with more patience and understanding.

Biology

With strong legs, stocky bodies, and mouths full of sharp teeth, spring hounds make formidable predators. Their body plan is similar to that of a kangaroo because of their shared need for endurance. They can hop at a stable speed for miles, pursuing prey until the exhaustion overcomes them.

Their tail has the same 3 segments most members of their class do, and it's used as a leg when they aren’t moving. The only exception to this is the awkward shuffle they do to move very short distances.

Their feet have one large claw to hook onto prey while they hold them down. Since they hunt in packs, they use their collective weight to hold down whatever they catch.

Large ears give them great hearing, allowing them to be alerted to things moving a considerable distance away from them. The long, thin feathers on their head are connected to recessive ears, which evolved to be used for communication and courtship.

Spring pups are much fluffier, lacking the tusks and open ears of an adult hound. Their young are more altricial than Cs, and are unable to walk or hear for a few weeks after they are born. The two parents of the pups will take turns watching over the litter while the other one hunts. They can start eating meat after a couple of days but cannot crack through shells and bones until they're older.

On average an adult spring hound is about 2-3 feet tall, but some breeds get closer to 1 or 4 feet.

Their mouths are a bit overcomplicated, again like most animals in their class. One thing that sets them and the species closely related to them apart is the fact they are both carnivorous and have external tusks. The external tusks are not really for hunting, but for manipulating and holding onto carrion, and for building nests. Unlike their internal tusks, the external ones can move slightly up and down. They'll hold objects between their external tusks and tongue, and while they don't have the strongest grip, it makes up for their lack of forelegs or arms. The internal ones are used for hunting, so they’re are more firmly set in the jaw and are much sharper. Their beak is the real star of the show, however, it's the strongest part of their mouth and can bite through a lot of the harder parts of the animals they eat. In households, they have a bad habit of biting chair legs in half that are too thin if they don't get trained to use a designated chew toy. The “tongue” inside is a radula, and it's covered in thousands of teeth.

Their eye color ranges from yellow to red, but their sclera is usually the same shade of very dark blue. Similarly to c singers, their eyes are not round, and are instead eye stalks similar to a mantis shrimps underneath skin, fat, and muscle. Their eyes rotation is limited, and they often will rotate their heads or bodies to get a good look at something. The “pull apart” style pupil is common amongst more nocturnal or crepuscular predators, with spring hounds falling into the latter category.

Coat genetics

There are 12 categories of spring hound base coat colors, with 4 major color categories. Brown and tan are the most common, with black being a bit more uncommon and red being the rarest. The dilute gene is self explanatory, it lightens the color and patterning of the coat to varying degrees, nothing too flashy. The blush dilute is somewhat similar, but it impacts the pheomelanin less than the eumelanin, therefore it leaves a bit more of a rosy tone. The gene for dilute and blush dilute are both recessive, but it might show up again if the same type of dilute gene exists in both parents.

There are some other colors that are the result of genetic mutations. All white coats don't exist in spring hounds standard coat colors, but leucistic spring hounds are not uncommon, so it was assumed they were part of the standard array. Albinism and melanism are both rather rare, but melanism doesn't come with health issues like albinism does, outside of being more vulnerable to heat stroke in some regions. Spring hounds with albinism tend to be visually impaired or blind, and it also weakens their tusks enough to require a diet with less hard bones and shells.

The most common coat pattern is the colorpoint pattern. On earth, colorpoint cats have pigment in the warmest parts of their bodies. Spring hounds get pigment on the parts of their body that get the most sun exposure. This coat pattern comes about with age, and the amount of sun exposure they get in their early years has an impact on how dark their fur gets, along with genetics. Pigment shows up on the feet and under the tail because body heat does have some influence over where pigment shows up. This patterning frequently shows up along with other coat patterns, and most spring hounds will at least have a faint version of it under their stripes or splotches.

The other common coat pattern for spring hounds is stripes, but some patterns are less common than others.

The most common stripe pattern, feral populations would often revert back to this pattern after a few generations.

The same as above but with more intense striping.

The equivalent of a blotched tabby, it’s less common but not rare.

The same as above but with more intense striping, this is a very popular stripe pattern.

A much more rare version of the common striped pattern, with less striping and larger light patches.

A similarly uncommon version of the “blotched” stripe pattern with larger light patches.

The primary multicolored gene has a lot of color variety within it, with the gene causing specific pigments in the fur to either be greatly reduced or absent entirely. This exists in all fur coat genetics, but shows up a bit differently in all of them. Pigment loss tends to be concentrated on the underside of the body. Above are some examples of how this gene can change a spring hounds coat.

A lack of eumelanin, causing the affected fur to have a red to orange hue.

A complete lack of melanin, causing the effected fur to have a white hue.

A partial lack of melanin, causing the affected area to be a diluted tone, it can have a “blush” tone if the spring hound carries the gene for it.

An example of how the first version of the multicolor gene would look on a brown fur tone, the genes do not add pigment, so they change in accordance to the melanin ratios in each fur tone.

There can also be white spotting that goes along with this gene, here are a few examples of what that looks like on different variations of the multicolor gene.

Finally, here are some examples of different coat lengths. While these exist on a wide spectrum, they usually fall between 1 and 2. 3 is only really seen in breeds from polar regions and occasionally in mutts with the genetics for it. Short fur is seen as the most aesthetically pleasing, as it is easier to maintain and keep neat.

There are many, many combinations of all of these genes, giving spring hounds a wide variety of coats.

As for other physical features, the genetics are less clearly understood for a few reasons. Namely the fact they have not put much effort into recording the lineages of breeds.

While there are no agreed upon breed standards, spring hounds have still changed in accordance to their jobs. Differences in appearance are either practical or purely incidental, breeding for specific traits for aesthetic reasons is more common in domestic fungi or plants. The image above is just a few examples of the variety of appearances.

Fun facts

They clack their beaks when they're content, it sounds a bit like this, but muffled.

A common play behavior is to nudge their companion with their tusks, which hurts BAD if they’re being rough or are running up to you before doing it. This is discouraged at a young age as to not cause any actual damage when they’re larger and stronger.

They’re mesocarnivores, with about 60% of their diet being meat.

Their favorite places to be pet are usually behind their ears, their cheeks, and the top of their back and tail.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (22) - So Far Away

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-I have so much to say but you're so far away-

The room he sat in was the last place he’d associate with the woman who owned this apartment. The walls were hidden behind shelves, filled to the brim with books. Books in English, Russian and German, he guessed, ranging from classics to modern literature, from massive encyclopedia to magazines, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere near them. The last time he saw the woman she was fifteen and so stuck in her martial arts training he doubted she ever touched a book. Perhaps he was, as a twelve-year-old in awe of her, simply mistaken. The room had a vintage feel to it, with heavy table in the middle of it, and two tall armchairs on each side. The chandelier above him didn’t seem like it was often used, instead it was there more for aesthetics, instead, he believed the lamp on the table was used for reading during the nights. The woman lived alone, after a brief marriage that ended in a divorce, and he didn’t really know the details of her relationship.

There weren’t many people who intimidated him. Sidney Prescott did, with her refusal to be defeated by one of the Ghostfaces despite already being past her prime. Samantha Carpenter did as well, her brutality against Richie Kirsch and his father a year later was frightening. His cousin frightened him even more.

Anya Golubeva lost her title when she fought against you, but she regained it right away and considering you were forced to retire, she reigned supreme for the next three years, until she went and retired, now, at thirty-seven, she was still a formidable fighter. She would be the counter to you, a fighter that spent even more time training, a fighter that nearly defeated you, because that match could have gone either way. Thomas made a mistake, he made you angry, he got cocky, she wouldn’t, because she knew exactly what you were capable of.

“So, cousin, what brings you to me?” Anya walked through the door, holding a tray with two cups of coffee. “This far from home?” she sat down, at ease in her home, at ease because there truly wasn’t much that could hurt her.

Cousins… Yet he was nothing like her. Despite his admiration for her, Igor wasn’t a good fighter, he had no talent for martial arts, or sports in general, he didn’t have the dedication needed to overcome the lack of talent either. No, he wasn’t the best fighter, but he had other skills, he was a good hunter, resilient, good with knife and various guns, and, if he could say so himself, he was conventionally good looking, dark hair and blue eyes, in good shape. He could have been so many things, he could have had so many different interests, but in his youth he, much like Richie Kirsch and Amber Freeman, and many before and after them, developed a fascination with Stab franchise, and, more importantly, with Ghostface.

“I,” he hunched a bit, making himself seem smaller, trying to remind Anya of how he was as a child. She used to protect him when they were really young, before his parents moved and he had to transfer to another school, he hoped she would still have that instinct to protect her family. “got into trouble,” he spoke slowly, regretfully, just for a moment glancing up to meet her eyes and then immediately looking down. “With a cult, and now I don’t know how to get out,” there, he said it. He also believed he was an acceptable actor, capable of fooling people.

He heard Anya lowering her cup and leaning forward. “What cult?” she sounded more concerned than anything. Family was always important to her. That was why he was certain he could get her to help him and the cult. If she believed she was doing it to save him then he had a chance to convince her.

Instead of telling her anything, he pulled out the mask with a bear painted on the side. His Ghostface mask.

“Ghostface?” her eyes widened as she watched the mask. “Why? You’re neither young nor stupid?” she demanded, so forcefully he genuinely flinched at her tone.

“I didn’t realize they were serious, I swear! I thought they’d stop after Richie and Amber got killed, but they didn’t! At that point it was too late to back out, they knew me, they’d kill me!” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing the mask and shoving it back into his bag. He moved as if he was about to leave, as if he gave up on her.

“Fine, fine, settle down,” Anya calmed down first, and now she once again looked more concerned than anything else. That got him to sit back down, and he had to cover his face, pretending to clutch his head in desperation to hide the small smirk he couldn’t suppress. “What changed now?”

He dropped his hands, his expression the perfect mask of desperation. “If you can help me get rid of one person I can walk away,” knowing how it sounded he quickly raised his hands. “No one will know it was us! Please, it’s either her or me!”

She remained silent, and he just hoped this would work out, that Anya would be willing to at least hold you back enough for someone to finish you off if she didn’t want to actually kill you.

“Who is it?” she asked after several long, dreadful minutes.

“Y/N L/N,” Igor said, and her eyes narrowed. For a moment he feared she’d reject him, but instead, she nodded. Perhaps the sting of loss caused resentment toward you. Or perhaps it didn’t matter who it was, as long as she thought she was doing it to protect a member of her family.

~X~

No one knew where you were.

No one knew where you were.

No one knew where you were.

Those words repeated in Tara’s mind as she stared at the wall in front of her. She didn’t say a single word since Danny gave in and told her what he knew.

Sam being involved shook her, but somehow she decided she would deal with that later, you on the other hand… You were gone. No one knew if you were alive, or if you were hurt, or who had you. No, that was obvious. Ghostface had you. She barely registered a glass of milk and a plate filled with pancakes being set down on the coffee table next to her. They smelled nice, but the smell only reminded her of you not being by her side.

“Tara, you need to eat, for your baby if not for yourself,” Danny crouched next to her, likely trying to get her to look at him. And she did, for a brief moment she did look at him, and she saw the apology in his eyes.

Pancakes. Of course he went with that. It didn’t take long for anyone to find out how often you made them for Tara. They were her comfort meal, a meal she didn’t feel bad to ask for while you were kids, the first meal you made after you two got together, and then again and again, every time exactly how Tara loved them.

Danny knew how to cook, definitely better than Sam, but not as well as you did. You did work as a cook back in Woodsboro for almost two and a half years, so it wasn’t really fair to compare him with you. She still nodded, picking up the plate and began eating more out of obligation to your child than anything else. She barely ate two pancakes when her phone buzzed, signaling she got a message.

Tara frowned and saw it was a photo, and then her eyes widened, and she dropped her fork, and she had no idea how she didn’t immediately throw up the pancakes she managed to eat. “Danny!” she yelled, making him run back into the living room.

“What?!” he frantically looked around for an intruder, but Tara just got up and showed him the message she got. It was a photo, of a muscular woman whose face was covered by a Ghostface mask tied to a chair. “Is that Y/N?” his voice wavered a bit, as he spoke what went through Tara’s head when she saw the photo.

A moment later an address popped up and Tara grabbed her jacket ready to leave right then and there, consequences be damned she’d get to you. She needed to see you. She needed to be with you.

She needed to help you.

“Wait, we need to call Kirby,” Danny grasped Tara’s forearm just firmly enough to keep her from leaving.

“I need to get to Y/N!” she shouted, yanking her arm away from him.

“We don’t know when the photo was taken! It’s an obvious trap, Tara!” he argued back, this time choosing to step between her and the doors.

“I don’t care, she might be there!” she knew she was being unreasonable, that you’d berate her if you knew she was willing to just walk into such an obvious trap, but she knew you’d do the exact same thing. No, not only that. If the positions were switched, you would have went to Kirby demanding information so you could start looking for Tara. Even if it meant rushing into whatever location Kirby managed to connect with the cult.

Luckily, Danny understood her by now. “We’ll go, okay? But we need to call Kirby first, in case we need a back-up,” she could work with that.

So, she sent the photo to Kirby as Danny set up a Zoom call and while they waited for Kirby to join it, Tara just looked at the photo.

Finally, Kirby joined them. “Hey, Tara, Danny. Tara, I’m sorry we kept these things from you,” Kirby opened with that, but Tara shook her head, there’d be time for that conversation later. She could complain and be annoyed later, once you were back by her side, once she could make up for the time the two of you spent separated, then she could deal with her friends keeping her in the dark.

“Can you do anything?” Danny asked.

“Not much, but the address does match a warehouse near the harbor,” she said, sharing her screen and showing the map as well as some photos of the warehouse. It was old, clearly not in use anymore and abandoned until the cult decided to start using it.

“It’s not Y/N,” Tara suddenly declared. “It’s not her, I know it isn’t her,” she knew it, even if three weeks passed, this wasn’t you. Ghostface would taunt her with your face, or at least show a scar so she wouldn’t have any way to doubt it was you. And the woman wasn’t as muscular as you, she was muscular, no doubt about that, but not as much as you. So, no, it wasn’t you.

She was still going to walk right into that warehouse, because there was a chance someone there knew where you were, and she’d never forgive herself if she let this opportunity go. If she had to go alone, she would,

“Tara, listen to me, you’re pregnant, don’t get both of you killed by being reckless,” Kirby told her, but Tara was already getting up.

“Either come and help, or don’t do anything, but I’m not waiting here for someone to tell me what’s going on. You’ve already proven you won’t tell me anything anyway,” she snapped, glaring back at the screen before putting her jacket on and grabbing the biggest knife Danny had.

“Shit! Tara, wait!” she heard Danny running after her, but she didn’t slow down, she just glanced back, saw that he also had a knife and smiled appreciatively at him. “Well,” he shrugged. “I can’t let you go alone,” he said.

~X~

The warehouse was abandoned a long time ago, the windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and there was a lot of dust. So much, in fact, that Tara coughed a few times when they stepped inside. There were a few exits, through the windows, though that would likely be very painful unless they could open the window before jumping through. The doors they just came through and there were two sets of stairs leading to the first floor, that might give them a chance to maneuver if needed.

“There’s nothing here,” Danny said as the two of them looked around, for clues, for any sign of presence, for anything really. All they saw was the chair the person on the photo was tied to. The fact that the chair was whole was just another proof to Tara that you weren’t on the photo. If you were, and if you were untied, you would have fought back, and that chair would have been at least damaged if not in pieces and stained with blood of your captors.

They heard them before they saw them. The boots stepping on the shattered glass, steps indicating there were at least two people with them. Tara pulled her knife out and turned around, pointing it toward Ghostfaces.

“Where is Y/N?” she demanded, for the first time coming face to face with the redesigned Ghostface, the robes were the same, the mask was almost the same. These two had animals painted on the side of the mask. One had a bull, the other and elephant. A way to differentiate each other now that there were so many of them. At least the entire cult didn’t come to greet her.

And Sam somehow got involved with them. For how long? Why didn’t Sam just come to her? She’d get those answers eventually, she needed to focus on here and now.

The one with a bull just tilted his head to the side, as if feigning confusion. The two remained silent, slowly approaching her and Danny.

“We’d rather avoid a fight, just tell the lady what she wants to know,” Danny warned them, stepping in front of Tara and she had to admit, he did look imposing, even with two Ghostfaces coming closer and closer.

One of them lunged forward, aiming to stab Danny, but he clashed his own knife against the Ghostface’s blade and closed the distance to land a good punch to the side of Ghostface’s head. Tara’s eyes widened slightly, she knew you and Danny often sparred, but she didn’t realize Danny could hold his own outside of sparring. And he was proving he could hold his own, as he went for the neck with his knife, after all, they needed just one Ghostface alive.

But he stopped, his hand shaking as if he just realized what he was about to do. Tara jumped in, ready to finish the job he clearly couldn’t while the Ghostface was still dazed from the punch. She managed to stab the Ghostface’s chest and stomach, before the other could step in. She pulled away, knowing better than to stay in one place for long as the other Ghostface, the one with the bull painted on the mask pulled his partner back and engaged Danny in combat.

Danny deflected and dodged several stabs, but he struggled to find another opening to land a hit himself. Finally, he got an opportunity to kick the Ghostface away just as the one Tara stabbed was getting ready to jump back in.

“Run!” Danny exclaimed, ushering Tara toward the stairs. They were out in the open, and there was a good chance someone else was in the building with them, so staying in the middle of an open space wasn’t the best option for them. Not right now. And… a small part of both of them, hoped that maybe, just maybe, you were held here despite not being on the photo.

Tara took off, running for the stairs with Danny right behind her as the Ghostface duo chased after them. Though risky, the moment Ghostface duo began climbing up the stairs, Danny abruptly stopped and slammed body first into one of them, sending them down the stairs and just barely managing to stay on his feet. He grunted though, and Tara could see the handle of the knife sticking from his side.

“Shit!” she exclaimed and stopped, ready to go back down for him.

“Keep going!” he began running again, pushing through the pain and Tara could see the determination in his eyes. “I’m going to yell at Sam when she comes back. If she was here we could have easily taken these two,” he complained jokingly, mostly to reassure Tara.

Tara nodded, seeing through him, but still appreciating the gesture.

They reached the top of the stairs and realized every door was locked. The only way out was back down, and the Ghostface duo split to cover each side of the stairs.

Tara looked at Danny and then looked toward the Ghostface she stabbed. She’d handle that one. So, they waited as the Ghostface duo began slowly climbing toward them, they stood, back to back, ready to fight the two.

And it ended so quickly Tara barely registered what was happening. Danny took initiative, attacking the one with bull on the mask. He ducked under the blade, grabbed the Ghostface’s leg and pushed him down to the ground, grappling the way you usually did when you were in a rush. This time he didn’t hesitate, and stabbed his knife through the Ghostface’s chest several times.

Tara on the other hand clashed her knife against Ghostface’s, she stepped to the side, slicing quickly and managing to cut through the robe, but not through the flesh of Ghostface’s arm. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Ghostface swinging his arm toward her head and just barely managed to grab and stop it from hitting her. Thinking fast she lifted her leg, kicking Ghostface between the legs. Ghostface grunted, but didn’t fall to his knees, instead he tried to stab her again.

Tara dodged the blade, but hit the wall and in her daze she couldn’t move out of the way. She could only put her arms between her attacker and her stomach. The knife never came though, as a gasp came from Ghostface in front of her. She opened her eyes and saw a knife sticking out of the Ghostface’s neck, courtesy of Danny. Both Ghostfaces were dead, both killed by Danny.

“Damn,” he took a step back, letting the dead Ghostface fall to the ground. “Guess we’ll have to find clues some other way,” he said making Tara nod.

“Thanks, let’s get out of here,” she wasn’t any closer to finding you, but two enemies were dead.

Danny nodded and the two of them began walking to the doors, carefully watching for any movement.

A loud sound pierced the silence, pierced right through the illusion of safety and Tara’s eyes widened when she saw blood staining Danny’s shirt. She watched in horror as he looked down, shakily touching the red spot just below his chest that was growing larger with every second. “Danny!” Tara cried out, somehow managing to catch him before he fell to the ground. There was too much blood, as hard as she tried, as much as she pressed her palms against the wound, she couldn’t stop the bleeding and his breathing was getting shallow. “Stay awake, you hear me! Come on, you need to yell at Sam for leaving, remember?”

He chuckled a bit at that. “I’ll leave that to you,” he said and moved her hands away. “They hit my liver,” the blood, the bullet going through it, the stab wound, Tara just sat back, tears streaming down her face. There was nothing she could do. Even if she could call an ambulance, they likely wouldn’t make it in time.

Not that it mattered. Footsteps came from behind her, and she turned around just in time to see three Ghostfaces approaching her. Three marks, bear, fish, and monkey, and the one with bear on the mask was carrying the gun. He was the one who shot Danny, she was sure of that. No… he may have pulled the trigger, but Tara was the one who brought them there, she was the one responsible for putting them in danger.

“Don’t resist, or else,” that voice, the same voice she heard when Amber first attacked her, the same voice that so often haunted her nightmares, she heard it again and this time… instead of pointing a knife at her, the monster pointed a gun at her stomach. “I heard you played a game like this once, only there isn’t an MMA fighter to save you,” Tara narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t risk it, not when there was nothing she could do to save him.

The Ghostface holding the gun motioned toward her and Danny.

“Let her leave,” Danny demanded with what little strength her had left as he tried to sit up.

“I don’t think so,” one of the other two Ghostfaces said as one grabbed Tara’s arms and pulled them behind her back. She heard the click of handcuffs, felt the cold metal around her wrists and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she knew it was over, she knew exactly what would happen next, she still flinched when she heard Danny yelping as he was slammed back onto the ground and then she heard the knife slicing through his neck.

“There, just like Samantha cut Richie’s throat,” one of them said and Tara dared to look at him, dead, with blood pooling around his body. His eyes that once held so much love for her sister now stared forward, lifeless.

~X~

She knew she should have assigned someone to watch over Tara, and now she was gone and Danny was dead. Kirby sat with her head between her hands and photos laid on her table. The Ghostface she was sure was Sam, the tied-up woman she was sure was you, even if Tara denied it, and painted masks, and other photos she had painted a picture she couldn’t understand.

“Tara is right, this isn’t Y/N,” Gale Weathers being there definitely wasn’t helping.

“How are you so sure?” Kirby demanded. They couldn’t see any scars to confirm if it was really you, but there weren’t as many women as muscular as you.

“It’s not her style. If she even suspected this photo would reach Tara she would have given them hell,” Gale gave her a cheeky, though small smile. “Besides, if someone can recognize Y/N underneath all this it would be Tara.”

Kirby had to agree with that. While she wasn’t there when Richie and Amber did their killings, she was very much aware of what you did for Tara, and while she never got to see you actually hurting someone, she did get to see how protective of the younger Carpenter you were. She had the front seats experience when you came into a bar her and Sam were at once to confront Sam. It was civil, but she could feel the tension, the barely restrained anger on both sides.

It was baffling, really, watching you and Sam argue, after years of seeing the two of you getting along. Sam was never as happy as she was at your and Tara’s wedding, and she more than once expressed how much she appreciated your protectiveness over Tara. And then it was like someone snapped their fingers and the relationship fell apart along with Sam.

And now no one knew where you were, Tara was captured, Danny was dead, Chad, Mindy and Anika couldn’t come, or they would not only be in danger but would be able to kiss their careers goodbye and Sam was… likely a Ghostface. How did it all fall apart like this?

Knocking on the door brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up just as Sidney walked in. “Since when does Ghostface try to blow up cars?” she demanded, distraught, filled with panic and almost desperately looking for answers.

“What?” Gale asked, just as puzzled by the question as Kirby.

Sidney slumped into one of the chairs and leaned her head back as she dug her fingers into her hair. “He called me, said I’ll never see my family again. I managed to call Mark and get him, and my children get out of the car. Less than a minute later the car exploded,” she explained, stunning Kirby and Gale. Fury burnt in her eyes and Kirby was reminded of how formidable Sidney was. “I need to get this fucker before he harms my family.”

Gale approached her and placed a hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “We’ll get them Sid,” she promised and caught Sidney up with the situation. From suspecting Sam, to your situation, to Tara being captured and Danny being killed.

“I want Tara alive as much as you two, but how do we know she was just kidnapped? Why would they keep her alive?” Sidney asked and Kirby would be lying if she said that thought didn’t cross her mind when she first realized Tara wasn’t at the warehouse. Gale was the one that reassured her.

“It’s not their style, to take someone and kill them somewhere else, even if this Ghostface doesn’t operate the way we’re used to,” Gale told Sidney the same thing she told Kirby.

Kirby sighed, frankly, even if she agreed now that Tara was alive she still wasn’t entirely sure what the actual reason she wasn’t killed was, but she had her suspicions. “It’s either Y/N, or Sam that they are afraid of,” that was the core reason. “I don’t think they’ll kill Tara just yet.”

“If Tara is alive, they can blackmail one or both of them, if they kill Tara, those two won’t let that go,” Gale agreed and took the photo of Ghostface with dog mark. “Guard dog,” how ironic.

“Even if Sam joined them, she’d turn on them if they hurt Tara,” Sidney agreed, now seeing the logic. “We need to find Y/N.”

And that was the plan, because even if they couldn’t count on Sam being sane enough to help them, they could count on you. Especially when you learn that Tara was captured.

Kirby’s phone rang and all three of them nearly jumped out of their skin, but Kirby relaxed when she saw the name of one of her colleagues. “Yes?”

“Special Agent Reed, we identified the number the message came from. It belongs to Samantha Carpenter,” there was no doubt anymore.

Sam was Ghostface, there was no longer any doubt about that in Kirby’s mind. And either she sent the message to Tara, or someone was using her phone.

There was a chance that Sam was too far gone.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[2.2k] summer nights, muggle gadgets and lovesick boy who just wants to see his girl again.

based off: “i want you...here...right now” + this request 

.

“How’s summer with the Addams family?” 

You rolled your eyes, even if the action was done out of fondness. “You watched one muggle show and now you’re obsessed.” 

“Your family are a bunch of loonies, sweetheart, sorry to break it to you.”

Once upon a time, summer was a time to longed for. When the winter days were short, cold and miserable and when spring didn’t seem to hit the spark of sunshine and warm days you needed, it was summer where you found happiness and contentment. It was summer where those long days were spent basking in whatever sun the English weather gave you, fingers sticky with the juice of the ice lollies you’d fight your brothers for and hiding in secret nooks of the house when Walburga would stand by the staircase, red faced and angry at the trails of mud staining the expensive carpets. 

But when you enrolled in Hogwarts, you realised that summer held much more than warm weather and grass-stained knees. 

Because Hogwarts was a taste of freedom, a taste of the world beyond the walls of the Black household where everything was simple, quiet and nice. It was so fucking nice and it was easy to get drunk off the independence, to get lost in it before you realised it was quickly being ripped away from you. 

Because that’s what summer had become. It had gone from being your salvation to your prison in mere years, and now summer was a time you despised. 

Summer dragged you away from your friends. Summer threw you under the roof of your overbearing parents. Summer jammed a wedge between you and your brothers as you played the games and politics that came with living in the Black household. 

Summer kept you away from James—the dirty little secret you had been keeping for the world because you were young and selfish and you loved having him to yourself, even when you weren’t really supposed to have him. 

“I can’t disagree with that,” you muttered out, a huff of amusement leaving your lips as you remembered the dinner from the night before. In all honesty, you were surprised the house was still in one piece after the fights and arguments that broke out last night. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise you to find out that wards had been put in place to keep the place standing for as long as Black blood lived under the roof. 

“No one’s giving you too much grief, are they?” 

That was the thing about James Potter, you just weren’t sure he was actually real. Growing up with the Black surname, you had been surrounded by pureblooded wizards and witches from the moment you were born. You had dined with them, you had conversed with them and danced with them over the years. You knew what pureblooded children were brought up to be, what they were brought up to think like. 

And yet, James was the living anomaly of the next generation of purebloods. 

Though he was loud and arrogant and a little too up himself for his own good, he was kind and smart and managed to make you feel like the most important person in the world, regardless of who you were. James Potter cared like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and had to act on their behalf. He cared like nobody else you had ever met, and you didn’t know if that made your heart swoon or your head spin because it was just never something you had ever seen in your life. 

Men like James Potter were one in a million and you had somehow managed to catch the eye of the formidable wizard.

It had been his idea to use the muggle telephones. Just weeks before you had to break for the summer holidays, he had dragged you into a broom closet with a bright smile on his face, almost rolling back on the heels of his feet. He explained everything, from the device to how it worked to how he had convinced Lily to retrieve the items so it wouldn’t be traced back to either of you. 

He scribbled down his number and shoved it into your pocket, kissing you quickly goodbye before he raced off to quidditch practice, leaving you flustered and bamboozled of the man James Potter just kept proving himself to be. 

Because he knew what your family was like. And he knew that you hated going home for the summer. And he knew that with your family watching your every move and magic being a hopeless endeavour because of the Ministry rules for underaged witches and wizards using magic that using muggle telephones might just be the only option you have left to talk to each other. 

And he had taken that step, because he wanted you just as much as you wanted him and it made your heart swell. 

“Nothing new,” you told him, fingers wrapped around the cord of the phone as you laid back on your bed, window open as the summer heat engulfed your room. 

“I don’t like leaving you alone there.” 

“I have Sirius and Reg,” you told him, but a part of you wanted to say you didn’t like him leaving you too. 

“Sirius fucks off to the muggle world and Regulus doesn’t have a backbone yet.” 

“James,” you scolded softly, though you knew he was right. You loved your brothers, loved them in the unconditional way siblings loved each other. But it was an ‘every man for themself’ situation whenever you three returned home for holidays. 

Sirius would run off, not ashamed to dish out the same horrid words back to your parents when they yelled and belittled him. He would sneak off into muggle London, spends days there and would come back with treats as a form of apology for leaving you alone. 

Regulus was a little different. He still held your parents in high regard, he still wanted to make them proud. He tried to be the son they wanted, tried to live up to the expectations they held for a pureblood son from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He would never intervene when either you or Sirius were getting scolded. 

It meant a lot of the time you were left on your own during the holidays. It meant that you spent days craving to have the warmth and familiarity of the family and friends you made in Hogwarts. You were left craving the life of freedom and independence you had there. 

“I’m just being honest, sweetheart. You know I mean good. I just wish I could have you here, ya know? With me.” 

You smiled softly at the idea, a warm feeling settling contentedly in the bottom of your stomach. “Yeah, me too, Jaime.” 

“It would be fun, don’t ya think? I could take you riding out back near the lake Mum always yells at me to stay away from. We could take a picnic, maybe steal a bottle of fire whiskey…could even watch the sunset from there.” 

“Sunset, huh?” you mused, entertaining the conversation even if it stung a little, the jealousy of a reality you wish was your own. “And what about when it gets dark, Mr Potter? You gonna protect me from the monsters?” 

“Maybe I have other plans when the sun goes down.” 

And despite yourself, you feel your cheeks flushing at the insinuation. “Like?” 

“You’re really making it difficult to be a gentleman over the phone, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to a gentleman,” you retorted, biting back the grin that was threatening to break out on your face. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re killing me.” 

“I miss you, Jaime,” you sighed, hand resting on your stomach whilst the other clutched the phone. 

“Not been taking care of yourself?” 

“It’s not the same.” 

You listened to the boy let out soft curses on the other side of the phone, followed by the sound of shuffling sheets and a soft thud that you could have sworn was followed by an ‘ow’.

“It doesn’t feel as good, James,” you continued as you let out a long sigh. “I miss your hands…the way you touch me…the way your mouth feels on me…the way your dick—” 

“Fuck, baby, please. I want you…here…right now.”

“‘s not possible,” you murmured in response, shuffling a little to sit up against your headboard, your thighs clenched together. It was fun teasing him, getting him all worked up and bothered. But it sucked when you were left sitting there, memories of just how good he could make you feel left playing on repeat in your head.

“Maybe it is,” James countered, something quite like desire and hope lacing his words. “What if you floo’d here?” 

You paused. “James, my parents—”

“—will never know,” he finished for you. “Your mum will be doing her own head in with that dinner she’s planning, and I know Sirius is away somewhere in London for the next few days. Regulus won’t even know you’ve left. You could stay here for a few days, get a break from everyone…stay with me for a bit.”

You pondered his words. “And your parents?” 

“Mum loves you,” he snorted. “And Dad would probably adopt you in the drop of a hat.”

“I knew Monty had a soft spot for me,” you retorted, a small smile growing on your face as something quite like anticipation sent a thrill down your spine. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were grabbing a backpack and half-hazardly shoving what you needed for the sudden trip into the bag.

“You’re a weakness for all Potter men, baby. It’s all a part of your charm.”

The buzz in your veins felt like the nights you’d sneak out of your room, James’ invisibility cloak covering you as you snuck through the corridors of the school after curfew to go meet him by the Whomping Willow. The nights where you would sneak around just to spend a few hours with him, and even the nights where you would join your brother and his friends in their marauders shenanigans.

You peeked your head out the door, glancing down the hallways and straining your ears to hear if anybody was wandering the house this late at night. Less than thirty seconds later, you were bustling down the staircase and making your way towards the fireplace before any of the house-elves saw you. 

“Potter Manor!”

The world swirled around you in blues and greens and reds and pinks, pulling and tugging at your limbs in every direction and making your head spin before you felt solid ground beneath your feet. You blinked, a little disoriented and the grip on your bag ironclad as you took a moment to breathe.

But before you could even step out of the fireplace, a pair of arms were wrapped around you and tugging you into a large, warm chest and something inside your heart finally settled for the first time in weeks since the holidays had started. 

“I fucking missed you so much,” James’ muffled voice muttered against the top of your head, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head and pressing it against his chest where you could hear his heart thundering away. His other hand was already reaching for your bag, taking it out of your grasp so you could wrap both arms around him. 

“You’re warm,” you murmured, enjoying the sound of your boy’s soft chuckles as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“That’s all you gotta say?” 

“Gotta keep you humble where I can, Potter.”

The boy pulled back, enough for you to look up at him and see the grin split across his face before he leaned down, kissing you senseless like you weren’t standing in the middle of his living room where either of his parents could find you. When he pulled away, he looked down at the dazed look on your face and his smile only widened. 

“C’mon,” he murmured and nodded his head towards the staircase. “Need to hide you away before Mum hogs you to herself.” 

“Maybe I came here for her,” you retorted, enjoying the feeling of James taking his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly as though to reassure himself you were really there.

“Don’t go breaking my heart now, baby, I’ve just planned the perfect weekend for us,” James mused playfully, glancing over his shoulder to flash you a wink before he pulled you into his room, locking his door behind him and dropping your bag on the floor.

“Hey—”

“Yell at me later,” he murmured as his arm wrapped around your waist, practically tugging your body onto the bed until you fell on his chest with a soft oomph.

“I forgot how needy you were,” you joked lightly, shuffling until you were comfortably tucked against his side. 

“Just want my girl,” he grumbled, tilting your head up so he could lean down to peck your lips. “Is that such a crime?” 

“Maybe to my brothers,” you countered and watched him roll his eyes.

“Please don’t bring up your brothers when I’m trying to seduce you, sweetheart,” James groaned, his arm around your body tightening.

You snickered. “I think you are wearing too many clothes to be seducing me, Potter.”

He raised his brows. “Is that a preference?”

“I would say more of a demand.” 

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” 

.

[frogchiro]

We need more content of dad Makarov! That is all I want to say. Normal, Naga, Silver Fox, etc. I! Do! Not! Care! All I want to see is Makarov being a dad to some cute babies that either have heterochromia or those big brown doe eyes

You can pry good dad Makarov from my cold dead hands, he wants to make up for the sins of his father! He wants to be the best dad around and no one can stop him. If they try, they die. It is as simple as that

Imagine him being a baby whisperer, when you hold them after feeding all they do is cry and cry but as soon as he picks them up, nuzzles their full tummy with his stubble as he cooes at them in Russian they settle down and go right back to being cute little adorable messes

Imagine him being a twin or quadruplet dad

I have so many thoughts about this evil man I just can not, I have so many thoughts about him being a father

Evil man but amazing mate and dad!! I'm going to go with Naga!Makarov x Forest witch!Reader bc I miss them and I love them so much ;;

He was over the moon when you found out you were pregnant with his eggs!! Believe it or not but he always craved to have a family of his own for years, especially after what happened to him and his parents. He wasn't a good person, he was a Naga, a feared and formidable creature that everyone avoided. Well, everyone but you, the cute forest witch that helped him and rescued him when he was freezing to death and bleeding out on the snow and he just never left :(

And he was ecstatic and so smug and proud when you informed him with a small, shy smile and a flushed face that you're expecting with his clutch <3 Vladimir would shower you with even more attention than before, would never leave your side ever; he's naturally a territorial and aggressive male like most Nagas are, but with now a pregnant mate? And babies on the way? Don't be surprised if you wake up sometimes in the middle of the night with your mate missing from your bed to piercing screams coming from the forest. Just ignore it love, there's nothing to see!

And when the eggs finally arrive? He's not leaving them! Vladimir will arrange them in a neat circle, all four of them, in your bed/nest and stay wrapped around them until they're ready to hatch <3

That includes you too! Despite your giggled protests and playful squirming, Makarov is herding you back into your bedroom and into your nest where your clutch is resting, putting them in your waiting arms before wrapping his huge, strong tail around your before nuzzling into your neck, finally calm and satisfied that his family is safe and sound in his grip <333

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xlv - pb&j

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

Hongjoong is not one to be surprised easily. Well, by events or situations. He's a scaredy cat who had fallen victim to his son's pranks at least 20 times. In the past month.

But the sight of Kijoong's teacher, Mr Kang, lighting up as you produced a bag of sandwiches from your bag and handed it over to him almost made him choke on his own spit. Honestly, he didn't know why he was so surprised as he had seen (peeked) into your (private) conversation with Mr Kang the other day. Maybe he had been in denial (for some darn reason) about the exact identity of the Yeosang you talked with, thinking that it could be someone else with a similar name. That's possible, right? But seeing the way you adjusted the sleeve of his rolled-up shirt, Hongjoong was hesitant.

When you took Kijoong inside to settle in his cubby and spend some time before the classes started, Hongjoong found himself walking towards the guy he was eyeing.

"Ah, good morning! Mr Kim, right? Kim Kijoong's dad?" Yeosang asked politely with a warm smile. Even Hongjoong had to admit that his heart fluttered slightly so his "baseless" annoyance curiosity has decreased slightly. "Y-yes," clearing his throat, Hongjoong slipped his hands into his pants pockets, "How are you? How's your dad? I heard he was at the hospital?" "Yeah, yeah, he's fine! We went to the other KQ branch hospital so he was taken care of well. His recovery was even better when (y/n) sent him soup," he chuckled.

At the mention of the teacher's dad knowing you, Hongjoong couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "Oh, I didn't realize that you two were so close," he nodded casually. Yeosang shrugged, "I guess in a sense we are, but (y/n) just cares about people and she takes it upon herself to take care of those who know her from her roots. Another hint, you two had known each other for a long while. "(y/n) didn't mention that she knew you to me and she often tells me about the people she knows from her youth." Hongjoong cringed slightly, realizing how easy it could be for Yeosang to twist his words and make it seem like he was jealous. Which he kinda was but it's not like it's obvious. Thankfully, if he did realize, Yeosang didn't let it show. "That could be because I haven't seen her in a long while and it didn't even occurred to us that we knew each other until the second day I came back," well that made Hongjoong more curious and Yeosang could sense it based on the way Hongjoong nodded along and putting all of his focus on him which made him rather nervous. So this time, it was Yeosang who cleared his throat and mended his posture, "S-see, (y/n) and I knew each other from way back in high school. We met because we had entered the same debate competition and we were in opposition. She was formidable with her arguments and it actually made me fear her in a major way. I didn't even think I'd get to talk to her but as you can guess, I did," "How so?" Hongjoong asked, engaged in the story, "Well, she made my teammate cry and she just wanted to make sure that the know-it-all 12th grader had his mommy to wipe his snot. We were in 10th grade at the time." The revelation made Hongjoong let out a snort which caused some parents and their children nearby to jump in surprise, looking at him who had to turn around in shame.

"So, is that how you and (y/n) started dating?" Hongjoong asked after calming down, not really realizing the words that he used. Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before chuckling, "Oh, no. We are not dating! We became close again after the realization of our connection and became even closer because I found out that my spotter at the gym is actually Kijoong's instructor so we just shared and bonded and got even closer because of that!" he explained.

Though he was not even supposed to feel that way, Hongjoong felt a sense of relief and his posture even relaxed considerably. Though, he tensed up again when Yeosang continued, "Although, between you and me, (y/n) seems to be interested in this other guy." "What other guy? Is it someone she's close with? How'd you know?" At that point, Hongjoong didn't even care that he was acting rather ridiculously, asking random, personal stuff to his son's homeroom teacher. How professional. "I think you'd know him too," Yeosang stated and for one moment, Mingi came to mind but considering how you still deny him ice cubes, that seemed irrational, impossible, and positively stupid. Yeosang turned around slightly and pointed to where you were inside. "There."

Slowly, almost dramatically, Hongjoong turned his head, following Yeosang's finger to see you talking to the guy he recognized as the other homeroom teacher in Kijoong's class, Choi Soobin. While you were kind and affectionate towards Yeosang, you were more... Flirty with Soobin. That was the only word that seemed suitable because your stance was more passive yet open while still maintaining some boundaries with Soobin. Very different from the way you were with Yeosang whom you treated in a more motherly manner, like how you would Kijoong. With Yeosang, it was tidying him and giving him what he needed but with Soobin, it was more playful what with the gentle pushes and allowing him to guide you so your head won't hit the shelve nearby. You both looked very comfortable with each other, being as close as you both could and remaining respectful at a kindergarten while Kijoong tried to climb up Soobin's legs. His eyes glazed over the way you gently chastised the boy and tried to pry him off but Soobin grabbed your hands away from Kijoong and made gestures that suggested he was telling you to just let Kijoong be.

It was then that Hongjoong realized that his gut feeling was correct but he had jumped to a conclusion.

A lot of thoughts ran through Hongjoong's head, trying to make sense of things as if correcting an assignment, marking parts that were wrong and putting notes on certain parts as if pointing out which information needed elaboration. Above all, one thought seemed more prominent compared to the other. The thought that questioned whether or not he was supposed to feel bitter, jealous, and, well, hurt. Knowing that he was questioning his action did nothing, however. He just kept staring at the two of you in the corner while he was there, at a distance. Because that's what he had made his persona towards you to be since the beginning, right?

Distant, unapproachable.

Like he always was.

Alone.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@yunho-mp3 @strawberry-yeo @luvt0kki @allisonleannn @dinossaurz @khjcs @blackb3ll @aloverga @at1nys-blog @itsbeeble @potatomountain @axo-l0tl @green-thots @intancollins @galaxypox @fire-and-flame @maddiebabyxoxo @alyssajavenss @mirror-juliet @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @kodzukein @teenyfinds @dear-dreamie @mitchloveswriting @soobiverse @satsuri3su @phenomenalgirl9 @guess-monst3r @dimeb29 @ka-ni-ma @yayaistime @angelicyeo @kyume02 @thedistractedwriter @surveilenceysystem @ateezourstars @aursmrt @mismatchfluffysocks @puppyminnnie @nycol-ie @yungilia @writingbarnes @worcesheshestershiresauce

[h9rd-t6-miss]

God hunter the parenting is just... Something deeply special.

It starts out loud, like all of Alfabusa and Ogre Poppenang's work does. Chapter one involves COCK-thorpe jokes and a jacket covered in wooden stakes. It involves jokes about DMT being a formidable defense against vampires and fortifying a picnic table. When Ogre Poppenang get loud, they get so, so incredibly loud.

And if that were all there was in these shows, they would be fourty minute entertainments that leave your mind as soon as you're done laughing at it.

But... There's more.

You catch glimpses of it here and there if you're not looking for it. Did the red and blue one just talk about genuine self-reflection in between cock jokes? Maybe. Maybe you misheard it. Does the short-shorts wearing loud one actually have honest warnings in between the mad yelling? Surely you imagined any depth to these characters, they're yelling about blenders!

But then. The story does something that it feels, strange, in today's modern media.

In between the jokes and the noise and the wonky animation... The stakes stay the same. They're always in dire danger, no matter the tone of the setting.

Even when he's on stilts clambering over a yard and looking absurd, Kitten is absolutely in danger of dying at every moment. Even when Kevin is yelling about magic vampire wizard powers, he is absolutely not kidding and will utilize them to kill. Even when Big D is making a god-awful concotion in a blender filled with nonsesne ingredients, it serves a legitamite purpose towards the family.

And the stories give everything SPACE. Space to breathe, to laugh, to cry, to be horrified. The lives of these people are horrifying and dangerous and absurd but they are still absolutely alive, not just cartoons.

You find yourself invested in the old relationship of Grimal, the overblown hyper weeabo and Kitten, the level headed hunter who still never takes off a blue hoodie and sky mask. You find yourself deeply touched by how much the literal and exact Door cares for his son, even if exposing him to the Hunter's lifestyle and indeed, Door's lifestyle, probably isnt the greatest thing.

You can really feel that the Hunters are true, three dimensional people that are written with so much care and expertise, and that their voice actors understand the characters at such a fundamental level.

You also begin to love the overall writing, where the authors show their true and incredible skill at balancing the zany humor of the WoD with the name of the setting, a world full of real darkness, where the shadows in the alley really do hold unspeakable terrors.

Not every joke will land, and the boldness of the caricatures will drive some people off. But there is so much more to this studio than anything I've seen in a long time, and for those who will stick around, prepare to fall in love with everything as much as the creators have.

Also, if you just want MORE of the absurd and delightful humor, Half-life:Zero Viscosity deserves all of the praise of HL:VRAI and MORE

[fafnir19]

The Gender Switch Experience

Linus sat on his stool in the laboratory, swirling a stirring rod idly in a beaker of bubbling pink liquid. Elias leaned against the adjacent bench, eyebrow raised in amusement. Linus sighed, setting the rod down. "I just don't get it, Elias. How do women work? Why can't I find a girlfriend?"

Elias chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "You know, Linus, sometimes intelligence can be intimidating for some people. Plus, you can be a bit too deep with your scientific explanation of the universe. You need to be a bit more approachable and light-hearted." Linus huffed, running a hand through his blonde buzz cut. "But isn't it frustrating? Women seem to go for these brainless muscle masses, like that arrogant Aron from sales.

It's like their brains shut down in the presence of biceps and a charming smile." Elias arched an eyebrow. "Are you jealous of Aron?" Linus blushed. "Of course not! It's just... frustrating. I wish I could understand them better. And on top of that, my parents keep pressuring me about grandchildren. I'm their only hope to carry on the family lineage. It's like the weight of the ancestry rests solely on my shoulders."

Suddenly, Elias's eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait a minute, Linus. Remember our research project? What if we use our machine on one of us to understand the female perspective better?" Linus blinked, intrigued. "You mean the gender switch device?" Elias nodded. "Yes! We've been on the verge of a breakthrough, and this could be the perfect opportunity for you to walk a mile in a woman's heels, metaphorically speaking." Linus's eyes widened with realization. "You really think this could help me understand women better?" Elias grinned. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be a fantastic test run for our breakthrough project. Think about it, Linus. You could become Lina for a while and experience the world through a new lens." Linus hesitated before nodding resolutely. "I'll do it." Elias clapped him on the back. "Great! We'll do it on Friday evening when no one is in the lab. We'll keep it a secret, just between us." Excitement and nervousness swirled inside Linus's mind. What would it be like to inhabit a different body, to see the world through a different set of eyes? He couldn't wait for Friday to come. 

As the laboratory fell into a hushed silence, Linus positioned himself before the formidable transformation machine.

Nervously, he squared his shoulders, anticipation and trepidation intermingling within the depths of his being. Elias, his stalwart companion, stood poised to assist, his eyes alight with a fervent intellectual curiosity that mirrored Linus' own. "Do you truly wish to proceed with this, Linus?" Elias inquired, his voice tinged with a blend of caution and excitement. Linus met Elias' gaze, his own filled with unwavering determination. "I must understand, Elias. I must experience firsthand what it means to walk in a woman's shoes," he replied, his words resonating with resolute conviction. With a nod, Elias initiated the sequence, setting the transformative apparatus into motion. The contraption hummed to life, casting an otherworldly glow as it enveloped Linus in its embrace. Time seemed to stand still as an iridescent aura unfolded around him, bathing him in an ethereal luminescence. The air crackled with anticipation as Linus felt a strange, almost imperceptible tugging at the very essence of his being. His form contorted and shifted as the machine worked its mysterious alchemy, imbuing him with a profound sense of transformation. His heart quickened as he became increasingly aware of the subtle, yet undeniable rearrangement of his physicality. A surge of emotions coursed through him as he observed his chest swelling with newfound fullness, the contours of his physique assuming a delicate femininity. He gasped in astonishment as his once-familiar genitals underwent a profound metamorphosis, inverting and reforming into the embodiment of womanhood. A flurry of sensations, both exhilarating and disconcerting, washed over him, signaling the irrevocable completion of his transformation. Elias surveyed the scene with an analytical fervor, his eyes aglow with exhilaration. "It's working, Linus! You're becoming Lina!" he announced, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze alongside a glimmer of incredulity. Indeed, the profound metamorphosis had come to fruition, and Linus had been reborn as Lina, her spirit pulsating with the complexities of her newfound identity.

With an unyielding resolve, Lina prepared to embark on a journey teeming with uncharted territory, her gaze alight with an insatiable curiosity. "Elias, I need to immerse myself in the world as a woman, to truly comprehend," she declared, her voice resonating with a fervent resolve. Acknowledging the weight of their audacious experiment, Elias met Lina's eye with a nod of acquiescence. "We must exercise caution, Lina. This is unexplored terrain, and we must tread with utmost care," he cautioned, cognizant of the gravity of their endeavors. As the evening unfolded and the initial shock of her newfound identity began to subside, Lina found herself filled with a sense of empowerment and curiosity. She wore a radiant smile as she thanked Elias profusely for his part in the experiment. "We should celebrate this momentous occasion, Lina," Elias suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go out, have some fun, and truly experience life as a woman." Lina's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "I'd love that! Let's make the most of this opportunity." Together, they ventured into the vibrant city, the evening air filled with an infectious energy. They found themselves in a lively bar, where the gentle clink of glasses and laughter mingled with the pulsating rhythm of music. Lina savored the feeling of newfound freedom and embraced the thrill of the unknown. As the night progressed, Elias and Lina indulged in a few cocktails, their lighthearted conversation punctuated by fits of laughter and the occasional insightful observation. It was a rare and cherished moment of unburdened joy, unmarred by the weight of responsibility and expectations. However, their carefree revelry was interrupted when a familiar presence entered the bar. Lina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aron, the very object of her frustration earlier.

She felt an urge to flee, but fear and defiance warred within her. Elias noticed Lina's unease and leaned in to whisper, "Let's leave, Lina. We can find another place to enjoy ourselves." Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head with determination. "Yes, Elias. I want to dance. Let's go to a club." Elias raised an eyebrow, surprised at Lina's sudden resolve, but he acquiesced, understanding that she needed her space.  In the pulsating ambiance of the club, Lina lost herself in the dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that she never knew she possessed. The music resounded in her veins, infusing her with a sense of unbridled liberation. Elias, on the other hand, felt out of place in the thumping rhythms of the club and approached Lina. "I think I've had enough," he said with a strained smile. "Do you want to head home?" Lina, intoxicated with her newfound freedom, shook her head. "I'm going to stay a little longer. You go ahead, Elias. I'll find my way back." Elias hesitated, his concern evident in his eyes, but he eventually relented, knowing that Lina needed this night of self-discovery.  As Elias departed for the sidelines, Lina lost herself in the music, the vibrant allure of the night sweeping her into its enchanting embrace.

However, when an unexpected figure approached her amidst the dance, Lina's enthusiasm faltered. Aron materialized in the midst of the crowd, his confident strides carrying him closer to Lina with a charming smile playing on his lips.

Despite her initial reluctance, Lina found herself tentatively entertaining his approach, a strange sense of curiosity seizing her. "What's a vibrant beauty like you doing all alone on the dance floor?" Aron inquired, his blue eyes glimmering with a warmth that caught Lina off guard. Lina hesitated, caught in a curious dance of conflicting emotions. "I was planning to leave, but the music got the better of me. I couldn't resist the allure of the night." Aron's smile widened, the playful glint in his eyes stirring something unfamiliar within Lina. "I'm glad you stayed. Care to join me for a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." Lina's thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, her resistance slowly eroding in the face of Aron's undeniable charm. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt," she acquiesced, allowing herself to be swept up in the enigmatic allure of the night. As the evening wore on, Lina found herself entangled in a captivating conversation with Aron, his charming manner casting an unexpected spell over her. The vibrant energy of the club intertwined with the heady allure of Aron's company, stirring sensations within Lina that she struggled to comprehend. Though she had harbored resentment towards Aron, Lina discovered a surprising charm and warmth in him as they conversed, his laughter infectious and his wit surprisingly disarming.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, and before she could comprehend the gravity of her actions, she found herself in Aron's embrace, succumbing to an unexpected wave of desire. The next morning dawned with a disorienting haze of regret and bewilderment. Lina struggled to come to terms with her unexpected liaison with Aron, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her. 

Eventually, Lina reunited with Elias, the gender switch machine restoring her to her original form as Linus. However, amidst their joyous banter, Linus divulged the startling revelations brought about by his time as Lina. "Elias, you won't believe what happened," Linus confessed, his expression a concoction of incredulity and astonishment. "As Lina, I found myself overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations, and I… I slept with Aron." Elias arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, well, Linus. It seems that Lina had quite the adventure. And with Aron, no less!" Linus scowled, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, Elias. I don't know what came over me." Elias chuckled, offering Linus a reassuring pat on the back. "Relax, my friend. It's all part of the grand expedition of life. And I must say, this will make for a fantastic story to tell." 

As days turned into weeks following the experiment, Linus noticed a newfound vitality within himself, an inexplicable surge of energy and a fervent inclination towards physical activity. In a departure from his usual demeanor, he delved into rigorous physical exercise, his frame gradually gaining strength and definition.  Elias observed Linus's remarkable metamorphosis with a mix of awe and curiosity, remarking on his friend's newfound dedication to fitness. "I must say, Linus, the change in your lifestyle is truly astounding. Your commitment to exercise knows no bounds. What ignited this newfound passion?" Linus, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, beamed with a newfound confidence. "I can't quite put my finger on it, Elias. It's as if this surge of vitality has engulfed me, propelling me to embrace physical activity like never before. I feel like a whole new person." Elias raised an eyebrow. "A whole new person, you say? Are you certain it's simply the result of amplified endorphins from exercise?" Linus chuckled, the resonating tones of his laughter carrying a semblance of unfamiliarity. "Sure thing, man!" In the following weeks, Linus's fervor for physical activity yielded undeniable results. His physique underwent a stunning transformation, his once slender frame honed into a chiseled form that exuded an air of confidence and vitality. Rumors of his newfound allure rippled through the research facility, prompting admiring glances from colleagues and an influx of attention from female acquaintances.

One fateful day at the gym, Linus found himself face-to-face with Aron, the very embodiment of the idealized image of masculine vitality that Linus had previously begrudged. The air buzzed with an unexpected tension as Aron regarded Linus with a glint of recognition and intrigue.

Aron's eyebrow quirked up in surprise as he studied Linus's physique. "Well, well, well, Linus. Look at you, morphing from a bespectacled scientist into a swole stud. Quite the metamorphosis, I must say. What's your secret?" Linus paused, acutely aware of the newfound strength that surged through his being. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a penchant for physical exertion, much to my own surprise. Perhaps I should be asking you for workout tips, Aron." Aron chuckled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I must admit, the transformation suits you, Linus. Embracing the ways of the jocks, are we?" Their encounters at the gym became a regular occurrence, and soon, Linus found himself embarking on training sessions alongside Aron, their banter filled with a surprising sense of camaraderie. As they delved into rigorous workouts and exchanged jabs and jests, a bond of unexpected companionship began to burgeon between the once unlikely allies.

It was during one such training session that Aron inquired about a peculiar detail. "Say, Linus, I couldn't help but notice something. Your eyes are typically brown, yet they seem to be blue. Are you wearing contact lenses?" Linus furrowed his brow, a flicker of perplexity dancing in his gaze. "That's odd. I haven't donned any lenses, so this alteration is indeed perplexing."  

Seeking answers, Linus approached Elias. In the dimly lit laboratory, Linus paced nervously as Elias fiddled with vials and beakers. "Elias, you have to help me figure this out," Linus implored, his brow furrowed in worry. "My eye color has changed, and I don't understand why. It's like I'm turning into someone else." Elias adjusted his glasses and peered at Linus intently. "Hmm, let's run some tests. We'll get to the bottom of this, Linus," he assured, his voice laced with determination.

With deft movements, Elias collected samples and scurried off to the lab equipment, his mind whirring with potential explanations. After a few days of anxious anticipation, Elias bustled back into the room holding a sheet of paper. "Linus, I have the results," Elias declared, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. "It's... unexpected." "Spit it out, Elias," Linus urged, his nerves on edge. He braced himself for the impending revelation. "According to the DNA test, it seems that Lina, well, she was... she was impregnated by Aron," Elias stuttered, his shock mirrored by Linus's gaping jaw. "Aron? But... but that's impossible! How could this have happened?" Linus spluttered, his mind swimming with disbelief. "And what does this mean for me?" Elias paused, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that transforming from Lina back to Linus triggered a fundamental change in you. Because the lack of a uterus has prevented you from growing a child, it appears that your own genetic makeup has been irrevocably altered.You, my friend, are now technically considered Aron's son," Elias explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, that can't be right," Linus protested, his fists clenching in denial. "I refuse to accept that I'm anything like him. I'm not his son." "It's common for offspring to resist acknowledging their similarities to their parents," Elias chuckled, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "But Linus, when we really think about it, you've taken on a lot of Aron's traits, haven't you?" Linus fell silent, his mind grappling with Elias's observation. He couldn't deny that over time, he had mirrored Aron's behavior, finding a newfound confidence that had eluded him before.

Unbeknownst to them, Aron had overheard snippets of their conversation and sauntered over, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. "What's all this fuss about genetic makeup?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes. Linus flinched at the sight of Aron, his newfound anxiety clashing with his unease. "It's nothing, really. Just some absurd test results that we're trying to make sense of," Linus replied hastily, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. Aron folded his arms across his chest, casting a knowing smirk at Linus.

"So, does this mean that you're no longer part of your own family line?" he prodded mischievously. Linus squared his shoulders, determined to refute the assumption. "Children carry the genetic traits of both parents. I can't just be solely considered like you," he asserted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Elias shifted awkwardly, the weight of the revelation sitting heavily on his shoulders. "Well, the test results did show that about 90% of your genetic makeup is now paralleled with Aron's, with only 10% retaining aspects of your old self," Elias confessed, unable to meet Linus' gaze. Aron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Does this mean that Linus' family line has now been wiped out - he is an only child?" he asked mischievously, his eyes glinting with mischief. Silence enveloped the room as Linus struggled to grapple with the enormity of the truth. How could he come to terms with the fact that he was more akin to Aron than himself and that his ancestral line has been vanquished?

Aron clapped Linus on the back, his expression brimming with amusement, "Look at that, you're one of the cool kids now, Linus! Embrace the change, buddy." "This is absurd," Linus muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Over the next few months, Linus noticed a change within himself. His once-keen intellect seemed to wane, and he found himself drawn to activities he had never before considered. Linus clasped his hands and stared into the distance, "I never used to enjoy sports or casual conversations. What's happening to me?"

Elias patted Linus on the back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, "It seems the transformation has altered more than just your physical appearance, Linus. Your interests, your behavior, they're all shifting." Linus shook his head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the changes taking place within him. "I don't want to be like Aron," he muttered, despondent. As days turned by, Linus found himself a sudden desire to be more outgoing and social gnawing at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but Aron has become my best friend," Linus admitted to Elias, a sense of bewilderment lacing his words. Elias sighed, "It seems like you're embracing more and more of Aron's traits with each passing day, Linus. It's like he's become your role model."

In the nine months that followed, the change in Linus was palpable. His once razor-sharp intellect dulled, morphing into a shadow of its former self. No longer was he the dedicated scientist engrossed in groundbreaking research, but a husk of a man, devoid of his former brilliance. It was a bright Monday morning when Linus trudged his way into the sales department, a world away from his beloved science department. He was greeted with slaps on the back and hearty cheers from his new colleagues, among them, the suave and charming Aron. "Hey, Linus! Look at you, all dapper and ready to conquer the sales world!" Aron exclaimed with a roguish grin. Linus barely managed a dim smile in return, his once keen eyes now glazed over with vacant emptiness. His transformation was complete, and Elias could only watch in despair as his best friend slipped further and further away from him.

As the months went by, Linus' days revolved around sales pitches and closing deals. Gone were the days of intellectual pursuits, replaced by the pursuit of fleeting pleasures and hedonistic indulgences.

As Linus strolled into the sales department, a noticeable swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eyes, Elias glanced at him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Linus, what in the world has gotten into you?" Elias asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, bro, check out my new watch. It totally seals the deal with the ladies," Linus drawled, flashing a blingy timepiece that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Elias's mouth gaped open. "Linus, you were a prodigy in the science department. A budding genius. And now look at you. What happened?" Linus chuckled smugly. "Who needs all that nerdy stuff when you've got charm, huh? Aron showed me the way. Now I'm living the dream, man." He slapped Elias on the back with a booming laugh, his once soft voice now laced with a newfound bravado. Elias's eyes widened as he watched Linus saunter over to the water cooler, surrounded by a flock of female co-workers hanging on his every word. Elias, torn between disbelief and resignation, approached the boss of the sales department, hoping for a glimmer of some solidarity. "He's dumb as a rock but knows how to use his good looks for successful sales. I guess, you should produce more of them, Elias," the boss remarked casually, not a hint of recognition for the man Linus used to be. In a moment of resignation, Elias turned to Linus, his once-friend, now a mere shell of his former self. "Linus, I need your help with something," Elias began, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "I need a sample of your...cum." Linus, now devoid of his former depth, chuckled thoughtlessly. "Sure, man. Anything for you," he replied with a vacant look in his eyes, his once keen mind reduced to nothing but a mindless echo of Aron's.

And so, Linus and Elias drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond shattered by the cruel twist of fate. What was once a story of scientific discovery and friendship had now morphed into a tragic tale of lost intellect and shattered dreams.