#eventually he figures out his go to protective style

[thinkingaboutbees]

Hi, I'm the OP of this thread on Bluesky. I thought I'd come on here and upload some of the analysis I've done in later-additions to this thread, which weren't online when Tumblr-OP @carucath made this post, as well as a recent interaction with Rhianna Pratchett, all of which I think are useful bits of contextual info/expansion. I've seen a few people in the notes/reblogs saying things about the fan-desire to rush to defend their faves etc., and kind of discounting my analysis because of that. While I agree that fandom spaces absolutely do have a huge problem with that, and that retrospectively reading Neil Gaiman's work looking for 'signs' that he was a piece of shit the whole time isn't actually constructive/doesn't really add anything useful to the discourse, my intent with this thread wasn't to try to absolve PTerry or put distance between him and Gaiman (though I can see how it reads that way). I'm more interested in looking at how 'known' people like Gaiman move within fandom spaces, as well as how our parasocial relationships with public figures, and the cult of personality which some people build up around them, can often help to protect them or even enable their behaviour (worth remembering that a number of the women Gaiman assaulted/abused have talked about being fans of his work, or meeting him through fandom spaces, or, even when not fans of his work as in the case of Scarlett, still being a bit over-awed by his fame and reputation). I suspect that Gaiman's embellishment of his relationship with PTerry helped to build up his persona in SF/Fantasy fandom spaces after Pratchett's death, contributing to his personal Cult of Personality and fandom parasocial relationships with him. Over the last 5 years especially, Gaiman has had a pretty meteoric rise in the public eye outside of online SF/Fantasy fandom spaces & conventions. In particular a number of his works have been adapted for TV across various large streaming-platforms following the success of Good Omens, with high-profile names attached to them, and large marketing campaigns. By positioning his Good Omens adaptation as 'Terry's dying wish' of him, Gaiman has gained a lot of attention for it and for his other work, increased his own public standing, and thus directly profited off of Pratchett's legacy and the public perception that the two were close friends. (Obviously GO was adapted with the support of Rhianna & Rob, but, as you'll see in these other threads, we probably should think of it as being primarily a PTerry novel, with some minor input from Gaiman). Some personal context: I hold two degrees in English literature (both with Firsts, or a 3.7-4.0 GPA for the Americans on this thread), as well as a research-Masters degree in Creative Writing (with a high 2.1, because I developed a chronic illness which made me bedbound for 6 months of that degree lmao). I have a long-standing personal and academic interest in both Gaiman and Pratchett's work, and have written multiple essays on Terry Pratchett's style & his approach to genre, including some for my Masters degree. I generally stay out of fandom spaces these days, and these threads have sprung out of my own prior research and academic work. While I'm yet to seek a PhD, I have previously been employed by the English Literature department of the main university in my city, where I was the tutor for one of their undergraduate courses (this means I was responsible for organising and running the weekly group tutorials/workshops which make up the other contact-hours for students outside of lectures, providing one-on-one support and feedback for students who asked for extra guidance but didn't feel it was complex enough to go to the head lecturer, and for marking student-essays). I do eventually hope to go in to academia/lecturing, but right now am taking a few years off from studying since finishing my Masters to pay off some of my student loan debt, get my health back on track, and to focus on my creative practice and writing career.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[magicalcreeks]

I will die on this hill of Kon having type 3 or type 4 hair.

Give me the two hour wash day routine that involves him playing good music while he pre-poos, detangle, shampoo, deep condition, and then while his fingers are literal raisins and cramping he still has to figure out a protective style.

No, Tim can’t help because the last time he type 1/type 2 hair ass helped he combed from root to tip and knots formed.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Bruce Wayne fucking the disobedience out of you

18+ nsfw, fem reader, spanking, rough sex

Knowing that Bruce Wayne was Batman was a luxury that few people had, and he reminded you of it daily. How it’s a risk for you to know, it’s a risk for him to be dating you in the first place. So the one thing he asks of you, is to listen to him. All he wants is for you to be safe, and he knows what’s best for you.

So when you’re standing there in your stupidly attractive outfit, having followed Bruce…no, followed Batman, into the warehouse he’d thought a rising drug gang was utilizing, he was pissed beyond belief.

Jaw clenched, visible at the cut-off of his cowl, he grabs your arm and pulls you over to some nearby wooden crates, throwing you over them so your ass is practically hanging out the short skirt.

“I told you. I told you never to follow me. And you didn’t fucking listen.” He growls, the voice he usually saves for criminals he needs to scare a confession out of now being directed at you.

No matter how much you whimper that you’re sorry, clearly it’s falling on deaf ears as he pulls your skirt up and spanks you. Hard.

“Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson. A lesson to actually listen.”

He strikes again and again, hard ones too. Your ass feels bruised and aching, as your frame jolts with each spank. Clenching your thighs together offers you little relief, all that’s left is to cling to the crate for dear life and hope to god some criminal doesn’t wander in to see the bat spanking you like a naughty child.

The truth is, Bruce had found evidence that the gang had moved their base of operations, meaning this area was truly abandoned. But he figures you don’t need to know that, maybe the fear and anxiety at being seen will further drive home the lesson he’s attempting to teach.

Just when you’re about to cry out that you can’t take anymore, he rips your underwear off with sheer brute strength right before fiddling with the crotch of his suit. You don’t dare turn to try and see what he’s doing, fearing more punishment.

But the feeling of his cock tapping against your ass tells you what is about to happen, as you arch your back wantonly.

“This isn’t a reward, do you hear me?” He grunts out, before sliding into you quickly, setting a rough pace without giving you time to adjust. You grip the crate tighter, eyes rolling back at the harsh rhythm.

Little moans and whines are fucked out of you with each thrust. All of them are music to Bruce’s ears, despite his annoyance at your behaviour. Still he keeps railing you like he hates you, forcing his cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your stomach. The heat rushes to your core, clenching around him.

“I’m gonna cum in this pussy…gonna take you home leaking and wanting.” He states, speeding up to clearly chase his release. “If you’d have just been a good girl like I wanted, I’d have ate you out when I got back. I’d have made you gush around my tongue like I always do. But no. You had to pull a stunt like this.”

When he cums, he does so with an almost animalistic growl, marking you from the inside with his hot seed. You feel it fill you up, but you also feel the burning need that comes with not being able to orgasm. Whimpering as he pulls out, he picks you up bridal style before walking you to the batmobile and placing you in the passenger side. At least he didn’t place you in the back, restrained where the criminals usually go.

As he drives back, you feel his release seep out of your used cunt, surely staining the seats. But you don’t say anything, just trying to keep your thighs tightly pressed together. The whole time, it's silent, until he eventually cracks once he gets you home safe. Telling you how worried he was, how you're the best, purest thing in his life, how he needs to protect you no matter what.

And if he goes back on his word and makes you cum all over his thick callous fingers...well he just can't resist <3

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 nightgown

synopsis: after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

cw: part 2/3, nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is FIONE, reader is also real as hell, zoro is a fiend, mihawk is such dad, this was so fun to write.

a/n: tagging: @that-b-word-lol @ihatespidersdie I NEED THIS MAN UNDER MY TREE

"C'mon, (y/n), they're not gonna fight if you keep playing with 'em," Zoro sighed, removing his sword from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You giggled, unable to fight off your smile as you danced with the humandrills, relishing in their happy snorts and yips as the leader of the gang—Chuki—picked you up and placed you on his shoulder, happily parading you around.

"Sorry," you grinned, clapping with approval as a few of the others performed back-flips and cartwheels to keep your attention. "I was coming out to check on you guys."

Just then, Chuki let out a howl of excitement, wanting to join in on the fun.

Without warning, he launched himself into a somersault, completely forgetting you were on his shoulder and sending you flying.

'Not again...'

Zoro moved like he'd done this a hundred times—which he had—effortlessly shooting himself up and catching you in mid-air, bridal style.

"Every time?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm gonna miss this," you chuckled, looping an arm around his neck as he landed.

"The hell are you gonna do when I'm gone?" he carefully put you down, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "I'm not gonna be here to keep you from falling on your face."

You shrugged, turning to Chuki with a wide smile as he gave you a high five, "I guess I'll just have to learn how to land on my own."

"HA!"

The swordsman scoffed, shoulders bobbing with laughter as you snapped your head over to him, less amused.

"The girl who can barely hold a sword? I'd love to see it."

"Hey!"

"Hu hu hua!" Chuki mimicked, turning to you with an incredulous look. "Ooh, ah ah ah, hua!"

"I know right," you agreed, resting a hand on your hip as you glanced at the swordsman. "And smelly, too..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Gloom Island was known all-throughout the Grand Line as an abandoned island, its kingdoms having brought themselves to utter ruin after years of war.

Your parents had even been drafted, and, of course, killed in the line of duty.

But, by fate or by fortune, you had managed to survive, living through most of your childhood as an orphan in a battle-ravaged kingdom.

Until, eventually, you were the last one standing.

Alone, you searched for any survivors, managing to stumble across a devil fruit along the way before meeting the humandrills.

The Speak-Speak fruit allowed you to become fluent in any language from the moment you heard it spoken aloud—animal language, included.

So, after meeting them on their level, the monkeys took you in, protecting you and treating you as one of their own until Mihawk came along not too long after, taking up the role as your father-figure and mentor.

Naturally, he tried to teach you some swordsmanship, but you lacked... talent, to say the least.

"I've gotten better since the last time we trained together!" you bellowed, proudly, as you picked up a sword, lowering yourself into an offensive stance. "Look!"

"Your posture's off," Zoro noticed, off-rip, "And your feet are too far apart."

Breath hitching, your face glowed with embarrassment, your body practically freezing in place.

'Shit!'

And just as you were trying to prove a point...

"Here," he instructed, getting up behind you and pressing his hand into the small of your back, straightening you up. "Like this."

Your spine shivered at his touch, the thick pads of his fingers practically burning into your flesh, despite the fabric separating them.

"Pull your feet a bit closer... it will firm up your stance... And if you're facing an enemy head on like this, you're gonna want to be upright."

"Okay!" you squeaked, doing your best to make the adjustments without physically combusting.

Carefully, you pulled your feet in shoulder width, and used his hand as a guide to straighten up your posture.

"Good," he commended, his arms suddenly coming around you grab your hands, helping you fix your grip on the sword. "Now when you swing, I want you to step into it."

You felt chills when his hands touched yours, years of work evident in his rough, calloused flesh, which held yours with the gentlest touch.

Turning to glance at him, your eyes came up to meet his once more, telling a story that made you just want to sit down and listen.

You studied his facial features up close—for about the fifty-millionth time—taking note of everything you had come to admire in the last two years.

The slight pink of his tanned lips...

The strength of his jaw...

The faint scar that rested on the tip of his shoulder, not that such a detail could be picked up unless one was really looking.

You felt like the staring going on for ages, but you didn't want to look away, and neither did he.

He, too, was studying your face.

And, deep down, he never wanted to look away.

"Dinner is ready," your father's voice cut through the air, draining all the color from your face.

Instantly, you and Zoro quickly threw yourselves off each other, heat rising to both your faces as you turned away, embarrassed—and slightly scared for the swordsman.

Mihawk fixed Zoro with a sharp glare, sizing him up as if he was some sort of delinquent.

He had been suspicious of you and the swordsman since the moment he arrived, particularly suspect as to why you felt so inclined to help him.

He knew you were a smart girl, and wouldn't disregard everything he had ever taught you about being safe without a valid reason.

A valid reason being a handsome man, in this case.

Still, what was he supposed to expect?

You were a woman now—no matter how difficult it was for him to accept—and women had... needs.

Mihawk shivered at the thought, quickly purging it from his mind as he turned on his heel, power-walking back toward the castle.

Not under his roof...

"Don't dawdle... it'll get cold."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Zoro called, not moving from his spot resting peacefully on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Happy Going Away/Leaving To Reunite With Your Friends Tomorrow Day!" you smiled, carefully entering his room while holding a plate with a comically large onigiri on top, a sparkler sticking out of it. "I know you don't like cake, so I brought the next best thing!"

Warmed by the display, Zoro sat up, trying and failing to fight the smile rising to his lips as you approached.

'Adorable...'

"(y/n)... you didn't have to do all his," he started, not knowing what to say as you handed him his gift.

"I know that. But I figured you deserved something special to commemorate all the hard work you've done," you nodded, sheepishly. "You put up with my dad for two years... of your own free will... that alone is its own achievement."

Letting out a small chuckle, the swordsman suddenly found his eyes drifting to you, only to be met by your pretty, (e/c) eyes staring down at him, the entire room fading around you two.

He barely believed his eyes as he drank you in—your appearance sinful enough to make the devil sweat.

Instead of your usual long, black dress, you wore a tiny, black nightgown, which accentuated your luscious, curvaceous body and exposed the enticing flesh of your thighs.

You paired the little number with some black pumps, which he bet barely made you taller than him if you were to stand up.

The moonlight pouring in from the window illuminated your skin and glossed up, plump lips at curled into a nervous smile at the sight of him.

Topped off with the sweet silkiness of your voice; the way your body sensually moved; how you smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Quietly, Zoro cursed under his breath, practically reeling.

God, if the last two years were anything, they were a testament to his willpower...

He had never felt this way before.

So distracted.

So obsessed.

You plagued his mind every hour of the day, the thoughts ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous.

Seeing you around the castle, watching the movement of your hips and the graceful slide of your hands, making him feel extremely stiff.

'Christ...'

He tried not to think of you like that.

You were the daughter of his sworn enemy, and a sweetheart, at that...

You deserved a nice guy, one that had a regular life, with a regular job and regular urges.

Not a jaded pirate like himself.

But you were just so damn alluring, he couldn't help himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You blinked once, coming out of the trance the man had put you under with a confused raise of your brow.

"Huh?" you asked, dumbly, your mind having turned to mush in the five minutes you were staring at him.

"I said," he pointedly repeated, placing the plate down on his nightstand before standing to his full height, towering over you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Nervous, your manicured hand wrapped around your arm, the swordsman's mind immediately traveling somewhere else.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, eyes drifting away from him.

You tried to think quick, scouring your mind for some sort of excuse as he fixed his gaze on you like a predator would his pray.

You knew you couldn't chicken out now.

Especially after all the work you put into getting ready.

"You come in here..." he started, slowly pressing forward, forcing you to step back in order to keep some air between you two. "Dressed like that... just to give me a going-away present?"

You swallowed, thickly, continuing to move backward as he continued to invade your space, his eye cutting you down to size like a cat does a mouse.

"What are you trying to do?"

You turn away slightly, pulling your soft, glossy lip into a nervous bite.

"I just... wanted to look nice... for you," you muttered, resting your hands behind your back.

"Did you, now?" he cocked a brow. "Y'know... after all this time, I think I've finally got you figured out."

With a squeak, your back met the wall, forcing you to stay put as the swordsman caged you in, his muscular body leaving no route of escape.

"I think... you're a sweet girl, who's never met a pirate before, or been allowed outside the confines of this island, that thinks that she can stick it to her father by flirting with the man who is hellbent on taking him down."

Zoro raised a brow, cockily, a teasing smirk rising to his lips.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Hardly," you denied, a small air of confidence returning the wind to your sails.

It caught his attention immediately.

"I may be sweet... and you may be my father's rival... but you forget that I am I woman."

His breath hitched, eye widening slightly as you pulled yourself off the wall, taking your turn to move forward and regain some ground.

"A woman who's been lonely for quite some time... a woman who enjoys your company more than she'd care to admit... a woman who's never had more fun than in the two years you've lived in her house..."

You rested your hand against his chest, the swordsman scared you would feel his heart beating against his rib-cage.

"A woman who's found herself falling in love with the idiot that crash landed on her island..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed at your boldness, looking away from your intense, (e/c) eyes.

"You don't mean that..." he attempted to rationalize, suddenly unable to comprehend the possibility of you actually liking him.

This had to be a trick.

You were just doing this to piss off your dad...

Right?

You stared at him with hooded eyes, flashing him a bashful, crooked smile that nearly had him melting into the floor.

"If I didn't... do you think I'd be standing here right now?"

The floodgates were opened.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Zoro roughly yanked you forward, pulling you into his chest as you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, holding himself back by the thinnest string of his sanity. "If we do this... there's no going back. And after tomorrow, you won't see me for who knows how long..."

He looked you up and down, giving you a stare that would make any woman weak in the knees.

"You gonna be okay with that?"

Seriously, you nodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes that nearly set his heart on fire.

"Alright, then... no holding back."

And he took "no holding back" with the utmost seriousness, managing to make you cum three times throughout your night in his room.

The first time was on his couch, coaxing you to bend over and let him massage and spank your soft, jiggly ass, which he swore was heaven sent when he plunged his tongue into your velvety folds, relishing in your soft moans and desperate grinds into his face.

The second time was in his bed, your legs pinned down onto the mattress while he tailed you, his cock plunging in and out of you as his arms wrapped around your body, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable while he dicked you down, feeling feral at the sight of your smooth tummy and soft tits.

The third and last time—because your virgin self simply couldn't take anymore—was when he bent you over and fucked you from behind on the foot of his bed.

His hands held your hips while he leaned over, physically holding you up on your jelly-like legs.

Your hands frantically fisted the sheets as he pounded into you, his firm thighs meeting your ass cheeks as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

Because, to him, there wasn't.

"F-Fuck! Oh, my God! Right there!" you sobbed. "Yes, please! Right there!"

He watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, loving how soft you felt pressed against him, and how you sounded moaning from the lips he'd been kissing all night.

"Nuh-uh," he huffed in your ear, leaning down to nip at your lobe. "S'not God that's doin' this, pretty. Who's really makin' you feel good?"

"Zoro!" you moaned, a pitiful whine following after. "H-How are you so good at this?"

He grinned, becoming cocky at seeing you lose your mind on his dick.

"You tell me," he teasingly ordered. "How good am I?"

SMACK!

The sharp sound of his hand connecting with your ass cheek made you let out a harsh groan of pleasure, your pussy clenching around him.

"So good!" you gasped, the sensations too much.

Feeling you tighten around him, Zoro let out a harsh grunt, fighting off the moan ready to leave his lips.

"Christ... body's so fuckin' perfect," he groaned, kneading one of your tits in his calloused hand as he sped up, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. "Look at you... so damn pretty."

"Oh, Zoro! I can't!" you moaned, bottom lip quivering at the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. "I can't...Z-Zoro, m'gunna! M'gunna—!"

"You gonna, gonna what?" he chuckled. "You wanna cum for me again?"

You pathetically nodded, forcing his grin even wider.

"So greedy..."

But so was he.

He would fuck you all night if he could, but he was reaching his limit same as you.

"Cum for me, (y/n)," he ordered, huskily, as he leaned down to your ear, slamming into you harder and you frantically rubbed your clit. "I'm close, too. Rub that little pussy and fuckin' give it to me, baby!"

It doesn't take long for him to blow his load inside of you, flooding you with cum that dripped down your thighs.

His moans of pleasure triggered you, causing your pussy to quiver and flutter around him as you came.

A moan of his name and a few swears left your lips as you rode it out, coating his cock in your sticky juices.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you in a tender moment of bliss.

Pressing his lips against yours, his hand came up to cup your cheek, the embrace feeling like nothing short of a goodbye.

When your highs finally subsided, Zoro gently pulled out of you, making your pussy spurt out his cum.

The sight nearly made him hard all over again.

'Fuuuuck...'

"Sorry," you groggily apologized, already half asleep as you laid down, your half-lidded, (e/c) eyes still sparkling in the moonlight.

Amused by your fucked out state, he scooped you up, effortlessly, carrying you up to the head of the bed and placing you down among the pillows.

With a yawn, he climbed in with you, stomach faintly fluttering as you rested your head on his chest, nuzzling tightly into his side.

"M'gonna miss you, Zoro," you softly said into the quiet, dimly lit room, "...A lot"

Carefully, he rested his hand on your back, his thumb drawing mindless circles into your skin.

As much as he loved this—your company, your touch, you—he knew that come morning, he would still have to leave.

He had a dream, and an obligation to the family he called his crew.

He couldn't just abandon that.

His brows furrowed, a look of determination settling on his face.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make you a promise.

"I'll come back for you," he stated, plainly, without a doubt in his mind. "When I'm the Greatest Swordsman... and when Luffy's King of the Pirates... I'll come back for you. And I'll take you out to sea, and show you all the places you read about in your books."

Looking up at him, your sleepy eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, nearly turning him into a puddle.

"Really?" you asked, adorably.

With a nod, he pecked a soft kiss on your hairline, before leaning back into the pillows.

"Really."

BONUS!!

"Oi, Chuki!" Zoro called as he walked through the ruins, knapsack thrown over his shoulder. "Come out here! I gotta talk to you about somethin'!"

The swordsman had left his room in the wee hours of the morning, managing to wiggle out your grasp and clean himself up before placing a tender goodbye kiss on your forehead, leaving you to sleep.

The previous night introduced some new feelings to him, and if he was going to get a lick of sleep out at sea, he needed to take care of one final thing.

"C'mon! It's about (y/n)!"

At the sound of your name, the large humandrill immediately showed himself, jumping out from behind a stone column with a loud whoop, which sounded eerily like what's wrong.

"With me gone... and with Hawk-Eye on his trips for the Navy... (y/n)'s gonna be on this island all by herself," Zoro started, brows cinched together, seriously.

This was the only thing that was going to quell his worries.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the next few years, but if any pirates, or even the World Government, come stickin' their noses around this place... you send them flyin', you understand?"

Using the handle of his sword, he pointed toward the castle, where you slept peacefully, safe and secure.

"No one goes near her. No one even makes it to the castle. You fight like your goddamn life depends on it, alright? 'Cause it does."

Surprised, the monkey swallowed thickly, especially when the swordsman's eye landed on him with the harshest glare he had ever seen.

Even harsher than Mihawk's.

"I come back here and find out that she got hurt on your watch... you, and all of your monkey pals, are finished... Understand?"

Frantic, and terrified, Chuki chittered in agreement, rigidly saluting the man for confirmation.

With a proud grin, Zoro nodded, continuing on his trek to the shore as he waved to the baboon, along with the hundred others fearfully watching from the trees.

"Good... I'll see you guys around."

[paintedonmyteeth]

Hello!! I've been absolutely obsessed with homicipher lately, and I really love the fanfics and hcs you wrote for the characters so far!! You're a really great writer, your style and aesthetic is honestly so good!

I was curious if you had any headcanons for how Mr. Crawling, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Silvair would be with a cane-user reader that has severe leg pain? Like they typically use a cane to help them walk easier, but sometimes they can feel so much pain in their leg that it becomes too much to walk and they sometimes need to sit down or take a break?

Homicipher characters taking care of reader is one of my favorite types of things to read <3 I hope you have an amazing day!

Homicipher Boys w/ Cane!reader

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHh YES I love the concept gbejbfj and I could def see this as a huge cute thing w/ Mr. Hood especially. 10/10, Homicipher boys taking care of the reader are the best HCs hands down gbejfjwj and tysm it makes me happy to hear that others rlly enjoy my work!!!! :D

Mr. Crawling 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling as the absolute fucking sweetheart he is would want to be the biggest help for you when getting around certain areas of the Ghost Apartments.

⭑.ᐟ — At the same time, Mr. Crawling is also disappointed in himself he can’t be much of a help, it’s difficult for him to stand on his own feet for any longer than a few minutes considering he’s used to crawling around.

⭑.ᐟ — Which also means he can’t carry you :((

⭑.ᐟ — The best he can do however is help avoid any places like the boardwalk room with all the water or anything with a ladder so you’re putting less stress on your muscles and your bad leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling does his best to try in protect you from any hostile residents (eg. the time you got kidnapped by Mr. Stitch), he’s not trusting anybody that’s not Mr. Silvair, or any other residents you’re not familiar with.

⭑.ᐟ — Ofc break times are also a must have so whenever there’s a room that’s safe to take a breather, he’ll basically lead you by the hand to take a seat and give your bad leg a rest. Cuddles are also given for a bonus <3

Mr. Silvair 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair being kind of like the scientist/doctor, he’s pretty much the best source in getting any help you need for your leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Considering meds or painkillers aren’t things that exist in this ghostly dimension, Mr. Silvair tries finding other alternatives in order to alleviate your severe pain in your leg. Maybe try to work and figure out some sort of 'cure' with what resources and tools he has.

⭑.ᐟ — So with getting a few checkups/experiments done on your body (aka the weird thing going on with your body slowly changing due to staying in the Ghost Apartments), Mr. Silvair also checks in once in a while to see how your leg pain is going and suggests in resting whenever needed. You’re basically more than welcome to use his spare beds when you need them most.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair might’ve found something better from the room with all the trashed items like a crutch for example so you can lean your weight on it a little and it’s somewhat easier to walk around.

⭑.ᐟ — Eventually Mr. Silvair found someway to help out with your leg pains, ofc having injections doesn’t look like to be the safest in normal people standards but yk, you’ll take anything you can get to be free from the pain even if it’s for a small while.

⭑.ᐟ — You might not get around much at this point, but whenever you’re in Mr. Silvair’s place you stay around for a little while during your breaks and Mr. Chopped’s just there keeping you company. :)

Mr. Hood 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Hood sees this as no problem at all tbh (It’s practically a W in Mr. Hood’s books).

⭑.ᐟ — Also fuck your cane honestly, he’s not thinking that ofc, but there’s no reason in needing one if Mr. Hood’s going to carry you all the time??? You can always rely on him to bring you to places you want to go.

⭑.ᐟ — You feel bad and selfish for taking advantage of Mr. Hood this way, but he’s honestly not complaining at all if he gets to hold you close like this whenever he wants. He’s not sure what the fuzzy feeling is but he just likes having you in his arms.

⭑.ᐟ — Sometimes you’d insist you’re able to walk on your own with the cane and you don’t need to be carried, Mr. Hood doesn’t think so, and he’ll still carry you anyways even if you don’t want him to.

⭑.ᐟ — It’s just looks so difficult seeing you struggle to get around certain places in the Ghost Apartments, there’s like a handful of dangerous things and you can’t run at all with that bad leg of yours.

⭑.ᐟ — There’s no need to feel guilty, even if Mr. Hood’s not put together or understand what he’s feeling most of the time, he’ll do anything to help out, keep you safe and protected. :))

[waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways]

SVSSS AU where Original Shen Qingqiu | Shen Jiu, from around the time of his death, replaces Shen Yuan in the Water Prison. Luo Binghe is fanatically in love and rather deranged, and he looked away from SQQ for two minutes and comes back to SQQ who is traumatized and missing his limbs, tongue, eye and WHAT THE FUCK DID HUAN HUA DO TO MY SHIZUN??? Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, and Yue Qingyuan are united, both in the absolutely awful time they’re having and their desires to RAZE HUAN HUA TO THE FUCKING GROUND. They’ve got all the demon realms and all the goddamn cultivation sects on their side.

Old Palace Master: *chuckles* I’m in danger!

SJ is has never been this confused in his life, and completely lacks the means to communicate this. LBH and Meng Mo try to search SJ’s dreams to figure out what happened but only find dreams about Luo Bingge. LBH absolutely will not let anybody know this until he’s found whichever monster stole his face.

And then Shang Qinghua gets in on the action. He sees SJ and frankly this is very traumatic for him, like how did things get worse than PIDW?! He promises “Cucumber-bro” that he’ll make sure he ends up in the plant body and now SJ is assumed dead! And Cang Qiong is trying to figure out who is the traitor who killed SQQ, and SQH is sweating buckets trying to pretend it wasn’t him.

___

Meanwhile, where’s Shen Yuan in this? Probably in SJ’s original place. System gives him an error message and then a mission to survive until he can be restored to the SVSSS timeline. He fucking books it and does everything in his power to keep away from LBG. With System being so cooperative, he manages with a lot of near misses.

Where does his side of the plot go from there? The obvious answer is that he manages to thoroughly wife beam LBG between all the near death experiences. The less obvious answer is that SY really gets along with all the many wives, and eventually to protect him they manage to assassinate LBG, Ides of March style. “Et tu, Ning Yingying?”

[venuslarkspur]

guys what if concerning dating history batsis did it with deathstroke.. or rose… WHAT IF HE’S HER SUGAR DADDY LMAO

OMG UR SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH (Bruce is already getting grey hairs from this girl)

LIKE IMAGINE ME THIS ⬇️💗

Batsis and The Tale Of The Sugar Daddy (and gal pal Rose)

Warning: SLIGHT NSFW, canon dc violence, batfam shenanigans.

———————

Bruce: Listen I think it’s good that Batsis!Reader is financially independent now but where is she getting all this cash?

Tim mindlessly typing away: My theory is Roy got her pregnant and now Ollie has to bankroll them.

Damian: That’s ridiculous, they could have just came to father, Drake.

Dick who is sweating cause he knows why: Yeah..you’re probably right Tim..

Tim: What’s wrong?

Jason who is still agitated his sister is not only involved with his ex’s dad but also the ex: I’d tell you, but I was AND still am confused.

———————

- Batsis is definitely Rose’s awakening, she doesn’t care if she dated Jason that’s him fumbling not her.

- Batsis just started off as one of Rose’s friends when the masks were on, she didn’t know she was getting it on with her friends dad of all people.

- It’s difficult for anyone to really refute it when it comes to the age gap, yeah many think it’s gross but when they met she was the same age as Dick. (27-29) so if Bruce finds out not only can he not be argued with, Batsis will also bring up how his exes are just as bad.

- Not bc imagining Deathstroke who is just insanely soft on Batsis, say even if he gets her pregnant he isn’t going anywhere; Rose could use a little sister or brother ig. But y’all are careful, he knows better than to get a Wayne Family Heiress pregnant.

- I don’t write smut but Ik they are FREAKY, the one place they wouldn’t dare do it is Wayne Manor, he is cooked if they’re are caught there. He will have the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, The Batgirls, Robin, Batwoman, Signal and probs more on him at that point. These mfs will let Batsis’s exes know that’s how petty there are about this.

- Imagine waking up with Deathstroke and ur both barely clothed and outside his window is the entirety of the Batfamily, Arsenal, Three Green Lanterns, Zatanna, Wonder Woman, John Constantine, Booster Gold, Harley Quinn and his own daughter are queuing up for first dibs.

- Slade knows about your problem with some of your exes (cough cough Hal Jordan) and aims to help you by drowning you in jewellery and clothes, like that new faux fur coat and boots? Yeah he bought you that, that new pearl and gold necklace with your initials? Yep he got it. That new skirt that’s shoes the perfect amount of thigh? Yep, his. Like all these past flames and flings (HAL JORDAN) know you’re seeing someone.

- Always reminds you how mischievous you are for getting nasty with him whilst being a “figure of honour and importance”, which quite frankly pisses you off, you’ve slept with most of your dad’s colleagues god damn it! He loves that it makes you feisty.

- Rose is super jealous, and you definitely share a heart wrenching goodbye kiss before she wishes you goodbye, you almost went after her before remembering your dinner date tonight and if went well you’d be confident to let your father know of your relationship.

- If your a vigilante, Rose knows your secret identity (wether you’re batgirl or not), Your Sugar Daddy doesn’t know and you quite frankly would rather he not, you make him swear off the Wayne Family all together, but you feel guilty at not being able to protect them when the masks go on.

- We know Batsis has a limit when it comes to his work, so she will break it off eventually, leaving all the dinner dates, passionate nights and shopping behind. You know you make him very happy (mostly aroused) but happy, so he’s always a phone call away, you’re always down for the occasional fling, and your time with him will always never be forgotten, even if you did the right thing, which isn’t your style at all.

- He’s up there with John Stewart and Wally West with top five men you miss but probably wouldn’t date again for different reasons.

—————————

IDK WHY THIS GOT ANGSTY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FUNNY BUT WTH. Life goes on yall 😭🫶

[vrisrezis]

need a part 2 for the atsv love triangle where the reader is actually in love with them and after they get together they tell them about their alter ego 😩

Your wish is my command y’all!

Gwen is was carrying you, bridal style, swinging away with you in her arms. Not that you knew it was gwen anyway. Spiderwoman, upon meeting you, often decided to take you home as a means of protection, because for some reason you decided walking home in the middle of the night was a swell idea. She offered to swing you home as a result. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d say it was because she loved flirting with you so much. She never denied it when you brought it up. Honestly, she’s just not used to such a flustered look on your face, she can’t help herself. Though she does secretly envy how the real her can’t manage you make you all shy and embarrassed like that.

Today though, you seemed rather… off. Something was bothering you, and she could tell. Nothing seemed off at school, so she figured something had to have happened. “What’s got you so upset?” she questions before dropping down on top the roof of a building. “Somebody I gotta knock some sense into?” she asks, putting you down to stand next to her, looking at the scenery before you, it was nice out today. You smile, but even that feels forced. She can’t help but frown under the mask and the worry she carries is radiating off of her. You shake your head, “it’s nothing to worry about” you say before shrugging, “just normal highschool stuff.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired, and you sigh, albeit rather dramatically.” “It’s so stupid.” You admit, but before you can assure you it probably isn’t, you continue “there’s just this girl I really like. More than like. I think I love her.”

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, she feels her heart drop. Girl? Was it her? Spiderwoman? Or some other girl at school? You didn’t talk to many people aside from her, who could it possibly be?

“O-oh..” she says, looking down for a moment. She hopes you don’t hear the crack in her voice. She can’t help her curiosity, she needs to know. “Well.. who is it?” she says, trying to recover as quickly as possible. She nudges you with her elbow, “need to know if they’re good enough for you or just some tool.”

You laugh, and give her a smile. “Her names… gwen..”

“G-gwen?!” she shrieks out, her body stiffening. You don’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.. gwen… gwen stacy…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she eventually grabs onto your shoulder.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?” you ask, confused for a moment, before you see her pull at her mask. Your eyes widen, and you suddenly feel a wash of shame upon seeing who’s under the mask.

However, she gives you a smile.

“I… love you too… by the way..”

Miles had a very simple plan, no big deal at all. All he had to do was confess he was in love with you and then eventually down the line if it works out in his favor, confess to being spiderman. No big deal…..

Or should he do it in the opposite order?

And should he still confess to being spiderman if you two end up staying friends when you reject him?

He has a lot of questions racking his brain, and to be fair he doesn’t think it’s completely unreasonable. Maybe he should’ve told you from the start. Would you even be accepting? Supportive? He’s been lying to you for a whole ass year now, you were kind, but were you that kind? He feels like there’s just no way, right? Then again, you never failed to surprise him.

He doesn’t have time to think about these questions any longer though, as he hears chaos going on outside. Not the normal kind of chaos, this was his cue.

His confession would have to wait a little longer.

—

He’s quick to his feet. Not that spiderman didn’t give it his all when it came to saving civilians, but he saw you in the fray. He bounces from building to building, webbing civilians to safety along the way, he sees you fall and he’s never jumped so fast in his life.

He reaches his hand out to yours, and finally you’re able to grab on and he’s able to pull you into his arms, picking you up bridal style all while in the air.

“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this..” miles mutters to you, and you chuckle lightly. “Yeah well..” she look off to the side, before looking back at him. “You could always take me on a date, miles.”

Miles?

Date?

“Excusemewhatnow?”

as soon as he lands, you manage to escape his grip. Maybe it was because he was so caught off guard, since normally escaping his grasp was near impossible.

“We’ll talk later!”

You were going to be the death of him.

Hobie had enough.

If you weren’t going to figure this out on your own, he was gonna have to tell you.

I mean seriously, he loves you but you are so clueless sometimes and he genuinely wonders if you admire spiderpunk so much that you don’t want to consider he could be your best friend. He wonders if he’s being selfish and if this ruins the imagination for you but at this point he’s too pent up to even care, something he isn’t used to being. He’s typically so honest about the way he feels, never holding anything back. This should be no different.

He leaves his bag zipper carelessly open, in hopes you find it. And you do. He’s busy cleaning up his guitar, but he sees you look at him, then look back at the spider suit in the corner of his eye.

But you say nothing.

You go on about your day like you didn’t just see that.

Is he the one being played?

He eventually decides he needs to simply confront you. There’s no way around it. So he does.

It’s one of those many nights where you two are hanging out, as friends do. You’re both lying on his bed, side to side, he’s writing a song, you’re reading a comic book. He turns over on his right side to look at you, and you do the same on your left side. “Hey.” he whispers, “hey yourself.” you whisper back with a smile. He rolls his eyes.

Just be cool, man. He tells himself.

“You know..” he starts slowly, a bit unsure of the next words that will come out of his mouth, “you know I’m spiderman, right?”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on just how casual that was, to drop some information like that so simply. Then again, he did that constantly. This felt so different though.

“Yeah..” you let out a sigh, and hobie realizes that you really were playing with him the whole time. But before he can rely, you say “you know I’m in love with you, any version of you, right?”

He feels his heart stop for a moment, but he gives no indication that he’s flustered by your words.

“About damn time you said somethin, darlin”

Pavitr thinks about it, over and over and over and over and ov-

He just doesn’t know how to tell you he’s spiderman. He’s been so buys living the life as spiderman, it felt so simple, so easy. Go to school, beat up some bad guys, take some breaks to see you and his auntie, go back to fighting, come home. It was the same everytime and he didn’t seem bored of it, yet.

He hadn’t really gotten to see the consequences of being spiderman.

And then he did, when he nearly lost you. He was only able to save you because miles, gwen, and hobie were there to help him.

And from then on he knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

Things have been.. weird lately, to say the least. Some weird ass dark black abyss in the middle of mumbattan left many civilians curious, including yourself.

Though Pavitr felt like he could explain those bits later, he knew he just needed to tell you what was on his mind.

Because he and you both knew, he had something to say.

Spending time in your room wasn’t a rare occurrence but Pavitr found himself doing it a lot more lately, which in your opinion was good given how busy he’s been lately. You figured he must’ve been freaked out by mumbattan nearly falling apart at the seams, and you tried to be there for him. He made it clear he was there for you, too.

“Y/n I have to tell you something.” he says, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, knowing this would be a serious conversation. He never called you by your actual name, usual nicknames. You nod and place your hand on top of his, and you give him one of your warm smiles. He feels heat rush to his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t let his nerves stop him. He moves his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “I’m…” there’s a pause, and you figure you have to assure him you know.

“You’re spiderman?” you ask, and there’s a moment he looks at you, shocked. His mouth is agape, and you can’t help but smirk. “You know?!” you scoff, “yeah of course I know pav I’m not an idiot!” you say with a laugh, and a lot of his tension dissipates before he remembers what he wants to tell you.

“Well.. while that is true, that isn’t what I was gonna tell you.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

He takes a moment, before blurting it out.

“I’minlovewithyou!” the words all come out jumbled at once and he almost considered repeating himself before you give him a kiss on the cheek. “In love with you too, pav. But I also knew that already.” you say cheekily, “what?! How?!” “You’re not exactly subtle” you shrug.

“Can I have any victory today? Can we start over and you just pretend you didn’t know?”

you smile and shake your head, and he groans.

But honestly, the only reason he’s being so silly right now is so he doesn’t absolutely melt into your hands like putty over the fact you kissed him on the cheek.

[localcanadiancreature62]

Dipper and Mabel vs the Past au (title is a reference to an actual episode in the show) - Timestuck style au where instead of ending up in the time period where the Oregon Trail was being used in The Time Traveler's Pig,Dipper and Mabel end up 30 years into the past and end up uncovering secrets about their Grunkle Stan like WAYYYY earlier than they're supposed to (time travelers pig is s1,not what he seems is s2. they discover things Very Early in the timeline here). Mabel ends up with Ford,Dipper ends up with Stan. Now i know the usual portrayal of this au is "the kids being with their favorite grunkles" but i wanted to do something different cuz i LOVE exploring the dynamics of Dipper with Stan and Mabel with Ford sooo bad. I'm thinking this is set like... Paranoia Ford era aka the events culminating to Stan receiving the postcard,so basically Ford has literally just lost his best friend and also almost had his fucking tendons snapped and now he has to deal with a child who is apparently his great niece in the future while simultaneously protecting the child from Bill,Ford has a lot on his plate lmaooo.

Meanwhile Mullet Stan is down on his luck as he lives in his shitty rundown apartment while trying to avoid Rico due to owing him money that he currently doesn't have,he's miserable as ever and then a child with a hat as well as a striking resemblance to his brother suddenly appears in his car when he was out shoplifting groceries,having to take care of it when he can barely take care of himself. Angst and hurt/comfort + a few wholesome moments ensue. Ford finds himself getting attached to his young niece even when he's incredibly highstrung and feels that he can't trust anyone right now,seeing that such a bright and caring soul is worth trusting. Mabel eventually finds out about Bill after the bastard possesses Ford while she was trying to give him a better sleep schedule,and the girl makes it her mission to protect her other grunkle (like i said. they figure things out way early here) from that bastard after realizing that this pointy jerk wants to hurt him as evident from the fork stabbing and Ford's journal pages regarding him being tormented by Bill (bro the funniest thing is that Bill doesn't even appear yet in this current part of the timeline lmaoo. like dreamscapers happens WAYYY AFTER the time traveler's pig. so Mabel basically just saw a triangle dude that she knows nothing about and has never met and decided that she needs to fight for her life to protect Ford from him despite ALSO not knowing anything about her other grunkle either). Mabel helps Ford slowly get himself back together as Bill is biding his time to eventually get the portal started again one way or another,meaning that Bill is too busy planning things out to torment Ford,thus Mabel chooses self care for her Grunkle Ford and makes it his problem, trying to force Ford to get out of the house for groceries or at least give him a few minutes to touch grass rather than being cooped up in his dumb dork lab all day making him shower giving him a better sleep schedule and even making cupcakes for him so he can eat things besides moldy cheese or strange tasting alien cow milk (reference to that one real life journal 3 page with the weird cow). Ford is actually very shocked and touched by this gesture,because he has been spending weeks all by himself while being actively tortured without anyone by his side but now this girl suddenly makes his life a little brighter and he thanks her for that,despite him being strict snappy and moody most of the time due to being stressed from Bill and the portal (i can't really blame him for feeling that way. i too would feel my sanity slipping as the looming threat of the apocalypse going to be eventually caused by my former muse is getting nearer and nearer while said muse is also torturing me 24/7 all while juggling self care and research and taking care of a whole child to top it all off),bro is close to tears when he realizes that he's not alone after all and that he doesn't HAVE to be alone,and that he actually needs someone rather than not needing people like what he said,i.e "I don't need you. I don't need anyone!" and Mabel is right there to help him. Mabel ends up wearing 80s clothes as well as stops using her phone in public in order to not draw suspicion after Ford pointed out that people would get pretty confused by her glowing shoes and "advanced flip phone",meanwhile Ford tries to figure out how to find the time tape that the girl speaks of as he starts to study time travel and relearn the laws of time in order to help Mabel as he plans on possibly building a makeshift time machine to replace the tape in the case that they never find it.

So far Mabel is doing pretty well despite having to deal with her snappy Grunkle Ford and the fact that her Grunkle Stan was lying about her and Dipper being the only family he has left as well as the fact that she actively has to ignore every trick that Bill pulls on her including possession by using unicorn hair that is now a hair extension on her own hair (early discovery) while also trying to not die/get grievously injured at the hands of Bill or Bill possessed Ford and ALSO greatly missing her brother who is nowhere to be found as she can't find a way home to her time as she begins to experience literally disappearing very slowly as a result of a time paradox of her being in a time before she was even born,what fun! :D.

Dipper however,has worse problems to deal with than a demon triangle and a snappy Grunkle. He has to deal with being homeless and being even MORE anxious/guarded than he already was due to the fact that his Grunkle Stan's enemies could jump him any moment. He has to be Stan's accomplice in committing crimes like shoplifting or pickpocketing people for food and money. The fact that Stan is a criminal and that he has to commit crimes with the risk of getting caught or worse,killed by his Grunkle's old "friends" puts a lot of weight on the poor boy,and he was anxious as is with him generally being highstrung and now he has EVERY reason to be afraid due to him being a runaway criminal with Stan. Although having to live a hard life and commit difficult crimes even when it's wrong ended up toughening Dipper up,showing that dealing with the hard and fast life boosted his confidence tenfold. Dipper actually feels bad for his Grunkle Stan,even when the guy kept making fun of him back then (i.e Dipper vs manliness and the bottomless pit stories),as he had NO IDEA that his Grunkle lived like this before. So he makes sure to be as helpful and as less of a burden as possible,just to make his Grunkle Stan happy. Heck,he even becomes protective of his Grunkle despite his weak nerd arms and he has gotten injured for the grifter's sake multiple times such as the time he got a lot of scrapes and bruises from trying to rescue Stan from falling in a ditch as he ended up falling himself instead. Stan is glad to have a little buddy around him,especially when the kid is his future nephew and thus family,since he's been suffering all by himself for so long and he really appreciates the company. He really wishes that he could help Dipper regarding the whole time tape situation,but only Ford could know what to do as he's too dumb to understand time travel (Stan ur inferiority complex is showing). So he figures that the only way he could help is to just watch out for a weird looking tape measure with an hour glass symbol on it and steal it immediately from whoever has it (the time tape has actually ended up with Blendin after he used a spare time tape to look for the other one that the kids have [he needs to return those. he'll get in trouble for losing a single one],and he's been looking for the children for a while so that he could bring them back to their own time as their very presence in the 80s is a time anomaly and thus he wants to fix it before he gets in trouble with the time police).

Dipper ALSO forces Stan to take care of himself,although to a lesser extent than Mabel with Ford. He doesn't do any heavy duty self care work,but he more so reminds Stan to consider himself too whenever they have food or beds to share instead of just letting him have everything and sacrificing the little stability he already has for the kid. Dipper also tries to give them a better lifestyle at some point by convincing Stan to rent a house and also steal wads of cash from an ATM just to give him a taste of a normal life again since he feels bad for his Grunkle having to sleep in his car or a shitty apartment all the time,Stan literally cries from this gesture as he's so happy to have someone besides Ford finally care about him after 10 years of being alone. He discovers that he doesn't have to be alone and push people away despite wanting someone to care so bad,as Dipper is there to help him.

The two happily live in the rented house for a few weeks until they the landlord kicked them out for not paying rent and then they had to make a run for it. Sometimes,being with Dipper physically pains Stan because of how much he reminds him of Ford. He has the same bright curiosity and thirst for knowledge that his brother had,the same innocence and happiness that Ford had before everything happened. Stan missing Ford is so evident to the point of him occasionally calling the kid "Poindexter" because of how much the boy reminds him of his twin. Dipper finds out about Ford sooner or later because of this,plus he ends up discovering the old picture of Stan and Ford in front of the Stan o' War in his Grunkle's jacket.

He gets angry at the future old Stan for never telling him about his brother and that he had another Grunkle,but he soon realizes why after young Stan explains the whole ordeal he has with Ford regarding the science fair incident. Stan himself points that out too. "What the- You- You had a brother this whole time?!. How come your future self never told me about this?!. What other things is he hiding?. Ugh." "Well,kid. If i know myself,i wouldn't go around telling everyone about the drama i have with my brother y'know?. Especially when it still hurts *sniff*." "What?. What do you mean 'drama'?. Actually,is that the reason why you're living like this and you don't ask him for help?." "Uhh.. You see,my brother is a stubborn jerk. So stubborn that he decided to go to college instead of staying with me. And he let Dad kick me out because of what?. Breaking his dumb perpetual motion machine project?." Stan says in frustration as the resentment is oozing with his every word,as he still doesn't forgive Ford for what he did even with how much he misses him. "Oh.. That's awful. I don't really know the full scope of what happened between you two,but i can say that it's that bad considering that you ended up living on the streets soon after." "Ya think?. As far as i'm concerned,that nerd is living it up in a normal house with his dumb college money instead of sleeping out in a car all the damn time." "And kid,there's a reason why the older me didn't tell you anything. Whatever happens to us in the future,that bastard STILL didn't talk to me about our problems. As him- er me not talking about it means that the resentment is still simmering inside." "Ah,figures. I guess you really are Grunkle Stan instead of some random dumb hobo with how wise you are." "Can it Dippy. I wasn't the one crying over losing a hat yesterday." "Hey!. I- It's my signature accessory,i can't go without it" "Yeah yeah whatever". Also,Dipper and Mabel greatly miss the other. The kids' determination to get back to their twin no matter what cost reminds their respective Stans that they used to be like that too back then,always prioritizing their twin over everything else.

Mabel always makes little doodles of her and Dipper's adventures together in her new 80s scrapbook which Ford catches her doing,meanwhile Dipper rambles about how fun and supportive Mabel is to Stan whenever they have a break from being on the run. Stan feels conflicted over letting the boy constantly talk about how great his sister is when his own sibling is a good for nothing bastard but it also makes him think that maybe he and Ford can be like that again sometime whenever he finally gets the courage to call him or send a postcard to him,Ford on the other hand ignores Mabel's Dipper doodles and occasional rambles about her brother while making an excuse about him being "too busy" to hear about it despite the real reason being that he's too angry at Stan to keep being reminded of the fact that they used to be as close as his future niece and nephew. Both younger twins realize that they NEED to get their Grunkles to talk to each other since it's painful to see a set of siblings like them hate each other so much,especially when they're family, although Mabel is more insistent about it than Dipper due to the fact that Stan has bigger fish to fry than making up with his brother plus the girl is more optimistic than her brother who thinks that Stan and Ford's relationship is broken beyond repair and that there's no hope for them. But getting their Grunkles talk to each other is a job for another time,as they still have to find each other and also find the time tape as well as blend into the 80s until they get back.

(i made this au forever ago. but i forgot to finish it until like November or show it to anyone until now 💀)

[cutebat]

Hii!❤️🖤

This is my first request ever, and sorry if it's not really something you feel like writing, but I really live your writing style and I think that you write the boys the best! (And this thoughts been eating away at my brain for a bit)

So what if the bat's take in a little reader who seems super innocent and she (it doesn't have to be a she if ya don't want) has Deadpool's healing abilities. Like she just casually gets a limb cut off in a fight trying to protect one of the boys and she acts like nothing really is wrong- or she gets shot in the head and sits up a minute later and straight up laughs seeing everyone's sheer panic because she has the same mindset as a gremlin wanting to thrive in the chaos. Do ya think the boys will let her go on missions with them due to her not being able to die? Or will they try (and probably fail) to lock her away in the manor for her own good?

Warnings: Yandere, manipulation, a little bit of blood, accidentally hurting someone, using powers for the wrong people

Spoilers for my original Batgirl story!

After your father was banished and your mother imprisoned, you were now under the roof of the League of Assassins, living with Lady Shiva. Throughout your life, you've been treated like an outcast by basically everyone at that exact area she had to spend your childhood at.

During those times, something felt strange about you.

Whenever one of the assassins came back injured, you curiously stepped forward them and placed your hand onto their wound. The next second, it was gone. The wound.

The next thing happening is you being in the medical bay, in the room full of injured assassins.

One of them told you to touch an injured assassin with a damaged leg. You were hesitant, but you were forced to step forward and place your hand onto the leg. The next second, it was healed.

You were then tested to see what kind of symptoms you have, and the results turned out that you have the ability to heal any kind of injury once you touch it.

Every time when an injured assassin comes back from a job, Shiva would make you stop what you are doing and quickly place your hand on that bloody part of their body, disgusting or not.

However, there are some side effects to your special abilities.

Each time you heal a person, your energy will decrease rapidly, which means you can't heal more and more people.

Eventually, you grew of being used like this. So, you decided to run away.

It was basically a risk of your life, but you eventually made it out of the city of 'Eth Alth'eban and tried to find yourself a new home.

As soon as you landed in Gotham City, you were basically trying to hide yourself from the world. You tried hiding yourself in various abandoned buildings, alleyways, etc.

Until you found a tall figure looming over your crouched form.

"Are you alright?"

The deep voice asks as he reaches out to you, which makes you jolt away and hide behind some trash bags.

However, the figure pulled your small frame out of your hiding spot and held you like an injured kitten.

"It seems that you've been out here for quite a long time. Come on, let me bring you home."

He tells you before he walks off with you, shaking in his arms as he makes a call.

"Alfred, bring everyone back at the manor. We finally found her."

~~~~~

I'm sorry if this was too short!

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (14) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you try to reconcile your feelings. (you fail.) 

word count: 1,510

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another shorter chapter, she’s hot and she’s cold she’s yes and she’s no (reader is struggling to figure her feelings out), pet name (petal), not proofread

When you awoke, Coriolanus was gone. Your husband, anyways. Coriolanus the Cat perched himself on your chest, peering down at you. You allowed yourself to laugh, and you scratched behind his ears. Coriolanus the Cat gave a satisfied purr before hopping down and nestling himself on the stiff mattress. You wish you could say you had a good night’s rest, but between your conflicting feelings for your husband and the run-down inn you found yourself in, there was much left to be desired. 

“Do you know where your father’s gone, baby?” you asked Coriolanus the Cat as you sat up. 

He hissed and smacked his paw against the pillow Coriolanus rested on you. A loyal little thing, he was. You were certain that he had developed a distaste for Coriolanus after hearing you rant to your lady’s maid so many times. You almost felt bad about it, except it was entertaining to see Coriolanus so jealous over a cat. 

“Ah, he’s run away to join a circus? And didn’t think to ask us to join? Pity. I think I would have made an excellent trapeze artist.” 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. You selected a dress from the trunk—the simplest one of you could find, in terms of putting it on—and changed out of your nightclothes. As you tightened the laces, there was a knock at the door. 

“Breakfast is about to be served.” Coriolanus said from the other side of the door. 

“Just a moment! I’m nearly dressed.”

There was silence for a moment. You thought that Coriolanus had left already when you heard, more quietly, “Do you need any help?”

Was he offering to help you himself? Sure, you had asked for his help last night. But the staff had already moved to the stables. You weren’t going to make someone run out to the stables and drag them back through the pouring rain just so you could get undressed. 

“I can find your lady’s maid for you,” Coriolanus added. 

Oh. 

“That’s alright,” you said, tying off the laces. You took a breath, then glanced in the mirror in the corner of the room. Your hair was a right mess. It had been styled yesterday in an updo that was easier for travel but, after you failed to take it down before going to sleep, it looked like you had been the one to sleep in the stables. You took down the few parts that remained up then ran your fingers through the strands. It didn’t look good, but it was manageable. At least until after breakfast ended and your lady’s maid ushered you back into the room to style your hair. 

You opened the door and greeted Coriolanus with a tight-lipped smile. His mouth fell open for the briefest second as he looked at you. His gaze settled on your hair, and he reached for a loose strand that fell over your shoulder. He twisted the lock between his fingers, a soft smile on his face. 

“When we get to the cottage, you should wear your like this.” He looked up at you, his blue eyes nearly twinkling. “You are beautiful.”

You cursed your heart for stuttering in your chest.

After breakfast, you were back on the road again. You twirled a lock of your hair between your fingers as you looked out the carriage’s window. Perhaps against your better judgment, when your lady’s maid came to twist your hair back into its updo, you waved her off. Said something about how it didn’t matter how your hair looked on your honeymoon. You hated the way butterflies fluttered in your tummy when Coriolanus saw you, still wearing your hair down. 

Damn him. And damn you, too. 

You tried to ignore Coriolanus’s eyes on you. Focused on anything other than him. But Coriolanus’s gaze never strayed. A hole would soon burn into the side of your head if he didn’t look away. You allowed yourself one glance, out of the corner of your eye, at him. His brows were pinched together, as if he was trying to figure you out. Like you were a puzzle and he still needed to slot pieces into place.

“Whatever I have done to offend you,” he said, noticing your glance, “I am deeply sorry for. I want to make things rights, petal.”

How could you explain that he’d done nothing wrong, yet everything wrong all at the same time? Coriolanus was…You didn’t even know how to describe him. For so many years, he was the bane of your existence. He made you grind your teeth together over every argument, over every petty thing. When you realized you would have little choice in marrying him, you were resigned to a loveless marriage. Sure, you could find happiness elsewhere. It did bring you intense joy in getting under his skin. But, something changed. Was it him? Was it you? 

You weren’t sure. All you knew now was that, when you looked at Coriolanus, there was a strange sort of warmth in your chest. With every soft smile and declaration that you were all that mattered…It felt like he meant it. And you weren’t sure that you would like it if he did. Your entire life, it felt, was knowing Coriolanus as a rival. What it mean for you if you had always been the object of his affection? His obsession? 

“You haven’t done a thing,” you admitted. It was only half-true. 

“I don’t understand.”

Neither did you. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you said, “I’m tired.”

Coriolanus reached for your hand. You couldn’t find it in you to pull away from him. He moved across the carriage, quickly, taking the seat beside you. Coriolanus the Cat hissed and swatted a paw at him, but he paid his son no mind. Coriolanus intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Help me understand.”

What do you say to that? Is there anything that can be said? You squeezed your eyes shut more, so hard that you could see stars. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I would prefer the truth, petal. But even if you must spare me with a lie, I would appreciate it nonetheless.”

Fuck him. Fuck him for sounding so sweet. Where was the man, the boy, who tore people apart with just his words? Who schemed his way right to the very top? Why were you burdened, blessed, with a man so kind? 

You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you admitted, “You confuse my thoughts, Coryo. I think I know you, but then you go and do something that changes everything I think of you. And it’s so frustrating, because I hate not knowing. I hate the uncertainty of it so much.”

You felt a cold hand on your face, turning you towards him. Coriolanus’s thumb stroked your cheek. He remained silent until you opened your eyes. You prayed that they didn’t look as glassy as they felt. “All you need to know about me is that I love you, and I would do anything for your happiness. If you wish to spend your every moment away from me, tucked away in a library, I will let you. If you never want to lie with me again in bed, I will learn to live with it. If you decide to never speak another word to me, I will cherish the times you did. You are everything.”

“And what if that’s the most unbelievable part of it all?”

“What? That I love you?” Coriolanus frowned. “After all this, you still think I’m heartless?”

“After all this, I don’t know what to think. You can be so kind, but in the same breath, be so cruel.”

“Only to those who deserve it,” Coriolanus said. “Is this about Sejanus?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he would bring him up now. Not that you could really blame him. You were hardly making sense. “I’m talking about me, Coryo. We were nothing short of rivals at the Academy. To learn that you have asked for my hand since we were eighteen…That you have loved me all this time…I cannot reconcile the man who would fight with me in the classroom with the man who stood before me at the altar.”

“I was a fool then,” he said. “I would have done anything for a scrap of your attention. I still would. But when we were younger…The only way you would ever look at me was when we fought. I thought, if that’s what it took for you to notice me, then that’s person I will play.”

“I don’t know that I can believe you.”

“Then let me spend every day for the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

You didn’t say anything, because you couldn’t think of anything else to say. For the remainder of the journey, neither you nor Coriolanus said a word. But, you also didn’t let his hand go the entire time either. 

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 3

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.3k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

TW for this Chapter: roofies/drugging, attempted assault

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s the night of the party and everything seems to be going well at first. However, after a close call, Ghost decides that he needs to keep you safe by any means necessary. You don’t oppose any of his ideas. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8

The dress felt tight around your waist as the maids zipped you in. It flowed out in other places, but the cinched waist was so tight that it made it almost hard to breathe. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this. Your mother always picked out party dresses that showed off your figure. Forced a figure sometimes. You did always look beautiful at the end of getting ready, though you were always eager to undress by the end of the night. 

As the maids finished styling your hair, the door to your temporary bedroom opened up to reveal a man that you almost didn’t recognize. If it wasn’t for the skeleton-jaw face mask, you would’ve mistaken Ghost for a different man. A warm blush crept along your cheeks.

His dirty blonde hair was stylishly tousled in all the right places. His navy eyes seemed brighter without the black warpaint and full balaclava as well. There was a scar cutting through one of his bold brows, but it only made him oh so much more ruggedly handsome. All of that combined with a simple, black suit had your heart fluttering. 

Ghost was feeling the same way as soon as he saw you in your formal dress. A rather modern, yet elegant dress perfect for a modern yet elegant princess such as yourself. He had to clear his throat before speaking lest his voice would crack due to light nerves. “Almost ready?”

“I believe so. We are just doing some finishing touches.” You explained, familiar with the maids’ routine when it came to pampering you. As the last tendrils of your hair were in place and jewelry was secured on your person, you graciously thanked the maid for all of their help. Many of them fawned over you, admiring both your beauty and their finished work. The compliments made you blush, but you remained humble. You wouldn’t have looked nearly as good without their efforts. 

Ghost escorted you to the ballroom where the party was being held. Before you opened the doors though, you paused to take a deep breath. You were nervous to meet so many people, especially the man that your parents wanted to marry you off too. You didn’t even realize that your hands were trembling with anxiety.

Your bodyguard noticed, though. He began to notice almost everything about you since the night you played piano freely in the moonlight. “Everything is going to be okay, Princess Y/n. I’ll be watching over you the entire time. If we need to leave earlier, we can do that as well.”

You let out a shaky breath and gave him a light smile. Though, it was hard to look at him with how handsome he was. “Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost. Truly.” 

As soon as the doors to the ballroom opened, all eyes were on you. Every man, woman, and child were watching your every move as you entered the party. Everyone was dressed formally. A small orchestra played live music for the party. Plenty of flowers, tables, and silver platters of champagne were available everywhere. Your parents eagerly waved you over to where they were, a decently handsome man in their little group. That must have been the bachelor. 

“You look ravishing, dear! Very pretty in your dress. This gentleman here is Duke Theodore. He has been waiting to meet you.” Your mother played up, taking care to ensure that her loving, motherly facade was set firm. No one was the wiser except you. You could tell that she disapproved of something in regards to your appearance based on how her gaze on you became icy. Thankfully, your father was a little warmer with his honest approval, a proud grin on his face as he took in your formal wear. 

The Duke held out an open hand, a gesture that you couldn’t refuse in front of your parents. Once your hand was in his, he raised it to his lips. The feeling of his chapped lips on the back of your hand made you tense up. Ghost, who diligently watched from a safe distance, felt tension too along with a steady fire that rose from the pits of his soul. While he promised that he wouldn’t let this guy touch you, he had to obey the etiquette here. You had told him that you approved of the common greetings already as well. 

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Y/n. I’ve heard many good things about you.” Duke Theodore tried to converse. Every word out of his mouth was sickly sweet, disingenuity clear as day to your ears. You knew immediately from the way he looked and spoke to you that he saw you as a prize. Already, you knew that you hated him. 

If only you could call him out. Instead, you kept up appearances and faked a smile like you have done for every party guest since the day you were forced to attend these vanity projects your parents loved. “It is lovely to meet you as well, Duke Theodore.”

“Princess Y/n has many talents. She is very diligent with her studies, is committed to learning the piano, and always does what she is told!” The queen chimed in, pitching you to him as if you were a product to sell. Duke Theodore’s cold eyes lit up a little at the reveal. 

“Is that so? It seems like she is indeed a proper young lady then. I am excited to get to know her very well.” He replied, his subtly sinister smile making goosebumps run up your arms. 

He attempted to reach for your hand, eager to pull you in to drag you to the dancefloor. However, a strong, firm hand stopped him. When he looked up, he was startled to see a pair of cold, angry eyes that stared daggers into him. Ghost had finally come to your rescue, finally keeping his word. His tone was equally spine-chillingly cold. “All party guests will refrain from touching the Princess unless it is for a simple, common greeting or if she permits it first.”

Your heart swelled as your bodyguard protected you directly. No verbal warning first with a lack of bite. Ghost’s grip was firmly on the Duke’s wrist, ready to break it if he really wanted to. And God, did he really, really want to. From the moment he dared to kiss your hand, make you have goosebumps, Ghost wanted to break every bone in his fucking hand. 

The king and queen quickly tried to save face. Your father gestured for Ghost to let go, to which Ghost slowly did. “Pardon our daughter’s bodyguard! He takes his job of protecting her very seriously. Lieutenant Ghost, this man is trusted. There is no need for such aggressive protection.”

You fought the urge to defend Ghost. To pipe up and reveal that you requested his protection like this. However, one look from Ghost told you that it was fine. He was expecting this kind of push back from your parents. And he wasn’t going to back down. “This protection is absolutely necessary, your Majesty. Unless the princess herself approves, then no one will lay a finger on her more than what is just basic courtesy.”

Some eyes from party guests began to watch the scene unfold. Any amount of drama brought them in like buzzards to a corpse. Already, gossip began to erupt through little whispers. 

Clicking her tongue, your mother saved the scene, not wanting this to turn into a real altercation. “Let’s all calm down now! You know, we just love our daughter so much that we decided to hire such a devoted bodyguard. He comes from a military background, so it isn’t his fault that he can’t let a little loose for the night.”

“I see. Well, thank you for your service, Mr. . ?” The Duke awkwardly laughed, also trying to salvage the situation that would make him seem like he was innocent in all of this. 

“Lieutenant Ghost. You will address me by my title of Lieutenant.” Ghost subtly threatened. 

While everything went down, you just stood complacent behind Ghost, unsure of what to do or say. Truthfully, you were loving the way Ghost was protecting you at the moment. How he was sticking it to both your parents and the man that you already didn’t trust. Saying so in front of everyone was sure to get you into serious trouble with your parents later, though. 

While it wasn’t fair that Ghost had to fight your battles for you, you had no choice. Especially not during a party. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant, for protecting me so diligently. I should be okay now.” You finally reassured, your response to the ordeal graceful as you praised Ghost for his work while also catering to the pressure on your shoulders.

Your parents seemed satisfied with your response. Duke Theodore especially seemed happy with how you handled your words. Before backing off though, Ghost looked at you, searching for any sign that you want him to just whisk you away right now. He would do it in a heartbeat if you so much as looked hesitant to continue the party. When you seemed sure of yourself, he finally backed off, retreating to his safe distance. 

Party guests returned to their conversations, disappointed that drama didn’t unfold more to gossip about. However, they did spread compliments on how well the situation was handled. Of course, praise of your parents’ devotion to protect you didn’t fail to reach their ears, inflating their egos. 

“Well then, shall we dance with your consent, Princess?” The Duke offered, his tone slightly bitter now that he had to ask first. Not even wanting to touch him again with a ten-foot pole, you instead made a graceful excuse that should take up most of the one hour you had to be here for.

“My apologies, Duke Theodore, but I must refuse your offer for now. I think it would be wise to partake in a few hors d'oeuvres to gain some energy for dancing. I would hate to only give you a single dance if you wish for more.” You cleverly excused, quite proud of yourself for such a simple plan. 

Thankfully, the bachelor and your parents seemed to buy it. Duke Theodore grinned as if he won the lottery. “Of course! How considerate of you, Princess. We shall eat and enjoy some private conversation then.”

Your parents split off to socialize with the other guests while you and the Duke grabbed some plates and drinks to take to a private balcony. Normally, you would have refused to converse in private. However, Ghost presence, even from a little distance, made you feel secure. There was no doubt in your mind now that he would run to your rescue if you needed him. He would be listening to the entire conversation anyways without the bachelor knowing it too.

The night air was crisp and cool, providing a comfortable temperature for what was a late summer season. Stars painted the sky as far as the eye could see. Music from strings, winds, and brass traveled out to the balcony, setting a rather easy mood. While you nibbled on the small hors d'oeuvres on your porcelain plate paired with a golden flute of champagne, Duke Theodore tried his hand at conversation once more. 

“So, Princess, how far along are you in learning the piano?” He started innocently enough.

“I know the basics along with some simple classical pieces. I hope to one day play more complex pieces such as Fantaisie by Chopin.” You lied as if it was second nature to you. Hidden behind a red curtain just near the balcony entrance was Ghost who listened to you lie with ease. A part of him was proud of you for keeping such a secret. A part of him also felt rather giddy at the realization that he was probably the only person in the world that knew your secret. 

He wanted to keep it that way. 

“Ah, a classic and known to be a difficult piece to learn. I’m sure that if you keep up with practice, you will learn it in no time. I myself am a fan of Nocturne in E flat Major. A very romantic piece. Do you appreciate romance, Princess Y/n?” He continued, his tone shifting from polite to mischievous subtly that you picked up on immediately. 

Treading carefully, you answered. Though, you did avert your gaze to the stars as you felt uncomfortable looking him in the eyes. “I do enjoy romantic pieces greatly. Clair De Lune and Gymnopédie are a couple of my favorites. While they may not be overly complex pieces to learn compared to some, there is beauty in simplicity.”

“Right. Love does not need to be so complex. I am happy to hear that you can appreciate the simplicities in romance. I take it that you prefer it when people are straightforward then?” He pushed, his tone hinting at something you didn’t like. 

“I do like it when people are straightforward, but there's also something to love about complexities. Noticing extra efforts to create beauty should be recognized as well. The melody must match the harmony, after all.” You elaborated, hoping that he would pick up the hint that you weren’t such a simple woman to win over. You expected him to put in a real, kind effort into earning your affections if he really wanted it.

He didn’t get the hint. “You are quite right. I will be upfront then. I am curious to know how far your romantic knowledge extends to.”

You nearly choked on your champagne. “Pardon me?”

Ghost was close to stepping in, not liking Duke Theordore’s insinuation whatsoever. In fact, he wanted to punch the guy right in the jaw. Before he could intervene, however, a server bumped into him. Champagne spilled all over his suit while crystal glass shattered on the marble floor. The server profusely apologized, pulling out a handkerchief for Ghost to use. 

Distracted by the sudden mess, he missed some of the next pieces of conversation you were having with the inappropriate bachelor. “You don’t have to play coy with me, Princess. I bet you haven’t even had your first kiss yet, let alone more than that.”

Panic started to rise in you, your stomach tying itself into knots as your instincts screamed for you to get away from him. You were baffled at how nonchalantly talked about your romantic life. “This conversation is incredibly inappropriate, Duke Theodore! I-”

“You are to be my wife soon, so I don’t see how this conversation is inappropriate. Early? Sure. But I just want to make sure that my wife truly is a virgin. Don’t you think that is fair?” He justified, a malicious smirk on his lips. 

Just as you began to protest some more, your head suddenly felt woozy. Your vision began to turn fuzzy and your strength dropped like heavy weights. It suddenly began to get hard to stand, your hands holding yourself up on the balcony rail. A pair of hands landed on your shoulders, making your blood run cold. “You know, if you won’t tell me outright, I don’t mind checking myself. I think I would like to finally have that dance you owe me now.”

Your brain blacked out for a moment, your body following along with the bachelor without you knowing. No one bat an eye, not even your parents, as he guided your body out of the party, figuring that the both of you were simply already madly in love with each other. Besides that, they did trust the Duke to remain gentlemanly. He was a Duke after all. 

When Ghost finally managed to get the server to fuck off, his heart dropped when you were missing from the balcony along with the bachelor. Blood ran like ice through his veins. He ran to the balcony, calling out your name as if doing so would suddenly make you reappear. When he noticed your half drunken champagne glass still on the rail, he examined it carefully. 

His eyes widened as he noticed tiny flecks of powder that haven’t completely dissolved yet float with the bubbles. An untrained eye wouldn’t have noticed the powder whatsoever. Especially not a princess that wasn’t exposed to the outside world. His mind raced to dangerous places as he scrambled to look for you. 

Reentering the party, he tried to look through the crowd for you or that damned duke. After trying to see through the crowd, he grew frustrated. There were too many fucking people at this party! Your life was in danger and your parents invited so many people to their fucking palace!

Having enough of it, he pulled out his pistol that he kept hidden under his suit jacket. With a booming voice and gun aimed, he gave orders. He didn’t give a shit if he made a scene. “Everyone get down on the ground now! That’s an order!”

There were screams of panic as everyone dropped like flies, obeying the command as their lives depended on it. Now with better vision, Ghost was able to scan the crowd better for you. When he still didn’t see you, he nearly became weak in the knees from devastation. To no one in particular, he called for witnesses. “Where did the princess or the duke go?! Someone answer me now!”

“Please, Lieutenant! Let’s just calm down and-” The king tried to take back control only for Ghost to fire his gun into the air as a warning, the sound echoing throughout the ballroom. He didn’t care if he was terrifying everyone. Traumatizing them even. All he cared about was finding you before it was too late. 

“WHERE?!” He demanded, this time louder and more aggressive. 

“Th-They left! They went out those doors!” Someone finally spoke up, pointing to one of the exits that led to a long hallway. 

Ghost wasted no time weaving through the crouched crowd to storm the hallways. As soon as he entered them, he heard nothing but silence. He called your name again, hoping to a god that you were conscious enough to hear him scream for you. There was no way you could have left the palace yet. With how huge this place was, there was still time before Ghost could figure that you were truly gone. His hands shook at the idea before he clenched his fists tight over his gun that he still carried. Leaning into his earpiece, he called for extra security to search for you. No one was to come in or out of the palace no matter what. 

He didn’t think he would be this shaken up on the off chance that you were harmed. Now that it was happening though, it was like a living nightmare. 

As your bodyguard continued his search for you, you drifted in and out of consciousness inside a private gallery room. Pieces of valuable art ranging from portraits to landscapes hung along the walls around you as you lay down on a classic chaise lounge. It felt like white noise was flooding your senses. Your limbs tingled like static electricity. 

All you could think about in your moments of consciousness was how you wished Ghost was here. 

A finger traced up your cheek, catching a tear you didn’t even know you shed. Out of the corner of your blurry eyes, you watched Duke Theodore lick the salty tear off his finger. “No need to cry, Princess. You should be happy. Not only do you get to lose your virginity to a man with a high pedigree, but you will experience life outside these walls right after. I know that you have been stuck here your whole life. You must be dying to leave, at least for a little while.”

“There are some people that are dying to meet you too, you know? People on the outside. They aren’t unreasonable people. They just have different views on how this country should be run. If they meet you and your parents give them the power they seek, then you and I will be free to do whatever we wish. Of course, as my promised wife, I will make sure you are taken care of. As long as you agree to my own needs.”

You felt fingers lightly trace the length of your neck to your collar. You felt disgusting as he treated you like not only a piece of meat to eat, but as a bargaining chip too. 

From outside the hallway, you could hear the echoes of Ghost calling for you desperately. Duke Theodore must’ve heard him too by the way he sucked his teeth. “That bodyguard of yours is quite a thorn in my side. I suppose that’s what you get when you are up against someone from the military.”

As you heard the calls get louder and closer, you began to muster up your strength. You didn’t have much of it from whatever was in your champagne, but you were trying to save as much of it as you could nonetheless. With the right timing to use it, it could save you. 

Right when it sounded like Ghost was shouting from right outside the door, you spent your energy on calling for him right back, hoping that he could hear you past the thick doors. “Ghost!”

Surprised by your sudden outburst, Duke Theodore clamped his hand over your mouth. “Damn it! Your mother told me that you always did as you’re told! Shut up!”

That one scream for him as all Ghost needed to pinpoint where you were. The doors to the gallery were kicked in hard, the doors swinging open as if they were loose on their hinges. Gun aimed at the duke’s head, Ghost suppressed the urge to just shoot him dead right then and there. “Get down now before I fucking kill you!”

Blood draining from his face, the duke slowly lowered himself to the floor. More security rushed in, guns and handcuffs ready. Once the duke was apprehended, Ghost immediately turned his attention towards you. You were barely hanging on, fighting another blackout as your bodyguard appeared in your vision. He sighed in relief as your dress was still in place on your body. Though, the stray tears on your cheeks told him that the duke did more than enough damage already.

“It’s okay, Princess. I’m here. You’re not leaving my sight again.” He soothed, that strong, Manchester-accented voice giving you more comfort than you ever imagined. He gingerly picked you up off the sofa in a princess carry, holding you close to his chest that hammered away for you. 

You let your head lull against his shoulder, sleep overtaking you once more. As you drifted to sleep, Ghost gave the security detail some strict instructions. The duke was to be detained for interrogation along with that server who bumped into him as a distraction. All party guests were allowed to leave after leaving all of their contact information with the team for future interrogation. Captain Price was to be contacted immediately to be informed of what happened and to send backup. 

In the meantime, the lieutenant was going to watch over the princess and make plans to leave for a safehouse. 

With the security detail all set up with their orders, Ghost left them all to settle you into your bed. He didn’t mind that he had to carry you a bit of a way to get to your bedroom. He could carry you around the whole palace several times before getting tired. He was just relieved to have you in his arms, safe with him. 

Finally, you were back in your bedroom, away from the chaos. Carefully, Ghost tucked you into bed, not bothering to call for a maid to help undress you or let your hair down. He didn’t want anyone but him near you right now. He didn’t trust just about anyone now. Not even your parents. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the feeling of his fingers grazing your cheek waking you up for a brief moment. Your voice came out as a whisper as light as a breeze. “Ghost?”

“Yes, Princess?” He immediately gave you his attention. 

“Please, don’t leave the bedroom tonight. . .” You managed to request, your words slurring as the drugs still took their toll on your body. 

Taking your hand in his and taking off his face mask with the other, he revealed his whole face to you. Your vision was still fuzzy, barely making out most things in the room, but you saw his face as clear as day. You knew it was a sign of trust. For the both of you. You nearly cried when you saw him like this. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Wouldn’t even think about it, Princess.”

The way he called you “Princess” was soft, loving, and determined. He said it like it wasn’t just your title. It was your name.

You drifted off to sleep once more, leaving Ghost to begin planning the move to a safehouse. All while holding your hand and sitting right by your side the entire night, he planned his next move.

~

You woke up with a migraine and a dry mouth. Your eyes were slow to adjust to seeing clearly, your first sight being your bodyguard sitting in a chair right near your bedside. His attention turned towards you as soon as he noticed you awake, skull balaclava back on. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache and I feel dehydrated.” You answered honestly which Ghost was grateful for. He liked how you were blunt about your physical ailments. It meant that you knew the severity of the situation. 

“I’ll get you some water and some medicine. Some breakfast will do you some good too. You haven’t had anything since those appetizers from last night. Do you remember what happened?” He questioned, careful with how he asked for your memory.

You took some deep breaths, trying to remember what happened last night. All you could see when you closed your eyes were bits and pieces. Visions of Duke Theodore, drinking champagne on the balcony, and then nothing but darkness. Eventually, you shook your head. “I don’t think I do. I’m sorry.”

Ghost shook his head. “No need to apologize. Perhaps it’s better that you don’t really remember. The duke drugged you and took you away from the party. Before he could assault you or take you out of the palace, I managed to find you just in time.”

Your heart dropped as you heard what had happened. Now that he mentioned it, you did remember more of what happened, but it was still mostly a blur. “I see. . . Thank you for finding me in time.”

Again, Ghost shook his head. He couldn’t forgive himself for this. “No. I don’t deserve your thanks. I should’ve kept a better eye on you. I shouldn’t have gotten so distracted. Hell, I should’ve have even allowed your parents to throw a fucking party. I was supposed to protect you and I failed. I owe you an apology.”

It broke your heart how Ghost beat himself up over this. Yes, the situation was bad, but you could never hold this mistake against him. Neither of you knew that this was coming. The royal etiquette wasn’t meant to make protecting you easy either. 

This time, it was you who took his hand in yours. “I don’t expect anything that I say will make you feel better, but I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened. I wouldn’t want anyone else to continue to protect me as much as you have. What needs to happen now?”

Ghost looked at you like you were an angel. While it would still take him a while to forgive himself for what happened under his watch, he was still grateful for your forgiveness. The fact that you still wanted him to remain your bodyguard meant the world to him too. You trusted him, even if things went wrong. 

Now more than ever, he wanted to protect you. Not as a lieutenant doing his job, but as a man that has fallen for you. 

“We are going to move to a safehouse. Captain Price has sent Sergeant Soap to come help file reports and take testimonies while me and you begin to pack what we need.” He determined, ready to whisk you far away from this marble hell. 

“What about my parents?” You couldn’t help but ask. Surely, they wouldn’t approve of this.

“They won’t know where we’re going. I don’t care about their approval either. I tried doing things their way. Now, we do it my way. Do you have any issues with this?” He considerately asked, though his tone was rather jaded. 

Your heart leapt within your chest, your stomach turning into a full butterfly house at the prospect of you finally leaving the palace walls. You tried to hold back your excitement as you shook your head. Ghost saw how bright your eyes got, though. 

He lifted your hand to his mask, kissing the back of your hand through the mask. The gesture made you blush like mad, not expecting him to do something like that. The truth was that Ghost has been wanting to erase that duke’s kiss off your hand like this for a while now. “Good girl. I’ll have one of your maids start getting you all set then.”

Your heart nearly beat out of your chest as he praised you, the moment replaying in your head over and over. Even after he left the room to allow you some privacy, you couldn't stop thinking about it. It lit something up in you. A feeling that you only read about in banned books. 

This seemed more like just infatuation or fascination at this point. Yes, you admired Ghost for his work ethic. His powerful build and handsome features were nothing to scoff at either. His tattoos that decorated his sleeve held your attention more than any piece of art in the palace too. 

Now? Now it felt like more. Now it felt like your heart skipped a beat every time he called you “Princess.” Now your hand ached to keep holding his, craving the strong warmth that he gave you. Now you wished to play the piano for him every single night to capture his attention. Now it felt like you wanted him to call you a good girl through a husky whisper straight into your ear.

You buried your reddening face into your feather-filled pillow, feeling the heat radiating through your whole body. Perhaps you always had a little crush on Ghost since meeting him and understanding his true character. However, now it was definitely more than just a crush.

You have fallen in love with your bodyguard. 

-

Taglist: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess @cum-tea-and-towels

Please comment that you would like to be added to the taglist for this story! You can just say "please add me to the taglist" and that would be enough :)

[thebunnednun]

The Fawn and the Wolf John Wick X Assassin! Reader (Part 1)

Warning: Eventual smut and violence. Size difference, predictor/prey, and other kinks.

Summary:

"Who the hell wants to marry a man they've never met?" Certainly not you. After staging your own death to escape a forced marriage orchestrated by your ruthless family, they retaliate by sending the infamous John Wick after you. Now, you're fucked in more ways than one. Evading Baba Yaga himself is no easy feat, especially when he's sympathetic to your plight but bound by a marker to bring you back. Amidst the chaos, you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to John, his allure undeniable as you embark on a thrilling game of cat and mouse across the globe. As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, you're caught between loyalty and freedom, you face a daunting choice that could change your life forever. What are you going to do? Marry the man your family has picked for you? Or do you start over with the surprisingly kind killer you meet?

Notes:

This is my First John Wick fanfic! I just finished the movies and wish I watched them sooner. In this narrative, certain deceased characters resurface, their roles pivotal to the plot, although not all events adhere strictly to canon. The timeline aligns closely with the events leading up to the fourth movie The only original characters are your family members. I will add a playlist for this later.

-----------------------Chapter 1: A Rainy Reception-----------------------

The rain fell heavily, each drop a tiny hammer against the pavement, as John Wick stepped out of his car, the relentless downpour quickly soaking through his coat. Beside him, the Bowery King emerged from the passenger seat, his fedora pulled low over his brow.

They moved with purpose toward the grand mansion ahead, its lights a faint beacon in the night. A tall, silent butler waited at the entrance with an umbrella, shielding John and the Bowery King from the worst of the rain as he led them inside. The transition from the cold, wet night to the warm interior was jarring. The mansion was dimly lit, corridors lined with rich, dark wood and plush carpets that muffled their footsteps.

The butler ceremoniously pushed open the imposing wooden doors, revealing a cavernous living space ensnared in a palpable tension. In one dimly lit corner, two figures loomed, engaged in an intense, hushed altercation, their silhouettes etched with conflict against the subdued light.

Across the room, a woman occupied a plush armchair, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. Her posture rigid, she seemed lost in the glow of her phone screen, oblivious to the charged atmosphere enveloping her.

Meanwhile, at the love seat, another woman's furrowed brow betrayed her vexation as she meticulously sifted through a stack of papers. The lamplight cast harsh shadows across her features, accentuating the strain etched upon her face as she wrestled with the weight of her responsibilities.

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, their senses keenly attuned to the tension in the air. 

The first man broke off his argument and approached John, extending a hand. "Mr. Wick, thank you for coming," he said, his voice a mixture of relief and urgency. He was a man of moderate stature, with a tailored suit that bespoke both elegance and authority. His dark red hair was meticulously styled, framing a face marked by sharp angles and a gaze that flickered with a blend of admiration and barely contained arrogance. 

John shook his hand, noting the faint red marks on the man’s face, resembling a slap with claw-like scratches. "You called, I came," John replied, his tone neutral.

John’s eyes swept the room. This family was different from the others he had encountered in his line of work. There was a genuine sense of concern here, a seeming desire to protect one another was rare among the families he typically dealt with. 

"Please, follow me," the man said, leading John to a side room—a cozy, well-appointed office. The décor was traditional, dominated by dark wood and leather. A photograph on the desk caught John’s eye: a young girl, smiling brightly as she held a bouquet of flowers at what appeared to be her birthday party. Her expression was one of pure, unfiltered joy.

"We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concerns. "I'm Nick. Nick Morales."

The man gestured to a chair. "Have a seat," he said, taking his own seat across from John. "We need your help to bring back our Fawn."

John raised an eyebrow. "Fawn?"

The man nodded. "That’s what we call her. She has these big, doe eyes." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s gone missing, and we can’t let this disrupt the family’s image."

The younger man who had been arguing with him followed them into the room. He looked noticeably younger, perhaps in his early twenties, with a lean build and an intense expression. His eyes darted between Nick and John before he took a step back, clearly sensing Johns curious gaze. 

He had a slight smirk on his face as he glanced at his older counterpart. "A tantrum," the younger man said, prompting a glare from the elder.

John's curiosity was piqued. "Tantrum?"

The elder man sighed, the red marks on his face catching the light. "Yes. Things got out of hand."

The younger man chuckled, earning another glare. "She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that." After a brief moment, he excused himself and slipped out of the room, leaving the three of them to the tense atmosphere of the spacious living room.

John leaned back in his chair, assessing Nick. "I’ll need more information. Each of you will give me your version of what happened. Maybe then I can piece together the truth."

The elder man nodded. "Fine. We’ll tell you everything you need to know. Start with me."

As John prepared to dive into the first interview, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone in this room wasn’t being entirely truthful. The question was who, and why. He would have to tread carefully, piecing together the fragments of their stories to uncover the real reason behind the young woman’s disappearance.

John and the Bowery King sat side by side, facing Nick across his expansive wooden desk. The photograph of the young woman at her birthday party stood prominently, her smile bright and full of life. John noted the detail—it was clear Nick valued tradition and perhaps had stood in for her father during the celebration.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contemplation mixed with worry. "She’s always been spirited," he began, a hint of fondness in his voice. "Born stubborn. We often butt heads over it.Trying to punish her was often futile. She usually gets the upper hand."

John listened intently, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me more about the night she disappeared."

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She was frustrated. We had a disagreement about the future. The family has... other plans for her. It escalated, and she stormed out. Later that night, we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King interjected, "And the slap mark on your face?"

Nick’s hand unconsciously moved to his cheek. "During our argument, she lashed out. It’s not the first time. She’s got a fiery temper, but this time... it was different. She was more determined, more desperate."

John leaned forward slightly. "What about her aspirations? Getting out isn’t a typical path for someone in this... environment."

Nick nodded, his expression softening as he looked at the photograph. "She’s smart, driven. Always wanted to do something more with her life. I understand her wants, but we have to do what's best for the family. Sacrifices have to be made. Everyone does their share here. We all do."

John’s eyes narrowed. "So she left because she felt trapped?"

"Partly," Nick admitted. "She’s always been our Fawn, the youngest, so we’ve always looked out for her. Losing her means losing more than just a family member.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Nick’s words hanging heavy in the air. John considered everything he’d heard so far. The story was starting to take shape, but there were still pieces missing.

Nick broke the silence. "Each of us has a different opinion on the matter. Maybe talking to the others will give you more insight."

John nodded. "I’ll speak with everyone.”

Nick met John’s gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. Within a slip second, his gaze hardened. 

"We just want her back. Safe and sound."

With that, Nick stood, signaling the end of the first interview. The Bowery King gave Nick a reassuring nod as they both followed John out of the office, ready to piece together the rest of the story from the other family members.

“I’m coming in!”

As David entered Nick's office without hesitation, his presence was like a gust of wind, stirring up the calm atmosphere. He was dressed in a casual yet refined style, reflecting his laid-back personality. His dark blue curly hair, with streaks of vibrant colors, framed his face, giving him a distinctive look. The family symbol faded into the sides of his haircut, a subtle nod to his roots.

Ignoring the usual formalities, David addressed Nick directly. "I'm here to poach them, Nick," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Nick, slightly annoyed, waved them off, knowing David's penchant for impulsive decisions.

As they made their way to David's office, the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the change in David's appearance. "What's with the hair?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

David chuckled, running a hand through his colorful locks. "Bright Eyes did this. She wanted to leave her mark before she left."

“So, David, we heard you got some insight into what happened with the Fawn,"John said, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

David, slightly shorter than Nick, sported dark blue curly hair cut in a taper, with the family symbol faded into the sides. He exuded a laid-back demeanor, contrasting with Nick's more formal disposition. His tanned skin was complemented by his navy suit. "Yeah, we've been trying to piece it all together. Starshine’s been like a ghost since she left." 

John nodded, his mind was still processing the details Nick had provided. David had led them down a hallway and stopped at a painting of a log cabin seven doors down from Nick’s office. John watched as David’s fingers quickly found a latch allowing the image to pop open. They reached another door, which opened to reveal David’s office. The room was more personal, less formal than Nick’s, with a distinct sense of nostalgia hanging in the air.

“Welcome to the lounge!” 

In David's office, the fusion of modern technology and Caribbean aesthetics was striking. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, complementing the sleek gadgets scattered around the room. The space felt inviting, with comfortable couches inviting them to relax.

David gestured for them to take a seat on the comfortable couches, a contrast to the formal setting of Nick's office. 

"Make yourselves at home, fellas," David said, his voice warm with hospitality. "Take a load off, fellas," David said, gesturing to the couches with a sweep of his hand. "Can I get you something to drink? Rum? Whiskey? I've got a few options that might suit you."

John nodded appreciatively, while the Bowery King opted for a glass of rum. As David poured the drinks, John's eyes wandered to the photograph on the coffee table. In the picture, you were clad in pajamas, and beamed with youthful joy. Surrounded by the family on what appeared to be a Christmas morning.

"That's a beautiful photo," John remarked, his voice soft with genuine admiration.

David's gaze softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites. That was a good day, you know? We were all together, no worries, just enjoying each other's company."

He paused, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Those eyes of hers... they've seen a lot, but they still have that same innocence somehow."

John leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "You mentioned the nickname 'Sunshine.' What's the story behind that?"

David chuckled, a hint of fondness in his tone. "When she's grumpy, I call her Sunshine to lift her mood or be an ass. Just depends, really."

The Bowery King studied the photographs adorning the walls of David's office, his gaze lingering on one in particular. "Ironic you call her a Fawn. Her eyes... they're so bright."

David's expression softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, she hates it when we call her that. But you can't deny the resemblance.” He chuckles and hands the men a different picture. “She looks just like a deer in headlights if you startle her. The nickname stuck through childhood." He leans back into the coach with his eyes trained on the photos. 

As John methodically flipped through the binder Nick had handed him, each page revealed a new layer of the Fawn’s past assignments. His gaze shifted to David, a silent promise reflected in the depths of his steely eyes.

The Bowery King leaned forward, his curiosity evident. "What sort of tasks did she undertake while she was with the family?"

David's features darkened, a bitter edge seeping into his expression. "She had her hands in everything," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "From infiltrating crime rings by posing as innocent girls, ransoms or kidnappings, to carrying out seduction missions. She mostly got rid of the garbage."

John's jaw tensed as he absorbed the weight of each revelation. "And her age when she started?" he inquired, his tone betraying his growing concern.

David's face contorted with bitterness as he spoke the words. "Seven," he admitted, the syllables heavy with the burden of the truth. He set down his glass and faced the men head on. Now, he was serious. 

The gravity of that admission settled heavily upon John's shoulders, John's resolve only strengthened. Seeing the shift in David, John settled into his chair, the Bowery King beside him, both men attentive. 

The Bowery King's brows furrowed in disbelief. "Seven? That's young to be involved in all of this," he remarked, his voice tinged with questioning.

David's expression grew more solemn. “Despite everything she's been through, she still sees the good in people. With her job I don’t know how the fuck she does it."

John shot him a sharp glance, a silent warning to tread carefully. He understood the implications of such a revelation. But dwelling on it now would only distract them from their goal.

"We need to focus on finding her," John said, his tone clipped and to the point. "The past is done. We're here to bring her back, no matter what it takes."

David nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to let it cloud their judgment in the present.

"Tell me about the night she left."

David sighed deeply, his eyes reflecting the weight of his memories. "We were all here, trying to have a family dinner. But tensions were high. She and Nick had another argument. It was about her future again. She’s been so focused on becoming a lawyer, but... the family business demands sacrifices." 

He paused, his voice thick with emotion. "After the argument, she left the table. I thought she just needed some air. It wasn’t until later that we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King spoke up, his tone probing. "And the slap mark on Nick’s face?"

David’s expression darkened slightly. "She’s got a temper, no doubt about it. She slapped him, her sharp nails left those claw marks. But it wasn’t just about anger. There was hurt there, deep hurt. She feels like we’re holding her back, trapping her."

John leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Do you think she left to pursue her dreams? Or is there more to it?"

David hesitated, glancing at the photograph again. "She wants to be free, to follow her own path. But it’s not just about becoming a lawyer. She feels suffocated by the expectations, the pressure. She wants to help people. And here... she feels like she’s just a pawn."

John considered this, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. He needed something more. "What does she mean to you, David? Personally.”

As David hesitated, his gaze shifting to the photograph once more, he spoke with a mixture of fondness and concern. "She's everything," he admitted, his voice softening. "More like a daughter to Nick and a sister-like cousin to me."

John nodded, understanding what he meant. "What do you think happened to her?" he asked, his tone edged with urgency.

David sighed deeply, a troubled expression crossing his features. "I'm not sure," he confessed. "Starshine turned off all her trackers before she left. Here," he reached for a remote on the coffee table, selecting a video of a burning estate. "This might shed some light."

As they watched the footage, David explained, "During her youth, Nick was taking care of her while in the military. He sent her away while on tour." He paused, his voice tinged with bitterness. "She was sent to live under the care of Cordelia, a terrible woman of the underground. She was known as a prominent matchmaker. She used stolen girls to carry out arranged marriages. If you weren’t married off she’d use you for…. other missions."

As David played the video of the burning estate, the screen flickered with images of flames engulfing the once-grand structure. The news report accompanying the footage described the scene in vivid detail, with some locals referring to it as an inferno that consumed everything in its path.

"The fire broke out in the dead of night," David explained, his voice grim as he recounted the events. "It spread quickly, devouring the estate within minutes. The rest of the area is fine though."

The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, detailing the confusion of firefighters about the containment of the blaze as it raged on. Smoke billowed into the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the surrounding area.

"Authorities are still investigating the cause of the fire," the anchor continued, "but eyewitnesses report seeing mysterious figures fleeing the scene before the flames erupted."

John's brow furrowed as he absorbed the information, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. The Fawn’s connection to the estate and its destruction raised more questions than answers, adding another layer of complexity to the mystery surrounding her disappearance.

As the news report concluded, David turned the volume off and kept his eyes on the screen, the room enveloped in a heavy silence. The burning estate loomed large in their eyes.

“You know, you live with someone your whole life and watch them grow up to be so sweet. It makes you forget how dangerous they can be.”

David's caramel skin contrasted with the cooler tones from the TV. "I suspect she's somewhere near New York by now," he added, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

The Bowery King, intrigued by David's role in the family, posed a question. "What do you do, David?"

David hesitated, his gaze shifting to John before answering. "I work as the family accountant and tech personnel," he replied before shifting back into his easy going nature. "If you mean in the familiar sense, I'm the one who often stirs the pot, taking Bright eye’s side in most arguments and helping her wiggle out family duties so she can live her life."

John studied David's features, noting the similarities between him and the Fawn.

"Nick and I often clash over what's best for her," David admitted, a hint of defiance in his tone. "But we both want her to be safe, no matter what. You know what happens in this life when your family isn’t there to protect you."

While David's gaze turned back to the flickering images of the burning estate John absorbed his words, the weight of their meaning settling heavily upon him. He couldn't help but mentally note the differences between David and Nick, their contrasting appearances reflecting their divergent personalities.

Turning his attention back to David, John posed a question that had been weighing on his mind. "Between you and Nick, who do you think she'd listen to more?"

David's brow furrowed in thought, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "It's hard to say," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "Nick is stricter but he does love her. I've always been the one she turns to when she needs a favor." 

John nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the cusp of uncovering something more sinister.

Before John could stand, David opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. He slid it across the desk to John. "I almost forgot. We’ve placed trackers in her earrings and her earbud case. I can’t get a read on her location yet. Once I override the bugs you’ll be able to track her exact location."

John opened the box, inspecting the discreet tracking devices. "This will be useful. Thank you, David."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their shared mission hanging heavy in the air. With each passing moment, the urgency of their task became more apparent.

The silence was broken by the clicking of the lock, a sound that reverberated through the corridor like a distant echo. John and the Bowery King exchanged a quick glance, their senses sharpened by the unexpected interruption. Instinctively, John's hand drifted towards his holster, ready for whatever might come through the door.

As the woman skillfully undid the lock, David couldn't help but whine, "You better not teach Nick the code, Joselyn."

She chuckled, her fingers deftly working the mechanism. "Oh, come on, David. It's not that much of a secret. If Nick wanted to come in, he absolutely would."

With the lock finally disengaged, Joselyn swung the door open, greeting John and the Bowery King with a warm smile. "Welcome, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "Please, follow me."

She led the way down the corridor, her lively persona filling the air with energy. As they walked, Joselyn couldn't resist taking the Bowery King's arm, a simple gesture of respect for her elders.

"We're just across from David's office," she explained, her voice bright and welcoming. "I've got some tea brewing if you're interested. And maybe a few snacks, too."

As they reached her office, Joselyn ushered them inside, the space reflecting her eclectic tastes and organizational prowess. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for them to make themselves comfortable, her warm demeanor putting them at ease.

Her office was meticulously organized, with a sense of order and precision. A picture of the reader, much younger, wearing a kindergarten graduation cap and holding a diploma for "Best Future Lawyer," was prominently displayed. Another picture of her wedding stood next to it

Joselyn gestured for them to sit, taking her place behind the desk. "Would you like some snacks?" she offered, pointing to a tray of assorted nuts and dried fruits on her desk.

The Bowery King nodded appreciatively. "Don't mind if I do," he said, reaching for a handful. John politely declined with a slight shake of his head.

"Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How can I assist in your endeavors today?"

As John and the Bowery King settled in, John couldn't help but ask, "Joselyn, what exactly is it that you do here? 

The Bowery King, always one for understanding the full picture, pressed on. "But the jobs you do now, what are they exactly? And the Fawn’s current role?"

Joselyn leaned back, her demeanor shifting to one of professional seriousness. "I run an agency that focuses on finding missing children and disrupting human trafficking networks. It’s dangerous work, but it’s what drives me. The Fawn, when she isn’t in hiding, assists with some of the more covert operations. Her skills make her invaluable in rescuing those who have been taken and dismantling trafficking rings."

"And she started this life so young," the Bowery King mused, shaking his head.

"Yes," Joselyn replied, her voice tinged with regret. "It’s a harsh reality, but it's also what makes her so effective. A double edged sword, really.”

John nodded, appreciating the gravity of what Joselyn was saying. "Thank you for sharing this with us. It helps us understand the stakes."

Joselyn smiled softly, though her eyes remained serious. "Just be careful. Mamita is young but she isn’t someone you want to underestimate. She's survived this long for a reason."

“And what’s the story behind the Fawn being sent to Cordelia?"

The mention of Cordelia sent a noticeable shift through Joselyn. She took a deep breath, her usual warm demeanor clouding with anger. Her voice lowered to a hushed tone. "Unfortunately, I am still a ‘made woman’. As for the witch, I tried to get custody of her, you know. But I was denied because I was 'too young' and not married yet. That poor girl... Cordelia was a nightmare. It was impossible to get her out of the contract."

She took a deep breath, composing herself before speaking. "Mamita was just a child when she began her training. It’s something I never agreed with. She was far too young, as was Amalia, who was trained at the same time. Amalia, fortunately, has retired now."

John’s curiosity was piqued. "How did Amalia manage to retire?"

Joselyn's expression softened slightly. "Mamita always loved Amalia like a blood sister. She made sure that when Amalia wanted out, she could get out safely. I don’t know what she did. She refuses to tell us. Amalia now leads a quiet life and can keep her children away from all this."

The Bowery King nodded, absorbing the information. "And what about your marriage?”

A wistful smile touched Joselyn's lips. "Yes, when it came to my marriage, I had to complete an impossible task. She was my cheerleader. I can’t go into the details, but she did it because she really wanted my now-husband in the family."

John's curiosity deepened. "Why was that so important to her?"

Joselyn's eyes sparkled with warmth and a hint of mischief as she recounted, "Mamita’s exact words were, 'Because you're soulmates,’ cute, isn’t it?

Turning the conversation, John asked, "Tell us about the Fawn’s relationship with your husband." He couldn’t allow his mind to start flooding with images of Helen.

Joselyn smiled wistfully. "He calls her 'muñeca,' meaning baby doll. He respects her dream and sees her as the goofy kid he once met. She gifted him a pair of golden-rimmed glasses that he often wears to match mine. Despite everything, he tries to make her feel safe and loved."

The Bowery King interjected,”The sister he never had?” 

“Exactly.”

"Would he be hiding her?" John probed.

Joselyn shook her head firmly. "No. If he knew where she was, he would have taken her home, even though he doesn't agree with everything we do."

John leaned forward slightly. "And why didn't you leave to join your husband’s family?"

A shadow passed over Joselyn’s face. "He's an orphan. We decided not to have kids until we can raise them without worrying about the family’s constant turmoil."

The Bowery King nodded, appreciating the depth of Joselyn's commitment. "You've sacrificed a lot."

Joselyn shrugged with a sad smile. "We all have. But we do what we must to keep those we love safe."

The Bowery King’s curiosity was piqued. "And who is this 'Mamita’s' best friend, Michelle?" He passed over a picture of a young woman with platinum hair and a slender figure from the binder. 

Joselyn’s expression softened slightly. "Michelle is actually Nick's age. She was almost sold off when Nick tried to rebel and leave the service.” Her hands turned to shredding a stress ball on her desk.

Joselyn’s shoulders were tense as she recounted the night. “Mama assassinated Cordelia and helped the other girls escape. We had to pay billions to cover it up.” She closes her eyes before sighing deeply through her nose. “Michelle disappeared the same night Mama left after going to confession, and we assume they're together. Nick wants to find Michelle on his own."

The Bowery King frowned. "Confession?”

"Michelle is Catholic, and Mama enjoys going with her to pray for her victims," Joselyn explained. John noted this mentally, intrigued by the implication of an assassin clinging to religion.

Joselyn took a moment, her expression grave as she met John's gaze. "I think it's time I'm completely transparent with you. Mama isn't just an assassin for our family's interests. She's a hired gun, servicing the highest bidders, whoever they may be."

John's eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed her words. It struck him as peculiar that a family would send one of their own daughters to carry out such perilous tasks instead of relying on their established network of operatives. His mind raced with conjecture, weaving a tapestry of suspicion and intrigue.

Why would they entrust such responsibilities to someone so young and potentially volatile? Was there more to the Fawn's involvement than met the eye?

As Joselyn's voice faded into the background, his thoughts grew more insistent. Perhaps the Fawn had stumbled upon a secret, something she wasn't meant to see. And this arrangement—her role as an assassin—could be the family's way of ensuring her silence. It was a chilling possibility, but one that resonated with the shadows lurking beneath the surface of their world.

He blinked, refocusing on Joselyn's earnest gaze. "Thank you for being honest with us, Joselyn."

Joselyn's nod held a hint of understanding. "Just be careful, John. You know an animal is more dangerous when wounded."

John acknowledged her warning with a curt nod, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. As they delved deeper into the intricacies of their mission, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were treading on treacherous ground. 

John leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Joselyn. "Where do you think your Fawn might have gone?"

Joselyn sighed, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk as she considered the question. "There are two likely places. New York or Japan. She has an apartment in Japan, and New York was our home base."

"Where would she be in those cities?" John pressed.

"In New York, you'll most likely find her in a park or casino. She doesn't like to gamble—it's more about the thrill of the card games. If you need to keep her attention, playing a game with her might be your best bet. But be warned: she's very cunning and deceptive. If she thinks you're a threat, she'll leave. Mama doesn’t like to fight unless absolutely necessary."

"And in Japan?" John asked.

"Adores the scene culture there- especially dance clubs. She could be hiding Michelle in one of her apartments there. If you find Michelle, she will come after you. But you need to be extremely careful.” Her hands were now flat against the polish glass of her desk. “If she believes Micheale is in any danger, she'll kill you on sight. She's fiercely protective."

The Bowery King interjected, his voice thoughtful. "And why would she hide Michelle in Japan?"

"Japan's a place where she can lay low and blend in. She has friends and safehouses there, and it's far enough from here to avoid immediate detection. Michelle didn’t agree with the decision either and she probably wants time away from Nick." She slowly slides her hands into her lap. “I couldn’t go with her because of work. So I’m glad someone is with her.”

John nodded, digesting the information. "So, New York or Japan, dance clubs or casinos. And if it comes down to it, I should be prepared to play a game with her."

"Exactly," Joselyn affirmed. "But remember, she's unpredictable. She's been through a lot, and her instincts are sharp. Approach with caution."

"Thank you, Joselyn," John said sincerely. "This gives us a direction."

Joselyn nodded, her expression a mix of concern and determination. A debating look crossed her face before Joselyn reached for a small frame on her desk, a recent picture nestled inside. With a gentle smile, she handed it to John.

"Here," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "You should take a more recent picture of her. She's... she's quite beautiful, isn't she?"

As John accepted the picture from Joselyn, his breath caught in his throat as he took in the image. His eyes were drawn immediately to the subject—you. In the photo, you exuded a softness that seemed to radiate from within. Your complexion was flawless, with a natural glow that hinted at youthful vitality. Your features were delicate yet defined, each contour lending an air of elegance to your appearance.

Your hair cascaded in soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face in a way that accentuated your delicate features. A gentle smile played at the corners of your plump lips, adding a touch of sweetness to your expression. 

But it was your eyes that captured John's attention the most. Large and doe-like, they held a sweet mischievousness that seemed to pierce through the photograph, drawing him into their depths. At the same time, they were pools of warmth and innocence. He could tell you had a figure under the sweater dress you sported. Yet beneath the outfit, there lay a quiet strength in your arms and legs that spoke volumes.

In that moment, you really did reminded him of a deer, graceful and vulnerable yet capable of resilience.

As John studied the picture, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. She was a vision of purity and innocence, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world. And yet, there was a strength in your gaze as you looked into the camera. 

"She is," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joselyn's gaze softened as she watched him, her own sadness mirrored in her eyes. "I’m still fighting the marriage order.”

The Bowery King leaned over to glance at the picture, his expression contemplative. "She looks too young," he remarked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

The words snapped John out of his reverie, his thoughts jolting back to the task at hand. Whatever he was thinking, he dismissed it immediately. John nodded in agreement, his mind shifting gears as he placed the photograph in his suit's breast pocket.

"Thank you," he said, his voice steady once more. "We appreciate your help, Joselyn. We'll be in touch."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement. "Yes, we appreciate everything you've done for us."

Joselyn smiled warmly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "It's been my pleasure. Thank you for trusting me."

A small, soft knock echoed through the office, drawing the attention of John, the Bowery King, and Joselyn. They exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the interruption. Rising from their seats, they approached the door together.

As she stepped aside to open the door, a figure appeared in the doorway. With a soft smile, Joselyn stepped back to allow the newcomer to enter.

"Amalia," she greeted warmly, her voice tinged with affection.

Amalia, the retired operative, stepped into the room, her presence calm and composed. She nodded politely to John and the Bowery King, acknowledging their presence with a small smile.

"Joselyn," she said, her voice gentle. "I heard you had visitors. I hope I'm not intruding."

Joselyn shook her head, her smile widening. "Not at all. These gentlemen were just leaving. Thank you again for your help, John, Mr.King."

With a final nod of farewell, John and the Bowery King made their way out of the office, leaving Joselyn and Amalia alone together. As the door closed behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, filled with the quiet camaraderie of old friends reunited.

“Come along, mine is the second to last one.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from the sporadic flashes of lightning that streaked across the sky outside the large window at the end of the corridor. As John and the Bowery King made their way towards Amalia's office, the sound of rain battering against the windowpane filled the air, adding to the somber atmosphere of the building.

Amalia's office stood apart from the others, a solitary beacon of light as almost everything inside was creme or white with black accents. Situated next to the expansive window, it offered a view of the storm raging outside, the turbulent clouds casting eerie shadows across the room. The minimal decorations within only served to accentuate the starkness of the space, a far cry from the warmth and liveliness of Joselyn's office.

As they approached, John and the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the scattered toys strewn about the room, a stark contrast to the seriousness of their mission. Squishy toys lay abandoned on the floor, their bright colors standing out against the muted tones of the office. A small play kitchen sat in one corner, its plastic utensils and pretend food scattered haphazardly across the miniature countertops.

Amalia greeted them with a weary smile as they entered, her tanned skin glowing softly in the dim light. Her long wavy black curly hair cascaded down her back, framing her face in a halo of darkness. Despite her petite stature, there was a quiet strength in her gaze that spoke volumes, a resilience forged through years of hardship and sacrifice.

"Excuse the toys on the floor," she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation. "I haven't had much time to tidy up."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, a small chuckle escaping them as they gently set aside a squishy toy that had been inadvertently sat upon. The tension in the room eased slightly, replaced by a sense of camaraderie amidst the chaos.

Before they could ask their questions, Amalia took a deep breath, her expression serious. "I'm over this," she said firmly. "I'll be explaining everything."

Her words hung in the air, a solemn promise of revelations to come. And as the storm raged outside, it seemed as though the tempest within was about to be unleashed.

"We were inseparable," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "After my father was taken out during an assignment and my mother was killed in a tuff war, we only had each other. Our grandmother raised us, but it was [Name] who became my rock.”

John couldn't help but notice that it was the first time anyone had used your first name, and he couldn't deny how lovely it sounded. But he quickly refocused, his attention returning to the weight of the conversation at hand.

"The same thing happened to [Name]," Amalia continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "We witnessed it, and we killed the people responsible. And that's when it was decided that we would become assassins."

John and the Bowery King listened intently, the gravity of Amalia's words hitting home. They knew that the life of an assassin was fraught with danger, but hearing about the tragic events still spurred something within them.

Amalia paused, her gaze flickering towards the window where the storm raged on outside. "I'll spare you the whole sob story of the training," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But I hated having to be both people. A daughter of a prominent family and a trained killer. And [Name] hated it too. It was destroying her mental health."

The notion of Amalia's last name caught John's attention, and he couldn't help but wonder about its significance. "Morales," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Is that your husband's last name?"

Amalia shook her head, her expression somber. "No," she said quietly. "But I only kept it out of obligation. The truth is, I've never felt like I truly belonged to that family. And now, with everything that's happened... I'm not sure I ever will."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, recognizing the significance of the family name in the context of their world. They knew that in the shadowy underworld they operated in, family ties ran deep, binding individuals to a legacy of blood and loyalty.

"I see," John replied, his tone respectful. "Family is everything, especially in our line of work."

Amalia nodded, a hint of resignation in her eyes. "Yes, it is," she agreed quietly. "But sometimes, family can also be a burden, a weight that drags you down when all you want is to break free."

Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the complexities of their shared existence. And as the storm raged on outside, it seemed as though the tempest within her heart was taking physical form. 

The Bowery King's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications sinking in. "What happens hypothetically if we can't find her?" he asked, his tone somber.

Amalia's reaction was immediate, a surge of anger bubbling to the surface. "I have to take over!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration. She paused, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing, her tone tinged with bitterness. "I never wanted this life, but I have no choice. If [Name] isn't here to fulfill her duties, then it falls to me."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, the gravity of Amalia's words not lost on them. They had known that the consequences of your disappearance would be severe, but hearing it spoken aloud by someone who would bear the brunt of those consequences drove home the reality of their situation.

Amalia's anger simmered beneath the surface as she continued to speak, her voice strained with emotion. "You want to know why I'm so angry?" she asked, her eyes flashing with intensity. "BecauseI fell in love with the oldest son of a rival family."

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his shock mirrored by the expression on the Bowery King's face. "You did?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Amalia nodded, her anger momentarily overshadowed by the weight of her confession. "We dated for years in secret," she explained, her voice trembling with emotion. "But none of the elders in his family approved of him. They saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their game of power and influence."

As Amalia recounted the demands placed upon her by the elders, a bitter laugh escaped her lips, carrying with it the weight of years of resentment and frustration. "Finally, one of the elders agreed to our union, but only if I agreed to do the impossible," she continued, her voice filled with bitterness. "They demanded that I take on a series of missions that no one could possibly accomplish."

John's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of what Amalia was revealing. "But how... how did you manage it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amalia's expression hardened, her anger and fear surfacing. "I didn't," she said, her voice trembling. "I was secretly three months pregnant and terrified. So, [Name] offered me a way out. She pretended to be me and did all of the missions herself in a single month."

John was struck silent, his shock evident. The Bowery King interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That's impossible."

Amalia shuddered, closing her eyes briefly. "I don't know how she did it," she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. "But she did. And now I have two children and one on the way." She placed a hand tenderly on her growing belly, a mixture of love and fear swirling in her eyes.

The Bowery King glanced at John, then back at Amalia. "She must have liked your husband," he remarked.

Amalia's anger flared again. "She hates him," she spat, her words dripping with venom. "But she did what she had to do to protect our family, just like I'm doing now."

John leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fit together. "You were the one who commissioned me?"

Amalia nodded, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. Without another word, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a marker. John recognized it immediately as one of his. Before he could ask where she had gotten it, she tossed it to him. "Give my sister-in-law my regards."

Now he understood why the family had been so open.

She stood up, motioning for them to follow her across the hallway to the last office. As they walked, she reached for a chain around her neck, pulling out a key to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open.

Inside, [Name]'s office was a sanctuary of unexpected tranquility. The walls were painted a soft, inviting color—clearly her favorite—creating a serene and almost ethereal atmosphere. Several carefully chosen works of art adorned the walls, each piece adding depth and personal significance to the space. The large windows allowed the stormy light to filter in, casting a moody yet gentle glow over the room. Plants adorned the windowsill, their flowers in full bloom. 

Scattered toys on the floor hinted at a lingering sense of playfulness, an odd juxtaposition to the gravity of their conversation. A locked closet stood ominously in one corner, suggesting secrets guarded closely. John’s gaze was drawn to a large stereo system complete with CDs and vinyl records, a record player sitting proudly beside a plush, inviting sofa.

The desk was strategically placed in the corner, maximizing the room's openness and making it feel expansive despite its purpose. Weights lay neatly under the desk, alongside a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers—unexpected touches that spoke volumes about [Name]'s need for both comfort and stress relief. A large bookshelf, filled to the brim with an eclectic mix of titles, suggested a mind constantly in search of knowledge or escape.

John took a moment to absorb the room's details. Every element seemed meticulously curated to reflect [Name]'s duality—her strength and vulnerability, her chaos and order. It was a room that spoke of a life lived in the shadows yet yearning for more.

Amalia watched him closely, her expression a complex mix of pride and sorrow. "This is her office," she said softly, her voice heavy with unspoken memories and regrets. "It's where I saw her last."

John nodded, the seriousness of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. The room was a testament to [Name]'s resilience, a stark reminder of what she had been forced to endure and what she sought to protect. 

The Bowery King glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the scattered toys. "What’s with the toys in her office?" he asked, his tone curious yet cautious.

Amalia sighed, her eyes softening as she glanced at the toys. "Some of them belong to my children," she explained. "Even though [Name] hates my husband, she's always been kind to my kids. They adore her."

The King raised an eyebrow. "If she hates him, why does she keep toys for your kids here?"

Amalia's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. "Because despite her feelings towards Aaron, she's still family. She loves my children as if they were her own." She walked over to a shelf, plucking a picture frame from it and handing it to John and the King.

The photo depicted [Name] in a church, taking vows, with two small children standing beside her. The image captured a rare moment of softness and grace, a gentle smile on her face as she knelt before the altar.

Amalia chuckled softly, a hint of irony in her voice. "It’s funny, really. She hates Aaron but was the one who married us. She stood as our officiant and performed the ceremony herself."

John studied the photograph, his eyes lingering on [Name]'s serene expression and the tender way she held the children. It was a side of her he hadn’t expected to see, the Bowery King leaned closer, inspecting the picture with a critical eye.

"She does look genuinely happy here," he remarked, almost to himself.

Amalia nodded, her expression distant as she recalled the day. "She hides her pain well, but it’s there, just beneath the surface. She did it all for the family, even when it tore her apart."

John’s mind raced, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily on him. He glanced at the toys again, then back at the picture, a new layer of determination forming within him. He had to find her, not just for the mission, but for the person she truly was beneath the layers of duty and sacrifice.

John studied the photograph in his hands, a soft, reflective expression crossing his face. He looked up at Amalia, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You feel for her, don't you?"

Amalia's gaze drifted past him, landing on the various pictures decorating the office. Each one seemed to tell a story, snapshots of moments frozen in time. The pictures were clearly taken by [Name], as they rarely featured her but captured the world through her eyes.

One photo showed Amalia's children playing in a sunlit park, their laughter almost audible through the image. Another depicted a serene beach at sunset, the colors vibrant and warm, evoking a sense of peace and longing. A third photo captured an intimate family gathering, everyone smiling, with [Name]'s presence felt more than seen, the angle suggesting she was just out of frame, watching over them all.

As Amalia's gaze traveled through the photos, she took a deep breath. "My duties as a mother come first," she said quietly, her hand gently resting on her growing belly.

"Everything I do is for my children. [Name] understands that, even if it means making sacrifices."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily in the air. John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, both sensing the depth of emotion and history that lay beneath the surface of this family's intricate dynamics.

John's eyes wandered to more photos. There were pictures of Nick and [Name], their bond evident in the way he looked after her with a protective gaze. There were pictures of David being goofy and pranking Nick, capturing the lighter moments. Another series of photos showed Joselyn and her husband from high school until their wedding day, her husband looked to be of middle eastern decent.

Pictures of Amalia were abundant, spanning from her youth to the present day. There was a photograph of her debutante ball, and another of her wedding, noticeably absent of Aaron. Images of her pregnancies were also displayed, as well as breathtaking shots of the sky during sunrise and sunset, capturing the fleeting beauty of those moments.

A picture of the family at Christmas, dancing in their home country with your face obscured by your country’s flag, added a sense of tradition and unity. There were also photos of Nick and Michelle together, and some of Michelle at a café and in a casino bar, her expression pensive yet serene.

John’s gaze lingered on Michele at the casino bar. "Can I take this one?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

Amalia glanced at the picture and then at John, nodding slowly. "Yes, take it. It might help you find her."

John carefully pocketed the photograph, feeling the weight of the mission settle more heavily on his shoulders. He turned back to Amalia. "She’s given up a lot for the family, hasn’t she?"

Amalia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "More than anyone knows. She’s carried burdens that weren’t hers to bear, all for the sake of duty and love."

The Bowery King looked at the picture of the children again, then at Amalia. "And yet, despite everything, she’s still kind to your children."

Amalia’s smile was bittersweet. "Because that's who she is. No matter how much she’s hurting, she always finds it in herself to care for others. That’s why I owe her everything. And that’s why we have to find her."

John’s resolve hardened. The mission was no longer just about finding a missing person; it was about bringing back someone who had given so much of herself for the sake of others. And he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

John's eyes drifted to the other shelves in Amalia's office, noticing a collection of academic accolades. Certificates and plaques attested to [Name]'s intelligence and dedication, showcasing her achievements in various fields. He took a moment to absorb the extent of her talents, feeling a pang of admiration mixed with sorrow for what she had become.

The Bowery King broke the silence with a pointed question. "If the family wants to marry her off, why bother finding her?"

Amalia's gaze sharpened, her expression fierce. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth'?"

She paused, looking around the room as if searching for the right words. Slowly, she walked to the bookshelf. "We were always taught to honor those that came before us, but no one remembers the saying, 'Do not provoke your children to anger.'" Her fingers traced the spines of the books before she pulled out a green one. As she did, a section of the wall shifted, revealing a hidden room.

"Don’t get me wrong," Amalia continued. "She really is a sweetheart when you get to know her. But she changed after I got married. She always had a bubble around her and she's picky about who gets inside. She never gives out markers because she hates the idea of owing anyone anything."

The hidden room was a stark contrast to the main office, its coldness sharply contrasting with the warmth just outside the concealed door. John scrutinized the space, feeling as if he had stepped through a portal into another world. Though small, the office was meticulously organized.

A wall on his left was covered in photos and leads of your targets, with notes scribbled next to each photo detailing information about them, their families, and whether they had children. Strings connected some of the photos, forming a complex web of connections and motives.

Your monitor and desk were tucked away in the corner just before he walked in. The desk was devoid of personal touches, looking meticulously clean and functional, with only essential items—pens, a notepad, a closed laptop—neatly arranged. John ran a hand over the smooth surface, noting the absence of fingerprints and the almost clinical precision.

Across from the wall of target photos was a glass-fronted weapons case, showcasing a variety of deadly instruments. Swords, daggers, and firearms were displayed in an orderly fashion, each item meticulously maintained. The glass glinted under the dim lighting, revealing the sheen of polished metal.

However, John noticed that a few weapons were missing, leaving empty slots that hinted at recent use. He bent down slightly, examining the labels below each empty slot, trying to deduce what had been taken. 

The Bowery King nodded, his gaze shifting back to the empty slots in the weapons case. "Looks like someone's been busy.”.

As he continued to take in the room, John noticed a faint scent of gun oil and leather, a reminder of the deadly purpose behind the immaculate setup. He straightened up and turned his attention back to the wall of photos, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the detailed notes and connections. 

Behind him, the Bowery King entered the hidden office, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He paused just inside the doorway, taking in the scene with a discerning eye.

"Quite the setup you've got here," he remarked, his voice low and appreciative. He walked over to the weapons case, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass. Amalia let out a hum of acknowledgement having not moved from her place between both worlds. 

"Does she have a boyfriend? Any friends outside the family?" John inquired, his voice slicing through the tense silence as he turned to face Amalia.

Amalia, standing in the door frame, shook her head slowly, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the polished wood. "She never dates. As for friends, she keeps quiet about them. She doesn't delve deeply into relationships, fearing they might die or she might have to eliminate them."

John's gaze continued to roam the room, finally landing on an unexpected sight: a photograph of himself, discreetly tucked into a corner of the wall behind a stack of books. His brows knitted in surprise, but he chose to remain silent about it. Meanwhile, the Bowery King, who had been pacing near the weapons case, stopped and leaned in to scrutinize its contents again. 

"Why aren't these weapons readily accessible?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Amalia sighed, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at the King. "Because [Name] doesn't want my kids stumbling upon any of this stuff and easily accessing it out of curiosity. We actually appreciate the precaution," she replied, standing up and walking over to join the King. She carefully unlocked the case with the same key and retrieved a small, intricately designed dagger, holding it up for him to inspect.

John, still taking in the details of the room, pressed on with his questions. "What's her daily routine like?" he asked, moving to stand over his own photo, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

Amalia returned on her heel, the dagger still in her hand, and settled back against the wall. "[Name] is primarily focused on school when she's home. She rarely makes calls or texts anyone. She attends family meetings and diligently performs her duties. The only time she engages socially is during or after her missions. She doesn't typically stay out for long," she explained, her voice tinged with melancholy as she placed the dagger on your desk, its blade catching the light.

The Bowery King, still appraising the room, turned his attention back to Amalia. "Do you trust her, Amalia?" he asked, his voice low and probing as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

She paused, her eyes reflecting a turbulent mix of emotions. "I don't know anymore," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the dagger in her hand, the weight of her uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. She gently placed the dagger back before locking the case again. She glared at the glass before turning to face John. 

"The arranged marriage was the straw that broke her back," Amalia sighed, her frustration palpable. "Joselyn and I are married so she’s the only girl left.”

John scanned the room, disturbed by the shift in atmosphere. "I know what she's like out there," Amalia continued. "She's a completely different being. So cold, quick, and effective. If someone couldn't handle a job, she dismissed them and did it herself. No one escapes her. She's made a career out of being unknown."

John frowned, puzzled. "Is that why I have never heard of 'The Fawn' before?"

Amalia's eyes darkened. "She only works for the highest of the elite. You can't just request her services. There are rules for that. Dear God, she hates rules."

John’s gaze returned to the hidden room, a mix of awe and sorrow washing over him. The woman they sought was a paradox—capable of immense kindness yet driven to cold efficiency by circumstances beyond her control. As he studied the evidence of your dual life, he realized the depth of the challenge before them. Finding you would be hard enough; convincing you to come back might be impossible.

Amalia, noticing his troubled expression, sighed. "She always looked like she was a deer caught in headlights, vulnerable yet ready to flee or fight. That's why they called her 'The Fawn.' It's ironic, really. So delicate yet deadly. They underestimated her, thinking they could control her. But she’s smarter and stronger than any of them ever gave her credit for."

Without warning, Amalia grabbed John by the neck and slammed him against the door, her small frame vibrating with rage. The Bowery King instinctively backed up, his eyes wide, but John, sensing her condition, didn't reach for his gun.

"Don't you fucking dare underestimate her," Amalia hissed, her eyes blazing. "I don't care how innocent she looks. If looks could kill, you'd be dead twelve times over before you even knew what happened, Baba Yaga." She spat out his nickname with palpable disgust.

John remained still, the intensity of her anger washing over him. "She's strong, she's smart, and she's anything she wants to be. If you fuck up, she'll get you. I know her fight better than anyone else. I've seen what she can do. You cannot fail at this."

Her grip on his neck tightened momentarily before she released him, stepping back to compose herself. John's hand instinctively moved to his throat, feeling the lingering pressure of her grasp. He could see the raw emotion in her eyes, the desperate need for him to understand.

The Bowery King watched in silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. John straightened, meeting Amalia's gaze with renewed determination. He knew she was right. Failure was not an option. He had to find you and bring you back, not just for the family.

But how could he not feel for the woman who had already sacrificed so much to protect those she loved?

Amalia's breathing slowed, and she placed a protective hand on her belly. "You can’t fail at this, John. Promise me."

John nodded, his voice steady. "I promise."

With a final glance around the room, Amalia led them back out into the office. The storm outside seemed to mirror the turmoil within the mansion. 

Amalia’s grip loosened, and she let go of John gently, straightening his tie and collar with a shaky hand. “She hated this job because she felt like a murderer. I understand why she wants to be a criminal defense attorney. But if her marriage keeps our family safe…” She looked into his eyes, her own filled with tears. “If it means my children never have to grow up in this life, so be it.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks as she stepped back, turning away quickly to hide her emotions. The weight of her words hung heavily in the room. Overwhelmed, she excused herself, rushing to the office trashcan and spitting up. The Bowery King, his face a mix of concern and respect, offered her some tissues, which she took gingerly to wipe her mouth.

John's mind raced, running through the information he'd gathered from each family member. There were inconsistencies and gaps, pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. He replayed the details: Nick’s exclusion of Michele and his focus on the marriage. David’s guilty expression and lack of knowledge about your whereabouts despite having trackers on you. Joselyn’s warm yet firm demeanor, her openness to share. The anger and protectiveness in Amalia’s voice, the deep-rooted family loyalties, and the sacrifices made.

Amalia, now composed but visibly drained, leaned against the desk. “She’s not just a tool, John. She’s my sister. We grew up together, suffered together. She deserves more than this. But I have a family of my own now.”

John nodded, his thoughts aligning. He needed to understand why [Name] had been forced into this role, why the family insisted on her marriage, and what it all meant for her future. He couldn’t afford to overlook any detail, any potential lead. The stakes were too high, not just for [Name], but for the entire family.

The Bowery King broke the silence, his voice gentle yet firm. “John, we need to get started. We can’t miss anything. Every detail matters.”

John agreed, his resolve strengthening. He turned to Amalia. “We’ll find her. And we’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Amalia nodded, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, John. Please… bring her home.”

With a final, solemn nod, John and the Bowery King left the office, as they were escorted out of the estate by the butler, Nick emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. John and the Bowery King exchanged nods with him, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between them. Nick watched them until they disappeared from view, his mind undoubtedly swirling.

Back in the car, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of their conversation. The engine hummed softly as John navigated the winding roads, the only sound the occasional patter of rain against the windshield. After a few minutes of silent driving, John broke the silence.

“Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Let’s go over everything.”

As John drove away from the estate, his mind buzzed with thoughts and suspicions. The Bowery King sat beside him, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he recounted their discussions with each family member. They dissected every statement, every subtle nuance, searching for inconsistencies and hidden truths, trying to piece together the puzzle of your disappearance.

“I don’t trust Nick,” John said, his brow furrowing in thought. “He’s hiding something, I can feel it.”

The Bowery King chuckled, shaking his head. “You never trust anyone.”

John nodded in agreement, his gaze distant as he replayed their conversations in his mind. “And what about David? He seemed sincere, but there’s something he’s not telling us.”

As they delved deeper into their analysis, John and the Bowery King couldn’t shake the lingering questions that gnawed at them. The road stretched out before them, winding through the darkness as their conversation veered into speculation.

“What’s with the contrast between Joselyn’s husband and Amalia’s?” John mused, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Joselyn’s husband seems to have passed her test, but Amalia’s… I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

"She also didn't mention Michelle and Nick's marriage during the interview."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. “And what about Amalia? She seems genuinely sad about everything happening. But she’ll let her ‘sister’ take the fall before she does. It’s… unsettling.”

Their conversation turned to the possibility of David’s involvement in your disappearance. “Do you think David helped her escape?” John asked, his tone grave.

“Something about his demeanor… it’s off.”

The Bowery King considered this, his mind racing with possibilities. “And Michelle… is she really hiding out, or is there more to her story?” he pondered aloud. “She’s been missing for too long, and Nick’s desperation… it’s barely palpable.”

John furrowed his brow in thought, a realization dawning on him. “I didn’t know Sofia had a brother…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he mulled over this new information.

The Bowery King chuckled lightly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe they aren’t close,” he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Despite the levity of the moment, John couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. But he was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.

How hard would it be for the Big Bad Wolf to find a little Fawn?

______________________________________________________________

This was long as shit, also posted on my ao3. If you see any mistakes just let me know. I don't have an editor yet.

Part 2 is here.

Please check out my other works posted in the master list.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

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Feedback is always welcomed.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[dulaglutide]

Headcannons for the 4 clones with a female reader who is really short but strong enough to pick them up and carry them around like they weight nothing.

YES I AM SHORT SO I LOVE THIS!!!!!! WARNINGS⚠️: swearing, sexual themes (nothing in detail), a few threats

Hantengu clones x strong! fem reader

Aizetsu

He found it adorable how short you were

He didn’t think you were that strong at first due to your shortness

He would protect you not knowing how strong you actually were

Until one day he came home crying a lot due to Sekido yelling at him for a small little thing Sekido I will kill you

He ran into your arms holding onto you like you were his life line

This had happened a couple times before but you weren’t expecting it this time

He was sitting in your lap with his arms around you with his face buried in your shoulder

You we’re getting a little uncomfortable since you were sitting on a chair so you picked him up and carried him to bed without thinking

It wasn’t until you actually sat on the bed that he realized what had happened

”D…..did you just pick me up..?” Aizetsu said in between sobs but also confused

You nodded looking into his eyes

He was in shock a little bit

It wasn’t that he didn’t think you weren’t strong but he didn’t know you were strong enough to CARRY HIM

”C-can you pick me up…..again please….?” He said putting his face back in your shoulder

You picked him up again and walked around in the bedroom a little bit

Surprisingly this was comforting to him

He loved this feeling and he didn’t want it to end

Little did you know he secretly wants you to do this daily now

Sekido

Sekido was being a fussy little brat and kept going on about how annoying Karaku was being

He wouldn’t stop talking about it as you both were walking in the forest

He had to look down at you sometimes to make sure you were still there

You were very short but he didn’t mind

It made his ego bigger due to how small and cute you were

But anyways he was rambling and eventually you wanted him to shut the fuck up

So you went up closer to him and carried him bridal style

He shut up for a moment looking at you then looking at the ground

”What the fuck.” Was all he said to himself

You giggled a little as you continued walking

It was quiet now as Sekido is still processing what you just did

”Put me down……now.” Was all he said to you

”And if I don’t?” You replied

He glared at you hoping that would be enough to convince you

But it wasn’t

So you just kept walking though the forest

“How the fuck are you even this damn strong anyways?!” He asked

“I don’t know…..I’ve been this strong for a while…..” You said back

He pushed you down on the ground then picked you up in his arms

“Much better…..”

Karaku

Karaku was sitting on the couch in your shared home bored out of his mind waiting for you to come back

Once you walked in the door he jumped up and hugged you

”You’re back!” He said happily

He was a little more energetic today instead of flirty

But he still was the flirty bastard that you were dating

”Since you’re home…….wanna have some fun….darling~” He whispered the darling part in your ear with a tease in his tone

You shivered a little at his words but then you looked into those beautiful green eyes and…….picked him up without thinking

Karaku looked at you in shock

You were so tiny compared to him…..how could such a tiny little human like you carry such a muscular and sexy demon like him

Karaku didn’t say anything as you just walked into the bedroom carrying him in your arms

This was going to be a night~

Urogi

You and Urogi were flying together in the sky

Urogi was holding you in his arms as he flew making sure you wouldn’t fall or slip in his hands due to your tiny figure

You both eventually landed at the spot you both always hung out together

He kissed you softly before he put you down so you could walk around

You and Urogi walked a little bit until his wing started bothering him

“O-Ow!” You heard him say

You quickly went over to him asking what was wrong

He told you how his wing started to cramp up and it hurt a lot

You couldn’t do much in this situation but the place you both wanted to go to wasn’t that far away

You kissed his forehead as you picked him up bridal style being aware of his wing

He looked at you surprised and blushing heavily

He tried to cover his face with his talons but you already knew he was a red as a tomato

You both got to the spot you wanted to go to and you kept holding him not sitting down but you were just standing there looking at the cliff side

”Does your wing feel any better?” you asked looking down at his face that was still pink

”N-no it still hurts.” He said

Little did you know he was lying to you so you would keep holding him in your arms

Who knew such a small woman could carry somebody like him?

Hope you liked it!

[makeste]

So... How was watching that episode?

I meant to do a post on this sooner, as opposed to late on a Friday night hours before the next episode drops (eta: well apparently there's no new ep airing this week after all so that makes my timing slightly less atrocious), but yeah. basically I loved it. it hurt in all the right ways.

music was incredible. no shot it was ever not going to be incredible. Hayashi Yuuki thank you for always making my emotions your bitch.

there are admittedly a couple of moments in the anime which I felt weren't quite as impactful as they were in the manga. one of these is the moment when Jeanist, after seeing that Kacchan is (he thinks) traumatized and crying, immediately shifts gears from trying to hype him back up to return to the battle, and instead starts reassuring him that he's done enough and he doesn't have to fight anymore and they'll figure out a way without him. when I first read that part in the manga it absolutely slaughtered me. it's so rare to see media that stars young adults as the protagonists, and portrays them as capable young warriors, and yet also acknowledges that even so, they're still just kids. and to then surround said kids with adults who aren't dumbed down, and who are actually smart and capable and who are actively looking out for them and trying to protect them even though the kids are more OP than they are.

so to have a character that looks at someone like Bakugou and sees past how powerful and determined and ferocious he is, and instead just sees a kid who has been so incredibly brave and who they've asked so much of already. and to have that character make the on-the-spot decision to pull this kid out of the fight, regardless of the consequences, even if it means they might LOSE, just because he thinks the kid is hurt and scared and past his limits, and he needs someone to look out for him. that moment says everything about what kind of person Jeanist is. just, that one part got to me so much.

BUT, in the anime it all happens much faster and the moment gets kind of lost because Kacchan almost immediately starts doing his Deku-style muttering, and Jeanist quickly realizes that his initial read was wrong and this kid is actually FULLY AND COMPLETELY LOCKED IN MORE THAN EVER. which is exactly what happens in the manga as well, to be fair. but in the manga I got to read and absorb it at my own pace, whereas the anime just keeps on going with no concern over whether you've had enough time to process everything that's going on. and so that moment just kind of slips by, and almost isn't even noticeable unless you're looking out for it. it's not really a complaint, because there isn't really any other way the scene could be adapted, probably. but it does give me a good excuse to write a mini-essay about how much I love it, so yeah.

moving on though, in spite of my wishing we could have somehow lingered on that part a second or two longer, I did absolutely love the reveal of Kacchan mumbling and analyzing Deku-style. the first of many outstanding Okamoto Nobuhiko performances in this episode. full nerd powers activated. we'd already seen him do this in Bakugou Katsuki: Rising as well, but this is where it really stands out and it was awesome.

and by the way, shout out to the Big Three who are fucking great. eventually when I get around to posting my manga recaps for this part of the story, those will get more into their antics. for now though, I'll just say that everything was very well adapted. and the part where poor Mirio is all "???? sorry????" when TomurAFO has his brief little Tenko outburst was everything I hoped it would be, and Mirio's actor absolutely nailed it. like I knew it was coming and was anticipating it, and it still slayed me. easily a top five funniest moment in the whole damn series.

Kacchan standing up and telling Jeanist to look after the others filled me with just as much dread as the first time I read it. and the first time I read it, I had already been spoiled. so what I'm trying to say is, knowing what's about to happen does not in any way lessen the intensity of this moment. if anything it just enhances it.

the reveal of Kacchan's powerup was so incredibly badass. I can't even describe how badass it was. just, BOOM. now you see me, now you don't. LA DEE DA, HERE I AM! and the narration in the background talking about his quirk. chef's kiss.

no matter how many anime characters I see pulling off the omae wa mou shindeiru, I will never, ever tire of it. it's the single most badass thing anyone can ever do. especially when they were being underestimated the entire fucking time, and now all of a sudden they're out here scaring the shit out of the big bad himself. no one is faster than Kacchan. KACCHAN CAN RUN FASTER THAN ALL OF YOU. HE CAN FUCKING FLY!! HE'S BEHIND YOU RIGHT NOW!! GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

and then Nobu hits us with the coup de grace. "Izuku… can I still catch up to you?" fellas is it gay to spend your last thirty seconds of life having an imaginary conversation with your beloved rival even as you're zapping around like a bolt of lightning, kicking more ass than anyone on earth has ever kicked.

and I was already dead by this point, but then the All Might vestige scene kicked in and resuscitated me so I could die again even harder. worth it.

so what really killed me nineteen times during this part was the way that Kacchan sounded so completely and utterly different from how he has ever sounded before. this is a scene that's taking place entirely in his head (or… in OFA land… maybe???? goddammit Horikoshi still owes us an explanation. THAT VESTIGE SHOULD NOT BE THERE I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYBODY SAYS). there's nobody else around. nobody to perform for. nobody to show off or look tough for. it's just him, and this big mysterious yellow All Might ghost thing.

and he sounds like an entirely different person. nervous, shy, sheepish. no crudeness, no insults. just, aw shucks. hand to back of neck. avert eyes. so this is kind of awkward, but... the thing is, I always wanted to... but I was such a brat when we first met... and I just never found the right moment after... anyway yeah I'm sorry and it's really dumb. but I really just. wanted to get your autograph.

just. this is him at his most sincere. this is who he's always been, all along. the one and ONLY time we've ever gotten a glimpse of him with absolutely no walls. and he is NOTHING like what he presents himself as to the outside world. he is sweet, he is gentle, he is self-effacing. he is painfully vulnerable, which is doubtless why he never dares to show this side of himself to anybody, ever. and he is ultimately so calmly accepting of this one last regret during what he believes are his final moments.

anyway. so yeah. it destroyed me. what else is there to say.

and then it happens. and once again, not to shit on the anime at all because this episode was fantastic, but this was another part that seemed much clearer in the manga. particularly that one page where we see that everyone else -- Jeanist; Mirio; Hadou; Tamaki; even Mirko -- tried to save Katsuki from that final blow, but they were all just a split second too late. the anime did its best to show that, but I think it was just harder to convey in that format. whereas the manga did it beautifully in a way that couldn't really be replicated.

but on the other hand, one thing the anime did VERY well was showing Kacchan's ragdoll body just flop lifelessly away afterwards. holy shit. I watched like a half dozen reaction videos to this episode on Youtube, and in most of them the anime viewers didn't quite realize how bad of a hit it was at first… until they showed that. then they were like, D: D: D:

and then last but not least… the image that broke the internet so hard that it spoiled me even in my paranoid social media isolation. Kacchan lying lifelessly on the ground. it's such a well-drawn panel in the manga, and the anime absolutely did it justice. having him be so pale was a wonderful touch. you see him, and you just immediately know. there's no room for doubt at all. it's powerful af. the Youtuber reactors all lost their minds. one woman actually started sobbing. phenomenal cinema.

so yeah! needless to say I thought it was spectacular. pour one out for the anime-onlys though. and now their watch begins.

[deepdreamnights]

I remade the trailer to Robot Monster, to serve as a trailer for a hypothetical remake of... you guessed it, Robot Monster.

Destruction has come, hu-mans, and its silliness will not protect you.

My thoughts and how-to process blog post under the fold.

I made Robot Monster's Trailer Remake primarily with Vidu and with Midjourney.

For most shots I started with a photoshopped midjourney gen (or stack of them), which was used either as a prompt image or starting frame.

Some shots, like the earthquake, were done with start-and-end frames.

Vidu has some quirks for my Roland Emmerich Christ-the-Redeemer shot. I attempted the image several times as a direct image as start frame, but it would reset to a new camera angle each time, rebelling against my inaccurate version:

As the AI could recognize the statue, but not it being in inaccurate surroundings. I eventually used it as a prompt and not a start frame got a good enough shot.

I tended to go for 8-second shots on quality mode, to give me more to cut around and edit. Almost no shots play without some cropping, speed adjustments or other edits in this, and anyone using AI for a larger project is going to find much the same.

While 90% of the shots are from Vidu a few I used Hailuo's Minmax to accomplish. Mainly things like a few low-motion Ro-man talking shots, the computer-communication device, and the motion title card for "electrifying", etc.

Vidu likes to move, a lot, and for stuff that needs subtle movement I sometimes find it helps to mix things up.

I've found that when image prompting for a character, like Ro-Alice, it sometimes helps to do a fullbody and portrait two-for-one. This helps keep the character design consistent, and you can kinda tell which Ro-Man shots I made before I figured this trick out.

I also reused shots of the dinosaurs from my other AI video projects for meta reasons.

Right now it doesn't make videos so much as it makes shots you can weave into videos.

I'm actually impressed at how well it understood the concept of Ro-Man, only giving him a full ape face or a weird tail or the like a couple of times.

My general approach to the concept was "What if you kept the premise the same but had a budget." Whereas in reality you'd never actually get that combo, since if they had money, they wouldn't have made Robot Monster.

It also let me play with a fanon idea I've had for awhile that the Ro-Men were the helmets, and the ape-creature was some biological organism used as a conveyance.

For the audio, I took the audio to the trailer and used Suno's cover-features to both clean up the sound and change the musical style. The back half of the original track was completely warped by the cover process, but I used another bit of trailer-style music to cover that bit, and to extend for the longer ending shot, since my version of the trailer is about 20 seconds longer than the original.

Some prompts utilized:

in a sci-fi lab in a cave, a furry alien monster wearing a spherical helmet with reflective faceplate walks around aubrey plaza in a white sleeveless slip-dress and dark pantyhose in a glass tube, the tube pulses with green light. She is in a glass cylinder, he is walking around it, with curiosity. The scene is menacing, slow movement, pensive. horror movie scene, the tone is tense and frightening. professional lighting and cinematography. Oscar winning, 2003, practical lighting, effects, and costuming.

the robot spider-robots with spherical heads walk around as though searching for something. horror movie scene, the tone is tense and frightening. professional lighting and cinematography. Oscar winning, 2003, practical lighting, effects, and costuming.

the alien ape-creature wearing a space helmet (the robot monster), in a modern city. He throws green lightning from his hand, disintegrating a policeman into ash. Monster-movie sci-fi scene, dramatic camera angles and lighting. Practical costuming and special effects. High budget and high concept.

slow motion fly-through footage, the air is full of slow-moving glowing bubbles. green electric sparks arc from one bubble to the next producing an ominous mood. The scene conveys spreading menace and fear. One long, unbroken shot. filmed on location, effects by weta digital, ILM, stan winston studios, believable and hyper-realistic. Shot on location. trailer shot. high-speed film

All-in-all, a fun project, and one that came along when I really, really, really needed something to concentrate on for long stretches of time.

Make something fun, folks.