#what a mammoth effort

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Why are we trying to bring back extinct species? Have y’all never seen or read Jurassic Park??!!??

[hyperprosexia]

cw: 18+ | omegaverse; pregnancy; bonded mates; jealousy; alpha!ghoap x fem!omega!reader

your alpha mates, simon and johnny, who go through a strange kind of behaviour once you do end up carrying their pups.

suddenly, there seems to be an imbalance between your beloved mates the sweet affection and mutual respect they shared now withered like rose petals, despite your efforts to keep the stem watered.

perhaps your love isn't enough, though?

perhaps you're not loving on them equally?

or perhaps it's the fact the other can sense who has managed to knock you up during your last heat just as well as you can already tell?

you do feel especially drawn to simon since that night. even more so since you figured out what's been causing your hormones to go haywire along with that morning sickness and fatigue.

while simon keeps claiming that he knew he's finally done it the moment his knot had lodged itself inside your eager cunt, johnny keeps challenging him every chance he gets taunting and snapping and growling at him from his side next to you.

and johnny is especially clingy now that your bump starts showing at five months pregnant, carrying not one, but two pups at that.

he's ushered you into the bedroom again, helped you arrange the large nest to your liking before pulling you right into his loving arms as you rest with your back against his bare, furry chest.

it's nice, peaceful. you feel loved and cared for in a way that has you purring, though it's not the lack of attention or affection that's been stressing you out, it's

"my turn," simon grumbles lowly as he enters the shared bedroom. he's been looking for you for a minute too long for his liking, and finding you curled up against johnny again leaves his wolf snarling and his stomach churning with the acidic need to protect and possess his pregnant omega.

"move, mactavish."

behind you, johnny stiffens. "negative. ah need this."

the tension rises at once as they snarl at each other; air thickening as their usually calm and soothing scents turn bitter, nearly causing you to gag.

"stop," you trill, squirming in johnny's embrace as the puppies move inside your bulging belly, sensing your distress. "no more fighting. i need you two to start getting along again."

johnny's growling almost stops completely when he senses your shifting mood; it lowers to a soft warning that vibrates against your back while simon approaches the nest, towering with his broad shoulders squared in a display of alpha dominance.

and even though he's not meaning to intimidate you, you duck your head naturally.

"he's been hogging you for days, love! i miss you," simon huffs, pinning johnny with a sharp glare; tawny eyes glinting with fury as he watches the other alpha's hands caress over your bump. "these pups are mine and so are you."

you wince when johnny's growl rises again.

"she's mine, too! the fuck are ye on about? ye can rest with her later."

"i want to rest with her now."

"johnny." craning your head back to gaze at him, you let out a soothing chirp. "make some space for simon, please."

johnny tuts and huffs, melts underneath your stare when you blink your eyes up at him so prettily, and he relents with an annoyed chuff.

and simon looks all too smugly about it, when johnny obeys your request.

you're shifted and moved carefully, manhandled with the utmost care by the roughest pairs of hands on this planet, until you're laying on your back, staring at the ceiling in the dimly lit bedroom while both of your massive mates sandwich you between them.

yet they're still acting like a pair of petulant toddlers, fighting over who gets to have their favourite toy as they keep growling at each other, holding eye-contact over the ample swells of your breasts.

as you let out a deep sigh, johnny nuzzles your shoulder apologetically.

"ah cannae have one moment with ye without tha' big geezer bloody growlin' at me."

"one moment? tch," simon countered, rubbing his mammoth palm over your baby bump self-soothingly. "you've been spending way more time with her than me."

while they continue to growl at each other so quietly, anyone else wouldn't be able to hear it, you keen softly: "i just want you two to get along again."

eventually, you reach up to cover their eyes with your hands respectively; blinding them like one would a predator to calm them down and cutting off the view of each other.

"enough," you hiss warningly, their sour stench agitating your omega and maternal instincts. "no more fighting, you're upsetting me and our pups, and i cannot deal with it anymore."

both men go silent immediately once they can hear and smell how much their behaviour is affecting you. they take deep breath, nuzzle against your warm palms, and start to relax into the mattress of the nest at last. for now.

as you lower your hands again, johnny scoots even closer to you.

"ah jus' wan' tae be with ye, bunny."

on your other side, simon wraps one heavy arm around you, careful as he rests his hand on your pregnant belly. "and i need to be with you, pet."

"and i need you both equally," you remark emphatically. "this pregnancy is already taking a toll on me and i need you both to take care of us."

whining softly, you squirm between them on the mattress, trying to get more comfortable.

"i'm scared as much as i'm excited."

finally, realization seems to dawn and click inside their thick skulls, and then your alphas share a long look full of understanding and raw determination something you haven't witnessed in months.

suddenly, a concoction of wet oakwood, warm brandy, and featherlight soot mixes with that of sugarplums, clean cotton, and dried cloves, and you inhale it deeply as you feel a new wave of fatigue seep into your limbs; turning them heavy and full of lead until you're practically pinned to the mattress.

and while johnny gently nuzzles your sensitive scent gland, simon continues to rub and feel up your swollen belly, cherishing every single tiny kick and flutter of his growing pups as you arch into their gentle ministrations with a happy, content purr.

"can we turn off the light? i'm tired already," you keen and yawn throughly, snuggling even closer to both alphas to steal their warmth while scent marking them as well.

they can't help themselves but coo at the sound of your yawning, finding it both endearing and adorable; all too aware that you're growing tired more easily as pregnant and ripe as you are now, and needing more attention and tender, loving touch all things only they can provide.

neither of them can quite handle how precious you are, especially now. it fills them with a strange, possessive pride to know that they're the cause of it though one of them in particular.

johnny pulls the duvet over you, making sure to keep you warm and comfortable next to him, before flicking off the bedside lamp.

"lemme hold ye, hen," he mumbles under his breath. "cannae sleep if ah don't."

he curls himself around you like a needy mutt, and buries his nose into the crook of your neck, nosing along your skin, determined to leave no space between you two while simon nuzzles the crown of your head, inhaling and huffing your scent like an addict, his muscular legs all entangled with yours.

"rest now, pet," he rumbles with his hand still splayed over the curve of your bump possessively below the duvet.

[fastandcarlos]

Almost Lost You : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: things have been frosty between the two of you for some time, but when everything turns upside down, is charles really willing to lose you as a result of it all?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Where are you going?” You shouted across at Charles, finding yourself looking in disbelief as he began to pick up the red bag that was on the arm of the sofa, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Are you seriously leaving right now?”

As you spoke again, Charles’ head snapped around to look at you, his shoulders dropping as he let go of a sigh. “I think it’s for the best if we just have a bit of space, I’ll see you down at the track.”

Truthfully neither of you could even remember what it was that you were fighting about anymore, you’d barely seen each other for weeks and the tension was building. What you had hoped would be a happy reunion had become a weekend of nightmares for you both. You were training in two separate countries, counting down the days until you could see each other again, and now it felt like Charles couldn’t get away from you quick enough.

“Have a good race,” he told you as he picked up his keys from the worktop.

The lack of emotion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all weekend,” you soon found yourself muttering under your breath.

“What was that?” Charles questioned as he passed you by.

Your head shook as you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Nothing.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Your hand quickly grabbed at the wheel once again as you felt yourself going slightly wide into the turn, rushing to steady the car. Down the radio you could hear the frustrations of your team as yet again you found yourself on the verge of sending the car into the barriers.

“Y/N, get your head in the game,” you heard Tom, your race engineer tell you.

You didn’t give him a reply as you concentrated on what was ahead, knowing that you’d need another flying lap to be in with a chance of qualifying for Q3. You took things a little slower as you approached the start line, giving yourself a couple of laps to find yourself again.

“The tyres are pretty worn now, this is going to take a mammoth effort from you to qualify with how you’ve been driving so far this weekend,” Tom warned you as you left him know that you were ready to go.

“I can do it,” you assured him.

If you listened closely enough, you were sure you could hear a faint chuckle in the background of your radio. “Good luck.”

You found yourself with your foot down hard as you went over the start line, teeth gritted and hands firmly on the wheel, determined to silence anyone who doubted you back in the garage. Your lap started well, the corners that had proven tricky throughout the weekend were finally working with you instead of against you, with no other cars in the way to stop you reaching your target.

Back in the garage the excitement was starting to build, your team had begun to worry that something wasn’t quite right throughout your weekend, but now the pieces started to seem like they were fitting together. You didn’t dare tell anyone about your troubles with Charles, half of your team weren’t exactly approving of your decision to date a driver that drove for one of your closest rivals. Did you let that affect you? Of course not. You loved Charles. And he loved you. You thought.

“Damn.”

Silence descended amongst the garage in a split second, all hope was lost as several pairs of hands smacked onto people’s faces.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Tom yelled down the radio, “Y/N are you alright?”

The cameras tried their hardest to show something, but you found yourself in a car that was surrounded by smoke. In the blink of an eye you found yourself staring at the blue of the barrier at the side of the track, heart racing as pain scorched through your body.

Everything had been going so well until you found yourself going over a loose bit of debris over the track, cursing the stewards who must have missed it, your back wheel jammed over it leaving you with no control. The last thing you remembered was skidding over the gravel, scrunching your eyes shut as you found yourself going round and round before bracing for the impact of the almighty bang.

“Y/N, you good?” Tom repeated, still awaiting a response from you.

“I-I think so,” you stuttered, finding yourself unable to move, greeted by pain that you had never experienced before.

“Medical is on the way.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Back in the garage of Ferrari, a chorus of groans had captured Charles’ attention as he sat in his car letting his team know exactly what he needed from them in order to support him into Q3.

“What happened?” He asked around, unable to quite see through his visor towards the small television screen that was up in the corner of the garage.

Around him everyone met each others glances, no one wanted to be the one to break the news to Charles. They knew how much he adored you, how protective he was of you, and this would have tipped him over the edge. Luckily for them all though, Fred took a step towards the car and knelt down next to Charles. His presence was enough for Charles to know that something serious had clearly happened, removing his helmet out of respect for his boss.

“There’s been a pretty bad crash,” Fred began to tell him, watching as Charles nodded in reply, managing to figure that out all for himself. “The person involved has told their team they’re alright.”

“Who was involved?” Charles pushed as he watched the smoke on the screen start to disappear, the colours of the bar starting to emerge through the gaps.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered.

Charles didn’t need Fred to say anymore as the orange colours of your car became clear, your race number printed against the side of your car clear as day.

“Y/N.”

As Charles looked around the room, no one quite knew the right thing to say. He needed a moment to process, his eyes glued to the screen willing for you to get out of the car. There was no sign of movement from your car, filling Charles with dread. Perhaps things hadn’t been the best between you recently, but that never stopped him loving, caring, about you. The longer that time seemed to pass the more that Charles began to worry. Were you really okay? Was someone out there just trying to protect him?

“We’ll keep you updated throughout Q3 if we hear anything,” a voice suddenly told him, snapping Charles out of his daydream.

“You think I’m going out there?” He gasped in disbelief, shaking his head at the engineer beside hi.

“Charles, the car is super fast, pole is yours for the taking. You can’t let us down now, work has to come first,” he pleaded with him.

The engineer’s words struck a cord with Charles, the penny dropped as he realised what was going on around him. All this time work had been his priority, he had barely given you the time of day for so long all that he cared about was getting that car over the line first, no matter who he hurt along the way.

“I can’t do it.”

“You have to do it.”

“No. No I don’t,” Charles adamantly told them all, the sharp raise of his voice taking many by surprise. “Driving this car isn’t most important right now, making sure that Y/N is alright is.”

With that, Charles took the wheel off of his car, beginning to climb out of it. He could feel the disappointment of his team around him engulfing him, but he didn’t care. He could apologise for disappointing them one day, but right now he was holding onto the chance that he would be able to fix things with you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Are you alright?” The paramedic asked you, leaning over to make sure that you were strapped onto the bed securely.

The corners of your smile turned up slightly, “I’m as comfy as I can be having just gone over 200mph into a barrier.”

“I see you’ve still got your sense of humour,” he chuckled in response.

Your hands gripped either side of the bed as you felt the two paramedics begin to push you towards the ambulance that was waiting to take you away. Getting you out of the car was a much tougher job than anyone had imagined, the damage on your car was extensive, but nothing was more hurt than your pride. Every driver had crashed, most multiple times, but that never stopped you feeling as if you weren’t good enough.

Your body jolted as you were wheeled over the gravel, hearing several apologies come from the two men either side of you. You insisted that it was alright, biting down on your bottom lip to mask the throbbing that was taking it out of you all over your body.

“Wait!” A voice screeched across as you began to be raised up into the ambulance. “Don’t shut that door yet!”

You were far too sore to lift your head up to see who was making the noise, but you knew. You could almost feel your heart skip a beat as a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N?”

“Sir, are you alright?” One of the paramedics questioned, watching in confusion as a figure ran across the track in order to try and get to them before they shut the door.

“She’s my girlfriend, I just want to make sure that she’s alright.” Charles told them.

The paramedic looked down at you, nodding as you nodded back at him too, silently assuring him that it was alright, that Charles was with you.

As soon as he got silent permission from the paramedic, Charles took a hold of your hand, getting to look at you for the first time. You were pretty cut up and bruised, the sharp intake of breath that came from him as he studied you was enough to confirm that for you.

“Are you alright,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips gently over the back of your hand, treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

Your head shook in reply to him, “everything hurts.”

“Oh baby.”

You had tried your hardest to hold back any sort of emotion since the moment you lost control, but as soon as you found Charles by your side, you couldn’t keep it together any longer. Before you knew it Charles’ spare hand was underneath your eyes to wipe away the tears that were falling. All that you had bubbled up from the race, the arguments, the fear of where things were going had finally reached the surface. And it killed Charles too.

“You’re in safe hands,” he whispered down to you, brushing your hair out of your face when he found a second to move away from your eyes. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your words cut through Charles like a knife, reality there to smack him in the face. What did you have to be sorry for? You were both responsible but Charles knew he had been so much worse.

“What have you got to be sorry for?”

“Everything,” you murmured, your voice shaky and unsteady, “but most of all being stupid enough to crash.”

The two of you were so lost in yourselves you had failed to realise that the ambulance was now shut and you were on your way to the hospital to get yourself checked out. On the other side of the vehicle Charles knew there would be many men dressed in red unhappy with him, but if he was honest, he just didn’t care.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Charles assured you, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of your head, “you couldn’t help what happened out there.”

“It’s not just what happened out there Charles.”

“We’ve not been in a good place, right?”

Your head nodded in agreement, pain still etched upon your face as you found yourself wriggling ever so slightly in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. Charles moved straight away, offering himself to try and help you settle again.

“Let’s not worry about that for now, let’s just see what’s going on with you.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After several hours in the hospital, specialists, doctors, friends all visiting you, you were finally starting your journey to mend. You had a fair few bruises, a fracture in your wrist but most of all you had a huge dent to your confidence which you knew you would get over.

Throughout it all, Charles never left your side, listening intently to everything that everyone had to say in order to know what he could do to look after you. Carlos had popped by and brought Charles something more comfortable to wear and the reassurance that the majority of the garage understood why he had chosen to do what he did.

And now you found yourselves alone.

The tension was nowhere near as bad as it was when the two of you woke in your hotel room that morning but you both knew there was plenty still to talk about. You pushed your body up on the bed so that you were sat up, feeling Charles press his hand to your back to make you lean forwards and placing a cushion behind you to rest on.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked as he pulled his chair closer towards you.

“I’ll get there,” you lightly joked, offering him a smile. “I’m alright.”

Your voice sounded convincing, but Charles knew you better than that. “I was so worried back in that garage, I really thought there was a chance that I was going to lose you.”

“I thought I was going to lose you too,” you suddenly admitted, taking Charles by surprise. “When you walked out this morning I thought maybe you’d given up.”

Charles’ head shook straight away, shuffling even further forwards and taking a hold of your hand. He went to speak but his breath was trapped in disbelief. The thought of walking out the door and not returning had never even crossed Charles’ mind no matter how angry he got. Knowing that that was what you thought he would do tore him apart, there was no chance that he was ever going to give up on you so easily.

“I love you,” he reminded you, saying those three little words that he knew meant the most to you. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a horrible boyfriend recently.”

“You haven’t-“

“-I have,” he interrupted, “you don’t need to make me feel better y/n.”

“Maybe we’ve both been a bit neglectful,” you suggested, refusing to let Charles take all the blame for what had happened.

You’d both been so wrapped up in work and making sure that you were on top that you’d forgotten all about the people that had helped you get there. You were each others biggest fans, even if you didn’t always show it.

“You know, there’s one good thing about all of this,” Charles mumbled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “Now that you’re injured I’ve got the perfect excuse to look after you and be a proper boyfriend to you.”

“Charles, you’ve always been a good boyfriend to me,” you corrected.

Charles laughed back at you, the familiar sound that you had missed so much.

“I’ll be an even better boyfriend then,” he smirked, standing up from where he sat and moving to the edge of your bed.

You shuffled across so that there was enough space for Charles to sit himself as close to you as he possibly could. It was the closest the two of you had been together for quite some time, and admittedly, you absolutely loved it.

“I love you,” he smiled, gently nudging against your side, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” you replied, bumping him back too, “I love you too.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Pyramid Head! König

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Size Difference, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Dubious Consent, Tummy Bulging, Cockwarming, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Squirting, Mention of Gangbanging, Sadistic! König, Degenerate! König, Breeding Kink, Profanity, Implied Fem Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Pyramid Head! König is a SEX. PEST. EXTRAORDINAIRE.

He pursued you relentlessly until he finally caught you, literally picking you up by the collar of your shirt like you were a wet cat and taking you home with him.

Pyramid Head! König treats you as his own human pet. He dresses you up in clothes he finds on his travels, brings you little trinkets for you to play with and look at, tries petting you without crushing your body beneath his mammoth strength.

He treats you like property in other regards, too. Typically of the breeding variety.

Pyramid Head! König’s sex drive is really something to behold. Just ask any of the monsters roaming around Silent Hill and, if they could, they’d tell you what a degenerate he is – how insatiable and relentless he can be.

Pyramid Head! König uses anyone and anything for his own pleasure if he’s horny enough. And, lucky him, he now has you at his side 24/7.

Pyramid Head! König is absolutely massive compared to you and he makes no effort to hide it. He picks you up and uses you as his own fleshlight, holding you about the waist and spearing you on his cock, pumping you up and down the shaft while growling beneath his veiled mask.

He cares little for your cries. In fact, they seem to spur him on.

Pyramid Head! König is absolutely fascinated by the shape of his cock protruding from inside your stomach. Sometimes, he’ll make you sit on him just so he can press and prod at the outline, his dick stiffening at every clench, cry and moan you make while your body acts as unwilling shelter for his cock.

You swear you can even see the outline of a vein and the pulsing of the tip. Feel it inside you like a second heartbeat.

So it’s no surprise to anyone that Pyramid Head! König is a big cockwarming fan. Literally the biggest.

Pyramid Head! König can make you sit on his dick for hours before he decides to use your body as little more than a cocksleeve and starts pounding into you.

When he cums, it’s thick and fast. He holds you in place while he fills you, watching your stomach swell with his cum as if he were filling a balloon.

Even when you whine and tell him it’s painful, that you feel as if you’re about to burst, he doesn’t let up. He’s far too enamoured with the bloating in your middle to care what you think.

Pyramid Head! König’s favourite thing to do is, when he’s completely emptied himself inside you, press down on your stomach and hear you cry out. God, nothing makes him feel or act more feral.

Nor does anything compare to sight or the feeling of his seed squirting out of you and spraying across his butcher’s apron when he presses down on your stomach, forcing hours of carnal pleasure from your body as if to purge and prepare you for another round.

Pyramid Head! König wears those stains like a badge of honour.

If you ever displease Pyramid Head! König, he shackles you to a corner and cums on you for days at a time, repeatedly, until you’re literally almost drowning in a pool of his cum.

He doesn’t care that he’s practically shooting dust by the end of it; the sight of you drenched and crusted in his semen makes the cramping in his hand and cock more than worth it, to see you so utterly humiliated and his.

Pyramid Head! König doesn’t let you wash it off until he deems you worthy of such a privilege. And when he can finally wrangle his libido back into some form of order, regardless of how minimal that may be.

More often than not, he ends up licking you clean before you can go in search of soap and water. With what appendage, you have no idea. All you know is that it’s long, wet and slips out from under his mask like a tentacle, relinquishing you of one bodily fluid in exchange for another.

Despite Pyramid Head! König’s possessive demeanour, he isn’t above enlisting the help of other monsters and manifestations to get his point across.

If ever you do something to royally piss him off, he’ll actually bring a monster (or two, or five) to you – those he can control with his influence – and make them fuck you.

Pyramid Head! König enjoys seeing you in pain when you’ve wronged him. Especially when, as he pulls you out from the mound of flesh and forced orgasms, he appears as your hero. Your saviour.

Only to use you again as he always does. As he always will.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad X

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[studioeisa]

all seok wants for christmas 🎄 seokmin x reader.

your fellow glee club member, seokmin, has been trying to confess to you for the better half of the past three years. key word: trying. maybe a christmas duet is in order to get the message across.

🎄 includes: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: glee club. seokmin has a crush, confessions, fluff. word count: 1.4k 🎄 @tusswrites, surprise! it's me! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ hope you enjoy this little drabble, which i wrote while looping the glee version of all i want for christmas is you. love you lots and merry, merry christmas, my light! 🎄 this was written as part of cam&em studios' a very seventeen christmas secret santa event.

Seokmin has tried to confess to you seventeen and a half times.

He's done nearly everything in his power to get the message across. A letter in your locker? Check. An orchestrated, one-on-one walk in the rain? Check. Hell, he even begged Joshua to lock you two in the club room that one time.

It seems Seokmin's efforts are all futile— because you remain blissfully unaware of the fact he's kind of in love with you.

"No plans of giving up yet, Seok?"

The hushed question drags Seokmin out of his reverie. Mingyu at least had the decency to whisper the query, but Seokmin still instinctively looks towards you to check if you might have overheard. You look none the wiser as you engage in a conversation with Wonwoo.

Seokmin's grumbled response of "shut up" only makes Mingyu snicker.

"Year three of being down baaad," the taller man teases, sing-songing the words to vex Seokmin just a little more. It works; Seokmin elbows his friend in the side.

"I'll figure it out," Seokmin huffs, even though that's something he's said at least once a month since he first realized how he feels for you.

The glee club meeting of the day kicks off with Seungkwan offering reminders and pointers for the upcoming national show choir competition. Try as he might, Seokmin can't really bring himself to listen.

His focus is entirely on you.

From where he's seated, he can onlysee the side of your face, and he truly tries not to make his staring obvious. His friends have all teased him relentlessly for wearing his heart on his sleeve yet failing to offer that very heart to you when it matters.

Honestly? Seokmin feels like he's running out of ways to confess.

He's so caught up in his moping that he doesn't immediately register Seungkwan addressing him. Seokmin only snaps to attention when Mingyu knocks his knee.

"Hm?" Seokmin looks to Seungkwan. "Sorry, what was that?"

There's a ripple of laughter throughout the room. In the corner of his eye, Seokmin can see you biting back a smile. It makes the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment.

"I said," Seungkwan repeats exasperatedly. "I was hoping you could perform a Christmas song for the next club meeting."

Seokmin blinks once, then twice. Right. He was slotted to perform next week. "A Christmas song," he echoes, his mind still trying to sort through its thoughts of you. "Gotcha."

He's convinced that that's all there will be to it until Seungkwan goes on, "It could even be a duet, if that makes things easier for you."

Seokmin is just a second too late to the punch line, because you're already raising your hand. You look just the appropriate amount of excited as you call out, "I'd love to do a duet with Seok, if he'll have me."

He nearly chokes on air then and there.

If he'll have you? How can you say something like that and expect him to not want to pass out?

Mingyu is visibly fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Seungkwan has that annoying, knowing look on his face. None of it matters to Seokmin, though, because in that very moment, he realizes that maybe he has one more confession up his sleeve.

It's a mammoth task, keeping his expression under control as he meets your gaze. You're sporting that smile he loves so much— the one that steals the air from his lungs.

That's why Seokmin's tone is just a little bit breathless as he says, "Of course."

He's saying yes to the duet, sure.

But he's also saying yes to the treacherous prospect of having you and wanting you.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside is off the table."

Seokmin isn't at all surprise with your opening statement. It draws an affectionate laugh from him, even, because having known you for so long gives him some sense of what you like and what you don't.

The two of you decided to meet up outside of school hours to discuss and practice your impending performance. It was far from the first time that you were out together, though it was the first time the two of you were slotted to sing together.

"I can't believe we haven't done a duet yet," you say amusedly as you scroll through your Spotify playlist for prospects.

"It's criminal, isn't it?" Seokmin muses with a coolness that he could almost applaud himself for. He's acting like his usual self on the outside, but his mind is running a mile an hour as he imagines how to execute this.

One chance. He has one chance to get this right.

"We can be Christina Aguilera and Brian McKnight," he suggests delicately. "A little Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas moment."

You let out a thoughtful hum. "I don't think I can hit Aguilera's notes," you admit with a giggle.

Seokmin chuckles along. He's not miffed by your contradiction. This is all part of his master plan.

"Is Happy Christmas, War Is Over too serious?" you ask.

"A little too solemn for my taste."

"Fair."

The two of you exchange suggestions back and forth for the next half hour until Seokmin decides it's finally time to pull out the big guns. "How about we stick to a classic?" he prompts, his tone innocent as ever.

You roll your shoulders as you glance at him inquisitively.

Seokmin clears his throat, at least a dozen platitudes running through his mind. Now or never. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Just do it.

"Mariah Carey," he says. "All I Want For Christmas Is You?"

There's a terribly long moment where Seokmin thinks you're going to deny him. He doesn't really have a backup for this, doesn't have a Plan B. His breath stills in his chest as he waits for your response of—

"Hey, I think we can pull that one off."

Seokmin just barely holds himself back from pumping his fist in the air.

It's a miracle that Seokmin makes it to the day of your performance. His leg is bouncing up and down. His palms are sweating like crazy. He's been through Sectionals and Regionals, but he hadn't been this nervous in any of those contests.

Does it help that the two of you decided to color coordinate clothes? Seokmin isn't sure. The pair of you look like a couple now, which only seems to do more harm than good on his poor, poor heart.

At this point, all he can do is straighten out his checkered button down and hope he doesn't keel over mid-song.

"Ready?" you ask, your voice betraying no hint of your own nerves.

Seokmin shoots you a tight-lipped smile. "As I'll ever be," he lies.

Seungkwan works on queueing up the minus one. Mingyu not-so discreetly sets up his phone to film the whole thing. And Seokmin?

He takes one look at your face and decides that he may as well go out swinging.

The uptempo beats of the festive track ring through the room. Reactions to the choice are mixed. Some groan. Some cheer. Seokmin, once again, could care less what any of them feel or think. He has a plan, and he will see it through.

Your honeyed, dulcet tone effectively shuts up anyone who might've doubted the two of you.

I don't want a lot for Christmas, you croon. There is just one thing I need.

Seokmin is surprised that he manages to not melt on the spot. His fingers tighten a bit around his Bluetooth microphone, but he holds it together enough to join you.

I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace, he sings. Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day.

As the track goes on, some of Seokmin's nerves ease. Being around you has always been easy; his little plan doesn't change that. The two of you execute the duet with effortless chemistry, trading saccharine verses and middling dance steps like the two of you have been singing together for ages.

It exhilarates Seokmin, gives him just enough courage for what he's about to do.

The song is winding to a close. You're in a club room full of some of your closest friends, all of whom are watching you two like hawks. But with the way you're looking up at Seokmin, the way you're singing with him, to him, you might as well be the only two people in the whole world.

Make my wish come true, you belt out.

Oh, baby. Seokmin's heart is in his throat. He pushes on.

All I want for Christmas is—

He stutters. You blink up at him. Confused, concerned.

He says the word instead of singing it— the single, intentional choice carrying the weight of everything he has tried and failed to tell you so far.

"You."

[girl-lostconnection]

Helldivers are just little freaks to me, freaky half feral dog creatures that are tossed to the meat grinder of war. Starving war dogs that do not understand what they are starving for exactly but nonetheless still chasing after what was demanded of them, hoping that maybe, MAYBE, if they go further-If they complete even more missions, they’d no longer feel that gnawing hunger even if it chips away at their very souls.

ANYWHO😌 this is reader to me

“Remember that you can’t save everyone. Remember that you have to try” YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME JESTER OH MY GODDDDDDD THE WAY MY HEART SANK. But yeah, you are spitting facts out here, I’m ready to sign under every word you are saying here.

@jesterinc, my G, this one’s for you

Helldiver!Reader who lives this long mostly because of the kindness and patient teaching from older divers. The shared knowledge, the shared manuals, shared camaraderie.

Reader who doesn’t know why Helldivers who are so much more skilful and who could (and by any standard should have) left them behind decided not to.

Question that keeps them up at night sometimes, question that ping pongs off the walls of their head, echoing louder when it’s too quiet.

Why-why-why-why-why?

Reader who doesn’t understand why these behemoths of war tried to help time after time after time.

They don’t get it until they got their first cadet joining in for a mission.

Jumpy tense thing, losing more bullets than actually hitting the enemy, not used to a recoil yet, not sure how to adjust the satellite tower, not very knowledgeable about the mechanics of battle that are their new home now.

(Everyone knows that Helldivers don’t die sleeping. Everyone knows that death is better than shame)

Reader who suddenly gets it why these older Helldivers helped them, why they carried a new pup on the battlefield, why wasn’t they just kicked to the side.

It is often said that Helldivers as a branch are one big pack of feral dogs.

Starved for scraps of approval, dying too young and snarling at every outsider. Feral creatures. Weapons of war.

Judgement rained from the sky on unsuspecting enemies.

It is often overlooked that the most prominent rule Helldivers live by is “we do not mock young in the field. We do not make them crawl and beg. We help. We were there once. We know how it feels to be a feral dog in eyes both enemies and allies. We know how it feels to be left behind. We do not leave ours behind”.

You that lives long enough to get a little bit closer in experience and skills to mammoths that helped you years ago to survive.

You who patiently covers for young cadet as they fumble with terminals.

What’s a little time wasted if this one might live long enough to crawl higher in rank.

What’s a little effort spared if you as divers already have to prove to everyone that you deserve to be here.

That you are not just dogs. That you deserve the same respect command shows to other branches.

You aren’t going to make cadet “prove themselves” when they have already passed the selection.

They are already here, aren’t they? Means they are worthy. Means they are yours.

Once Helldiver — always Helldiver.

It’s a constant journey and an uphill battle, you seeing first hand how fucking cruel life is to their branch.

How unfair command is. How hard missions are.

So what’s a little kindness shown if cadet behind them might live long enough to see the new generation of cadets.

If one day they too might become what you were to them today. What older Helldivers were to you when you started out.

Your branch is full of feral dogs and behemoths of battle, your branch is a dangerous thing (a grenade without a pin, a rifle without safety, a big bad wolf) hanging on by a thread of believing that your suffering can make the world a little better.

A little safer. A place where young cadets like this one will have more support, more training, more respect.

Simon watches you intently, eyes heavy with understanding, fingers twitching to reach out.

“Remember that you can’t save everyone, Captain”, he hums out, meeting your eyes in the reflection as you watch cadet buying new stratagems with excitement, their rank plate moving up.

Slowly, torturously slowly but steadily. Up-up-up.

They live thought the mission. They live through next three you walk them through. You won’t let them die. Not if you can help it.

“I know”, you muse back and there is phantom feel of hands on your shoulders, hands showing how to properly hold the rifle, hands dragging you out of hell because yeah, no one is gonna save Helldivers.

Other than Helldivers themselves.

You watch the young diver jog to the “Stratagem Hero” arcade, practically vibrating with excitement, eyes darting to you, asking for permission.

Their grin so wide when you nod to go ahead and try it, that you feel like their helmet might be illuminated from inside out.

They are painfully young and achingly fragile, not yet honed by years of work out in the field, their hands not yet calloused and burned one too many times.

Yeah, you remember that you can’t save everyone.

You also remember that you have to try.

[tearcynical]

Crosswire Introductory Post!

What would happen if Cross became an error? This is the answer to that question! After XGaster's continuous resets, somewhere along the way Cross's code split into pieces, leading to the majority of those pieces ending up somewhere in a far off outcode. Becoming the way he is now, his past memories were weathered and faded with time. Instead of dwelling on figuring out his past and rediscovering who he was, he's set on who he's going to become, who he wants to be. Eyes on the future, Crosswire joins The Omega Timeline to better the futures of others, restoring code to dwindling aus, while simultaneously protecting them from those who'd wish them harm.

His life within the timeline he calls home is unfortunate at best. Crosswire puts in tremendous effort for those around him, yet receives less in turn due to the stereotypical view of errors and their variants. Working hard he receives recognition for his duty - but little for his character, and other interests. He knows he wants good for his self proclaimed family and friends, but hardly knows what to make of himself past that. With the lack of memories and lapses of that already poor memory, Crosswire fears he's going to lose what little he already has.

Duty calls him though, and that job of his leads him to discover the destructive entity that is Ethernet. Stopping and constantly thwarting Ethernet's plans in a scramble to help those in need, Crosswire can't help but to feel a sense of familiarity around the other glitch. His memory feels more secure near him, he's sworn he's seen a face like his before, so on and so forth. Developing an attachment to his enemy, he finds peace with their regular battles and violent interactions. Ethernet successfully becomes the one constant in his life, the one person who's upfront and honest with him (no matter how aggressive).

Crosswire can come across as mean, and he's definitely sassy, though underneath his pricklier exterior lies a squishy, loveable inside. Protecting that inside is a hardened, nonchalant (for lack of a better word) shell. He exhibits great patience and he's extremely considerate, although once you tread too far across his boiling point he has a fiery, hard to quell temper. Most of his rage, discomfort, and pointentally other negative emotions are held on his inside, bottled and kept from ever poking their head. He fears his already difficult to enjoy character would be worse off if he expressed himself to the fullest. He cares deeply for those around him regardless of if they do for him, and he sees the better sides of things with an almost foolish optimism. He's strong-willed, both in behaviour and form, and he's an even stronger lover.

- Crosswire's strings don't come from his eyes, but instead come from his cheeks. He peels them from his skull in an almost painful manner, like heated rubber pried from a road. His strings are stronger, harder to snap or break, more like wire than thread.

- Cross's fear of cows has translated weirdly through Crosswire's broken memory. Instead of being terrified of simple farm animals, he's deathly scared of Mammoths.

- Crosswire, when he's not busy with his work, spends his time creating comics. They're nothing special, as his creative abilities are nowhere near as good as others, but he enjoys the process of storytelling and drawing. Excuse his many plotholes, stereotypically drawn anime segments, and overpowered characters, and you might enjoy them.

- Crosswire is capable of destroying Aus much like his counterpart, although he's modified that violent technique and turned it into something constructive.

( Ethernet belongs to @labryveinth )

[robertreich]

How Amazon Is Ripping You Off

Shopping on Amazon? Stop! Watch this first.

Amazon is the world’s biggest online retailer. This one single juggernaut of a company is responsible for nearly 40% of all online sales in America. In an FTC lawsuit, they’re accused of using their mammoth size, and consumers’ dependence on them, to artificially jack up prices as high as possible, while prohibiting sellers on Amazon from charging lower prices anywhere else.

They’re accused of using a secret algorithm, codenamed "Project Nessie," to charge customers an estimated extra $1 billion dollars,

If this isn’t an abuse of power that hurts consumers, what is? So much for all of those “prime” deals you thought you were getting.

Project Nessie isn’t the only trick Amazon has been accused of using to exert its hulking dominance over the online retail industry — leading to higher prices for you.

Much of the FTC’s antitrust lawsuit centers around the treatment of independent merchants who sell items on Amazon’s online superstore — accounting for 60 percent of Amazon's sales.

Amazon allegedly uses strongarm tactics that force these sellers to keep their prices higher than they need to be. Like barring them from selling products for significantly less at other stores — or else risk being hidden in Amazon’s search results or having their sales stopped entirely.

And Amazon is accused of engaging in pay-to-play schemes and charging merchants excessive fees that end up costing you even more.

Independent sellers are effectively forced to pay Amazon to advertise their products prominently in search results. If they don’t fork over cash, then their products get buried underneath products of companies who do. This hurts sellers but also harms shoppers who have to parse through less relevant products that may be more expensive or lower quality.

And to be eligible for the coveted “Prime” badge on their items — which is considered crucial for competing on the platform — independent sellers are pushed into paying Amazon for additional services like warehousing and shipping, even if they could get those services cheaper elsewhere. If sellers forgo trying to qualify for Prime, their goods apparently become harder for customers to find.

When all of these extra fees are added up, Amazon takes around a 50 percent cut of each sale made by a third party. It’s projected that Amazon will earn around $125 billion from collecting fees in the U.S. in 2023, most of which get passed on to you.

By charging all of these extra fees and stifling independent companies from selling their products for less elsewhere, Amazon is using its dominance to essentially set prices for all consumers across the internet.

And when you combine Amazon’s control of ecommerce with all of the other industries it has entered by gobbling up companies — such as Whole Foods, One Medical, and MGM — you’re left with a behemoth that simply has too much power.

This is all part of a much larger problem of growing corporate dominance in America. In over 75% of U.S. industries, fewer companies now control more of their markets than they did twenty years ago.

The lack of competition and consumer choice has resulted in all of us paying more for goods because corporations like Amazon can raise their prices with impunity. By one estimate, corporate concentration has cost the typical American household $5,000 a year more than they would have spent if markets were truly competitive.

This power isn’t just being used to siphon more money from you. A giant corporation has the power to bust unions, keep workers’ wages low, and funnel money into our political system.

It’s a vicious cycle, making giant corporations more and more powerful.

But under the Biden administration, the government is making a strong effort to revive antitrust law and use its power to reign in big corporations that have grown too powerful.

We must stop the monopolization of America. This FTC lawsuit against Amazon is a great start.

[margotw10bis]

Pretty Baby.KNJ [m]

sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader

Genre: smut; short-story

Words: 4.9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"…

Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; anal sex; first anal; oral sex (f. receiving); Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"

1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)

What just happened? Namjoon is so shocked about your demand that he just stays still for several minutes. He has never imagined, in a thousand years, that you, his pretty baby, would put an end at your relationship like that. Were there signs he didn't see? Were you unhappy? He genuinely thought that you liked spending time with him, especially since he started to make efforts to know you better. He even thought that you liked him. But you obviously don't.

He wanted to tell you to change your mind, to think about it, that he could change if you wanted him to, but it would have been selfish. It was already too damn selfish willing to keep you for himself when he was fucking other girls — even if he doesn't anymore.

He thought that something changed the last time you two had sex. It was different, more real. Did he imagine everything? It looks like it since you just stepped out of his office after throwing a bomb at him. Fuck. But then, why would you look so sad? Everything is messed up in his head, he can't think straight.

More than the surprise caused by your announcement, Namjoon feels something truly unpleasant in his chest and he wishes it was just his ego. But it's not. He knows damn well it's his heart. Once again: fuck.

————

"I don't understand you, honestly" Jimin sighs

Yeah, you neither. You regret so, so much what you did yesterday. You clearly let Lisa messing up with your brain. You should have trusted Namjoon rather than her. You were so afraid of being hurt that you pushed him away and you hurt yourself instead. That's fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"I don't need you to tell me I've fucked up, Jimin. I need you as my best friend to support me and tell me everything is going to be fine" You say with a shaky voice, ready to start crying, again

"Come here" He whispers to hug you and rub your back

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can. We are going to watch your favorite show on Netflix and eat some pizzas. How does it sound?"

You look at your best friend and feel so damn lucky to have him. You rub your eyes to get rid off the last tears and get the TV remote.

In another part of the town, Namjoon opens the door of the apartment. Your apartment. He can't just give up like that, without even fighting. But the place is desperately empty. No lights on, no noise. You are simply not here. He still has a ridiculous slight hope when he opens the door of your bedroom. Yet, your face is no where to be seen. Namjoon's heart squeezes. Where the fuck are you?

He is not sure you will show up tonight so he decides to leave and go meet his parents. Maybe he could use some advices from a 40-year married couple.

Namjoon's mom is super excited to see her busy son. It's pretty rare he comes eat with them. But her smiles fades when she notices the look on his face. He looks tired and sad. Defeated. It breaks her heart to see him like this.

They sit in the comfortable and huge sofas of the living room. Every single furniture of their mammoth house is expensive. Namjoon's parents love buying costly things but also giving their money to people who need it. Maybe that's why Namjoon doesn't have any problem with spoiling his sugar babies.

"Can I ask you guys something?" He asks, unsure

"Of course, honey" His mom says

"How did you become a couple? Was it easy?"

His parents share a glance, half surprised half amused. Namjoon has never wanted to hear about love before.

"It was certainly not easy" His dad starts "Your mom is pretty stubborn. I gave her many presents, expensive jewelries and so on. But she didn't care at all. I honestly thought she wasn't interested"

"I didn't care about the money. I cared about him and his feelings. You know, love is not just words but acts too. However, the acts don't have to take the material form of gifts" The woman continues

"So how?" Namjoon asks

"Spending time with each other. Small acts of consideration. Actually, the best acts of love are the simplest ones because they show how sincere you are and that you care about the small details" Her mom answers

Namjoon takes a few moments to think about it. He has shown his affection with presents. Expensive ones, even. But you, you are full of those simple acts of consideration his mom is describing. You made sure he wasn't tired or that he ate well. You changed your shampoo when you noticed Namjoon's scrunched nose at the smell of it even if he didn't say anything about not liking it. You distracted him with a mind-blowing blowjob on the day he lost a huge contract. Fuck, everything you have done the past few months was little acts that made him slowly fall in love with you. But maybe you didn't think Namjoon cared about you too.

"Is this about the girl from the mall?" Namjoon's mom asks carefully

"Yeah, but I'm not sure she really wants to be with me" He replies honestly

"I think she does. The look she was giving you, it doesn't lie, honey"

Those words are what Namjoon needed. Now, he has to find a way to see you again.

————

You have thought about it all day. Should you? It's Namjoon's birthday and you were invited by his mom. But it's also true that you told him you wanted to end things... However, you miss him so bad and it has only been five days.

You check yourself in the mirror. Yes, you have thought about not going but you have still gotten ready. Your heart beats so loud that you wonder how it is not showing through the soft material of your white silk dress — great metaphor of your willing to go back from the start and start on a new page.

It's Namjoon's birthday. And you miss him. And you love him. The only thing holding you back is you and your fear of being hurt. Are going to stay alone your entire life because of that? That would be so pathetic. Fuck, Namjoon gave you so much confidence, where did it go? You would be so disappointed in yourself if you don't at least try. So you fix your mascara for the last time and head to Namjoon's party.

The house is way bigger than you thought, especially because it's in Seoul center. You can't imagine the price of it. You knock on the front door and a fucking butler invites you inside. You are stressed, you can feel your hands shaking. Thankfully, there are no too many people — you guess just family and close friends. That makes you wonder what you are doing here. Everyone is so elegant and, even if you have put on one of your most beautiful dresses, you don't seem to belong here.

"Boring party, isn't it?"

You jolt as a male voice whispers in your ear. You turn your head and meet some very handsome man. He could easy be elected World Wide Handsome. His brown hair looks smooth and his eyes are sparkling with playfulness. Let's not talk about his juicy and plump lips. Fuck, every women must be jealous of it.

On the other side, the stranger is quite amused by your shyness. He also wonders what such a pretty girl is doing it. If his friend Namjoon has you as a friend, Seokjin would be upset and disappointed that he didn't introduce you to him before. Yes, the man is a womanizer but a very picky one: he seems to date only the most beautiful women.

"I'm Seokjin by the way"

"Y/N" You reply, shyly

Seokjin's eyes widen. Are you Y/N? Like the woman his friend can't shut up about lately? Oh, things are about to get interesting... Now he understands Namjoon. You look very pretty in that dress, almost a sexy version of a cute bride. Yep, Namjoon will go crazy when he sees you and the slight shadow of your nipples through the thin and smooth fabric. But for now, he is not here and Seokjin is a flirt.

"I'm honored to meet the most beautiful woman of the night" He says with a seductive tone

You don't really know what to say so you just thank him. Is he flirting? Oh my god, how are you going to escape him?

"It's the glass I wanted to bring to my friend but I rather offer it to a pretty girl" He continues, handing you a glass of champagne

You take it. You need alcohol to gather your courage, especially if Namjoon tells you to go fuck yourself after what happened in his office. You drink the glass one shot.

"Well! You go faster than Dom Toretto!" Seokjin jokes, laughing so loud than a few people turn toward you

His laugh also attracts Namjoon's eye. However, he doesn't see his friend. The only thing that seems to be visible to him is you. You came. And you look so fucking gorgeous. Namjoon recognizes the silk dress, it was his birthday gift for you. It looks so good on you that Namjoon's brain starts picturing you in all kinds of situations — both with and without the dress on. He wonders if it's the kind of dress you would wear for your wedding day. And after your marriage, what you would look like with a baby in your belly, his baby. How proud he would be to have you by his side and how everyone could see you belong to him.

Okay, his brain is definitely sick because those are ridiculous thoughts. You said you didn't want this relationship with him. But, what are you doing here?

Namjoon walks toward you and your heart stops when you see him. He is the definition of handsomeness. And he is wearing a fucking black — Prada it seems — suit with a white shirt. It's the look you prefer on him. This is torture for you, especially if it's the last time you see him.

"Hi" You almost whisper

"Hi" His voice is neutral and you don't know if it's a good thing "Can I talk to you, in private?"

You gulp and nod. Fuck, you are stressing so much. He invites you to follow him and he leads you to his bedroom. A huge place actually with not only a king size bed but also a sofa and a large bookshelf. All the furnitures are matching, even the pattern of the fabric. The color scheme, warm beige with hints of green here and there, is soothing — something you really appreciate right now.

There are so many things you want to say but nothing seems to form on your tongue. You can't look at him. You are so overwhelmed by your feelings that you could cry.

"I'm surprised you're here" Namjoon says

There is no reproach in his voice, he is just sincerely surprised. You can understand. But is it a good or a bad thing?

"I can leave if you want"

'But please don't say you want me to leave' You pray internally

"No, I'm actually glad you're here"

Your heart does a backflip in your chest and you look at him with hope.

"I'm so sorry for what I've said" You say as you are gathering all your courage "I don't want to end the contract"

"But I do"

Your whole body freezes. Your heart stops too, in a painful way. It hurts so bad, like your soul is torn apart. So that's it. It's the end for Namjoon and you. Fuck, you wish you could go back and never went to his office. You would do anything to go back in time.

A breathless 'Oh' leaves your lips, like you have received an uppercut in the stomach — well, it's pretty much what you feel.

Namjoon gets closer and notices your eyes watering. Words are not enough to express what he is feeling so he does what he does best. He captures your lips and kisses you deeply. You moan both in surprise and pleasure. You don't know what the kiss means but you are ready to take whatever he is giving to you if it's the last time you see him.

Namjoon wraps his arms around your small frame. The silk of the dress is so smooth under the tip of his fingers, but not as smooth as your skin. His hands go down and find your ass. He makes sure to lift the fabric and digs his palms into the flesh of your asscheeks. The cold air on your hot skin makes you gasp in pleasure. He growls as he missed it so much.

You pull him closer by grabbing the back of his neck. His lips travel down your jaw and then to the thin skin of your throat. His wet kisses make you shiver and create a pool of arousal between your legs, especially when Namjoon sucks on your skin. A reddish mark adores your neck. Namjoon smiles at it. You are so beautiful, you can't go out without a stamp of him.

Namjoon doesn't stop. He firmly grabs your ass and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his torso and secure your arms around his large shoulders. You are now higher than him and it gives him the opportunity to dig his face into your breasts. He messily kisses your boobs and captures your harden nipples with his teeth through the fabric of the dress. Namjoon smirks when he notices you don't wear a bra and bites your nipple a little harder, making you whimper. Your head rolls back and you arch your back to give him a better access.

Your soaked pussy also needs friction so you start grinding on his abs. You need him so bad. You are stressed and horny when you think about what you are going to do.

Namjoon walks to his bed and sits on it, you still inside his arms. The new position makes it easier for you to grind on his lap. You can clearly feel his hard-on against your clothed cunt. You tug on his hair to access his lips and you kiss him like there is no tomorrow.

"Damn, baby, you're on fire" He jokes against your lips

"I want you" You moan, there is no better way to say the truth

You pull off and stand up between his muscled legs. You can see lust in Namjoon's brown eyes but also some affection in them. It gives you confidence to carry on. You take off your dress and the sight of your body almost completely bare makes Namjoon's cock twitch in his pants. He can't help but caress himself through the fabric, and his dick gets even harder. You slid down your ridiculously small and wet panties to stand entirely exposed in front of him. You finally take off your heels, your feet thanking you for that. You feel fragile but also proud to have the courage to completely give yourself to the man you love. You will have nothing to regret, even if tonight is the last night you'll ever spend together.

Your breathe is shaky and your hands are sweaty. Fuck, stress makes your legs weak but you have made up your mind way before entering Namjoon's parents' house. You are prepared, both mentally and physically for what is coming. You now have to trust yourself and Namjoon. You turn around and give Namjoon a perfect view of your ass he loves so much. You slightly bend over so he can see both your holes. Your pussy is so wet that Namjoon's breathe on it makes you clench.

"Fuck, baby" Namjoon whispers as it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen

"It's your birthday present" You say shyly

Namjoon is taken aback. Is it what he is thinking about?

"What do you mean?" He asks, clearing his throat — he wants to be sure he is not over-interpreting

You take a deep breathe and reply.

"You can have my ass tonight"

It's like a dream came true for Namjoon. He has been dreaming about it for months. Your perfect ass. He wanted to stretch it every time he squeezed your cheeks. It must be so fucking tight. Just thinking he will finally be able to dive in it could be enough to make him cum in his pants.

He doesn't waste any time and starts licking your glistening pussy. You moan about how starved he looks. He is literally making out with your pussy and it's so fucking hot. His tongue rolls on your clit, then digs in your entrance to go back to your clit again. It's so good that your legs quiver. At some point, Namjoon takes a fat licking from your sensitive bud to your pussy entrance but continues higher to your other hole.

You whimper as Namjoon takes big laps of it. The new sensation is beyond words. You feel way more sensitive. You have to grab his hair behind you when he enters your pussy with two fingers, still wetting your puckered hole. Namjoon's face is so deep between your asscheeks that it's scandalous but fuck it feels good.

He leaves your hole one second to bite on the flesh of your perfect ass. His fingers pumping into your dripping cunt are delightful, especially when he goes deep and fast, making your legs weak. You can feel some arousal going down your inner thighs.

"Keep going, I'm gonna cum" You moan

Seeing you liking it makes Namjoon so fucking happy. He could eat your ass all day. Your hole is damn soaked right now and Namjoon starts entering it with his tongue. You're so sensitive, you're not sure to can handle it. Namjoon speeds it pace in your pussy and you almost scream. You tighten your fingers in his hair, bringing him deeper against your ass and he growls. Your pussy clenches and Namjoon digs his tongue further in your hole, almost not able to breathe. You know how sinful you look but fuck, Namjoon is tonguing your ass. The wave of bliss you know well in growing inside you but there is something different, something that makes it more powerful and your teased area is more sensitive. You can't hold any longer and you cum on his face and fingers. Choked screams of his name escape from your lips. Namjoon grabs you in his arms to prevent you from falling.

He puts you on his bed delicately as you're coming back down to Earth. He lets you rest a little and take off his clothes.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks you, kissing your lips tenderly

"Yes, just be gentle" You say

You are crushing everything in him right now. The trust you put in him doesn't only fill his pride but also his heart. He promises: he is going to fuck your ass so good that you won't ever want him to stop.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay baby?"

He kisses your forehead and spoons you. You feel his large and buff chest against your back but the way he holds you is so sweet that you push your ass closer to his cock with an urged need of feeling him. He places your upper leg a little forward to have a better access to your ass. He also makes sure to bring a good amount of your juices to your hole and to his large cock to lube them.

"I'm going to stretch you a little, I don't want to break you" He whispers in your ears "Yet" He adds playfully to make you laugh

Namjoon slowly pushes one finger in your so tight hole and you gasp. You hold on his other arm wrapped around your waist. He softly starts back and forth moves. It hurts a little but it's also so fucking good.

"Try to relax, it will hurt less" Namjoon says as he pecks your shoulder

You do as he says and you notice how easier it makes for him to finger you. He adds other finger and you almost cum instantly. Fuck, it's so good. You can't even describe how it feels. It's like you can feel him better, deeper. All the sensations are increased.

Namjoon enhances his pace when he sees you feeling more pleasure. He can't wait to put his dick in and to make you cum all over it. Your tight hole is going to feel so good around his length.

"Fuck, I need your cock"

Namjoon is beyond happy to fulfill your wish. He pulls off his fingers and grabs his cock. You feel his tip slightly entering your pussy to gather some of your arousal and then going up to your ass. He pushes to enter you but he is so fucking big.

"Come on, baby, I know you can take it" Namjoon encourages you

You gasp as his tip is inside you. You feel so fucking stretched. Pleasure and pain have never been this connected. You dig your nails deep inside his forearm but he doesn't care: you are fucking taking his cock in your fucking ass. Namjoon caresses your stomach to soothe the pain and keeps kissing your shoulder. He is so gentle you could die.

"Are you okay?"

You nod and Namjoon pushes deeper. You feel every single inch entering you and stretching you. You know he is not entirely in you but you're not sure to take more of him. Namjoon seems to feel it and he slowly pulls over, not completely, to push inside again. You start moaning, louder and louder as Namjoon pounds faster. The pain is still here but the pleasure... Oh god, it's beyond words.

"Fuck, Joonie" You moan as he enters your hole deeper

"You're doing great, baby. It's the best birthday present ever"

He grabs your asscheek and squeezes it hard. He spreads it to look at his dick fucking your ass. Feeling your very tight hole stretched by his huge cock is delightful. Especially when he is the first one. The thought makes his dick twitch inside your ass. He enhances the pace a little when he sees you relaxing and having pleasure. He feels so proud of it, that his cock provides you pleasure. That his cock is fucking your ass. He growls when he realizes it.

"You're so fucking perfect. Your ass feels so good"

The bliss is driving him crazy. He could fuck you so rough that you wouldn't be able to walk for days. But it's your first anal, he can't just destroy you. He grabs your chin to kiss you. Your hand reaches the back of his head. He gives you one hard dick stroke, making you scream his name. You don't even care that other people in the house hear you.

"That's it, scream my name, baby. Tell everyone who fucks you good"

"It's you, Namjoon" You moan loudly

He starts pounding pretty hard and fast in your ass and you're on the edge. Namjoon captures your throat with his large palm. He is almost entirely inside your ass and you feel him so deep. You have never felt so full. You start feeling a huge orgasm building inside you, despite your empty and clenching pussy.

"My pretty baby" He moans when sounds of skins clapping starts filling the room

You're so close to cum. Namjoon looks at your perfect ass taking his cock. Your cheeks get spanked by his thighs and abs every single time. He is not as gentle as at the beginning but he can't hold himself, especially when he notices how fucked up you look. You love his dick in your ass, he can feel it. He swears, he is going to fuck your perfect little ass harder the next time and you will beg for more. The show is so sinful that it spurs Namjoon to push deeper inside your ass, now entirely. He doesn't even know how you manage to take his dick in your tight hole but one thing is sure: you do and you do it fucking well.

"Oh, fuck!" You hiss "I gonna cum"

Namjoon smirks and slaps the side of your ass. You feel your empty pussy clenching. He seems to hear your silent prayers and the hand around your waist goes South to slide two fingers into your cunt, making you groan loudly. You feel so full of him that you can't help tightening your holes. Namjoon is fucking your ass so good. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and hugs you tighter in his arms as he pounds you deeper.

"Cum for me, baby" He whispers, almost begging you as he feels he won't last long

Your hole is too tight and it feels too good to have you in his arms. It feels so good to see how much you trust him — you let him fuck your ass for god's sake!

"Yes, yes!" You scream, loosing your mind over the pleasure

"Fuck, I love your ass" He growls, the vibration echoing into your core

You can't hold on any longer and you cum hard on his cock and his fingers buried deep in your pussy, almost crying of how huge is the wave of pleasure washing over you. You mumble some words you don't even know as you are high. So high, way beyond clouds.

Namjoon pounds a few more times into your tight ass and releases his cum inside. He hugs you so tight, leaving your pussy empty again but still inside your ass, like he is afraid you vanish.

You two stay like that a moment. You can't believe Namjoon just fucked you ass. You also can't believe how much you liked it. You almost fall asleep, you don't want to leave his embrace. You feel good, peaceful. You hum in content and scoot closer into his chest.

"Did you mean it?" He asks suddenly

"What?"

"That you love me"

Your body tenses and your eyes open wide. What? How does he know? You pull over, running at the opposite side of the huge bed. You try to cover your naked body with your hands. You look so panicked, almost terrified.

"It's okay if you didn't mean it" Namjoon reassures you, even though it breaks his heart to see how you are reacting right now

Did you just confessed your love while you were having an orgasm? Well, the best orgasm ever, but still. You're so ashamed. You didn't want to tell him like that. Fuck, when you tell Jimin you said 'I love you' to Namjoon while his dick was in your ass, he is going to laugh so loud...

You are ready to deny it but when you see Namjoon's face, you can't lie. You do love him. You can't keep being a coward and lying to Namjoon and to yourself.

"I meant it. I love you, Namjoon" You confess in a whisper

The silence is killing you. Especially when it's the exact moment you brain chooses to remind you that Namjoon said he wanted to end the contract too.

"That's a good thing" He says, surprising you "Because I love you too"

He gets closer to you and caresses your cheeks. Okay, you have always loved how kind he was after sex but the way he is looking at you right now, it make your heart melt so much it hurts. You can't help kissing him. Namjoon chuckles against your mouth and hugs you tighter. Honestly, he could fuck you again. No, he could make love to you.

"Say it again" You ask

"I love you"

His bright smile with his dimples brings so much happiness to you. Is it possible to die over joy? Because you could right now.

"Okay, there is no contract anymore but I'm not gonna lie, you're still my pretty baby"

You giggle.

"I have to tell you something" You say, pricking his curiosity "I'm jealous so don't you dare having another baby"

"I'm all yours" He reassures you

Like you said, Namjoon has always been honest with you. So you believe him when he says there is nobody else.

"I think we should go back to the party. I can't not showing at my own birthday"

You nod but wince when you sit.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon asks, worried

"Yes, it just hurts a little" You confess, cheeks reddening

Is it bad that he feels proud of it? He wasn't exactly soft but he definitely can get rougher and honestly, he can't wait to pound into your ass again. Or your pussy. He doesn't care as long as he can give you pleasure.

Namjoon helps you standing up and getting dressed. Your beautiful silk dress is now completely crumpled. You pout at it and Namjoon finds you so pretty. Now that he knows you love him, his brain is even crazier than before: images of you in a white dress walking down the wedding hall or of you with a round belly are stuck in his head. But he definitely can't go as fast, he will scare you.

Does that mean that he will wait for years? Absolutely not. His pretty baby better be prepared for her Christmas present. Especially after the best birthday present he has ever had: you saying that you loved him too. 

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Taglist @gimeow @whoreseok723 @wecanpretendit @missbangtangirl @dprmoon @baechugff @parkinglot-nights

[sualocin]

"I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you." Ch. 5 - Blissful Thoughts

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: everything hurts and smells of blood. can you be saved?

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, graphic descriptions and various mentions of blood and violence, commodus being absolutely insane, the L word, medical and historical inaccuracies

word count: 4.1k (oops tehehehe)

a/n: it's finally here! oml this took me so long. when i said i'd give y'all extra, i meant it! enjoy this mammoth of a chapter! sorry not sorry for the gif usage >:)

not beta'd

blog dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

The night that Commodus walked away from you will forever remain in his memories. The internal shame he felt at your words burrowed deep inside of him, driving him to do what he knows how to do best. Ignore, avoid, and do anything to prevent himself from seeing you in an effort to atone for his sins against you. And he did exactly so, keeping himself hidden during the months leading up to the wedding so you wouldn’t have the unfortunate chance of laying your eyes upon him. So he wouldn’t ruin you further. It was for the best really, but he was the only one that had thought so. The only one who would ever think so. He couldn’t see the pain he was putting you through with his disappearing act, but everyone else could. They could see the sleepless nights on your face, the diminished shine of your eyes without him around. You had begun to truly suffer without his presence around you. Lucilla, who was the first to notice these changes in you, slipped letters under his chamber door almost daily. Begging and pleading with him to talk to you, to apologize or even just to show his face to you. Anything would have been better than what he had been doing. 

The letter Lucilla slipped under his door the morning before the wedding made him finally see the harm he had done to you, yet again. Her words about how he should have been there by your side, to hold you and comfort you when the stress of it all was too much for you to bear shattered his heart. His tears blotted the parchment, ruining the ink spread across it. Yet he didn’t care about destroying the words written  upon the page. The only thing in his mind was that in an effort to make himself pay for his actions, you had suffered as well. It took hours of anxious pacing around his chambers to think of what he was going to say to you. Because Commodus had to apologize. He had to let you know that his self-hatred drove him to do this. That his insecurities got the best of him yet again. He wanted you to understand this before you were to be bound to him for life.

The dark hallways obscured the crumpled bodies of the guards until he was nearly right in front of your door. Focused on their bleeding broken forms, Commodus could feel his breathing pick up, anxious fear flooding his system and sending his senses on high alert. There was no way you had done this. So who did? Were you okay? Were you even in your chambers? The rising scent of blood and the whispers of  muffled crying coming out of the cracks between the doors channeled his anxiety and fear into cautious action. Quietly unsheathing his blade,  Commodus tried to glance through the gap between the doors. He was only able to make out an unknown figure hovering over your bed. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you at all. The cautiousness turned quickly to anger and then rage. The thought of someone hurting you fueled his ever present anxiety and nervousness to the max., driving him to rush into your chambers to save you without thinking.

You couldn’t see who burst into the room from your position on the bed, your view blocked by the man trying to carve latin into your stomach. The loud clangs of the doors hitting the walls sent him into a panic. He had stopped his work immediately, forcefully pulling you in front of him to act as a potential shield against whatever was going to be coming to him. Your warm blood now runs straight down your body, soaking into a once untouched part of the bed. The dagger still held tightly in his hand, smeared with your blood, rests now near the open cut on your neck while his other arm was wound tightly around your torso so you couldn’t escape. The placement of the dagger most likely a threat for whoever just interrupted his plans to torture and kill you. Your eyes had screwed shut in pain at the harsh movements he forced you through,  gasps of pain ringing free without the man covering them with his hand.

“Open your eyes sweetie, tell me who dares to interrupt my precious work,” The man harshly whispered into your ear, the pet name laced with venom and dagger pressing further into your throat as he spoke. When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a disheveled and absolutely pissed off Commodus brandishing his sword. You can see the rage in his eyes from your position, the tousled hair like he had been running his hands through it for hours, and the slight anxious shake of his hands as he grips the sword. If you were perhaps in a different situation you might have complimented his appearance, but not here and certainly not now with a strange man holding a blade to your neck. In an effort not to give the man any leverage he doesn’t already have, you stay silent. He does not take kindly to this and shifts the dagger so the point of the blade is now digging into your throat. 

“When I ask you a question, you will respond!” He shouts into your ear, disorienting you. It’s hard to remain focused on anything at this point, so many external stimuli are overwhelming your mind. The pain, the anxiety, it all scrambles your brain and renders you limp. The man doesn’t care though, and practically shakes you around trying to get an answer out of you. The motion makes you feel sick due to the searing pain radiating from your thigh increasing ten-fold. 

“Do not touch her,” Commodus growls, rage growing with every move the man makes. He has half a mind to just run at the man, but the blade held against you would surely be used to end your life if he did. And Commodus had no such intention of letting you die. His gaze turns to you for a split second, trying to take in your condition. The amount of blood soaking your dress and dripping down your body sends his heart into overdrive. He needed to take out the man quickly.

“You want to know who I am so badly? Take a closer look,” Commodus taunts, trying to get the man to focus on him. He needs to find a way to get closer, to take out the man before he hurts you further. All he wants is for you to be safe in his arms, but he has no idea on how to accomplish that as of yet. The man glares at his face, trying to place it. It’s not until his eyes move towards the crown of laurels laid upon Commodus’ head that he realizes the Emperor of Rome is standing before him, only protected by his own sword. The man grins at his recognition.

“This is perfect news! I don’t have to wait to kill you! I can just do it after I end your lover's life right in front of you!” Joy radiates off the man’s face. Clearly excited to have the Emperor, one of his listed targets, standing before him. It is possible that the supposed-killer is thinking that it will be an easy victory, but he does not know just how hard Commodus trains to be prepared for situations like these. Those training sessions honed his mind to be able to think quickly and effectively in dangerous situations, to formulate a plan as fast as possible. Commodus could lure the man away from you with a challenge, since the intruder seems to think that he would have no problem slaughtering him. And the man seems to be deranged enough to think he could win in a one-on-one against someone with a sword. Should be simple enough to trick him. Because if Commodus didn’t succeed, you would end up with a dagger thrust through your neck.

“If you think I will be so easy to kill, why not try to end me first? See if you could take on the great Emperor of Rome? After all, I have no guards protecting me,” Commodus mocks the man, trying to goad him into releasing you. The prospect of killing the Emperor and his lover in one night must have riled the man up. He shows no hesitation while agreeing to the plan with a vigorous nod of his head. Literally throwing you aside, to which you had yelled out in pain from, the man jumps up and starts to stalk Commodus in circles around him. Commodus outwardly has no reaction, face stoic. He did send a brief glance towards you to see if you were alright from the harsh throw though. Internally however, he was carefully working out a way to make this man pay for his transgressions against the both of you.

These thoughts did not stop him from being aware of his surroundings however, as  he could sense the man tried to lunge at him from behind. Commodus reacts swifty, side-stepping the dagger and thus stopping it from hitting its mark. The attacker shouted with glee at the notion of this being a true fight to the death, and recovered quickly. His blade tries to swipe at Commodus’ side, but he brings up his sword and knocks the dagger away from his form easily. The delicate dance of clashing blades continues for a bit, with neither party landing a direct hit on the other. With how spirited and often he trained, it is no wonder that Commodus can hold his own against someone like this without breaking a sweat or letting them land a hit. But the brief glimpse he got of you on the bed, bleeding out while he fought, stole his attention away long enough that the man was able to land a blow to his face.

Hand shooting up to hold his nose at the blossoming pain, blood started to drip down his face. He smeared it onto the back of his hand and across his face by trying to wipe it away. The hit had hurt to some degree, but the fact that the man had struck him hard enough in the face to cause him to bleed only fueled the need to end the silly dance between them. No longer did Commodus block and parry like he was taught, instead he struck fast and hard at the man. Trying to break his guard so he could strike at the pathetic excuse of a human. Being so much taller and stronger, and having a larger blade, he was able to break through easily. Knocking the dagger away from the man he pointed the tip of his blade straight at the man's heart. Wanting him to hurt like you were, Commodus bent down while still keeping the sword pointed at him, and picked up the dagger. It was balanced well, most likely by a master weaponsmith so it could be tracked, but it still had remnants of your blood on it. The mere sight of it still on the blade sent waves of fear and anxiety through him. He needed to make the man suffer.

“You will pay for harming the Empress and Emperor of Rome,” Commodus snarled as he stalked closer to him. No longer recognized as a threat in his mind, the man was reduced to a simple practice dummy. A tool to be used to release anger or frustration. And by the Gods was he going to release his anger upon the man.

“For your crimes against Rome, the Gods sentence you to die,” Commodus raises his head up, looking down his nose at the man. The Gods favored him always, for he was the Emperor. The link between the citizens of Rome and the Gods above, and his word is law. The man radiated pure fear now, for the act of betraying the Emperor and being condemned by the Gods certainly means he will suffer in the fields of punishment for eternity. But that is where he belongs. Commodus smirks at the man, the blood streaked across his face only adding to his intimidating aura. He stabs the dagger into the man’s shoulder, pulling it out rapidly. His cries fell on deaf ears, for there would be no mercy given to him after what he had done. Commodus then stabs it through the layers of the man’s clothing in an effort to bind him to the wall. Simply wanting to ensure that the man could not escape from his future punishment. Now he could focus solely on you.

 Eyes half-lidded and breathing rapidly, all you could think about was pain. You could briefly hear a voice shouting for guards, but you couldn’t place it in your state. Mind too focused on the pain to register really anything that was going on around you. Your eyes closed for what felt like a second, only to be wretched open by the feeling of warm hands on your body and tepid tears on your face. All you could see was Commodus above you, his own blood adorning his face around his nose and mouth. He was crying, eyes full of tears and pain and mumbling prayers to the Gods for you to be okay. Upon seeing your eyes open, he stopped his prayers and a watery smile appeared on his face.

“Gods above I thought I was too late,” He sobs, burying his face into your neck. The salty tears sting against the cut there, but it hardly registered to you at this point. Bringing your unsteady hand up to run through his hair, you tried to speak through the pain.

“Y-,” You start, throat aching at the action due to the amount of sobs and cries you had let out earlier, only to instantly be cut off by Commodus placing his lips on yours. His hands move up to hold your face, and softly caress your cheeks. Thumbs mindful of the cut located there. He tastes of salt and coppery blood. The kiss was full of emotions, ranging from sorrow and pain to love and genuine joy. The still wet blood on his face transfers to yours, marking you in a way that will never be forgotten. Not that this moment ever could be. He had saved you, putting himself in danger as he did so. He was willing to put his own life on the line to protect yours. His chapped lips move against yours, deepening the kiss. He was pouring himself into you, wanting you to understand something. Something you couldn’t name. Pulling away from each other, you could hear two guards run into your chambers. A grimace crosses your face as the pain inscribes itself into your brain again.

“Caesar! Are you hurt, my lord?” One of the guards asks, hand on the handle of his sword and glancing around for a threat. The other, having seen the man stuck to the wall, yanks the dagger out and forces the would-be assassin to kneel. The man groaned in pain due to the movement, but no one seemed to care. Commodus sighs, tears still falling down his face, and turns his head reluctantly. He didn’t want to remove his eyes from your form for even a second.

“I am fine. Take the assassin down to the cells. I will deal with him myself,” No one dares to mention the tears present on his face. The guard holding the man nods and all but drags him out of the room. His blood now smudged against the once pristine floor, and his groans echo off the walls. As the dragging and wailing sounds fade, the other guard steps closer to Commodus. 

“Should I fetch the healer my lord?” He asks, still standing tall and alert for someone who had to step over his comrades' bodies in the doorway. Commodus is tempted to yell at the man for the stupidly obvious question, but he holds back. Enough anger and blood has been spilt tonight. And he has no desire for anymore.

“Yes, and have someone come and clean up this mess…The fallen soldiers will be honored in a few days time,” He says, gazing back at you. The guard simply nods and turns to walk out, but before he could do so Commodus tells him one more thing over his shoulder.

“Have the guards outside my chambers doubled. Y/N will remain with me while she heals,” You can hear a faint noise of acknowledgement from the guard before he steps out of the room completely. A shaky sigh leaves Commodus as he rests his forehead against yours, fear slowly dissolving now that he is next to you. His arms move to snake around your torso, careful not to touch the carvings on your stomach. The blood stain from your stola was slowly being transferred to his white tunic from being pressed up against you, but he could not care. The blood staining your clothes, your skin, none of it mattered to him. Clothes could be washed or tossed away, skin could be scrubbed, nothing else mattered except you. He was content with just holding you close, feeling your form pressed against his. You tapped his head, a signal to get him to loosen his hold. He pulls back, just enough to see your full face. Your hands move to cup his cheeks, thumb just barely brushing against his cheekbone.

“You sav-” You can’t even get two words out before Commodus is kissing you again. His tears have since stopped flowing, but the salty remnants are still present in the kiss along with the coppery tang of blood. He is the one to break the kiss first, eyes shut and breaths coming out in short pants. He angles his head to kiss both of your palms before he opens his eyes again. The striking cerulean hue of his eyes could always bring you to your knees.

“I love you,” Commodus whispers, waiting for a rejection or hint of disinterest from you. But he receives no such thing. There is only love in your eyes, only love in your heart for him. And he will always have your heart.

“I love you too,” You manage to croak out, eyes slightly misty but cheeks red hot. Commodus smiles and kisses you softly again. He looks at you so fondly when he pulls back that you think your heart might melt. The sweet words and kisses between you two are halted by the healer arriving with a bag full of supplies. 

“Caesar, I will need room to work,” The healer politely says, hinting at Commodus to back away. Only partially following the advice given to him, he is still close enough to hold your hand while the healer gets to work. You sit on the edge of the bed, with the healer sitting between your legs on a chair. Commodus is beside you, watching over the process like a hawk.

“You are lucky, my lady. The wound on your leg has slowed its bleeding, and the cuts have stopped bleeding as well. I will need to stitch your thigh closed however, and apply some herbs before wrapping. It will be a painful process so I suggest holding onto something,” He says, before pulling out the necessary items to clean and close the wound. He is silent as he works, hands steady and careful. Commodus is gripping your hand more tightly than you grip his, as the pain of being stitched is nothing compared to the pain you felt when the dagger was being pulled out. The healer works fast, closing the wound in mere minutes after starting the process. The herbs he rubs onto the now closed wound sting for a brief moment, but then a cooling sensation overtakes the burning pain. 

“I am rubbing your wound with a pain reliever and a cleanser to ward off infections,” He explains, reaching for bandages to wrap around your leg. He wraps it tight enough to be secure, but not tight enough that it feels uncomfortable. Commodus places a chaste kiss to your hair while the healer ties, a reward almost for being so calm. Moving to the latin carved into your stomach, the healer sighs as he reads it.

“Nemini. Most likely trying to write nemini parco,” He says, rummaging around in his bag to find something. Commodus tilts his head at hearing the words, confusion plastered across his face. 

"What does that phrase mean, medicus?” Commodus asks, assuming that the healer knows what it means since it brought it up in the first place.

 “It means ‘I spare no one’, my lord. A fitting phrase for a killer seeking to end the life of The Emperor and Empress of Rome,” He explains, pausing when he found the correct item he was searching for. Taking it out, it appears to be some sort of jar of salve. He opens the jar, lifting the contents up to his nose and smelling. Sensing that he has the right one, he scoops out some of the salve and warms it up between his hands. Commodus just nods at his words, satisfied with the explanation he had given. You remain silent, still in shock that someone wanted to carve those words into your body.

“And please, do not refer to me as medicus. I’d prefer you’d use my given name, for it will make things easier for when I need to come back and redress your wounds,” He says, no ill intent hidden behind his tone and word choice. He goes to spread the now warm salve on the carvings on your stomach. The blood clotted and dried at this point, but the sting still remains. 

“Then what is your name?” You ask with a wince, finally able to gather the energy to speak up due to the herbs numbing some of the pain from your thigh.

“It is Atticus, my lady,” He replies, warming up more salve to spread upon your cheek and neck. His hands are gentle as he does so, wanting to not irritate the cuts further. You can feel the possessiveness radiating off Commodus as he does so. The grasp on your hand tightening and his body shifting closer to yours in an effort to claim you silently. He remains this way until Atticus finishes the last bandage.

“The wound on your thigh will unfortunately scar, and the one on your stomach has a chance to as well. The other two will not,” Atticus explains, packing away his various medical supplies. The news does not shock you, nor it does startle you. But it still causes an ache to form in your chest at the thought of being forever marked by that man. Commodus gently pulls you into his side, desperately wanting to show you some sort of affection but disliking the fact that Atticus was still here. 

“I will need to replace the bandages daily for a week or two, but then it should be fine to go without. She will require lots of rest, and minimal strain placement on her thigh, ” Atticus says, mostly to Commodus, before standing up to leave the room. You and Commodus both give him thanks for his quick and effective work, and rise from the bed. You can feel a tug on your stitches when you fully stand, but no pain due to the herbs taking full effect. When Atticus is fully out of sight, Commodus turns to you and quickly pulls you into his chest. The hug is almost suffocating, but it is welcomed after the night you two had been through. 

“You will stay with me in my chambers from now on. I will hear no excuses or refusal,” He whispers, hand moving up to thread itself into your hair and bring you closer. Gentle kisses are placed along your neck and up to your lips. Yet another sweet kiss is placed upon them, but it’s done so quickly it’s gone before you could respond. Releasing you from his hold, Commodus places one arm around your upper back and another just above your knees. He swiftly picks you up bridal style, a small yelp leaving you in the process. His sight is set upon your face once more, cerulean eyes boring into yours. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said ‘I love you’,” He comments with a slight frown, deep rooted insecurities rearing their ugly heads at the worst moment possible. You give him a gentle smile, nothing but happiness and love shining through it. 

“I wasn’t either,” You reassure, arms winding their way behind his neck. Commodus gives you a small smile, insecurities being pruned back at your words. But they will regrow, as they always do. At least you will be there, cutting them down.

i apologize for nothing. but this is not the end of the series! far from it in fact! i still have so much i wanna do with these two. plus the wedding hasn't happened yet.... lots to do.

thank you for reading all these chapters ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

tag list: @capitanostella , @five-miles-over

[literary-illuminati]

An Arbitrary Collection of Book Recommendations

(put together for a friend out of SFF I've read over the last couple of years)

Cli-Fi

Tusks of Extinction and/or The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler. They’re pretty different books in a lot of ways – one is a novel about discovering a certain species of squid in the Pacific might have developed symbolic language and writing, the other a novella about a de-extinction initiative to restore mammoths to the Siberian taiga – but they share a pretty huge overlap in setting, tone and themes. Specifically, a deep and passionate preoccupation with animal conservation (and a rather despairing perspective on it), as well as a fascination with transhumanism and how technology can affect the nature of consciousness. Mountain is his first work, and far more substantial, but I’d call it a bit of a noble failure in achieving what it tries for. Tusks is much more limited and contained, but manages what it’s going for.

A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys. In a post-post-apocalyptic world that’s just about figured out how to rebuild itself from the climate disasters of the 21st century (but that’s still very much a work in progress), aliens descend from the sky and make First Contact. They’re a symbiotic civilization, and they’re overjoyed at the chance to welcome a third species into their little interstellar community – and consider it a mission of mercy besides, since every other species they’ve ever encountered destroyed themselves and their planet before escaping it. Awkwardly, our heroine and her whole society are actually pretty invested in Earth and the restoration thereof – and worried that a) the alien’s rescue effort might not care about their opinions and b) that other interest groups on earth might be more willing to give the hyper-advanced space-dwelling aliens the answers they want to hear. Basically 100% sociological worldbuilding and political intrigue, so take that as you will.

Throwback Sci Fi

Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky is possibly the only thing I’ve read published in decades to take the old cliche of ‘this generic-seeming fantasy world is actually the wreckage of a ruined space age civilization, and ‘magic’ and ‘monsters’ are the remnants of the technology’ and play it entirely straight. Specifically, it’s a two-POV novella, where half the story is told from the perspective of a runaway princess beseeching the ancient wizard who helped found her dynasty for help against a magical threat, and half is from the perspective form the last surviving member of a xeno-anthropology mission woken out of stasis by the consequences of the last time he broke the Prime Directive knocking on his ship tower door and asking for help. Generally just incredible fun.

Downbelow Station by C. J. Cherryh is, I think, the only thing on this list written before the turn of the millennium. It’s proper space opera, about a habitat orbiting an immensely valuable living world that’s the lynchpin of logistics for the functionally rogue Earth Fleet’s attempt to hold off or defeat rebelling and somewhat alien colonies further out. The plot is honestly hard to summarize, except that it captures the feel of being history better than very nearly any other spec fic I’ve ever read – a massive cast, none of them with a clear idea of what’s going on, clashing and contradictory agendas, random chance and communications delays playing key roles, lots of messy ending, not a single world-shaking heroes or satanic masterminds deforming the shape of things with their narrative gravity to be seen. Somewhat dated, but it all very impressively well done.

Pulpy Gay Urban Fantasy Period Piece Detective Stories Where Angels Play a Prominent Role

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark stars Fatma el-Sha’arawi, the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities in Cairo, a couple of decades after magic returned to the world and entirely derailed the course of Victorian imperialism. There’s djinn and angels and crocodile gods, and also an impossible murder that needs solving! The mystery isn’t exactly intellectually taxing, but this is a very fun tropey whodunnit whose finale involves a giant robot.

Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk is significantly more restrained and grounded in its urban fantasy. It’s early 20th century Chicago, and a PI is doing one last job to top off the nest egg she’s leaving her girlfriend before the debt on her deal with the devil comes due. By what may or may not be coincidence, she stumbles across a particularly gruesome crime scene – and is offered a deal to earn back her soul by solving the mystery behind it. Very noir detective, with a setting that just oozes care and research and a satisfyingly tight plot.

High Concept Stuff That Loves Playing around With Format and the Idea of Narratives

Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente is a story about a famous documentarian vanishing on shoot amid mysterious and suspicious circumstances, as told by the recovered scraps of the footage she was filming, and different drafts of her (famous director) father’s attempt to dramatize the events as a memorial to her. It’s set in a solar system where every planet is habitable and most were colonized in the 19th century, and culturally humanity coasts on in an eternal Belle Epoque and (more importantly) Golden Age of Hollywood. Something like half the book is written as scripts and transcripts. This description should by now either have sold you or put you off entirely.

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez is the only classic-style epic fantasy on this list, I believe? The emperor and his three demigod sons hold subjugated in terror, but things are changing. The emperor, terrified of death, has ordered a great fleet assembled to carry him across the sea in pursuit of immortality. The day before he sets out on his grand pilgrimage to the coast, a guilt-ridden guard helps the goddess of the moon escape her binding beneath the palace. From there, things spiral rapidly out of anyone’s control. The story’s told through two or three (depending( different layers of narrative framing devices, and has immense amounts of fun playing with perspective and format and ideas about storytelling and legacy.

I Couldn’t Think of Any Categories That Included More Than One of These

All The Names They Used For God by Anjali Sachdeva is a collection of short stories, and probably the most literary thing on this list? The stories range wildly across setting and genre, but are each more or less about the intrusion of the numinous or transcendent or divine into a world that cracks and breaks trying to contain it. It is very easily the most artistically coherent short story collection I’ve ever read, which I found pretty fascinating to read – but honestly I’m mostly just including this on the strength of Killer of Kings, a story about an angel sent down to be John Milton’s muse as he writes Paradise Lost which is probably one of the best things I read last year period.

Last Exit by Max Gladstone – the Three Parts Dead and How You Lose the Time War guy – could be described as a deconstruction of ‘a bunch of teenagers/college kids discover magic and quest to save the world!’ stories, but honestly I’d say that obscures more than it reveals. Still, the story is set with that having happened a decade in the past, and the kids in question have thoroughly fucked up. Zelda, the protagonist, is kept from suicide by survivor’s guilt as much as anything, and now travels across America working poverty jobs and sleeping in her car as she hunts the monsters leaking in through the edges of a country rotting at the seams. Then there’s a monster growing in the cracks of the liberty bell, an in putting it down she gets a vision of someone she thought was dead is just trapped – or maybe changed. So it’s time to get the gang together again and save the world! This one’s hard to rec without spoiling a lot, but the prose and characterization are all just sublime. Oddly in conversation with the whole Delta Green cosmic horror monster hunting subgenre for a story with nothing to do with Lovecraft.

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is a story about aliens destroying the earth, and growing up in the pseudo-fascist asteroid survivalist compound of the last bits of the human military that never surrendered. It stars a heroine whose genuinely indoctrinated for the first chunk of the book and just deeply endearing terrible and awful to interact with, and also has a plot that’s effectively impossible to describe without spoiling the big twist at the end of the first act. Possibly the only book I read last year which I actively wish was longer – which is both compliment and genuine complaint, for the record, the ending’s a bit messy. Still, genuinely meaty Big Ideas space opera with very well-done characterization and a plot that does hold together. 

[srbachchan]

DAY 5982

Jalsa, Mumbai July 4/July 5, 2024 Thu/Fri 10:52 am

Birthday .. Ef Sweta Prasad .. July 5, 2024 .. all our good wishes and love ❤️

🪔 ,

July 05 .. birthday greetings to Ef Shashikant Pedwal from Pune .. and Rajat Watel from Jammu .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

.. a 3rd viewing for me and twice for many that came on an invite .. the experience just keeps building .. every time you notice and admire the pains taken by the Director in putting this massive vision into fructification , and presenting it in a manner that makes the film historic .. historic not just in its commercial prospects, but historic in its values of the audacious mind of the Director in metamorphosing the legend of the Mahabharat with its manifestation after 6000 years , into the viewage of modern day humans that go to see the film TODAY in 2024 ..

2024 ... centuries away from 2898 ( in the title of the film) .. which has been calculated after references to the Puran and Ved to be the moment of the reincarnation of Krishna - the Avatar that shall be born at the ending of the Kalyug - when all the atrocities, lies and irregularities of the World to be exhausted and overcome ..

The brilliance of interpreting a mythological Epic - the Mahabharata, which comprises of over 1 lakh 40 thousand verses , the largest epic ever in the history - and bringing it to modern day - well modern meaning 2898 AD - and to embellish it with the subtle nuances, which govern the past with what is to happen after the Mahabharata is over - the war between the Kauravas and the Pandav armies that lasted 18 days ..

SO WHAT NEXT .. WHAT HAPPENED AFTER IT WAS OVER ..

does life remain in its stagnancy or there is more ..

WELL FIND OUT BY SEEING KALKI .. and revel in its vast and massive presentation .. and to live till the FINALITY of its story-telling in the wait of the Part 2 ..

SO .. had a wonderful chat with Nag Ashwin for the camera and it should be out soon hopefully as a Podcast or on the TV channels , soon ..

Yes the film is a massive spectacle .. but it is also a learning .. a learning of the merger of myth and reality .. and a learning to the film makers on the process of putting this mammoth together for a viewing audience ..

It is humbling and perhaps not in my league to speak of a project which has been involved with me also , but at times it does become unavoidable .. such be its magnification in its discuss ...

The chat, or as some prominent journalists have titled previous effort with me and the cast of the film as the Kalki Chronicles , could well be titled the Kalki Director Chronicles ..

And I do wish that the Production be swift in putting it out as a PodCast , for it to be viewed and heard by several more ..

I retire now as the night was long and the morning early .. but shall slumber in the essence of Kalki , irrespective of the yay's and nay's of the World for it ..

My love 😍

Amitabh Bachchan

[hmshermitcraft]

Sirens have a bit of a... reputation. Both male and female, for luring sailors away with beautiful singing, never to be seen again. And somehow, Tango's fallen for two. It started when he was enjoying a day on the waves in his small fishing boat, and he saw a shape in the water. It was large, much too large to be a normal fish, but as far as he could see, it was a crimson color, similar to salmon.

He'd bent over the railing to get a closer look, and of course, as per usual Tango behavior, fell over. And as usual, he'd started working to swim back to the surface. Well, that is, until he spotted the creature. It was, unmistakably, a siren. And she might've just been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She had long brown hair that flowed around her in the water, spines running along her long crimson tail and back, and scales that glimmered beautifully in the sunlight. When she'd seen him, she'd taken off with a start.

So, that had been something. A siren that didn't want to kill him? Nice! He'd just really have to stop thinking about her

Now, he most certainly didn't expect her to come back the next day, a male siren with her. He had a tattered piece of cloth wrapped over his mouth and silver hair that glinted like his equally silver scales in the sunlight. And oh, gosh, he was beautiful too.

And what did he expect even less? The sirens to talk! Normally! The female siren introduced herself as Pearl, and the masked one Etho. They seemed awfully nice, and that night Tango thought a little more about them than was appropriate.

Well, now they'd been visiting every day for a week. And oh, Tango was in so much trouble.

It has crossed his mind that maybe they're luring him away to eat him. Perhaps this is a new elaborate strategy sirens are trying out.

So he does what any normal person would and asks the sirens that may be intending to eat him.

They both burst out laughing. Etho even hits him with the, "We'd go for somebody with a bit more meat if that was the case." Which hey. Tango might not be Mr Muscles but he's pretty in shape!

Turns out sirens stopped eating humans several generations ago. It got annoying once they moved from wooden boats to mammoths of metal. Like, sirens consider it morally wrong now, but back then that was totally the reason. Not worth the effort when there's plenty of fish.

Tango doesn't think he'd mind being lured to sea more often by them. And they've started giving him little trinkets to sell to help with his boat maintenance! They both seemed very upset at the idea of his boat getting damaged and not being able to see him - it was cute.

[mama-qwerty]

Rescue

So here we have another self-indulgent piece that I had started months ago. Finally got around to finishing it and boy does it feel good to write.

Takes place in my Knuckles MacPherson au.

~~~~~

Under any other circumstances, Callie probably would have been intimidated.

She stood in the large office, decorated with ornate display cases containing trinkets and artifacts, many of which she was pretty certain weren’t obtained fairly or legally. Some were weapons, spears or shields or swords, while others contained relics that most likely held a more spiritual or symbolic meaning. Masks, headdresses, and statues of various sizes. Each item was carefully labeled, well lit, and positioned inside a glass case. They lined the walls, trophies on display for their owner, the large elephant Callie was currently staring down at the opposite end of the room.

Or she supposed he could be a mammoth. He was covered in brown fur, his long tusks curling toward the ceiling. They were actually fairly impressive, as far as tusks went. Obviously this guy had been around for a while.

He was currently on the phone, exchanging words with someone on the other end about her presence. It had taken some effort to make her way here, and she hadn’t even had the decency to have an appointment. She shifted the bag slung across her as she waited for him to finally hang up and address her.

She flicked her eyes to the right, where Knuckles stood. His eyes were half lidded, one swollen and sporting an ugly purple color that was almost black. A split marked his bottom lip, and his tongue dipped out to run over it as she watched. There were obvious bruises along his body, what looked like a healing laceration across his chest, and his large formerly white mitts were now stained and torn.

Shackles weighed on his wrists and ankles, with some sort of energy charge tethering them together. A large collar was clamped around his neck, with a larger box-like protuberance on one side. A little green light blinked regularly on that box, steady and menacing.

She may not have had a lot of experience off-world—this being her first time, after all—but she knew a shock collar when she saw one. Judging by the darkened fur peeking over the edges, it had been used often.

She simultaneously wanted to rush to her boy, take him in her arms and comfort him, and launch herself at this smug mammoth to tear his tusks right out of his face and beat him with them.

Knuckles had been taken two weeks ago. A ring had opened, allowing six humanoid beings to come through. There’d been a short battle, but these beings—bounty hunters, most likely—had been ready with electric staffs. They swarmed him, weakening him just enough to attach that cursed collar, and drag him back through.

She’d been panicked, worried sick for him, and the Wachowskis had been a godsend at keeping her sane. It had been a frantic search, Tails had put out all possible feelers through the galaxy for any sign of his location, when they suddenly got a hit three days later.

“The return of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy! He’s back and tougher than ever! The battles have never been more intense! See him take down any challenger!”

The arenas. They’d taken him back to the arenas.

They would regret that. She’d make damn sure of it.

The mammoth finally hung up the phone with a slam, drawing her eyes back to him. The look he leveled upon her spoke of a man short on patience, and an overabundance of a nasty disposition, with the desire, and means, to do whatever the hell he pleased.

An intimidating situation, in most other circumstances.

These weren’t most other circumstances.

“Well,” the mammoth said, his voice not quite a sneer, but not quite not. “You seemed quite eager to meet with me. Tell me your business, or stop wasting my time.”

He sounded simultaneously annoyed and bored. Again, the idea of beating him with his own tusks flashed through her mind. She pushed it away with some effort, and stood tall, pushing her shoulders back and leveled him with a cold, sharp glare.

"I'll give you one chance to give me the echidna, and render his contract void." Her voice was tight, clipped, and dripping with barely contained rage.

The mammoth behind the equally sized desk leaned back in his chair, the springs straining beneath his weight. A smile curled his lips—a smirk, really—and he rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair, steepling his fingers before his chest.

"I find it very entertaining that you think you can simply waltz into my place of business and issue demands."

"Oh, this isn't a demand," she said, a similar smirk curling her own lips. "It's a courtesy. This is me, being polite, giving you a chance to avoid a whole lotta trouble."

An amused sound rumbled through his trunk, and he ran a hand along one of his long, curled tusks. Callie thought it was probably similar to when men caressed their own mustaches. "Trouble? Little lady, you'll pardon my amusement. You don't strike me as capable of giving me much trouble at all."

She shrugged. "Underestimating someone is a sign of either overconfidence, or bigotry, and right now I'm not sure I care which you're doing. Either way, that gives me the advantage."

"I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Me'na," Knuckles said, and the croak in his voice hurt Callie's heart. "You must go. He will—"

He was cut off with a sudden cry of pain, the lights on the collar around his neck lighting as electricity coursed through him. He grit his teeth, falling to one knee as thin tendrils of smoke trailed up from beneath the collar.

Callie's poker face fell momentarily, and she reached for Knuckles as he panted from the pain. Mogul chuckled at the sight, and that made Callie see red.

“Do that again and I will personally shove that tusk of yours so far up your a—”

The mammoth cut her off with a more annoyed huff, his chair giving a squeaky groan as he leaned forward. "Enough of this. I've wasted enough time with you. The echidna is mine, and will be until I see fit to release him from the contract he signed."

"As a child, with no legal guardian to permit such an agreement to take place," she said, her lips pulling into a tight line. She stepped closer to the desk, her shoulders back and gaze locked onto his. "I'd bet my ass that contract was signed under duress, if he even signed it at all."

“The boy was an orphan, and as such became my property—“ He gave her a sneering smile with a little amused snort when she bristled at that. “Ahem. I took . . . responsibility for the boy, and gave him opportunities he wouldn’t have otherwise had. I made him strong.”

“His father made him strong,” she said, and had to grit her teeth to keep from yelling. “His tribe made him strong. You made him an attraction to line your pockets.”

He lifted one massive shoulder in a shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

She pointed to Knuckles, and oh how her heart clenched when he flinched. “Look at him. I highly doubt he’s making you the money you want when he’s obviously too tired to fight properly.”

Another shrug. “That’s the advantage of a famous name. He doesn’t have to win. He just needs to appear. He’s one of the most famous champions I’ve ever had, and people flock to see the legendary last of the echidna, even if he’s getting his tail handed to him.”

“And what happens if he’s killed?”

His sneering smile returned. “Then I have exclusive rights to the only recording of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy being defeated, in addition to a new owner of that title.” He sat back again, much to his chair’s very loud protest, bringing his hands to that steepled pose once more. “This is the way things are done here, lady. It’s just business.”

“More like extortion, kidnapping, and slavery, likely with a little dash of blackmail sprinkled in, too.”

His smile dropped. “I’d watch your mouth. You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

Her smile returned. She stepped forward and picked up the name placard on his desk, turning it toward him. “Mammoth Mogul. That’s you, right? The same Mammoth Mogul who not only owns the biggest broadcasting stations in the galaxy, but also half of Casino Zone, and majority shareholder of every arena this side of the Milky Way. Oh, not to mention a major contributor to a lot of the high muckity mucks around these parts, who always seem to turn a blind eye to the questionable goings on in your arenas and casinos, yet crack down pretty darn hard on other ones.”

Mogul’s face darkened, his fingers slipping from the steepled position to interlace and tighten. Oh, he didn’t like that.

“I believe you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah, your incredibly convincing poker face tells me I’m not.”

Silence settled for a moment, and Mogul leaned forward again, planting his elbows on the desk as he watched her with sharp eyes. He spoke through grit teeth. “And where did you hear these . . . wildly fabricated things?”

Her smile turned a little sharper. More predatory. “I’m a librarian. Curious by nature. I research. I dig. I sift through page after page of newspaper articles, and connect dots.” She dropped the placard back onto the desk with a clatter. “And you really should invest in a better firewall for your network. Once we got through, it was just a matter of searching your files to gather the info we needed to get in here.”

His eyebrow raised. “We?”

She shrugged, turning slightly to assume a more bored demeanor. Truth was, she was scared out of her mind, not only for herself but for Knuckles. This mammoth could theoretically snap her neck at the slightest provocation, and she wasn’t exactly playing it safe. She just hoped the plan she and Wachowskis had come up with actually worked.

“My associate zeroed in on where the echidna was being held, and then it was a quick job of bypassing all your so called security so we could get a peek at your internal files. Ticket sale tracking, profit expectations, bookkeeping . . .” She cast him a side eye. “How interesting that there seemed to be two copies of those. With vastly different numbers.”

The silence that settled then was heavy and thick and Callie could feel it seep into her as though it were a physical thing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as the mammoth’s gaze bored into her.

“I could kill you right now. You realize that, don’t you?”

She resisted the urge to swallow hard, but her hands clenched tighter on the strap of the bag slung across her.

Steady, Cal. Steady.

She had three rules to follow: Don’t show fear, stand your ground, and get Knux out.

“There’s that underestimating thing again.” Her voice was soft, and she pushed a little smirk to her lips. “Do you really think I came here without a plan?”

“And do you think I’ll just let you leave?” Mogul reached beneath his desk, presumably to press the little secret button all big important crooked bosses seem to have to summon his security team. “Maybe I’ll put you in the arenas. You wouldn’t last long, but hey, you’d be an interesting draw, nonetheless.”

“Oh, ya think? I’m actually a little flattered.”

Seconds passed, and no big burly security guards burst through the door to apprehend her. Mogul kept flicking his eyes to the door, the agitation in his expression growing every second they didn’t appear. Callie stood before his desk, watching him with a little smile.

When it was clear no help was coming, the mammoth pegged her with a dark glare. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Her smile grew. “Ah, now he’s asking the right questions. Your guards tried to, shall we say, convince me to leave, but I was pretty determined to speak with you. So I made sure they wouldn’t interrupt us.”

Okay, truth be told, Tails’ inventions made sure they were nicely contained for this little rescue mission. That little fox had been busy building as many weapons and traps as he could, while Callie searched through Mogul’s database to find information to, well, blackmail him with.

Sonic had wanted to come along to do his hero thing, but the adults decided it would be best if the other boys stayed behind. The rest of the universe didn’t know about them, and if this guy discovered there was a super fast hedgehog, and a super intelligent fox with a talent for building weapons, he would likely stop at nothing to snag them for his little gladiator games, too.

Best to keep them out of sight, and off this jerk’s radar.

Mogul pushed himself to stand, his chair giving one last groan as he hefted his weight from it. Callie’s heart pounded in her chest—holy crap he was huge. Now she did swallow hard, and it took all her bravery to stand her ground and not step back.

“I don’t need them to take care of you,” he growled, leaning forward to rest his fists on the desk and glare at her. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“Me’na,” Knuckles called again, and Callie didn’t spare a look in his direction.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” she called, and was surprised when her voice came out steady. “We’ll be home soon.”

A snort of laughter traveled down the mammoth’s trunk at that, and he shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re delusional, or just plain stupid.”

She smirked. “And I can’t believe you never wondered what was in my bag.”

His smile faded as his eyes flicked down to the worn messenger bag slung across her. She reached inside, pulling out a small cylinder shaped object with a button on the top. Holding it in a fist, she let her thumb hover over the large red button.

“We could have done this the easy way. I get the echidna, and you keep your arena in one piece.” She shrugged. “But you decided to be a dick.”

He scoffed. “Your poker face isn’t as convincing as you think it is.”

“I don’t think you understand just what’s at stake here,” she said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t just take out your guards. Before I came up here to talk to you, I took a detour to check out your arena. Then I found my way to the holding cells beneath it, where you keep your fighters contained. Nifty little prison you’ve got down there. Exactly how many are here of their own free will?”

His lips pulled into a tight frown. “They’re fairly compensated for their participation.”

“Mmm, that’s not what they said. Had myself a little chat with some of them. Seemed like most are here due to some debt they couldn’t repay. Some were captured. Others snagged as kids, like he was. All forced to fight, to put money in your filthy hands.”

He stood tall, crossing his arms before him. “They all signed contracts. It’s legal and binding.”

“And I’m sure they all signed them completely of their own free will, too,” she said, the scoff in her voice apparent. “But you know what? I’m willing to be nice and give you one more chance.” She nodded toward Knuckles. “Let him go. Never send any of your bounty hunters or goons after him again. You can sit up here, making bank off the misery of others. Just leave.us.alone.”

Mogul stared at her for a moment, seemingly considering her offer. “And if I refuse?”

She shrugged. “Then I push this little red button, and all the explosive devices I planted around the building go kaboom. All your fighters will be released, and some of them really didn’t have nice things to say about the guy who forced them to fight against their will. So I’d be a liiiittle worried about payback if I were you.”

The mammoth snarled at that, his hands dropping to curl into fists by his sides. “I’ll never stop hunting him.” His voice was little more than a growl. “Whatever you do I’ll rebuild from. A minor setback, at best. But I will make it my mission in life to see you both in that arena, beaten within an inch of your lives. I will revel in your screams. Your begging for your lives.”

A chill ran up Callie’s spine. He meant it. He would never stop looking for them, and especially now that he knew what planet they were on, he may not stop with just her or Knuckles. The other two boys would be in danger, as would any other person or animal on Earth.

Which meant that what she was about to do was for the good of her entire planet, and not just her boy.

But truthfully, her boy’s safety would have been reason enough.

“Big mistake,” she said, lifting her thumb. “Huge.”

Her thumb dropped, and there was a soft ‘click’ as the button depressed.

The entire building shivered. Explosions rang out all around them, deafening for a few seconds. The trio on Mogul’s office staggered on their feet, as the display cases around the room trembled from the force of the blasts.

That was much bigger than Callie expected. Tails really went all out with his weapons. She’d have to tell Maddie to keep an eye on that kid.

“NO!” The mammoth bellowed, moving to the windows that overlooked his arena below. Flames engulfed the spectator seats, and great pillars of smoke billowed out.

Callie didn’t waste any time. She hurried to Knuckles and jabbed the detonator against the collar. “Touch the end to any exposed circuitry, and twist the top,” Tails had told her, and she did as he instructed. The cylinder vibrated in her hand, and the sharp cackle of static floated up, right before the collar shorted out. The blinking green light went dark, and Knuckles gave a little grunt of relief.

“Look out!” he shouted, just as Callie was grabbed from behind by a long trunk, and thrown across the room. She landed hard, sliding across the floor, before smashing into a display case. The glass shattered, raining down on her as she tried to regain her senses.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Mogul smacked Knuckles into the corner with a swing of his trunk. The echidna crashed hard against the wall, crumpling to the floor with a painful groan.

“Leave him alone!” Callie screamed, the fear inside her quickly being overtaken by her protective instincts.

Mogul turned to her, his eyes hard and sharp, full of rage and fire. “I’ll kill you first, and make him watch,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He stalked toward her, hands curled into tight fists. “Then I’ll make him fight until he begs for death.”

Oh shit.

Callie plunged her hand into her bag, fumbling for a moment in her panic, before her fingers curled around a flat disk with a button on the top. She pulled it out and clicked the button before throwing it like a Frisbee. Little arms jutted out around the circumference as it flew through the air, creating a crackling electrical net which wrapped itself around the mammoth, pulling his arms tight against his body as it delivered a strong shock.

Mogul screamed before going to his knees, and Callie moved as quick as she could to get back to Knuckles, her hand dipping into her pocket to retrieve the portal ring meant to send them home.

She wasn’t quick enough.

Just as she managed to half crawl, half run toward Knuckles, Mogul broke free from his electrical restraints. He clamped a hand on her ankle, yanking her backwards toward him.

“Oh no you don’t,” he sneered, tearing the bag strap to toss it into the far corner of the office. “No more toys.”

“Me’na!” Knuckles pushed himself to his knees, but he was obviously too exhausted and injured to help much. Mogul must have really put him through it for the echidna to be that sluggish.

The ring was still in Callie’s hand. As Mogul pulled her back, she closed her eyes and thought of the Wachowski’s backyard.

Then she slammed the ring on the floor, and pushed it toward Knuckles. It slid along the floor, coming to a stop right beneath him, and he had time to give her a shocked looked right before it opened, dropping him through.

“No!” His cry echoed as he traveled from this world to Earth, and a second later the portal closed.

Safe. Her boy was safe.

And then she was flying through the air when Mogul tossed her like a rag doll. She smashed into another display case, vaguely aware when the glass sliced her open in various places.

“I’ll admit, you took me by surprise,” he said as he came toward her. He moved slowly, shedding his suit jacket as he approached. He unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Not many can make that claim. But then again,” he lifted her by the throat, and slammed her into another case, “they never make it for long.”

Callie’s feet dangled above the floor, his fingers tightening around her throat.

Acting out of pure panic, Callie reached into the case behind her, hand searching for something, anything, to help. Her fingers curled around something solid and heavy, and she brought it around with all the strength she had left, smashing what seemed to be a solid iron statue straight against his temple.

Mogul uttered a strained growl, releasing her as he staggered back. Callie dropped, coughing and gasping, but kept her eye on the mammoth. He turned away from her slightly, his large tusks facing to her left, and an idea struck. She moved before she could think too much about it.

Lunging forward, she grabbed hold of his nearest tusk, and swung her body like an Olympic gymnast on the parallel bars. The momentum jerked him to his left, whipping his head to the side as her weight carried her forward. She was just heavy enough, and he off balance enough, that it made him cant to the side, and he fell with a hard thud to the floor.

Scrambling like a madwoman hellbent on surviving—which is, honestly, what she was—Callie whipped around to plant one foot on each tusk, and grab hold of his trunk. She yanked the appendage, drawing a pained cry from him as it stretched beyond its limit.

Yelling from outside. The freed fighters were coming. She’d told them of her plan, and promised them the opportunity to deal with Mogul after they were freed. She was sure there were probably some other guards she hadn’t run into, and they may be giving the fighters some trouble, but had no doubt the warriors would prevail.

It was amazing what you could do when you were fighting for your life.

Case in point.

Callie gave a hard yank on the mammoth’s trunk. “Still surprised?”

Instead of answering, Mogul reached up to grab her feet, and lifted her to slam against the floor. She lost her grip on his trunk, and all the air rushed out of her lungs at the impact. As she lay there, stunned, he moved over her, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing hard.

“You’re all out of options,” he hissed, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Time to die.”

“Guess again.”

Mogul had time to look to his right and then he was hit with a blast of energy, sending him flying back to land on his giant desk, smashing it to bits. Callie coughed and gasped, rolling slightly before a hand was on her upper arm.

“C’mon,” Tom said, pulling her to her feet. A large weapon that looked like a portable cannon was slung over his other shoulder. “We gotta go.”

Tom practically dragged her toward an open portal, just as the door to Mogul’s office burst open, letting in some of the most dangerous, and angry, warriors he’d all but imprisoned below the arena.

She had just enough time to look back and watch them descend on the downed mammoth, right before the portal closed.

And that’s when she was hit in the middle by a worried echidna. She let out a strained grunt, going to her knees as she gathered him into her arms.

“Watch the ribs, kiddo,” she said through grit teeth. There were likely a few cracked ones, if she had to guess. Among other injuries.

Knuckles wrapped his arms around her, gathering her shirt into his fists. Tails must have removed the collar and shackles. Good.

“You should not have gone,” he said, his voice cracked and broken. “You should not have done that. He would have killed you.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, burying her face into the safe spot on his forehead, right before where his quills started. “Like I’m gonna just let him keep my boy. It’s like you don’t even know me, ki’kone. Honestly.”

He uttered a soft chuckle, gently nuzzling against her chest. The two stayed like that for a moment, before Maddie moved closer and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

“We should get you two cleaned up,” she said, her voice soft. “Come into the house and I’ll take care of your injuries.”

Callie gave a little nod, before looking over at Tom. “Thanks for the save.”

The sheriff gave a wave of his hand. “Don’t mention it. Although,” he looked down at Tails, “I was a bit surprised at the power in that gun of yours.”

“Yeah,” Callie said, slowly pushing herself to her feet. “I was glad to have the stuff you made, but hoo boy, they packed a punch.”

Tails smiled shyly, pulling his fists to his chest. “But they did the trick, right?”

“We’re gonna have a chat about that stuff, later,” Tom said, giving the boy’s bangs a quick ruffle. “But yeah, they did the trick.”

“Man, I wish I could have helped!” Sonic said, rolling his head back. “I knew it was a bad idea to send you alone. I should have gone with you!”

“She needed stealth if this was gonna work, bud,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “You are anything but stealthy.”

Tails looked to the hedgehog with a shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“C’mon, guys,” Maddie called as she headed toward the house. “Let’s get these two fixed up.”

The Wachowskis headed back into the house, Tails grilling Tom on how his rifle worked, when Knuckles gave Callie’s hand a little tug to hold her back. She turned to him, giving him a cocked eyebrow in question.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. “For coming for me.”

She smiled, going to one knee with a soft grunt as her ribs protested.

“I will always come for you, baby.” She caressed his muzzle with a knuckle. “Always.”

Knuckles smiled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. They shared a quiet moment, before limping into the house, eager to rest and begin healing.

[frankendykes-monster]

Taking a look at the Space Canine Patrol Agents: The core texts

The Space Canine Patrol Agents (S.C.P.A., henceforth referred to as the "Space Dogs" because I genuinely cannot stand how convoluted the name is) made a whopping total of three appearances from July 1966 to March 1967 across Superboy #131, 132, and 136. They came and went in a blip, even by the standards of the Silver Age at DC Comics.

Announced on the cover of #131 as the "Dog Legionnaires", the team was very consciously and obviously designed to give Krypto the Super-Dog his own equivalent to the Legion of Super-Heroes that Superboy was a frequent member of, notably aping the same design philosophy of a cast of characters each with a single super power.

The members we are introduced to across the way are:

Bull Dog, able to grow large bull horns

Chameleon Collie, able to shapeshift, frankly kind of invalidates the majority of the other team members but I digress

Hot Dog, able to raise body temperature to incredibly high degrees up to and including controlled self-immolation

Mammoth Mutt, able to expand into a giant balloon form, replaced by his girlfriend Mammoth Miss after his passing

Paw Pooch, able to extend his body and increase his number of limbs, making him appear like a centipede

Prophetic Pup, can predict the future through a large crystal ball image that appears on his forehead

Tail Terrier, long prehensile tail that can form a lasso

Tusky Husky, can turn a single tooth into a lengthy tusk

What is interesting about the Space Dogs is actually how they differ from the Legion. The Legion, being composed entirely of children taking place in the 30th century in a world that's a better place because of Superman's efforts, were functionally a clubhouse of arbitrary rules that needn't get into any serious conflicts because there were no serious conflicts to get into. The Space Dogs however were presented as an internally-coherent policing unit with by-laws and an established history of operations, their second appearance includes a statement that they protect law and order. They even have to publicly fundraise for their operations to continue. The Space Dogs open their meetings with a salute to their flag, bearing a representation of the Canis Major constellation.

Where exactly the Space Dogs operate from is never mentioned, but it's a general area of space where anthropomorphic cats and dogs make up the populace; with Krypto being able to fly through space at speeds that are mind numblingly high, he can get to and from there pretty conveniently. Krypto, for context, is not an anthropomorphic dog "proper", but is of human levels of intelligence by virtue of being a Kryptonian dog, (Superman at this time was established to have been super intelligent amongst all his other powers), but the other dogs on the team are just presented as is, and speak through telepathy, assuming that dogs actually being able to speak would be a step too far.

What's interesting to note is that in their first appearance, Mammoth Mutt is killed in space, informs Krypto of the situation, and Krypto takes on his identification badge as a member to rescue the rest of the captured team, on a planet of anthropomorphic dogs. The Space Dogs are still quadrupeds that can awkwardly stand up on their hind legs, but the activity they're investigating is on a planet of Bojack Horseman-esque dogs who stand fully upright and wear clothes. Said villainous dogs are eventually disposed of by the complementary S.C.P.A....the Space Cat Patrol Agents. The following two stories would, however, "backtrack" on cats also having the opportunity to be heroes, with the next sets of villains being the Cat Crime Club, followed by Tricky Tom of the Black Cat World.

Their final appearance was possibly an attempt (there's no background information on any this so I'm just making shit up here) to "reign in" the extraneous elements and try and tie back to the fact that this is a story published in Superboy. As such, #136 is the first and only time that the story would get represented on the issue's cover, Tricky Tom is assisted by the Phanty Cats - cats owned by the Phantom Zone criminals and also sent there alongside their masters -, the Space Dogs visit Smallville, and the scheme to kill Superboy and Krypto hinges on a memoral statue for past Kryptonians made of Kryptonite.

None of this would alter the fact that the Space Dogs came and went. There's no reason to say that the concept "failed" or that they would be "missed", after all, Krypto was still a major part of Superboy, and he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, and they were just his extended cast and a place he could visit. It could be argued that the Space Dogs' status as a spinoff of a spinoff of a spinoff was reaching a bit too much. Now, Superman's incredible popularity going into the 1960's allowed him and supporting characters to occupy a whopping eight monthly titles, but maybe having his adventures as a boy being recounted, followed by giving his past self as a boy a dog and a fan club from the future, then trying to merge those last two together into a single concept, was probably stretching it.

But I don't think that was the problem. The problem was this:

Yes, Krypto was *already* part of his own version of the Legion populated by animals. The Legion of Super-Pets beat the Space Dogs to the punch by appearing four years earlier, and that original incarnation of the team would still be around until 1970. I've discussed the problems of there being probably too many characters in superhero comics all running around and vying for similar niches, but this is definitely a case - a spinoff of a spinoff of a spinoff, just as a reminder - where the town just wasn't big enough for the the two of 'em. The Legion of Super-Pets were officially christened as such by the Legion proper, and it had the benefit of being editorial clean-up by taking a bunch of disparate characters - Krypto, Supergirl's cat Streaky, Supergirl's sometimes-horse sometimes-human-boyfriend Comet (I'm not explaining Comet's whole deal in this post), and Beppo - and tying them into a single unit, characters that had direct ties to Superman and Supergirl, who I should mention were the characters people actually cared about and were buying these comics for; them having some animals running around was just a bonus.

And so, there the Space Dogs went, unloved and unheard of...for the next 20 years at least.