#any other aliases he has

[yeonban]

The man, the myth, the legend, who inspired some of my takes for Tobias' rapid rise to opulence:

"During the early stages of World War II, Pujol decided that he must make a contribution "for the good of humanity" by helping Britain, which was at the time Germany's only adversary. He approached the British Embassy in Madrid three different times, but they showed no interest in employing him as a spy. Therefore, he resolved to establish himself as a German agent before approaching the British again to offer his services as a double-agent.

Pujol created an identity as a fanatically pro-Nazi Spanish government official who could travel to London on official business; he also obtained a fake Spanish diplomatic passport by fooling a printer into thinking Pujol worked for the Spanish embassy in Lisbon. His instructions were to move to Britain and recruit a network of British agents. He moved instead to Lisbon; – using a tourist's guide to Britain, reference books and magazines from the Lisbon Public Library, and newsreel reports he saw in cinemas – created seemingly credible reports that appeared to come from London. He claimed to be travelling around Britain and submitted his travel expenses based on fares listed in a British railway guide.

During this time he created an extensive network of fictitious sub-agents living in different parts of Britain. His reports were intercepted by the British Ultra communications interceptions programme, and seemed so credible that the British counter-intelligence service MI5 launched a full-scale spy hunt. The British had become aware that someone had been misinforming the Germans, and realised the value of this after the Kriegsmarine wasted resources attempting to hunt down a non-existent convoy reported to them by Pujol.

Pujol wrote 315 letters, averaging 2,000 words, addressed to a post-office box in Lisbon supplied by the Germans. His fictitious spy network was so efficient and verbose that his German handlers were overwhelmed and made no further attempts to recruit any additional spies in the UK. The information supplied to German intelligence was a mixture of complete fiction, genuine information of little military value, and valuable military intelligence artificially delayed.

For radio communication, he needed the strongest hand encryption the Germans had. The Germans provided him with this system, which was in turn supplied to the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. His encrypted messages were to be received in Madrid, manually decrypted, and re-encrypted with an Enigma machine for retransmission to Berlin. Having both the original text and the Enigma-encoded intercept of it, the codebreakers had the best possible source material.

On occasion, he had to invent reasons why his agents had failed to report easily available information that the Germans would eventually know about. For example, he reported that his (fabricated) Liverpool agent had fallen ill just before a major fleet movement from that port, and so was unable to report the event. To support this story, the agent eventually "died" and an obituary was placed in the local newspaper as further evidence to convince the Germans. The Germans were also persuaded to pay a pension to the agent's (also fabricated) widow. The Germans paid Pujol US$340,000 over the course of the war to support his network of agents, which at one point totaled 27 fabricated characters."

#muse: tobias. #* tobias. / development. #ask to tag #This man was such an icon I can't even UADUISADHSAD8AIDU #Tobias 1000% did something similar except on a much larger scale (not just 2 countries; and not only in the military dept) #The sheer amount of aliases Tobias has by the time he turns 21 almost rivals L's own 😭😭😭 #If one day Wammy's decides to hunt him down it'd be such a hilarious experience bc they'd realize he's intrinsically tied to EVERY #field you can possibly think of; and has allies that'd stop any investigation on his behalf thru any means necessary w/o him asking them to #Some of these connections are genuine; some are completely fabricated like above ^; some are thru blackmail; some are thru other allies etc #'Which country is he loyal to?' None; next question! ADHSAUIDSJASDK in theory it should be the UK bc of his upbringing but #precisely BECAUSE of his upbringing it isn't the UK. His only allegiance is to Wammy's House and even that is... dependent on the context #I mean he accomplishes his role as a 'safeguard of peace' as per Wammy's wishes/goals; but he has Such a chaotic way of doing so... #He considered the US for a bit too but the vice president cheering on Kira irritated him enough that he dismissed that idea

[mariacallous]

Last year, the lead singer of The 1975, Matt Healy, managed to offend a whole lot of Gaelgoirí (Irish speakers) when he appeared to mock a fan’s name – Dervla – at a meet-and-greet.

Healy isn’t alone, though, when it comes to anglophone bafflement at Irish names. A recent study based on an analysis of Google searches revealed the words that British people have the most difficulty pronouncing. The names Aoife, Saoirse, Niamh and Siobhán occupy places in the top 10.

And it’s not exclusively a British problem: I always cringe watching US talkshows where the host quizzes their Irish guest (usually Saoirse Ronan) on the pronunciation of their and other Irish names.

I’ve heard every possible variation of my own name from non-Irish people. It’s not uncommon in Ireland; in secondary school, there were four Niamhs in my class. But I rarely come across an English person who is familiar with it, despite the proximity of our two countries.

In case you don’t know, it’s pronounced “Neev” or “Nee-av”, either is perfectly acceptable. The prefix Ní means “daughter of”. My surname is trickier, and has even tripped up a few Irish people; it can be translated as Herbert, and is pronounced “her-a-vard”.

When I was living in London, I quickly learned that saying Niamh at the counter in a coffee shop or over the phone to make a booking simply wouldn’t fly. This led to the invention of what I call my “Starbucks name”. Anything easily pronounceable with a simple spelling would do. Mia, Sophie and Rose were among my common aliases.

Speaking to others reveals a litany of similar experiences. Aoibhe Ní Shúilleabháin, a designer and teacher, spent two years at college in England having her name mispronounced and disrespected. (Her first name is pronounced “Ay-vah”.) More than one lecturer resorted to calling her “blondie”.

She tells me: “I was asked to say, ‘Three hundred and thirty three trees’” – a tongue-twister that does the rounds on TikTok – “more often than I was asked to repeat my name.” She recalls the lack of interest when she attempted to explain that Irish and English are different languages with different pronunciation rules.

Clearly, the sensitivities at play here are rooted in history: Ireland was colonised by the English and our national language was all but wiped out. A language revival began in earnest in the 19th century, but it’s never quite recovered. Ireland’s most recent census shows that about 40% of Ireland’s population can speak Irish. The English destroyed our language once before, so every little throwaway comment and scoff at our names hurts a little bit more – and ultimately becomes just tiresome. A handful of people even remark, “Oh! I didn’t know Ireland had its own language,” when I tell them about my name.

Writer Darach Ó Séaghdha is all too familiar with these difficulties. (The “rach” in Darach is pronounced like “Bach”, he says.)He hosted a podcast called Motherfoclóir, a podcast about the Irish language and culture, and whenever there were guests on with Irish names, “inevitably the episode would turn into group therapy”. There was one bad experience, he recalls, when he was told that his surname “looked like a wifi password”. But he decided to give his children Irish names, too. It’s a common trend, he says, “because parents with Irish names have been battle-hardened”.

Like the others I spoke to for this piece, writer and director Rioghnach (think “Ree-nock”)Ní Ghrioghair believes that a sense of superiority among English speakers is to blame for the constant mistreatment of Irish names. But she’s defiant. “We are going to scrutinise the British for any transgression regarding the pronunciation of our names,” and other things, she tells me, like British media claiming Irish actors as their own during awards seasons.

There is no easy crash-course I can give to you on the pronunciation of Irish names, but you can always try out “how to pronounce”-style websites (which themselves can be contested). But the simplest and most reliable solution is perhaps just to politely ask an Irish person – and listen attentively to what they say. I may have accepted that English people are very rarely going to get my name right on the first go, but I appreciate a well-intentioned effort. Just don’t laugh at it, please.

[lucluvr]

good girls get exactly what they want

ft. zhongli, alhaitham, welt, and jing yuan

he thinks you’re the sweetest girl he’s ever had. a man of principle keeps his word: his good girl gets what they want!

afab chubby reader / heavy praise / teasing / fingering / oral (f!receiving) / a lot of sweet words / nipple play / use of “sweetheart, baby, honey, puppy, etc” reverse cowgirl / dumbification (if you squint) / very soft and sweet <3

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zhongli:

humanity was an interesting concept to zhongli. being thousands of years old, living amongst the liyuen people under many aliases, zhongli has had lovers come and go. he loves passionately and deeply. when his tongue ribs circles over your clit, the pressure of his hands on your hips make you whine.

in his thousands of years of experience, zhongli realized each of his lovers found pleasure from different things, however, he’s never had a lover lose their mind so quickly. forked tongue licking up and down your slit as your slick coats his chin messily.

zhongli’s amber eyes gaze into yours as he restrains your wrists against your hips. whines and soft pants fall from your puffy lips (sometimes he bites when he’s excited)

“li! please sto-“ he lets go of one of your wrists as he slides his finger into your mouth. he slides it all the way to the back as your eyes roll back. the gagging sound has zhongli crawling back into the warmth of your cunt.

“shh, just enjoy it, darling.” he’s always put your pleasure before his. your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers out of your mouth, but he slides a finger inside of you and you’re gone.

a muffled whine comes from you and zhongli gazes up at you again. his lips suck on the puffy pearl between your labia. he watches as your eyes roll back again. he feels your thighs cover his ears and he takes this as a sign to. start savoring the taste of you. he hums against your clit, making your soft thighs shake around him. he removes his finger from your mouth, placing it on your hips. his thumb lovingly brushes against the chub of your stomach.

your hands cover your eyes, back arching into him. he feels your muscles contract— you’re close. he opens his eyes to find your hands again. he pins them to your sides as your twitch and convulse around his fingers and tongue. he can feel you holding back.

his fingers curl upwards, making you shoot upright, but he pushes you back down. tears prick at your eyes as you hiccup wetly, begging him to let you cum.

“please, lili!! need to cum…” your words turn into mumbles as your sweet release is so near. “been a good girl, please lili…” your sweet and whiny tone has him smiling and humming against your clit once more.

as your eyes roll back into your skull, white splotches stain your vision and before you know it he’s sent you over the edge. zhongli detaches himself from your cunt, a string of saliva following his lips.

his wet lips kiss your inner thighs, squishing the soft skin under his fingers.

“my good girl,” he says in his baritoned voice. his words send butterflies into your tummy. without any warning his lips secure themselves back onto your clit. you jolt, your legs pushing on zhongli’s shoulder, but he’s quick. he catches your ankle as tears prick at your pretty eyes.

he tuts, kissing your ankles. he trails his kisses up your calf, into the underside of your knees. he pushes your knees to your chest, having you hold them in place. you sniffle as his thick fingers come back to bully your clit.

“so pretty, baby. be good for me, yeah?” you shake your head and whimper.

“too sensitive, ‘li! no ‘mre…” a soft pout appears on your lips. he chuckles and kisses the tears away.

“my sweet girl, you can take it baby. be the good girl i know you are, okay?” his honey coated voice makes your head feel dizzy. he trails kisses down your soft tummy and thighs before finding his rightful spot again. his hands push up your knees again.

his tongue swirls your clit again and his fingers are back to being pushed into your cunt. he curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you see stars.

zhongli’s dealt with his fair share of bratty lovers who fought tooth and nail about obedience, yet you? you’re his best girl, his sweetheart. no one has ever been as pliant and as sweet as you are to him. he thinks that all good girls should get to cum hundreds of times, and zhongli will do exactly that. he is a god and his word is final. so if he says his sweet baby gets to cum until he gets her brain all jelly— so be it <3

alhaitham:

alhaitham has never found much interest in relationships. he doesnt go out of his way to interact with others, he doesn’t care much for people anyway. he doesn’t need anyone anyway when he has a wife waiting for him at home. the one who makes him chai every morning, wrapping him aloo filled roti parcels for lunch, the one who massages his shoulders when they become far too sore.

he adores his wife and he’s very open about his gratitude for you. it’s become a routine at this point. anytime he is required to stay in the desert for an extended period of time, he demands you to be seated on his face whenever he comes back.

in the words of the acting grand sage, “it is the least i can do for you.” however you think that he does the absolute most. his hooked nose bumping against your clit makes you bite your thumb as you hover over his soft lips. alhaitham grumbles in annoyance. he kisses your shaky inner thighs softly,

“habibi, sit. it’s okay.” he tries to comfort the anxiety you get every time he does this. his thumbs rub comforting circles in your hips, urging you to sit on his face. his mouth waters at the sight if your clit peaking out from your puffy lips.

“dont wna hurt you, haitham.” your lips curl into a frown as you put your weight into your knees. he kisses your inner thigh, biting them gently. to tease you, he blows cool air onto your clit, making you whine. you press on his head, “stop!”

he shakes his head, “please, baby. let me do this for you…you’ve been so good for me, please?” his voice has a slight desperation to it. it’s as if he doesn’t get to taste you on his tongue in the next few seconds he will go insane.

he’s right though. you’ve been incredibly patient with him. you’ve been at his side while he adjusts to his new job, and casually overthrows the government. due to the whole fiasco, he hasn’t had the time or energy to do anything but kiss you. sure it made you a bit sad, but when he found out he gave you the night of your life. and now he’s lying under you practically begging to make you feel so good, who are you to decline?

“but kaveh…” you mutter into your palms. “what if he hears?” you ask him, voice wavering. he sighs as he rubs his nose into your thighs.

“to hell with him. this is my house. if he had a problem, he can move out.” he grumbles against your plump skin. he kisses the skin once more before turning to you. “come on habibti please?”

he scoots you closer to his lips. he leaves the softest kiss on your clit. “promise you won’t break me,” he kisses the swollen bud again. “i’ll make you feel so good, baby. ‘m so sorry. lemme make it up to my good girl, yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. you have half the mind to question if he’s even talking to you.

his tongue peaks out from his lips, gently licking the bud. he then takes a deep breath and goes for it. his free hand parts your lips, his tongue swirling around the bud, dragging down to your hole. he sees you clenching around nothing and he coos softly. he prods two fingers inside your hole. your whines and gasps urge alhaitham on. he curls his fingers so nicely, your body shivers. you grab onto his hair, tangling it between your fingers.

your cunt is so wet and so sensitive. having your husband between your thighs, making you see stars after weeks of needing him makes you cum so quick. you don’t even see it coming. alhaitham drinks down any slick that comes from you, lapping it up like a thirsty dog.

he gently lifts you up, laying you back down on the bed. he stands tall and proud above you, removing his fitted shirt. one of his hands intertwines with yours, making you smile. his hands travel up your body, squeezing your soft flesh under his big hands.

“my pretty wife. my girl,” his lips suck on the soft skin of your waist. he makes you giggle as he prods at your ticklish spots. your sweet laughter makes him smile. “i love your laugh. i love you,” he whispers against your lips before stealing a kiss from you. you happily wrap your legs around his hips and your arms slide up his broad shoulders.

with his free hand, alhaitham unbuckles his belt. he throws it somewhere and unzips his pants. he pulls his cock out from his briefs, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. he teases your clit, tapping the tip against the poor bud.

you whine against his lips and buck your hips against his. he chuckles sweetly. (a noise only you get to hear from the sage) he presses the tip against your hole, making you furrow your brows. it’s a bit of a stretch, alhaitham realizes as he watches your face.

he reaches down to rub your puffy clit again, helping you ease into his cock. he hears you whimper and whine below him and he smiles against your skin. his lips leave a trail of wet kisses and bits down your neck and chest. he kisses around the areola of your chest. he elicits more whines and needy pants from you.

alhaitham leans up, looking down at your body. he gently pins your wrists about your head. his eyes are as soft as cotton. the sweet smile on his lips, the adoration in his eyes and the thin viel of sweat lining his forehead and collarbone make your heart flutter.

he’s gorgeous, tall, smart, handsome. he is the perfect man. he leans back down, kissing you on your lips. he hands leave your wrists, finding a new home on your hips. his thumbs run over the fat of your stomach, making you whine against him.

he smiles, thumbs pressing into the skin. if he had to pick a physical trait of yours he loved the most, it would be that. he pulls away from your lips, kissing down your body. he pays extra attention to your chest and tummy.

in the meantime, he’s been pushing himself slowly into your sweet, warm cunt. he sighs aloud as he sinks himself in. he watches as you rock your hips, needing him. he completely pulls out and then thrusts right back into, making you yelp.

he flips over, pulling you onto his lap. he watches as you bounce on his cock, hand pressed to his chest. you gasp and moan shamelessly as you bounce on his cock. his hands grope your stomach and thighs, squishing the skin between his big hands. he coos out sweet words,

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, mahiya. keep going, baby.” he rubs your clit with his thumb, “use me, baby. do it,” and you do just that. your eyes fill with tears as you curl into alhaitham. you hide your face in his neck, shamelessly moaning. alhaitham feels your cunt clench around his cock.

“there you go, sweetie. use me, honey. come on,” his eyes watch your tits intensely. he leans up, his lips wrapping around the hardened buds.

“oh fuck, haitham! ‘m gna!” you grip onto his shoulders, vision spotting. he feels your cunt clench around him hard and smiles,

“my good girl. you can do it. come on, baby. cum on me, use me.” the coil in your stomach snaps the moment he calls you his good girl. you gasp and sink your nails into his shoulder. alhaitham hisses and rubs your clit a little faster. he pushes you over the edge and your cum hard.

your mouth is agape, but you can’t hear yourself moan. you collapse into alhaitham’s chest, face buried in his neck. with a few more thrusts, he too cums inside you with a deep groan.

he watches as you push yourself off of him and lay on your back beside him. he rolls onto his side, kissing your neck and cheeks. he gets up from your bed, making you look up at him puzzled. he sinks onto his knees as he parts your thighs.

“time to clean up, yeah?”

welt yang:

sitting in the same position for a multitude of hours at a time is a grueling task. you love welt dearly, but this is your least favorite request of his. you impatiently fidget with your fingers, knees starting to feel numb.

the older gentleman sits in front of you, sketching out every curve and dimple in your bare body. your cheeks flush deeply as you avoid eye contact with him. he puts his pencil down before calling out to you,

“darling, could you please put your hands down?” he asks you with the softest smile. the creases around his eyes are ever more evident. shyly, you nod your head. you reluctantly place your hands back in position before staring around the room. he lightly chuckles,

“and look at me as well? i cannot sketch your face if you do not look at me.” he is obviously teasing you, but it’s all lighthearted. your lips pout softly before staring up at him with furrowed brows.

“you can’t remember my face?” your voice comes out meeker than intended. he shakes his head, before beckoning you over. with pins and needles sticking into your limbs, you walk over to welt who coaxes you into his lap.

“of course i remember it. i just want to see it. can you do that for me? be my good girl?” he whispers those words into your ears before kissing your shoulder.

“is that a simple enough task for you, honey?” he jests, his grip on your hips tightening. he begins to run his hands up and down you body. he squeezes the fat between his fingers, his lips kissing down you chest and neck.

you sigh into his touch, finally able to feel some warmth. the ac makes your skin burst into goosebumps. welt smiles as he watches you melt into his touch.

“i prefer you like this actually. having you sitting on my lap instead of in the floor, it’s more my style.” him and his stupid puns. you giggle into his neck, the ends of his hair tickling you face. you twirl the ends with your fingers, smiling widely.

he swivels in his chair, turning towards the bed. he lifts you up, hands holding under your thighs. you yelp, arms coiling around his neck. he softly lays you down on the bed. cooing softly at you. laying on his soft, grey sheets makes your eyes flutter shut.

you paw at his shirt, pulling him closer. you lips graze his chin, leaving kisses down his jawline. he hums softly, adjusting his face to look at you, he kisses you soft lips, his mouth tasting like the orange candy he ate a few moments ago.

his hands run up and down your thighs, parting your legs. he grinds himself against your sticky cunt, brows furrowing in pleasure. his breathing becomes a little ragged. you tug at him again,

“welt please,” your whiny voice, accompanied with the way you run your fingers over his bulge has him keeling. he bends however you tell him to, do whatever you ask of him. he nods happily, pulling down the waistband of his sweats. he kneels between your legs as he runs a finger up and down you slit.

wet and sticky slick coats welt’s fingertips. you jerk your hips against his hand as the rough edges of his palm run over your clit. you whine into the pillow set beside you, fingers gripping onto the sheets.

he happily obliges to your silent wish and sinks his finger into your cunt. you happily moan for him, your walls fluttering around his finger. he groans as he watches his fingers sink into your heat.

he pistols his finger in and out of your cunt, curling it upwards once your slick gets onto his wedding ring. he sinks another finger into you, pulling a groan from you. it’s a bit of a stretch, but welt is a patient man.

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, honey. can you keep still for a bit here too? i’ll reward you, i promise, my little fawn.” your eyes flutter open to gaze at his handsome face. your pupils morph into hearts as you nod your head. he smiles fondly, patting your head with his free hand. “thank you, pup.” <3

jing yuan:

jing yuan’s back sticks to the headboard as his hears ring with the sound of your moans. he watches as you tits bounce in his face, pretty buds begging to be touched. his eyes rolls back ever so slightly when you circle your hips as you ride him. his hand grips your hip, the other attached to your ass.

he hums as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pussy clenching. his thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit. he listens to your whimpers and honey-glazed whines. you sing better than the birds that flock to him, you’re prettier than any person he’s ever seen, you’re so obedient.

being the luofu’s general, jing yuan has learned how to teach others. some people are driven by praise, other by rewards. his reward for you obedience is this: riding him until you’re satisfied. his hand gently cups your nape, bringing you closer to his face. the tip of his nose rubs against yours as he hears the squelches of your bodies.

he becomes astutely aware of how wet and warm you are. he’s very aware of the way your body reacts to his warm hands running up and down your sides. he chuckles at the goosebumps that break out on your skin as he whispers sweet praises in your ears. you curl into his body, shivering like a baby bird. he coos at your reactions,

“aren’t you so sweet, my angel?” he kisses up the side of your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “the sweetest little thing, huh?” his hands pull you impossibly closer to his body, his eyes now trained on where you two connect.

he notices the thick, sticky, white substance that rims the bade of his cock and smiles. “look at me, angel.” he says in that smooth voice of his. you’re too out of it to hear him. jing yuan tucks your hair behind your ears, kissing your wet cheeks.

“darling,” he nips at your ears. he watches the wheels turn in your head as you process his words. your bleary eyes look into his, unfocused and hazy. he grins cheshire, “enjoying yourself?” he asks small and simple questions. you nod your head slightly.

he decides to thrusts his hips up in an attempt to wake you up, and it does just that. he thrusts into your heat swiftly, watching your tits bounce. his pretty lips wrap around the under-stimulated buds, making you gasp.

“yuan,” you say meekly, pussy fluttering around him. he hums at you, his golden eyes looking up. he lets go of your breasts to coo at you once more.

“my precious girl, you’re doing so well.” he kisses your cheeks and lips before resting his back against the headboard once again. he allows you to use him however you please. you’ve been such a good girl, sitting by his feet at his desk and waiting for his attention.

“there ‘ya go, princess. you can do it, sweet girl.” jing yuan smiles <3

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms.  

#ktober 2023 star!!! #zhongli x reader smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smut #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #welt yang x reader #welt yang smut #welt smut #welt x reader #genshin smut #honkai star rail smut

[b1rds3ye]

Radio Silence

The mission required you to separate from the rest of Task Force 141 but when the operation is compromised, all he can do is listen to the panic through the comms until everything goes silent.

Pairings: Captain John Price x GN!Reader, Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader Reader Aliases: Breeze (Callsign), Bravo 1-5 (Squad-Member Code) Genre: Angst (open-ended), Drama Warning: Descriptions of violence/crashes, blasphemy/religious references, (probably) inaccurate military terms Word Count: 3k (~1.5k each)

Captain John Price

The captain was not a superstitious man, but when you’re on the battlefield, you take all the good fortune you can get. With age he’s picked up a range of small habits and lucky paraphernalia to get him through the mission; an aged penny in his left breast pocket, a four leaf clover stored in another, he finds himself reciting the lord’s prayer even though he’s not particularly religious (and if there is a god he’d like to personally go up and sock them across the face).

When you noticed his little rituals, you added on a good luck charm of your own - his favourite by far. A quick peck on the cheek followed by a teasing little “good luck, captain” in his ear. Price swears there’s something divine in your affection, it does wonders for his morale and efficiency. He thought nothing of it the first few times, but when he realised that this little gift of yours was here to stay, he started to reciprocate in kind when the others weren’t looking. His soul has become tainted over the years - if anything a kiss from him should be a bad omen - but your beaming smile in response convinces him that maybe he’s given you some luck your way.

And perhaps that’s why, after your ritual good luck kiss, he feels a little more than bothered when Laswell calls you away before he can reciprocate. You notice the slight furrow of his eyebrows and laugh, telling him not to worry and that you’ll see him on the other side. The hold you had on his arm disappears as you pull away, bidding him and the rest of the Task Force good luck as you join your own squadron. Price then returns to commandeering his own men, but the thought lingers in the back of his mind. Perhaps you need that extra little bit of luck today.

Price hates how good his intuition can be.

“Bravo 0-6, do you copy?”

With his squadron grounded and on the perimeter of the site, he stiffens at the tone of your voice. That’s not how you usually sound like over comms, that hint of uncertainty didn’t suit you.

“Loud and clear, in position of Site A.”

“Copy, we’re at the compound but… we’ve got company.”

“Al-Qatala?”

“No, looks like Al-Qatala is buddy-buddy with some mercs and- shit.”

“Breeze, what are you seeing?”

“How’d they get us surrounded…?” You mutter more to yourself than to Price but his blood runs cold regardless.

“Bravo 1-5 you are to fall back and wait for backup-”

He’s cut off by various layers of static but he’s learnt to decipher them. The deeper base of the rustle of fabric as you manoeuvre, the sharp trill of gunshots all overlaying the white noise of distant shouting.

“Price, our exits are blocked, they knew we’d be here, how’d they- Corporal! Fuck, stay with me! We’re dropping like flies here. Bravo-1, we’ve got no choice, we have to push through, full offensive!”

He hears the screams of nearby soldiers. While he’s grateful none of them are yours, he knows that the ride back to base will be a rough one regardless. He feels the eyes of his subordinates burn holes into him and the walkie talkie. Gaz, who was beside him, was the only one moving, animatedly talking to Laswell and filling her in on the situation.

“Bravo 1-5-”

There’s an audible sigh on your end that shuts him up.

Through the time it has taken for Price to become captain, he’s learned a lot the hard way. One of the most important things he’s learned is that earning Lady Luck’s favour is more crucial than any skill for the battlefield. Some of the best he’s ever seen has fallen because they pissed her off somehow, but he still never expected her to shun you.

“Just my luck…” your voice starts off quiet as you curse to yourself. A gulp breaks up your panting as you stabilise your breathing. Your next words are far too calm.

“I’m sorry, Price.”

“Sergeant.” Price’s voice was low, cautious. A warning. He knows how you fight, he knows you don’t do anything extreme unless the situation he calls for it, and once again he’s praying to the unknown that it hasn’t come to that.

“I said next time we hit the pub with the 141 that the first round will be on me but I don’t think I can make that.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Breeze.”

“The merc company goes by Order of Ashes.”

Your words are becoming harder to hear as the explosions seem to be getting closer and closer. Gaz is becoming louder, literally screaming into his comms as he near begs for an evac for your squadron. The rest of his team is becoming restless. Price’s grip tightens impossibly tight on the walkie talkie, any tighter and he could probably crush the metal.

“Rain hell on them for me, yeah?”

Price starts calling for your name, only to be interrupted by a deafening static that has him reeling from his own technology. Inexperienced privates that surrounded him flinched at the sound while Gaz fell silent. Soon Price’s walkie talkie falls silent too.

He brings his hand up to activate communications again, a tentative check in.

“Bravo 1-5, do you copy?”

He waits for a moment.

“Fuck. Breeze? Do you copy?”

The next time he calls out to you is the first time he’s hesitant, to the untrained ear he sounded as strong as ever but to him he recognises how his own voice wavers. A gentle call of your actual name, the last resort.

Silence.

Price gives you a few more seconds to answer, each moment more damning than the last. Gaz sends a concerned look his way but words fail him. He’s a good sergeant but his inexperience is showing. He hasn’t fully mastered the poker face, not like Price has. 

Eventually he lets out a heavy exhale through his nose, counting each racing heartbeat it takes until it has marginally slowed.

Gaz instinctively straightened up, he didn’t need to see Price’s face to know his captain was transforming before his very eyes. Price adjusts his hat, looking at the rest of his team under the brim.

“Alright, we’ve got double the work and half the manpower. No time to lose, I want this site cleared within the hour, and then we're finding our other half."

With affirmatives all round, the soldiers get to work and so does Price. To the untrained eye, he’s calm, eerily so. As captain, Price can’t afford to lose his cool, it’ll bleed over and smother his team, blanket them in a tense atmosphere of panic and uncertainty. So he stays resolute, acting as the team’s anchor as he guides them towards the objective with precision.

The only emotion that breaks his facade is anger. Pure, unbridled rage that casts a frightening glaze over his eyes. His allies can see it as Price stomps towards the entrance of the site. Al-Qatala most certainly feel it as their lackeys are pummeled to the ground, bones cracking against stone and tiles. They’re not gifted the mercy of a quick bullet, but the pain of slowly bleeding out with broken bones, bruised bodies and limbs jutting out in all the ways they should not. Every bruising punch, every bullet delivered does little to quell the raging storm within him. It brings him closer to the mission objective but it doesn’t bring him closer to you, and that’s the only thing that matters right now. There’s no hostages, no chance of salvation for his enemies. Any form of good will in Price was taken away when you were taken away from him. He hopes whatever god that sees the carnage he’s inflicted knows that it is only a taste of what to come if he ever meets that poor sod.

When his side of the operation is done and the squadron is now leaving the site, Price returns to his comms. He needs to address the other half of the mission, you. Suddenly his tongue feels thick in his mouth as his throat tightens. His collar is suffocating.

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher-1 do you copy?”

Laswell’s voice rings out.

“Affirmative. We’ve already dispatched birds to Bravo-1’s location, we’ll do what we can and sort out that compound.”

“Do me one more thing. Find me everything you can on the ‘Order of Ashes’. I want names, locations, families, the whole fucking mile.”

“Can do. … Is this for Breeze?”

“Breeze wanted me to rain hell on them…”

Price’s voice is low as he puts a cigar in his mouth. He lights it up, even when the cigar smokes he keeps the lighter on. His eyes narrow at the flickering flame, fixated on it for a moment longer. He’s never been a particularly superstitious man, but he’s asking for Lady Luck to be on his side once again. For the slim chance that you’re somewhere out there, breathing. He’s never been worthy of her favour, but you damn well are so surely she’ll put that into account. She’ll consider that you still have a lot to do, you still have a good luck kiss that Price needs to return. He puts his lighter away.

“... and I intend to deliver.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost preferred his quieter missions. Others feel safer when in a team but more people mean more variables, and more variables mean more fuck ups, and heavens know he’s had enough of those. For Ghost, the less, the better. And yet, when it came to 141, and in particular to you, he’d pick company over going solo in a heartbeat.

Reconnaissance missions were a personal favourite, they were quiet, less violent if done right and often required only a few people. Of course his first person of choice is you, even if you’d always call these missions an “impromptu date” and then chastise him for not planning something more extravagant just to rile him up.

Even now, when you two were starting on opposite sides of the target site a good few kilometres apart, you were connected through communications. He’d listen as you ramble about anything and everything on your mind when the mission gets quiet. It was endearing, it was soothing. Ghost never thought he’d find someone like you with the power to give him a respite even when on duty - or if he ever deserved such a thing. And yet here he was, sitting against a wall, waiting for further instructions from Laswell as you started the purely hypothetical debate on who in the 141 would best survive the zombie apocalypse.

“Honestly, with a mask like yours you could probably blend in with the horde. 10 out of 10 you’d last your entire life like that.”

“Surrounded by brain dead morons? Already have that.”

He heard your laugh that you tried to mask as an exaggerated scoff.

“How long do you think I’d last?”

“One hour at most.”

“Oh come on Ghost, have a bit more faith in me.”

“All Bravo to Watcher-1, we’re awaiting further action, copy.”

As Laswell replies, Simon can already imagine your offended expression as he changes the topic.

“Bravo-1 this is Watcher-1, you are all clear to close in on the perimeter. Do not engage, just tell us what you see.”

“Watcher-1 this is Bravo 1-5, I’m already seeing hostiles.”

Ghost stills, his hand reaching back up to the comms. You’ve always managed to keep it cool but he heard how your sentence ended with a slight waver. It was too early for speculation, but the alarm bells were already going off in his head. The enemy should be clustered within the site, nowhere near where you currently are.

“I’m counting a dozen men, a couple of trucks and- that’s looking like some impressive cargo.”

There’s some extra static as Ghost finds his pace increasing. He won’t be able to reach you soon, but it doesn’t stop his legs from moving towards the site.

“They’re moving quickly, they’ve got an agenda.”

“Stay frosty, Breeze.”

“Got it, Simon.”

Your voice is more of a whisper now, almost blending in with the static. Was the enemy that close to you already?  Usually, he loved when you used his actual name. Everyone calls him ‘Ghost’ even off-duty, but you were proper enough to at least always call him by his callsign in battle. You were getting spooked and he was too far away to even try and comfort you.

It was a strain to unclench his balled fists. He wasn’t going to have a mission go wrong, at least not one that involved you. He’d be damned if something took you out before him, because he refused to return to a life where you weren’t yapping his ear off.

“Breeze, head back to exfil.”

“Fuck, they’re heading this way.”

If you found a good place to hide, Ghost could reach you before any enemy did. He had to.

“I’m heading towards your position. E.T.A 20 minutes.”

“Ghost, my spot is now crawling with hostiles. I know you’re a one man army but I think you’re pushing it this time.”

Your laugh was different this time. It wasn’t as hearty as the one he heard before, it was a weak wheeze. Half-hearted, the sound of a bitter and quiet defeat. He could hear your rugged breathing against the end of the mic. If he was actually with you, he’d stand beside you in moments like this, letting you put your body weight on him discreetly as he anchored you to the world. His gloved hand instinctively curls as he imagines himself holding onto your arm.

“Breeze, stay with me. Focus on the objective.”

“You owe me a proper date after this, Ghost.”

“Then make sure you get back in one piece-”

The comms are disrupted with a voice that Ghost can’t recognise, with you returning an indistinguishable shout and a curse. He can’t help calling your name into the comms, only to hear the static of indescribable commotion, bodies shuffling and the harrowing crack of broken bones and limbs. It escalates into a deafening crescendo spanning only a few seconds before the grand finale of a thump of a fallen body. The transmission ends with a damning click. He stops in his tracks before he returns to the comms.

“Breeze? How copy?”

The line has gone dead. Ghost slams his fist into the nearest wall, but it does little to quell the pain from within.

“Bravo this is Watcher-1, what’s your status?”

Ghost pauses at Laswell’s request, he wants you to be the one who replies on his behalf, you usually do. Never did a moment feel so heavy, outweighing his military gear and weapons, almost bringing the hulking man to his knees. His hand reluctantly comes up to activate his walkie talkie. He takes his sweet time, giving you the chance to interrupt. When he finally speaks, his voice is slow as he draws out every syllable, every pause a desperate invitation for you to speak up.

“Bravo 1-5 is M.I.A.”

Laswell is silent on the other side. Ghost lets his head tilt back until it rests on the wall beside him, the guilt made his skull too heavy. With that sentence alone he felt like your executioner, as if he just brought the possibility of you being gone into reality. The only thing he can hear now is the slight rustle of grass against the wind, a backdrop to the rhythmic bass of his pounding heartbeat. This was a typical ambience for solo missions, and Ghost was used to being alone.

But lonely? He had forgotten how it felt ever since you barged into his life. And now that the feeling has returned, he forgot just how utter shit it feels.

“We’re sending immediate backup to their position. We’ll meet you there.”

But by the time he and the squadron make it to your position, there are only the remnants of a battle left in your wake. A few unrecognised bodies are slumped against the walls, furniture is overturned, and dried blood paints the floor as a macabre dye. Most - if not all - of this must have been your handiwork, and if it was any other circumstance Ghost would feel proud, but you’re not beside him for him to praise you. That being said, there is no sign of you, and that leaves him optimistic, but the other soldiers seemed to think differently.

“You know, they say Al-Qatala never takes prisoners,” one jittery private said to another.

“What’re you trying to say? I've seen the Sergeant. Breeze is tough.”

“I’m just saying, even if we can’t find their body they’re probably d-”

“That’s enough,” Ghost snaps his head to them, eyes alight with a rage usually reserved only for his worst enemies. His voice is near unrecognisable, more akin to a growl than any human sound. He will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of you or doubting your capabilities as a soldier. He tells himself he does it for your honour, nothing more, nothing less. He disregards the selfish need for you to return to him as it wittles him down to the bone and contorts his face to a scowl concealed under his mask.

The soldiers hurriedly salute before exiting the room, leaving the lieutenant alone, shoulders and chest heaving before he moves to continue the search.

The team returns empty handed, but that means nothing to Ghost. Even as he’s issued new missions he does not falter. He fights with the same brutality, killing his enemy before they can kill him because he needs to return home. Return home so he can organise a covert mission of his own - retrieving you. No matter the rank or squadron that separates you, no matter if you’re shipped out to the other side of this godforsaken earth, you two are a team. Combat has hardened Ghost into a brutally honest man, many would call him a pessimist, but a stubborn voice in the back of his mind refuses to believe that you’re gone. You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, if you weren’t you wouldn’t be dating him. He’s seen you stare death in the eyes only for you to stand back up beside him. And so he faces forward and doesn’t look back. Because until he has to rip off the freezing metal of a dog tag from your neck, he swears on his stone cold heart that you’re still out there. Maybe a little tattered, perhaps even broken, but living.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #cod 141 #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #/*avery actually writes*/

[spectralreplica]

Uhhhhhhhh Sburb AU!! This was more of an excuse to classpect and make sprites, so don’t ask me questions about plot details because I put like zero thought into it. Tsumugi probably had something to do with setting up the session, and she’s hiding her real title and the fact it’s not her first session. Baby Kiibo is a robot baby because I thought that was the funniest option.

Drawing with anti-aliasing off really brings me back...

Classpect thoughts under the cut if you really want:

Immediate caveat: I mention speculative stuff here like unconfirmed active/passive class pairs and inversion theory. If you don’t like those things or otherwise disagree with the titles I gave people that’s fine but just know I’m not super interested in debating about it and won’t reply.

So, to start out with I wanted to make the 8 of them a session, so I needed no overlaps in class or aspect and one Time + one Space. I also wanted to have Kaito and Kokichi as opposing aspects. In general, I think of a Title as kind of the end of your assigned character arc, so depending on your level of maturity/introspection at the start, it can seem either really obvious or really unintuitive. I tried to base them off of the hypothetical chapter 6/survivor versions of characters, since those (plus maybe the chapter 5 deaths) of the ones that get a full arc in DR canon.

Immediately Tsumugi seemed like a deadringer for Space, not so much because of the literal physics-related stuff but because of its associations with creation/narratives and setting things up for other people to act. I made her Sylph of Space here, but that's a facade. She's actually a Muse of Space who participated in past session(s) and wants to watch how things play out.

Based on the Extended Zodiac description, Kaito or Kaede has to be time, but Kokichi CANNOT be Space by any stretch of the imagination. I made her Heir of Time with the interpretation of Heir as someone who invites change/influences of/through their aspect. Time is also associated with music and death, which is both fitting and a little mean. (I can also see Kaede as Breath outside of having to have someone be Time.)

So moving onto Kaito and Kokichi, I was considering Hope vs Rage (belief vs doubt, possibility vs restrictions), but 1) Rage is defined partially by hatred of lies despite otherwise sounding Kokichi-ish (that alone could be interesting, with the possibility of a negative/reverse title or else giving him Hope and Kaito Rage for the unexpected swerve........) 2) I really wanted to give Hope to Kiibo. So instead I went with Heart and Mind (emotion vs logic, intuition vs planning, identity/motivation vs action/decisiveness).

Kokichi is Thief of Mind for taking away other people's decisions for his own purposes but also for generally "stealing" things (e.g., the Mastermind Role, narrative importance in general, along with literal items) through his own cleverness. Vs Kaito, a Knight of Heart, who uses his constructed identity as a weapon to face challenges. I'm also a fan of inversion theory, so I think at low points they'd both trend towards Page of Heart (grows powerful late in the narrative based on his own ego/identity) and Rogue of Mind (taking choices/agency/logic away from people for their own good), respectively.

I always wanted Kiibo to be Hope since 1) Ult. Hope Robot 2) big on possibilities/faith but can be a little self-centered. I went with Bard at least partially to make a "guess we know whether he has a dick or not now!" joke, but I also think "inviting destruction through Hope, inviting destruction of (false) hope" is pretty spot on for chapter 6 Kiibo. Like, as the camera/audience surrogate, he's been forced into passively leading the others to despair, not to mention how the audience takes him over to destroy the hope of ending the show. But Kiibo ends up reversing this and helping destroy the audience's faith in Danganronpa, destroying the whole academy in accordance with the vote. (Sidenote: I wonder if Kiibo gets taken over by Horrorterrors and goes grimdark? Or if he's just really, really susceptible to orders from his Exile)

Shuichi, Page of Void, was another one that immediately came to mind. Like, "starts off weak but becomes really strong/important by the end" is Shuichi's thing! Also, counterpart to Kaito's Knight. And Void is all about secrets, mystery, etc. From the Extended Zodiac: "Where others might be compelled to go out and seek answers, the Void-bound lean more toward casting doubt on what is already considered understood. They don't take much on faith and would rather live in a state of confusion- than believe something that might be untrue or bow to intellectual authority... At their best, Void-bound are wise, intuitive, and vibrant. At their worst, they can be dismissive, indecisive and apathetic." 

I had considering Light, for seeking out knowledge/truth, but Shuichi's character arc ends on "fuck you, I refuse to play. You all get nothing more from us" and learning to live with ambiguity, so I think he's way more Void. But, again, inversion would be Thief of Light, so selfishly taking away knowledge/importance from others.

Speaking of Light, I made Miu Mage of Light. Mage is like, active Seer, seeking out knowledge for yourself (vs advising others) and Light is luck, knowledge, and also importance/plot relevance. As an inventor, Miu keeps innovating and figuring things out, plus she's very motivated by her own importance to the world. She wants to be seen more than anything else and loves being smarter than those around her. Also: "At their best, the Light-bound are resourceful and driven. At their worst they can be fussy, pedantic, and insensitive." Inversion is Heir of Void, so "inviting change via hiding things" or "changing what's kept secret", which suits Miu when plotting murder.

Finally, Maki is Prince of Blood. Blood is trust, bonds, relationships, stubbornness, duty, obligation (vs freedom, change, choices) so "someone who breaks bonds/destroys relationships" but also "someone who destroys using/motivated by duty/relationships". Like, Maki is inherently a fracture point in the group because of her talent and then directly breaks the group apart and sabotages her relationships with the others in chapter 5, but also she's deeply motivated by her bonds to others in all of her destructive actions (protectiveness for orphanage/friend, love for Kaito). This sound super negative, but I think this is also the Maki who commits to destroying the institution of Danganronpa in chapter 6. Sometimes you have to be decisive and cut bad relationships out of your life.

Inversion would be Sylph of Breath, so "healing via change" or "encouraging growth towards freedom", which you can argue is sort of the way Kaito wants her to go? But she just doesn't. Idk, for better or worse, I think Maki is very aware of who she is and how people related to her, so even at her worst she's true to herself, vs, say, Kaito or Kokichi, who act "ooc".

#Homestuck #Kokichi Oma #Kaito Momota #Miu Iruma #Shuichi Saihara #Kaede Akamatsu #Maki Harukawa #Kiibo #Tsumugi Shirogane #New Danganronpa V3 #Danganronpa #Sburb AU #Spectra Art

[crvptidgf]

Whipped

Kaz Brekker x Reader

➸ summary: just as you start to think that Kaz is incapable of basic human decency, he proves you wrong (in his own, Kaz-like way)

➸ warnings/notes: none

word count: 1.2k

————————

ONE THING YOU quickly learned about Kaz was that he never showed outward emotion. In fact, sometimes you weren’t too sure he even felt any at all. That was what everybody said - Kaz was robotic in the way he interacted with people, hardly sparing a thought on the well-being or opinions of others.

While it wasn’t far off the truth, you knew there had to be more to him than a void machine with no care for anybody but himself. He was still, after all, human (despite what anybody else might say).

It wasn’t without reason that he gained his infamous aliases. Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands, Demjin. That’s why it surprised you when you started getting nervous around him. Not the kind of nervous that most people felt with Kaz, but more like a stupid, naïve school-girl kind of nervous. Why? You could probably name a million reasons.

Putting aside all that he has done and all that he is, Kaz was genuine. Perhaps not like how Jesper and Inej were - and sure, he didn’t have the softness that Nina held, or the undying open affection that Matthias bared for his lover, or even the sweet, lovable awkwardness that Wylan had. He was, however, intriguing in his own way.

He was brutally loyal to those he deemed worthy; his mind worked unlike anyone else you had met; and he never, ever, took shit from anyone - no matter if it was a stranger off the street or one of his Crows. Not to mention that he always seemed to be 2 steps ahead of his foes, which was something you admired greatly. These special qualities made him who he is and you couldn’t help but fall for his cold and calculating personality.

There was always a wall separating him from being honest with people, his lack of trust and need to be in control too strong to ever let up. Yet bit by bit (or brick by brick) his shell started to gather cracks and crevices in the shape of you.

You had somehow wormed your way into his icy heart. Of course he would never dare admit it to himself, much less say it out loud, but deep down he knew. And he hated it.

He hated that he remembered your favorite color. He hated that he knew exactly how you liked your tea in the mornings. Most of all, he absolutely loathed the fact that you, out of anybody he has ever encountered, managed to become his biggest weakness.

Kaz always prided himself on his nonchalant façade. Nobody could ever read what was going on inside his mind and he worked hard to keep it that way. Until you came along. Until you wrung and twisted his insides until he couldn’t take it anymore - the thoughts of you so polluted in his mind that he couldn’t help but chastise his childish behavior.

He wasn’t a boy anymore. He didn’t have crushes (although what he felt for you was a little more than a measly crush).

All of this to say that, when he saw the small smile that tugged on the corner of your lips whenever he did something thoughtful for you, he actually found that he didn’t mind being reduced to a mindless, clueless idiot around you. He actually realized that he liked making you happy. This epiphany scared him. But if tossing and turning at night, his mind completely overtaken by you, meant that he could see your grin light up the room just one more time, he could live with it.

You, on the other hand, had no idea of his inner turmoil. Yeah you knew he was a bit gentler when you were around (not by much, you noted), but that could be for a multitude of reasons. Surely Kaz Brekker, the notorious Dirtyhands, didn’t take a fancy to you of all people. Right?

These thoughts were however thrown from your mind when you awoke to your floorboards creaking, the sound alerting your fight or flight response. Constantly being in imminent danger does that to a person. You can never be too sure when death would knock on your door.

Yet when you slowly reached your hand under your pillow for your dagger (a gift that Inej had graced you with on your first birthday at the Crow Club), a voice stopped you from your worries.

“It’s just me. No need for any violence so early in the morning.”

Turning in your small but cozy bed, you were met with a somewhat startled looking Kaz. He wasn’t expecting you to wake up - he should’ve forseen this. Saints, he was losing his game. He always did when it came to you.

“Oh,” you replied simply. “Did you need something?”

Kaz’s lips formed into a line, something in his hand shuffling as he mulled over his thoughts. He should leave, he thought. But he didn’t. Instead he stood at the foot of your bed like a total creep, his eyes traveling over your face so quickly that you almost missed it.

“Breakfast,” he said, throwing the bag that he previously toyed with in his hand.

It landed with a soft thud on your bed, the brown paper almost unfolding as it reached your knee. Picking it up slowly, you looked towards Kaz for any indication of what it was. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was inside.

It was a sugar-roll. Something you had been craving for months, but could never seem to get your hands on. There was only one bakery in the Barrel that sold these, and it was on the complete other side of the city.

“How did you- Where-“ you stumbled over your words, utterly struck by surprise.

Kaz spun his cane in his hand, the crow's head glinting in the sunlight that peeked from your window.

You never thought you would see the day, but he hesitated before answering.

“Had some business to attend to. I just happened to walk by that bakery that you’re always harping on about.”

So he did listen to your meaningless rants. Nina had mentioned the bakery a while back, and you and her bonded over your shared enjoyment of the confectioneries that they sold. You didn’t think Kaz actually heard it, much less remembered what your favorite pastry was.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

Kaz nodded, retreating backwards as he responded. “Hopefully now you’ll stop bugging me about that stupid roll of yours,” he said.

While his words were harsh, you could see the glint in his eyes as he spotted your excited expression, your hands pulling the doughy goodness out of its bag. In his own backwards way, Kaz was as whipped as somebody like him could get.

As he limped out of your room, the comfort of your presence leaving him, he spotted Jesper outside the door, smirking.

“What,” Kaz snapped.

“You just happened to walk by?”

Kaz rolled his eyes, sighing. He continued to walk, ignoring Jesper’s attempts to annoy the man.

“That bakery is at least 30 minutes away,” he stifled a laugh, “you need to think up better lies, boss.”

“Tell anyone and you’ll never see your guns again,” Kaz said, knowing there was no point in lying any more. He cast a backwards glance at his friend, who immediately put his hands up in defense.

Jesper smiled to himself as he was finally left alone upstairs. He was going to have so much fun taunting that over Kaz's head in the next few weeks.

The Bastard of the Barrel - whipped.

#six of crows #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fic #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #grishaverse fic #grishaverse fanfic #kaz being kaz #grishaverse fanfiction #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone series #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x fem!reader #six of crows fandom #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse fandom #kaz rietveld #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone

[torturedpoetemotions]

People miss the point about Dean's interaction with Marta the post office lady in 14x13 so hard and it's FRUSTRATING.

No, it's not a reversal of the running gag about older women finding Sam attractive (which is gross anyway because it usually involves playing his obvious discomfort at being touched without consent for laughs). It is also not just Dean trading on his looks and flirting to get what he wants.

The point is to illustrate a significant difference between the brothers!

Specifically how they interact with the community of Lebanon, and what that says about their characters.

At this point in the show, Sam and Dean have now lived in Lebanon for like, six and a half years. And yet Sam approaches this woman like he would approach any stranger or witness in any random town in the country. And she reacts to him like any witness would to a strange man asking questions--with caution and some level of suspicion. It is incredibly clear that they don't know each other at all, despite how long they've been living in the same community.

But Dean knows her! And not just by sight and in passing. He's on a first name basis with her! He asks about her grandson and she readily answers! She knows his first name, too! They very clearly have an established report and have talked many times, enough times for her to have complained to him about her "spoiled little jerk" of a grandson!

This scene establishes that Dean is a known entity to at least some of the people of Lebanon. A known and LIKED entity. Trusted, even! He has truly put down roots there in a way that Sam has not, despite them living there for the same amount of time. He's bonded with people he sees regularly. He has little interactions with them offscreen all the time. That tells us something about Dean as a character!

And if it's a reversal or play off of anything, it's 1x11 (Scarecrow) when Dean fails to convince a couple who is in danger to let him fix their car so they can leave town sooner. Dean assumes (incorrectly IMO) that it's because HE specifically comes off to "normal people" as abnormal and dangerous, whereas Sam would be able to convince them with just a sincere look. In reality, of course, it probably has more to do with Dean being a total stranger, with no obvious credentials for car-fixing other than his word, in an unfamiliar place, than it does any inherent quality of Dean himself.

Because the key is, Dean isn't putting in any special effort in either scene. The way he approaches the couple is a contrast to how he usually handles cases. There's no costume, no subterfuge, and no alias. He isn't trying to fool either the couple in 1x11 or Marta in 14x13 into liking and trusting him. He's just being himself and telling the truth in both scenes (maybe not ALL the truth, but the essential basics). It works on Marta because she already knows and likes him. It doesn't work on the couple because he's a stranger to them.

So in 14x13 (and at other times in the show too) we see that Sam is not any better with people than Dean, especially when he makes no effort. He in fact gives off somewhat alarming vibes to strangers when he doesn't present with some kind of subterfuge that engenders immediate trust (i.e. being an FBI or insurance agent). (Think of Amelia's initial reaction to him in season 8 for example.) And this is true even for people who have almost certainly seen him around before, in the town he's lived in for over half a decade.

And the fact that he has made no effort to get to know his neighbors is telling in itself. Sam isn't any more automatically trustworthy to regular people than Dean unless he puts in specific effort to be. Costumes and aliases, fake credentials, even that specific face and voice he uses to talk to witnesses are all effort he has to put in. And that effort is not something that comes naturally to him or occurs to him outside of the context of a case. (I think we also see in season 6 exactly how much conscious effort those things require of him, given that without a soul he not only lacks personability but is downright impatient with and insulting to people.)

It's actually Dean who's good at building bonds, establishing casual report, and eliciting trust from people. And moreover, it's Dean who thinks to make the effort to do so. Sam is better at leading hunters specifically, but that's a whole different story and meta.

#supernatural #spn meta #spn 14x13 #spn 1x11 #dean winchester #dean studies #winchester brothers #sam studies #lebanon #my meta

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: Queen's Guard Dog [1]

Part 2!

Summary: In which you are Tsaritsa’s closest retainer and servant, the one who is at the Queen’s beck and call.

You are Brighella, the Queen’s Guard Dog.

Or, the Harbingers treat you a bit differently. 

Pairing: Tartaglia, Arlecchino, Pantalone, Il Dottore x GN! Reader

Note: Okay. The Foutaine Trailer though? I simply had to write something for Harbingers.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

To Tartaglia, you are a mysterious shadow. 

You weren’t a Harbinger, but your status makes you one, if not higher. 

Like a shadow, you appear and disappear with an elegance that matches Her Majesty. But unlike Her Majesty, your heart has not frozen from the truth of the world.

As such, you would appear more human at times. 

Which was why Tartaglia would dare to ever approach you when he first became a Harbinger, and actively seek you out whenever he could.

He wanted to fight against you, but he never had the opportunity.

Yet, who knew he would be the one approached by you. 

“Brighella. It’s been a while.” 

“Brighella, how have you been?” You smiled in response and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“La Signora, Tartaglia. Her Majesty has bestowed me your mission.” Your voice was quite relaxed, almost sing-song as you pulled out a scroll. 

In an instant, Tartaglia and Signora knelt on one knee and bowed their heads, your were Her Majesty’s proxy and your words should be treated as if they came from Her Majesty herself. 

“Go to Liyue, and take Morax’s Gnosis.” 

“We will obey your order!” They both chorused and stood up. You nod in approval before the scroll evaporates in midair. 

“Good. That is all.” La Signora immediately left without looking back at all. Typical. 

“Brighella.” Tartaglia called out, making the Guard Dog perk up.

“Care for a spar? Help me warm up before I fight Morax.” He proposed, watching you with his challenging eyes. 

Slowly, a dangerous smirk rose to your face, making him excited too. 

But to his disappointment, you quickly returned to your composure.

“Perhaps when you rise in rank, dear youngest.” You reached out with one hand and ruffled his hair. 

Tartaglia widens his eyes in surprise, but he takes full advantage of it by leaning forward and enjoying the attention from such a high entity like yourself. 

“Then, I look forward to your success.” Before you left, he had grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Of course, Your Highness.”

To Arlecchino, you are a deceptive actor.

You are a shapeshifter, one that could be adapted to whatever the needs of the scenario might be, to any circumstance or play.

The world is your stage, and with each performance, you unveil a new face, assuming countless aliases to deceive those around you. You don’t discriminate in who you fool, so long as it brings joy to you. 

But Arlecchino could see through your intricate web of deception, and easily pinpoint you in the crowd. While others may fall prey to your cruel manipulations, she remains untangled, resistant to your deceptive allure.

“Brighella, stop with your disgusting act.” She says with her stoic expression, but you know she’s hiding her amusement. 

“Then why do you clap? Dear Arlecchino?” 

In a world of illusions and falsehoods, Arlecchino is the one who understands the craft of acting, the art of transformation.

“Ha. Don’t get ahead of yourself Brighella, Your act is nothing more than a distraction, all that’s left for you is pity for your worthless act.” She approaches in strides, easily reaching you in a matter of seconds. 

She raises your chin with a finger and stares into your eyes. 

It’s dangerous but thrilling. This game you two play.

“Cut the crap, tell me what you’re here for.” Authoritarian as always, some things never change. 

You responded to her move with your own, bringing a strand of her hair to your lips. 

(Who will fall first?)

“It’s showtime my dear Knave. Her Majesty expects a good show.” Both pulled away with their masks thrown aside. Arlecchino bowed deeply. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

To Pantalone, you are an unsatiated dog.

Money slips through your fingers effortlessly, as if you give it little thought. Perhaps this lavishness is merely a facade, a clever act to hide your true cunning nature.

Pantalone, however, sees the duality within you. He witnesses your unwavering devotion towards Tsaritsa, but beneath that surface, he also sees your selfish motives, your relentless pursuit of personal gain at the cost of others.

You are shrewd as you are “kind”. You are greedy, just as you are “generous”. 

But Pantalone can’t say such things about you, when he’s the same, or when he’s fully enjoying the benefits of your “generosity”. 

“Brighella, to what do I owe the pleasure of the Queen’s Guard dog?” 

“Oh dear Pantalone, it’s that time of the year again.” Though you had your usual smile on your lips, you stood upright and expectant. 

The yearly report requires a thorough checkup of all Harbingers’s work, accomplishments and progress since the previous year. This will then be reported to Her Majesty for her discretion.

“Of course, let me show you around.” Pantalone offered a hand, which you took graciously as he led you around the Central Bank of Snezhnaya, reporting every single thing that needed to be heard. 

As always, he expected your arrival and your purpose, and had always prepared ahead to ensure nothing but perfection and luxury reached your eyes. 

After all, your eyes are Her Majesty’s eyes. What you see is what She will see. 

So why do such pests have to exist and make a mistake in front of your presence? 

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness! Please spare me!” A little rat dare spill wine on you? 

Before you said anything, Pantalone covered your eyes with his gloved hands. A quick shuffle of feet and a muffled cry before it slowly faded into nothing but silence. When Pantalone uncovered your eyes, the employee was out of your sight. 

“Your Highness, please come this way. I will get you a change of clothes immediately.” 

“Be sure to ‘take care’ of the little servant. After all, it was just one mistake.” You advised, when suddenly a few employees rushed forward to take care of you. 

Pantalone didn’t need to be told twice, it was what he intended after all. With a subtle bow and a glint in his eyes, he responded with the utmost courtesy. 

“Your Highness, I promise you will never see that servant again.”  

To Il Dottore, you are an ancient antique, a relic from a bygone era. An ageless monster as rumours would say, as time seems to be nothing to you.

Throughout the years, Il Dottore has seen you in action.

Where you are a masterful liar, and an inveterate schemer. If a plan fails, you have a magnificent ability to weave the situation in your favour and make it the fault of others. But such an occasion is a rarity, where Dottore had only seen once in his life. 

After all, you are meticulous and calculating underneath your charming facade.

From a sinner to an innocent, Dottore marveled at how you manipulated the scene at a moment’s notice.

But that was not what caught his attention.

It was your seemingly timeless existence that has remained unfazed for a long long time by Her Majesty’s side. Your existence has never been confirmed and he had always wanted to be the first to discover.

To him, you are an enigma, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

So when you arrived in his lab to congratulate him on achieving a higher rank, he was thoroughly pleased. 

“To think Your Highness would be personally here to congratulate me and deliver me such good news from Her Majesty, I am honoured.” Dottore grins as he bows before you. 

“You have shown your skills worthy of Her Majesty’s praise, as such, you may ask for a reward.” 

“Oh, any reward? Is this from yourself, Your Highness?” A sly smile rose to his lips. 

When Brighella nodded, Dottore immediately extended a hand. 

“I would like a sample of your blood, Your Highness.” 

“Oh?” You had a knowing and sly expression on your face. 

“Yes, that is all I need.” A beat of silence, before you placed your hand in his.

“Then, I will fulfill your curiosity.” Dottore had never been happier. 

With your approval, he obtained your blood sample without any problems and immediately began formulating experiments in his head. 

Not before gently placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your elbow, where your blood was taken out.

“Your Highness, I promise to bring you results.” 

#manga #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin #harbingers x reader #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #tartaglia #childe #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #childe tartagalia #gn reader #x reader #genshin x you #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #pantalone #genshin dottore #fatui arlecchino #il dottore #dottore #fatui #pantalone x reader #the tsaritsa

[bagdaddyb]

Hi!! Oh my gosh seeing you posting again was such a huge joy and surprise for me I’m so glad to read your new work!!!

I was wondering if you could write a wanda maximoff x fem!reader ABO fic where either Wanda or reader are new to the team with a whole bunch of pining where they eventually figure out that they are each others mate? You can make either Wanda or reader alpha/omega!

It’s super okay if you aren’t feeling this request, either way I’m so excited to read more of the amazing work you share with us!!!

Hiiiii! So I got super carried away with this and I originally intended for this to be mean emo Wanda but sweet soft Wanda took over, I hope you enjoy! 💗

Pairing: alphag!p Wanda x omega fem! spyReader

Warning: Sickeningly Sweet, 18+ MINOR DNI NSFW NSFW

AN: Wanda 🥰

You'd only been on the team for a year when the mess with Ultron happened. It all happened so fast, you could barely process everything happening around you before something new would arise. Sitting across from Natasha sipping coffee as you spied on the twin alphas you felt the most relaxed you had in weeks. Natasha kept glancing their way while your focus stayed on her, two people staring was more suspicious than one. You and the red head proved to be a good team over the past year. Two omega spies flying under everyones radar. The world still assumed the Black Widow a one woman show and no one would ever believe her to be an omega. The breeze felt nice on your back, bringing a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear before looking down at your coffee.

"This has been a real shit show eh?"

Your voice held a familiar accent one you'd grown used to using under your many aliases. Natasha's eyes returned to you as she sipped her own drink.

"Not anymore than usual."

You hummed in response eyes wondering to the innocent civilians around you. Sipping your own cup you wonder if life would be better among them. Oblivious to the realities of the world to caught up in your own day to day menial task. The weight of this job seemed to weigh a bit heavier on your shoulders everyday, the question of wether the people you save amounts to the people you don't plaguing.

"S toboy vse v poryadke?" (Are you alright?)

The red head ask and you nod eyes returning to hers.

"Tired, it seems everytime we try to relax something detrimental in the world happens. I wonder what it would do without us."

A small chuckle escapes Natasha despite the truth in your words, her eyes shooting to the pair on her right once more. Though not a 'graduate' of the red room you hold your own tramatic story. Experimented on in the basement of Oscorp for years you'd been turned into a lab rat by the corpo bastards that owned the building. You'd escaped only three years ago, changed. Transformed into a human machiene, non-aging, ridiculously strong with a sirens song. You did the only thing you could and played the cards you were delt. Seducing mediocre alphas out of millions before any one even got a whiff of your existence but you could truly only thank Natasha for that. It wasn't until Natasha was taken down but the Black Widow kept striking that shield realized there was more than met the eye. It was Tony himself that went undercover to catch you and honestly had he not been an Avenger with intel he would of ended up caught himself. Another rich egotistical alpha who thought himself on top of the world. You didn't go down easy and spent a week in a cell before even uttering a word. In retrospect it all seems silly now you often think about how much time you wasted fighting the people who wanted nothing more than to help you. Eyes lifting to Natasha's face you can't help but feel greatful for the opportunity she's given you to help others like you.

"They're on the move."

You hum in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink mind finally wondering to the matter at hand. Your mission was recruitment nothing more. Ultron having been made unreasonably strong by the twins he somehow came to be in alliance with. You'd gained enough information merely listening in on their conversation, so you and Natasha retreated returning to the group in order to solidify your advances. Standing in time with Natasha you link your arm in hers smiling before chatting away about absolutely nothing in russian. Missing the way a certain alpha glanced your way when your scent drifted down wind. It only took twenty four hours for everything to go to shit almost a record breaker in your books. Ultron whineded up to be nothing after the male alpha was nere fatally injured the red headed woman taking care of him like clockwork. Luckily your team stood nearby able to quickly extract the alpha towards safety and medical attention. You worked efficiently getting him secured before moving to help the rest of your team fight off Ultron's bots and it isn't until the end when you stand with the support of Thor that you realize the red headed alpha had come with you. Returning to the compound there is tension on the quinjet. The group unsure what to do with the twin alphas who quite literally just tried to murder them and it causes you to roll your eyes.

"You could at least not talk about them as if they aren't right there."

You scold before moving towards the pair. The red head having been unmoving crouched over her unconscious brother.

"Privet." (Hello.)

You say making yourself known as you approach the alpha causing her to glance up at you.

"On dolzhen polnost'yu vyzdorovet'." (He should make a full recovery.)

You speak in a whisper trying to be soft.

"YA uveren, chto on ne khotel by, chtoby vy bespokoilis'." (I'm sure he wouldn't want you to worry.)

The woman merely returns her eyes to the unconscious man below her.

"Will you lock us up? Treat us once again like dogs?"

Your eyebrows raise and your posture straightens.

"No of course not, everyone deserves a second chance. You believed you were fighting for the right thing, there are many on this team who have been in a similar circumstance. Do not believe simply because we are labeled supergeroi that none of us have a dark past." (Superheroes)

With that you take your leave allowing the woman to be with her loved one. Upon returning to the compound you go into seclusion, you needed a break both mentally and physically. Just a few days where the world wasn't ending and it was entirely up to you to save it. Six days later you emerge slightly re-energized and fresh ready for the next catastrophe. The first place you visit is the gym already hearing Natasha's scolding on breaking your routine as you pass the common room you see the two twins on the couch alone. In this light you see them both clearly, while they hold the title twin they couldn't look more different. You study them both your eyes lingering on the red head. She was an attractive alpha, very attractive. You hear the tv playing but don't recognize the program they have on. Detouring into the room you catch their attention waving as you approach.

"Hello, I am rather embarrassed to say we never formally met. I am (Y/N) nice to meet you both."

You bow your head in greeting sending them a bright smile and both of them seem to freeze obviously caught off guard by your friendly approach. The male recovers first standing up before bowing his head back and sticking out his hand.

"Pietro, and that is my sestra Wanda."

You recognize his accent reaching to grip his hand in yours.

"A pleasure, I hope you two are adjusting well."

It isn't until then his sister jumps up a slight flush on her cheeks.

"It has been familiar, we are rather alienated but that is how it has always been."

You hum in response fighting back the disappointment in your expression.

"Don't fret, we are a group of antisocial extroverts forced to be in a group setting. Well expect for Tony but it just takes us all time to engage and meet new people, they will come around before long."

You finish with a smile.

"Have you two at least been taken care of? Food, water, lodging?"

They nod simultaneously and its enough for you.

"Good well I'm off to the gym, don't be strangers."

With that you leave not taking note of the full face flush on the woman's face.

"Kto-nibud' nashel svoyu sestru-omegu?" (Has someone found their omega sister?)

Pietro says in a teasing tone and Wanda punches him in the shoulder muttering at him to shut up. The moment you cross the threshold of the gym you flinch.

"Nu posmotrite, kto eto." (Well look who it is.)

"Can we skip past the part where you scold me so I can just apologize?"

You ask turning to meet Natasha's sharp gaze.

"Will your muscles magically regain their mass?"

"No."

You sigh accepting your defeat beginning to stretch as Natasha begins her speech on commitment. It is another four days before everyone finally comes around to the twins slotting them in as if theyed been there since the beginning just as they had you. Walking towards the gym you release a content sigh, a full ten days since the world seemed as though it'd collapse. What bliss. Quickly looking up your eyes fantically search for some wood unwilling to risk jinxing yourself.

"Dobroye utro." (Good morning.")

You hear from behind turning to be greeted by Wanda.

"Good morning indeed. Off for your morning cuppa are you?"

You ask and Wanda merely nods in response fighting back a yawn.

"Not a morning person?"

You ask with a smile walking beside Wanda.

"Not at all."

She says somewhat grumpily.

"Then what are you doing up at six a.m?"

You ask with a laugh and Wanda has to fight back a blush. She couldn't admit that she woke up at this time merely to see you every morning but what could she say.

"I like to cook but I'm not very good at it.... so I practice early before the others wake up."

The words spill out of her mouth quickly unable to think of anything better and you beam your white smile at her.

"Well how about tomorrow you sleep in till eight then I can help you learn, I am an amazing cook. I even know how to make some traditional dishes."

Wanda can't help the flush that comes to her face this time and it makes you feel a tingle inside.

"Okay."

The red head responds and you nod giving her arm a little reassuring squeeze as you come upon the kitchen.

"Good luck dorogoy." (Dear)

You say before continuing onto the gym and Wanda is sure her face matches her hair. Sure enough the next morning Wanda doesn't head towards the kitchen instead she spends the morning pacing her room anxiety ridden. You'd said for her to sleep in but how could she when you agreed to spend alone time with her. She couldn't tell Pietro and deal with his repeated teasing so she kept the information in slowly but surely having a meltdown. As she paced she played with her hair, bit her finger, twiddled her thumbs. God she couldn't do this. She'd literally been an experiment for Hydra and never felt this nervous in her life. The time passed quickly. To quickly. Right as she truly began to spiral there was a knock at her door, eyes shooting to the clock she realizes its already eight o'clock. Brushing off her clothes quickly before taking a few deep breaths and recuperating she opens her door. The moment her eyes land on you it all seems for naught, your hair is tied back. You wear tights and a tshirt covered by an apron. Your eyes spakle matched by your bright smile and Wanda feels herself melt a bit.

"I figured you'd meet me in the kukhnya." (Kitchen)

You say with a giggle and Wanda becomes a tomato realizing its not only eight but eight eleven.

"I'm sorry I slept in and lost all track of time."

You hum with a smile clearly not mad at all before turning to be on your way.

"All is fine I just didn't want to start without you."

Wanda follows behind you closing her door quickly. Her eyes wonder your body not being able to help staring at your ass.

"Ty slushayesh'?" (Are you listening?)

Wanda's eyes shoot up attention back on your voice.

"I asked what your favorite dish is."

"Oh um I love traditional pirozhki, my mother used to make them just slightly burnt at the edges. The taste reminds me of home."

You turn and smile softly her way.

"Perfect then that's what we will make, cooking can seem overwhelming but it isn't as scary as many think. I always recommend learning to cook for yourself first because it is much easier than cooking for others."

In the kitchen you gather the suppiles, you cooked often so the ingredients for this dish were easily found.

"I'll have you make the dough, it is all simply measurements so I'll do no more than verbal instructions."

You say as you prepare the area for Wanda.

"Here put this on, gotta protect your clothes and tie your hair back no one wants hair in their food."

Handing the apron to Wanda while standing by waiting. You bite your lip as you watch her. Running her fingers through silky red locks before pulling it up exposing her neck to you. She wore grey sweatpants and a baggy t. The sweatpants doing little to hide the member between her legs and you press your thighs together pleasurably. Wanda on the other hand was trying to think about how to see this lie through. She was an amazing cook, taking the responsibility of her brother from a young age. How was she going to play clueless. She should of at least said a dish she truly wasn't aware of how to make but when you asked her favortie food she couldn't help but answer honestly. You talked Wanda through the steps praising her for being a natural when the dough came out well. Leaving it to make the filling.

"What did your mom fill hers with? I do a simple meat and rice mixture since it goes along with my bulk."

Wanda nods along as she listens debating a moment before responding.

"Lets make them like yours, I've never had them any other way and I'd be eager to try."

You smile brightly at the alpha before nodding in response. Again you talk her through it always believing hands on with clear instruction was the best way to learn any skill. It gave the student mutiple ways to intake the information and made it harder to forget. Once the process is complete you help Wanda cut and stuff the dough, this part of the process being the longest and most tedious. You leave her to fry them as she likes since she'd mentioned her mom let them cook a bit longer and instead move to clean around her. Never a fan of a messy workspace. You hum as you clean, mindlessly really. It seems a tune that always floats around you. One Wanda is sure she's heard you hum before. By the time Wanda is done cooking you've cleaned the kitchen and are able to sit down and enjoy the meal with her. Of course the moment doesn't last and before either of you can even take a bite the smell of food draws in hungry Avengers.

"Mne vsegda nravitsya, kogda ty gotovish'." (I always love when you cook.)

Natasha says entering first, the smell of traditional food equivalent to a cat with its automatic feeder. Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Sam all slowly trickle in after stomachs growling audibly making you laugh.

"I suppose if I didn't cook every once in a while no one would eat around here hmmm?"

The group shares a laugh as they line up one by one to make plates.

"But in all honesty this meal is thanks to Wanda not me, I merely talked her through the steps."

Wanda can't hide the pink that dust her cheeks and all is going well until a certain twin walks in.

"Pirozhki! You always cook the best food sestra."

The blonde kisses his sisters head as he passes by and you can't help the eyebrow that raises in response.

"Always hmmm?"

You hum and Wanda is saved by the entrance of Thor who could of eaten the entire helping had he got here first.

"Mighty (Y/N) your meals are always most invigorating."

You smile at the God and try not laugh when you see his downcast face once he realizes he is the last one to show. Wiping your face after you finish you excuse yourself it was already nearing noon and you still hadn't even looked at the moutain of paperwork on your desk. Wanda watches you go. Over the next three weeks you and Wanda grow closer she begins training with you and Natasha in the mornings and you read with her sometimes in the afternoons, you don't question her about Pietro's comment after your cooking fiasco and Wanda never says anything about it because that woukd mean admitting to you that she was desperate to spend time with you.

"Soo?"

Natasha ask as the two of you jog around the gardens. It was early afternoon in fall, the cool winds combating your rising body heat making the jog enjoyable.

"Nothing."

"Yebat' will she ever make a move?" (Fuck)

You merely shrug.

"I don't know, I'll start showing signs of heat by the end of the week if that doesn't trigger her there's no hope."

Natasha laughs at that.

"Tak khochetsya al'fu, da?" (So eager for an alpha eh?)

"Not just any alpha, Wanda."

The week passes slowly and as the weekend gets closer your pheromones get stronger. The team knew your heat was approaching as they kept a calander for the Alphas so they could know when to distance, well everyone except Wanda apparently. Its Thursday night by the time she's had enough of your distance and decides to ask why you aren't at the table for dinner with the rest of the team.

"Where's (Y/N), I swear I haven't seen her all week."

Natasha sends a small smirk Wanda's way before Steve speaks up.

"Her heat is approaching so she is keeping extra distance for everyones saftey, she should come back around a week or so from today."

Pink hue coats Wanda's cheeks as the thought of you in heat takes over her mind and the pink only gets darker as her hard on begins to form in her pants. Her mind plummets into thoughts about your slick, and body. Thoughts about filling you with her seed and you being full with her pups causes her to be embarrassed by how hard she's become. If not for the table her bulge would be hard to miss. Wanda remains in a fog for the rest of dinner try as she might she couldn't get her mind off mating you and as everyone stands to part ways she remains seated making the excuse that she'd clean up the kitchen. Wanda strained painfully against her pants she could almost smell you now.

Rubbing your sides you walk towards the kitchen dinner should be over by now and you're starving. You need to get as many calories in as you can before you succumb to your heat tomorrow. The pain was slowly starting to set in and you'd be lying if you said you were looking foreward to the next seven days. You let out a groan as you turn the corner a sudden sharp pain stabbing your side. As you enter the threshold of the kitchen goosebumps rise on your skin the familiar smell of Wanda infultrating your nose before your eyes lock with the alphas. You're almost sure you see Wanda begin to tremble but you quickly begin to back away.

"I'm sorry I thought everyone would be gone by now."

You go to retreat from the kitchen and Wanda stands so quickly her chair falls behind her. In a second she's in your face grabbing you softly by the jaw making you look at her.

"Omega."

She whispers as she sniffs at you rubbing her nose against your cheek before falling to your scent gland.

"Mate."

She whispers again and you chirp. Your omega finally satisfied being acknowledged by your alpha. For a few minutes nothing happens, the two of you stand there relishing eachothers presence. You chirp at her as she lightly growls at you and you feel satisfied, whole even. Then you are painfully reminded of your situation causing you to sharply intake air and groan. Wanda growls louder at the noise of your distress and you whimper.

"It hurts."

Wanda's grip on your jaw becomes tighter, pushing you into the wall before pressing her own body against yours.

"Tell me where it hurts, I'll take care you shchenok." (Puppy)

You groan again, your heat suddenly over taking your senses as a result of having your mate so close. Your hands raise to grip Wanda's arms tightly, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

"Need you, please. Alpha. Mate."

Your words come out as little whimpers. Your panting, you don't know why but suddenly you can't get enough air for full breaths. So caught up in Wanda you don't even process you're about to be mated in the tower kitchen but honestly you don't care either. Wanda however does she feels territorial, primal even. She needs you to herself, needs privacy with you. She'd attack anyone who might see your bare body if she mated you here. Her room was on the other side of the compound, the alpha side far from the omegas and living area but your room was just down the hall. Wanda releases your jaw hands moving down your body till she reaches the back of your thigh. You bite your lip enjoying the electricity you felt from her touch. As she picks you up you wrap your legs around her torso tightly. Her hands against your thighs causing your sex to tingle. You wrap one hand around her neck before running the other through soft red hair. You return to chirping at her, the feeling of finding your mate an overwhelmingly happy one. You rub your cheek against hers softly and the alpha lightly growls in acknowledgment. You are consumed by Wanda's presence unable to focus on anything but her. When she lays you lightly on your bed you aren't even sure where you are, you just know you're there with her. Wanda bends over you, tucking her nose into your scent gland once more and growling loudly. She needs you, needs you marked, claimed. Needs everyone to know you belong to her.

"Mate."

The word is once again a whisper but you hear it all the same. The time to romantically strip you would have to be later gripping opposite sides of the loose shirt you wore the alpha literally tears the cloth off of you exposing your bra cladded torso to her. Your breathing speeds up the intimacy of the moment undeniable as you feel Wanda begin to run her lips down your body. It was like electric shock, the currents Wanda's touch sent through your body. She magiced your bra away completely exposing your upper half and growling as her soft lips wrapped around your nipple. You moan loudly in response, it felt good too good. You could get lost in this sensation alone.

"Mine."

Wanda growls against your skin before moving along to your other nipple. Your hands grip at Wanda through her clothes before you whimper.

"Need to feel you alpha."

Wanda growls in response, her eyes glowing red as she magics away her own clothing her skin now pressing against yours. She moves back up your body mouth hovering close before she lays claim to your own. The kiss is magical, the locking of your lips causing what you could only descibe as bliss throughout your whole body. You felt like you were glowing arms and legs wrapping around the alpha tightly you were sure this must be heaven. Wanda began to grind against you through the fabric of your pants, your underwear gliding against your excessive amount of slick. You blush, embarrassed by how wet you truly are from so little foreplay but the feeling doesnt last long when Wanda growls above you. Wanda pulls your pants off your waist guiding them down your thighs just enough to expose your slick and shudders when the smell of you tingles her nostrils. She's overcome with the need to knot you, breed you as she makes her mark on your neck. But she also feels the feral need to take you, to have your slick dripping down her chin as she causes you to come apart on her tongue. Starting with the latter she pulls your pants off quickly. Breaking away from your lips to slowly kiss down your body. You take a long gasp of air eyes dialating as you watch Wanda work her way down. Your hips begin to twitch unable to stay still at the excitement of what was about to come. Wanda's hands move to firmly grip your waist holding you in place as she kisses your stomach moving lower and lower your stomach muscles flex, a wave of arousal flowing through you. When she reaches her destination her hands move to your thighs lifting them up to hold you wide open for her. You're leaking, literally and Wanda can't wait to have a taste. She dives in slurping up the excess before moving to your center. Sucking on your clit then tongue fucking you like a woman starved. Your slick quenches a thirst Wanda didn't even know she had tongue lapping at your clit before quickly moving towards your hole eager to drink up the slick as a result. It doesn't take long and under normal circumstances you're sure you would of been embarrassed but none of that matters when your muscles spasm. Back arching in the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced, your thighs shake, eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Wanda doesn't stop eagerly drinking up your orgasm before wanting, no needing you to do that again. You whimper in overstimulation but don't stop your alpha, just as turned on by her need for you. You squirm against the red heads mouth a little towards her a little away, this time you last longer if only for your slight sensitivity causing time before the feeling was pleasurable again yet you cum all the same. Wanda moans loudly as you release into her mouth again. She could do this all day she's sure of it. But now as her precum begins to soak her boxers she knows its time. Lifting onto her knees between your legs red eyes glow as her pants disappear and through your haze you see her in all her glory. You reach down gripping her in your hand moaning at the size while she moans at the sensation. You pump her, an overwhelming feeling to suck her down your through the way she'd done you comes over you but Wanda quickly grabs your hand removing you from her.

"You're going to make me bust shchenok." (Puppy)

Wanda hesitates a second if only to allow her own incoming orgasm to subside, she needed to bury herself in you and it wouldn't look good for her if it ended just as quickly as it started. In the meantime she leans down over you meeting your lips in a hungry kiss the taste of you on her lips causing another wave of your own slick to pool between your legs. You push at her lower back willing her to enter you but she resist. Kissing you eagerly before breaking to kiss to move towards your scent gland, you pant quickly. Wanda's kiss having stolen all the air from your lungs.

"Mine."

Wanda whispers against you, hips beginning to grind against your slick in order to lubricate herself. You shudder in response.

"Yours alpha, take me. I want to be yours."

Wanda reaches down gripping herself in order to slowly slide into you. She's thick stretching you out in ways only she can, the burn sends waves through you and by the time she's completely sheathed you're a whimpering mess.

"Yebat' you're so tight." (Fuck)

She pulls out only to slam back into you, her pace is brutal, hips slamming against yours hitting a sweet spot you didn't even know you had repeatedly. Your moans are as loud as the sound of your wet slick sucking Wanda back in. You claw at her wanting her impossibly closer as she fucked you into next week.

"Holy fuck I'm cumming. Alpha. Alpha."

Your eyes roll back as you arch. The orgasm makes you see white and Wanda doesnt stop. You squirting fueling her ego.

"That's right shchenok. You love the way your alpha fucks you, love how deep I am in you. Look shchenok can you see me."

Wanda brings your gaze down the visible bulge in your stomach when the alpha bottoms out causing your stomach to tighten.

"I'm right here."

Wanda says as she pushes down on the bulge and you spasm again another light orgasm washing through you.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill you up, get you pregnant with my pup."

Wanda pumps into you harder, her knot slamming against your entrance as she nears her own release.

"Alpha. Alpha."

You whimper to fucked out to form any other words.

"You're gonna look so pretty swollen with my seed all mine."

You moan again as Wanda bends towards your scent gland the feel of her canines against your neck enough to almost send you over the edge. She sinks her teeth into you right as you hear a pop. Her knot having settled inside you easily combined with the blackout orgasm of your mating bite. When you come to Wanda is still knotted deep inside you. Nuzzling at your cheeks with a low growl. You chirp back to weak to do much else and Wanda hums.

"My mate, my omega."

10 months later.

You were exhausted, to say the least. A new born was a lot of work and a lot of lost sleep. Wanda wasn't here, literally dragged away for a debrief she was required to attend. If you were honest you didn't mind, she'd been slightly smothering you since you gave birth and while you loved her for it just because you gave birth didn't mean you were no longer a functioning adult. You'd been picking petty arguments since your third trimester which you always felt bad for. It was the hormones combined with being put on bedrest so you didn't get to do your job combined with sexual frustration since the doctor said it was no longer safe for intercourse. You sighed as you stepped out of the shower, now with the added insecurities about the changes in your body since pregnancy and child birth you weren't sure you even wanted Wanda to touch you. Ignoring the mirror you dry yourself before wrapping a towel around you. Exiting the bathroom right as your little baby boy woke up with soft cries. You coo at him lifting him out of his crib you lose your towel throwing it over the side in order to hold your baby against your bare chest. You were barely one month postpartum but glad to be past the part where you were in a sense literally wearing a human diaper. Your son instantly calms at the sound of your heart beat as you bounce him lightly moving to sit in your bed you lean against the headboard letting out slightly pained noises as you try and relax your overworked back. You cover your lower half with the blanket already feeling the chill of the room as you begin to hum at your son. You don't hear the door open to focused to the little boy in your arms, getting comfortable as you move him to breast feed. You hiss as he begins to work at your sore nipple but eventually relax becoming accustomed to the pain. You rub his little head of hair softly smiling at him a fullness in your heart only created by the birth of your child as Wanda makes her pressence known.

"You're so beautiful dorogaya." (Dearheart)

You bite back your own insecurities at her comment humming in response. Looking up you meet Wanda's piercing eyes before meeting her lips in a kiss.

"I mean it dorogaya or have you forgotten I can hear your thoughts."

You can't help but frown not used to not being able to keep secrets.

"But...."

"Ah ah ah no buts, you're even more beautiful now than the day we met. Pregnancy and childbirth has given you a glow nothing else can."

You sigh a familiar warmth filling your chest in response to Wanda's love.

"YA tebya lyublyu." (I love you)

You whisper your free hand coming to rub against Wanda's cheek.

"I ya lyublyu tebya. Forever and always." (And I love you)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlett witch #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #alpha wanda #omega reader #bagdaddyb #request

[vase-of-lilies]

His Sister's Keepers

Paring: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Little!Barnes!Reader (f) x Mama!Natasha Romanoff (Bucky Barnes x Sister!Reader - not romantic at all)

Warnings: Forced Age regression, this is a dark AU, Reader is in little space when she meets Bucky again — but goes back to adult space later in the fic, faking readers death, angry bucky, drugging (use of Rohypnol), long car ride, profanity, mentions of a suicide letter, and other warnings. Do not proceed if any of these matters upset you. 

Request: How does Bucky react to his sister Tiny Reader being with Wanda and Nat all along? I love your fics 😭🩷 + Ok but like reader going back to finally see Bucky again dressed in an oversized hoodie with woodland creatures on it and space buns with ribbons in her hair oh and fuzzy socks 😍. Sorry I feel like a bean rn and this sounds so cute (girl literally no problem I love feeling like a smol bean 🥹)

A/N: Thank you for the kind words!! I am SUPER excited to post this one! I think this will be in order after all the drabbles, and then once Bucky finds out we can do more requests with Bucky included:) This was based off of the request, but I took more inspiration from this post!! I really hope you like this:) I also took some of the other requests regarding this story and put them in here:)

Bucky had a feeling you were still alive. You survived once, you would have to survive again. Wanda was good with tricks and visions, so she easily could have shown a hallucination in his brain when he saw your lifeless body on the cold ground in the Hydra base. And Natasha was good at cover-ups. She could easily cover up a death with a simple certificate and funeral since she has covered multiple aliases during her career. She did it for Fury, she could do it for you. 

She did take it as far as holding a funeral for you. With Wanda’s magical craft, she made a near-perfect model of your sleeping body to put in the casket. With your [length, color, texture] hair perfectly done, a small dash of makeup on your cheeks, and lastly a beautiful dress to lay you in. But it wasn’t you. Bucky knew it wasn’t you. Your hair was just slightly less [hair color] than it usually was, your nose was just a millimeter off, and your top lip was slightly smaller than before. 

One might think that it would just be the “dying process,” and everything on a dead body looks deflated or off. However, your older brother has known you for one hundred and seven (107) years and the Y/n in the casket was not the same Y/n he knew all his life. The body he was looking down at looked uncanny. Trying to be human, but failing so miserably. 

Bucky’s room was filled with pictures of you and him from when you were younger, all the way to when you both became Avengers. Your smile was what kept him going every day you were gone. Six (6) months, four (4) days, fourteen (14) hours, and twenty-six (26) minutes. All this time he had been looking for you, trying to find any sign of life outside the compound for you. 

Bucky was suspicious of Wanda and Natasha since they both had their eyes on you. He knew they wanted to court you, but he would not let them. He knew what Natasha had done, what Wanda had the power to do, and what your sweet and innocent brain would accept as love. Even dangerous love was acceptable love for you, you didn’t mind just as long as you were cared for. 

Of course, you were more than cared for with Wanda and Natasha. You were fed, clothed, kept warm, and loved. But in such a wrong way. They turned you into a child reliant on only them. They had no intentions of hurting you when you were in your little or tiny space, only implementing discipline as if for a child. Nothing was permanent, but everything was different when you were in your adult headspace. 

On one rainy morning, you woke up in your bigger headspace. No tears, whining, or whimpering were heard from you. You got out of your teddy bear-themed bed and opened your closet to find something comfy that wasn’t bright pink or covered in bunnies or ladybugs and finished getting dressed in the bathroom. You got ready on your own, but since you knew you were not going anywhere, you did not make yourself look “presentable.” 

Wanda and Natasha were still asleep when you woke up, so you went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Turning on the radio to a quiet classical music station, you began cooking pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some muffins for lunch. The whole process took no more than two (2) hours, and you even got a second outside on the patio before you decided to wake up your keepers. 

Putting two plates filled with food, two cups of orange juice, and a vase of flowers all onto a tray, you walk down the dimly lit hallway to the women's door. Knowing there were only some rules you had to follow when you weren’t in little space, you didn’t knock and just went right in. 

The sight you stumbled upon was oddly…sweet. The two women who kidnapped you six (6) months ago, were asleep in each other's arms. Wanda's head lay on Natasha's bare chest, her arm across her belly. Nat’s left arm was around Wanda’s body, and her right hand resting on her shoulder softly. You sigh, not wanting to wake them up just yet knowing that they need rest. 

But Natasha could feel your presence. She knew you were awake the moment your eyes opened. Gently, she lays her wife to the side and tucks her back in, looking over at you with a smile. “Good morning, малышка (little one). What do you have there?” She says in a soft voice, her long red-faded-to-white hair brushing over her shoulders. 

“Breakfast,” It took a long time for you to become verbal with them after the initial few weeks with them, but you understood what they were willing to do to you to get you to use your words. 

“Come here, love, let’s see what you have,” She says with a smile, sitting up against her pillows and wrapping another blanket around her back and shoulders. You approach the bed, the tray only slightly shaking as you get closer. 

“I hope pancakes are ok…” You whisper, not wanting to disappoint her. 

“Oh little one, this looks delicious. Thank you,” Natasha takes the tray from your hands and sets it in front of her on the bed. Wanda begins to stir at the soft voices around her and she yawns as her eyes open. Her lips pull into a smile as she sees you and you can’t help but return her smile. 

“Sweetheart, did you make us breakfast?” Wanda asks, her voice soft yet raspy from just waking up. You nod at her question, scooting onto the end of the bed. Usually, you would be asleep next to them, but you fell asleep the night before in your little space. Tonight you knew would be different though. 

As they ate, you allowed them to feed you some of their breakfast too. You told them you had eaten already, and you had, they just wanted to make sure you had enough. They really did love you, and care for you, it was Bucky who was in the way at the compound. He was a protective brother, and you loved that about him. 

As the morning went on, Wanda and Natasha helped you with dishes from breakfast, held you as you watched a movie together, and finally in the early afternoon, they had you sit down at the kitchen table to talk to you about something. Your thoughts were frantic as you didn’t know what this conversation was about. Did I do something wrong? Did I not clean the bathroom? Did I say something? Did I not kiss them good morning? (You had) You were calmed by Wanda putting a gentle hand on your thigh from under the table. 

“Y/n, you did nothing wrong. Ok?” God damned mind readers… “Watch your language…” She squeezed your thigh a bit tighter and you sheepishly looked at her. 

“S-sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to cause any more trouble. But you weren’t in any, as a matter of fact, this talk was going to be filled with good news! 

Natasha started the conversation; “You have been here quite a while, and in that time you have voiced how much you miss your brother. I know it, Wanda knows it, Tony knows it, even Bruce knows it. We all know it. So, I think it’s time we let you see him again.”

A flood of emotions filled your system, from the relief of being able to see your brother again, to anger that the two women and many people at the compound kept him from you in the first place. All the way to the sadness of seeing his reaction to what Wanda and Nat turned you into. 

You stared at the wooden table in front of you, tears threatening to spill from your widely opened eyes. “How long have I been here?” Your voice quivers, and your head raises to look at the women before you. 

“That’s not relevant, lov-” You are quick to cut Natasha off. 

“How long have I been here, Natasha?” You repeat your question, your bouncing knee under the table picking up speed. You needed to know how long you have been away from your family, your only family. 

Wanda looks at her wife across the table and nods. “About six (6) months.”

You let out a small sigh, and you lean back in your chair, shoving your hands into the pocket of your white sweatshirt. Slowly, you stand from the table but you don’t walk away just yet. 

“What does Bucky think happened to me?” You ask, the question aching in the back of your mind since you first got here, and why there hadn’t been anyone looking for you. 

Natasha has a blank look on her face, but Wanda has a look flooded with shame and guilt. She knew what she did was wrong, but she loved you all the same. 

“He thinks you are dead.” Natasha answers your question after a couple seconds of silence.  

A breathy laugh exits your mouth, your hand moving towards your forehead in disbelief. “I- I can’t believe-”

“Baby, can you come sit down?” You listen to Wanda's instructions, moving to sit back at the table with your caregivers. 

Tears roll down your cheeks, your voice wavering as you speak, “When do I get to see him?” Wanda smiles as you obey, her hand going to your arm to soothe you. 

“We are packing today and leaving early in the morning to go back to the city. How does that sound?” She asks, trying to push you into your smaller head space so you are easier to control. She knows this tactic can work, and you do as well, but you are too uptight. 

Excited was an understatement, but ecstatic was an overstatement. You didn’t know how you felt. All you knew was that you were going to see your brother again, but you didn’t know what version of yourself he would see first. 

~~~~~~~

After talking with your mommies, they told you they had to work a little bit longer and then they would help you pack. But you didn’t allow them to help. You wanted to pack all of the clothes that kept you in your adult head space—well, you packed what clothes were closest to what an adult would wear with what clothes you had to work with. 

It was mostly pink, frilly dresses, teddy bear-themed shirts and pants, and other toddler-ish clothes. Despite your hatred for these clothes, you absolutely loved one thing, your woodland creature-covered sweatshirt. It was a white-based hoodie with pine trees sprouting from the bottom rim. There were deer, bunnies, birds, foxes, and other creatures within the trees that circled the entire hoodie. 

It was your favorite because you felt free when in it. You felt like you could turn into a rabbit any day now and escape from Wanda and Natasha. But you knew better than to think of escape, especially in the hands of the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow. 

As you folded some black leggings, Natasha entered your room. “I thought we told you that we would help you, дорогая (sweetheart)?” She says, leaning against your doorway. 

“You did. But I know what you would pack me, and I don’t want Bucky to see what you did to me.” You say defensively, the defiance and spark they loved about you showing. 

“Y/n, don’t talk back to me. We took you in when you needed us, and Bucky was just in the way. I know you have been happy here despite everything. I can understand your anger, but you don’t get to take it out on us, do you understand?”

Her stern voice is enough to push you into submission. You sigh, “Yes, I understand,” You answer plainly and resume packing. “Can I bring Leo?” You ask, knowing deep down that your little self would never go anywhere without your toy lion. 

The question makes Natasha smile and she nods. “Of course you can, sweetheart,” She says, walking further into your room. Your denim duffle back with pink, yellow, green, and blue flowers on the fabric sits fully on your bed and you let out a soft huff of pride as you smile at the bag. Ever since the two women took away your independence, you have felt very proud of yourself whenever you did something on your own. 

“You did a great job, my little love bug, now why don’t we pack your to-do bag? It’s a bit of a long drive, back to Tony’s building.” Natasha reaches for the matching backpack and goes to your bookshelf to grab a few books, a notebook, two coloring books, your teddy bear pencil case, and some crayons. She sets your backpack next to your duffle and gently wraps her arm around you, pulling you into her side. 

“Does this look like enough for you to do in the car?” Nat says.

“Mhm,” You hum your answer.

Nat gives you a soft squeeze, “Words, baby,” 

“Yes, all of that looks very fun,” Natasha kisses your forehead as you answer, then zips up your bags to take them to the car. Once everything is packed, it is nearly seven thirty (7:30), and time for dinner. 

Not once did you fall into your little space today, no matter how hard the two women tried. They knew that you were excited to see Bucky, but they also wanted a smooth car ride to the compound. Little space or not, you were going to be sleeping. The packing of the to-do bag was just a ploy. Of course, this was just a bag of things to do while you were at the compound. 

Dinner was mostly silent. A few hums and thank you’s to fill the quiet. But one question was burning in the back of your brain. 

“Project recapture didn’t follow through, and I am not going to see Bucky in a prison cell, right?” 

Both Wanda and Natasha freeze, looking at one another. The mission failed when Steve backed down. He couldn’t do that to his best friend, not after what he went through when they took him out of the ice early. The fact that they left you and Steve in the ship too everyone that Hydra knew exactly who they were looking for. 

Wanda shakes her head and puts her fork down on her plate. “Love, how did you know about the Project Recapture?” She turns to you and takes a sip of her wine. 

“I didn't lie when I said I wasn’t looking at the files, but I did see one file about it after Tony left. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t remember exactly what I saw until now.” You explain, practically telling yourself that you indeed did look at Natasha's files. 

“Alrighty then, well to answer your question, no. The project failed thanks to Rogers’s doing. Your brother is safe, and he is not going back under Hydra control,” She pauses and gently takes hold of your hand. “Thank you for telling the truth about the files, sweet pea.” She smiles and gives your hand a small squeeze. 

You return a false smile, taking in the fact that if Steve didn’t care about his best friend, Bucky would have been under Hydra's torture once again. You cringe at the thought of him in pain, wincing when you look back at the memory of him coming back from Wakanda with a new arm. 

Dinner was finished silently, and once you all were done with your food, you cleared the table while Wanda and Natasha packed up. They each packed their clothes and necessities, while also bringing along some of their favorite toys to use on you when you were in your adult space. As per usual, the couple loved torturing you just like the day they brought you to the cabin. 

Finally, the night came to an end. While Natasha read a book in bed, Wanda was in the kitchen making you some tea to ‘help’ you sleep. In your cup of [favorite tea flavor], she stirred in some Rohypnol to get you to sleep. She would give you another one in the morning so it would be a peaceful drive.

“Here love, I made you some tea,” Wanda says as she walks into your bedroom, smiling as she sees you in your teddy bear onesie pajamas. This of course wasn’t your first choice of pajamas, but it was something you would wear. In fact, it was something Bucky would get you for Christmas if you’re being honest. 

You smile at her, still feeling love deep, deep down. You knew it was wrong to love your kidnapper, but you felt so safe in her arms and felt so loved when she kissed you. Same with Natasha. Although she may be a bit rough when it comes to making love to you, the way she held you afterward made up for a rough fucking. 

As you pull back the blankets on your bed, you slip in next to Leo who is lying on your stacked pillows. He falls into your lap as you scoot back, and you look down at the plush toy. Even looking at it pushes you into a smaller headspace, but you fight it, wanting to stay big for Bucky. 

“Little one? Can you drink some of this? It will calm you down. I know you’re nervous for tomorrow, but I promise you, once we get back to the compound everyone will be so happy to see you.” Wanda says, handing you the warm mug. 

You sigh and take a sip of the [favorite tea flavor] flavored tea. The warmth in itself almost puts you to sleep, but as you drink more you start to feel the effects of the drug mixed inside. The feeling was very familiar— your eyes became heavy, your vision blurry, and your breaths were slightly shallow. A whimper was caught in your throat, and you looked at the blurred shadow of Wanda standing above you. 

Gently, she takes the mug from your sluggish hands and puts it on your nightstand. While she is there, she presses the squishy duck night light on and moves to press a kiss to your head. She then carefully maneuvers you to a lying down position and fluffs your pillows to make you comfortable. 

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. We’ll see you in the morning.” She smiles and kisses your lips softly. You whimper at the feeling of helplessness that comes with the drug, and you hate it when they don’t tell you that they are putting you to sleep. For good reason of course; you would beg them not to. 

But this was the best solution to helping you stay asleep, and in the morning the same routine will follow. 

~~~~~~~

Wanda and Natasha had set their alarms before the sun woke them up. They wanted to get you into the car, and on the road as quickly as possible. Once the car was packed, Wanda came back in and helped you change out of your pajamas into the clothes you picked for your car ride; Your woodland creatures hoodie, black joggers, fuzzy socks with bunnies on them, and your pink puffy coat just in case you get cold. 

Still asleep, Wanda lays you between her legs while she does your hair. Parting your hair down the middle, she puts your [color, texture, length] hair into two buns on top of your head. Tying two pink satin ribbons around the buns, she kisses your head and picks you up. Your legs dangle over her arms and your head rolls against her chest as you lay sleeping in her arms. 

With the car being heated up in the driveway, Wanda walks you outside opens the back door of their rusty, red explorer, and sits you down on the chair. She gently lifts your hoodie and puts Leo right against your belly, and she buckles you in. Your head falls against the seat belt, but Wanda is quick to grab a pillow to cradle your neck during the car ride. 

Natasha stands behind Wanda, smiling as she sees how cute you look with your hair all done and your peaceful sleeping face. She sighs and kisses her wife’s neck as she wraps her arms around her waist. 

“We’re doing the right thing letting her see him again. He might be angry, but let him. She’s alive and that is all that matters to him,” Nat whispers in Wanda's ear, her worries almost creating an aura of angry red light around her body. 

Wanda nods and turns around in her wife’s arms. “I love you so much. Thank you for everything,” She whispers, her lips connecting to Natashas in a loving kiss. 

“Let’s get going,” Nat says, squeezing Wanda gently and opening the passenger side door. As Wanda gets in, she shuts the door as Nat goes to lock up, and smiles once she is back in the driver's seat. 

The long journey back to New York City has begun, and the wrath of Bucky is only getting closer. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky’s POV 

When I heard that Wanda and Natasha were coming back to the compound, I was more than angry. I was furious, ballistic, eradic, some might say. They had no place coming back here. However, if they came back with Y/n, all my questions would be answered and I would kill them both when I got the chance. 

The morning of Y/n’s funeral, the company around me was off. There was a feeling surrounding the musty room that just felt… secretive. Like the people within the room knew something I didn’t. That was when I decided to do my research. I looked into every single one of the Avengers. 

Tony was my first suspect; he has multiple houses in different countries, can cover up anything he wants to with money, and has plenty of people to work for him. Two of his maids from his mansion in California answered my questions, and I believed them. They genuinely looked frightened and wanted to help me find my sister. But I kept Tony in the back of my mind. 

Despite how guilty it made me feel, I investigated Steve. My best friend. He lived a modest lifestyle in an apartment in Brooklyn and that was all the housing information I knew of and could find. He kept to himself and was looking out for me. He was concerned at my desperation to find Y/n when he had already accepted her death, but I continued despite his concern. But when I found out about Project Recapture, I didn’t even bat an eye. Hydra would never get me again, and I knew Steve would follow through with his promise of keeping Hydra away from me. 

That mission to the old hydra base went smoothly, but Tony seemed awfully angry at Steve and pulled him aside after the mission de-briefing. 

Now my eyes were on Bruce, Wanda, and Natasha. Ever since Y/n “died,” they have barely been present during missions. Only when we really needed them. Natasha was here more than Wanda, and that scared me. Where was the witch and why was she never on missions with us? 

That was when I went on a deep dive into their finances. Near the death of Y/n, they had purchased a small cabin in the Beacon Mountains. They are married, but they live in the compound due to their job. I also noticed that the week before the purchase, there was a large transaction between their account and Clint Barton's account. A whopping 2.4 million dollars. What on earth did they need that money for? 

The next few transactions answered my questions perfectly; For $4,300 they bought a Stark home security system. Obviously, they got a discount for knowing Tony because those originally went for $7,600. The next few items on the list were items that a child would use. Pacifiers, bottles, sippy cups, and other childish toys and accessories. Natasha can’t have children, and Wanda has admitted she never wanted children. 

The money that was spent at Stark Industries was overwhelming. There were countless security items such as locks, keys, alarms, cameras, and other equipment that the couple really didn’t need if they were just living in a cabin for a while. 

But one thing caught my eye. 

Transaction 62938: “Sleeping drug - For the little one” Paid by Bruce Banner on 02/19/23

Who needed a sleeping drug? “The little one?” That made no sense. 

Unless Y/n never fucking died, and they have her in that cabin. 

Everything was making sense now, but I still needed proof that she was alive. I needed to know that she was breathing, eating, sleeping, living. But the security cameras were locked, and no amount of hacking let me in. I was devastated. 

And when Natasha texted the team group chat, it almost seemed like a celebration that they were coming back to the compound. But it was just another fucking Tuesday. With them, it was always a fucking celebration when they entered. God, I hate them so fucking much. And if they have my little sister, I swear, I'm going to kill them and make it painful. 

As I lean back in my desk chair, I take a breath as I finalize two fake suicide letters for the two people I despise the most. And as if on cue, I hear JARVIS announce the welcoming home of the two bitches themselves. 

“Mr. Barnes, there is someone who would like to see you…” The AI says to me. I hum and I wave him off, knowing damn well I don’t want to see Wanda or Natasha. 

“Mr. Barnes, I think you would like to see her.” He says, and I let out a huff as I stand up from my desk. 

“Yeah, yeah, ok, but if it’s not Y/n, I’m telling Tony to unplug you.” I replied, and all I was met with was silence. I sigh and I open my door, walking down the hallway and going to the living room where the elevator is found. It is our apartment's “front door” and is locked unless someone is buzzed in. 

I look around the room and I freeze. My breath hitches in my throat and my heart drops to my stomach. There she sat, smooshed in between Wanda and Natasha with her hair all done, a childish-looking sweatshirt on, and fuzzy socks to match. 

I stuttered out her name, “Y-y/n?” I slowly walked closer to the three women, and I knew it was her the second she looked up. 

“Das me!” She said, but it wasn’t in a normal voice. She spoke like a toddler. 

I look at the two women beside her, imaginary daggers stabbing them over and over again. I just knew that they had her, but what the fuck did they do to her? As I got closer, the wheels in Y/n’s head were turning, trying to recognize me. And as I knelt down in front of her, it finally clicked in her brain. 

“Bonky?” She whispers, clutching a plush lion in her hands. I nod with a small smile, confused beyond belief as I take in this new version of my sister. 

“Oh god… what did you do to her? You monsters…” I say to Wanda and Natasha, who sit silently, watching the interaction between me and Y/n. 

“Bonky, s’me!” Y/n’s head tilts, trying to justify that she is still my sister. She has to be in there somewhere. I glare as I see Wanda's hand rub her arm up and down soothingly, a part of me wishing I never let my eyes off of her on that god-forsaken mission. 

“Love bug, why don’t you go show uncle Tony your lion while we talk to your brother?” Natasha says, Y/n turning her head to the woman. She nods and stands up from the couch, skipping over to Tony who nods his head at me and guides Y/n to the other room. 

“Before you say another god damned word, I will never forgive you. Never. You don’t get any more fucking chances, do you understand?” I say in a low voice, standing up with balled fists. 

Wanda is the first to nod her head, Natasha putting her hands up in surrender. I roll my eyes at the gestures, letting out a scoff as I turn around. 

“She missed you, you know?” A voice sounds from behind me. “It took days to calm her down, but she missed you. And now you have her.” 

I slowly turn around, the two women now standing as well. “You told me she was dead, had a funeral, convinced Steve to undergo Project Recapture, paid off Stark and Banner, kept her locked in a cabin for the past six (6) months, and you expect me to be happy when you say that she missed me?? Please! You both are crazy mother fuckers, and I will never, EVER forgive you for what you did to my sister!” I shouted. 

The two women sighed, and I made my way to where Y/n was now. She has the brain of a toddler at the moment, so I have to treat her as such. I never thought I had to do this again, but here I go. 

As I knock on the door, I see Tony sitting on the ground coloring with Little Y/n, or Tiny, as everyone calls her. The look I give Tony would put him six (6) feet (or 2 meters for you non-Americans) underground. He gave Y/n a pat on the head and left. 

“Be gentle with her, Barnes. She’s not the same as she was before she left.”

I scoff. “Taken. Before she was taken, and held captive.” I corrected him. He shook his head and left the room, leaving me alone with my sister. 

“Hey, Y/n…” I start softly, kneeling down next to her as she lays on her belly, coloring a picture of some deer in a forest. “What are you doin’? Hm?” I get in the same position as her, and I grab a crayon from her bag. “Mind if I join ya?” 

She hums, nodding her head as I lay next to her, coloring away and not batting an eye. They really did ruin her…

“You’s can colow (color) dis guy!” She says, her words exiting her mouth with a speech impediment. She points to an owl on the left page, up at the top perched in a tree. 

“Alrighty,” I say with a small smile, trying my hardest not to scare her in this state of mind. I had to be mindful, as I knew exactly what it felt like to be in another state of mind in the body I had. I was a killer in the body of a good soldier, a hero some might say. But Y/n? She was a four (4) year old inside of a twenty (20) [or your age] something-year-old body. What Wanda and Natasha did to her to get her there will haunt me, and I don’t think I ever want to know what they did. 

~~~~~~~

Y/N POV

It was nice seeing Bucky, even in your little state you knew exactly who he was. You knew that he would never forgive Wanda and Natasha for what they did to you, but from the time you have spent with them and the times they saved you from Agatha, you learned to forgive them. They told you their circumstances and desires, and you felt so guilty when Bucky tried to keep you away from them. 

Maybe taking you was a lesson for Bucky. Maybe it was their way of saying that I wasn’t a little girl anymore and that I could make decisions for myself. That was obviously never their intention to let you choose for yourself. 

It was just past three o’clock (3:00), and you had just started to wake up from your nap. Wanda was next to you, holding you in her arms, and Bucky was at the end of the bed watching you both like a hawk. He had a mission, and that mission was to protect you all over again. Wanda of course was not a fan of this, but she let him do what he needed to feel like he was in control. 

When you began to wake up, you nuzzled your face deeper into Wanda's neck, humming softly as you got comfortable yet again. You were in your adult head space again, and Wanda could tell the shift happened in the middle of your nap when you let go of Leo. 

“Sweetheart? It’s time for lunch, are you hungry?” Wanda whispers, your eyes opening and your tummy rumbling. She chuckles as she hears your tummy, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You sit up, yawning and rubbing your eyes. Once you meet Bucky’s gaze, your face tells him everything. “Please don’t be mad at me. I had no choice. I will tell you everything.” He nodded at you softly and you scooted off the bed. 

As you approach your brother, he stands up and immediately wraps his arms around you. “I missed you, pipsqueak, so much,” He whispers into your [color, length, texture] hair. His body shook as he cried, he never wanted to let you go. Tears filled your eyes as you returned the hug, missing the comfort that your brother gave you in times of stress. 

“I missed you too, Buck,” You whisper into his shirt. Wanda and Natasha left the room, leaving you and Bucky once again. “You know I have to go back with them… don’t you?” You pulled away and looked up at him, your eyes puffy with fresh tears. 

“No, no I am never letting you go again, you are not allowed to be out of my sight, do you understand?” He says, his hands on your shoulders squeezing just a bit tighter. 

“I wish I could, b-but you have to understand something too… I love them, Bucky. A-and they love me too. I will never be the same after what they did to me, but I can at least be with people who know how to take care of me when my brain goes… you know, back.” You pause, looking up at him again. “I forgave them when they told me they loved me outside of the space they forced me into. They don’t love the little me, they love me. And I- I just- just please understand.” 

Salty drops of tears roll down your cheeks, soaking into your white hoodie. Bucky’s heart broke, shattering into a million pieces as he heard your explanation. He pulls away from you and moves to sit on the bed, you follow and sit next to him. 

“I am so sorry, from the beginning I didn’t know they were going to do any of this, and it all happened so fast. They found my journal, and they used it against me. I was in love with them first, but I didn’t want to disappoint you so I kept it to myself. That was in the past,” You let out a sad sigh. “I love them, Bucky. I love them and they love me.” 

Bucky was dumbfounded. He loved you with all of his heart, mind, and soul. But he also understood your pain. He went through a lot in his time kept at Hydra, and he understood the caring aspect of a dire situation. A nurse had kept him company, but the guards killed her before she got a chance to get closer to him. But that nurse worked for Hydra willingly and kept him there. She was not there against her will but with the full intent of working for RedSkull and his army. 

“Ok.” That was all Bucky could say. He didn’t want to alter your choices or thoughts, he only wanted you to be ok. “Do you promise to visit me, and you can leave on your own now? They don’t have to be everywhere with you?” 

You shake your head, “They don’t have to be right next to me, they just need to know where I am. And of course I’ll visit you. I know they didn’t buy a new apartment just to spend money,” It takes a second for him to process what you said. 

“Apartment? Wait, are you coming back to New York for good?” He asks, and a bright smile appears on his face. Once again, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “I want to burn that god damned cabin…” He whispers, making you sigh. 

He is right to want to burn it. You wanted to burn it the second they locked you in there. The wishes of them letting you go were said to them, begged to them, screamed at them. But still, they kept you in that cabin, deep in the woods, never to be seen until your captors allowed it. 

“You don’t have to forgive them, Buck. But please tolerate them? They are kind and loving when you get to know them. Truly,” A hint of yearning is hidden in your voice, and Bucky can hear the desperation. So, he nods. He agrees to let Wanda and Natasha take care of you and love you.

“Ok… but on one condition.” He says, pulling away to face you. You tilt your head, silently telling him that you are listening. “I get to see you when ever I want to. Or, well at least need to. They don’t get to keep you hidden away anymore. I get to be your brother again, not the enemy.” 

You nod immediately. “Yes, yes that works, they will be happy to have another babysitter around when the little part of me comes out. If I’m being honest…” You say, chuckling softly. “Im not going anywhere, Bucky. I promise you.” 

From that day forward, Wanda and Natasha allowed you to see your brother when you wanted to and allowed him to come over to the cabin to help while you moved. ‘Tiny’ hadn’t come out in a while, as the move was stressing you out, but when all of the boxes from your nursery came to the new apartment, you finally felt comfortable falling into your thoughts once again. 

You showed Bucky your mushroom tent that was set up in the corner of your room, you showed him Leo and your other stuffed animal friends, and he showed his love to you just the same. He said it was like having two little sisters. It was something he would get used to. Some day. 

And as you sat in your mushroom tent, full of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals, Bucky joined you and read you a bedtime story. Your favorite one that he read to you back in the forties (40s). You were home again, and letting you see your brother was just the thing that made Wanda and Natasha sure of moving back. You were happier when you knew, that he knew, that you were safe and sound. 

Bucky loved you, Natasha loved you, Wanda loved you. And you loved them. 

You always would. 

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #Wandanat x reader #into the tiny verse #The toy lion the scarlet witch and tiny in the wardrobe #wandanat x little reader #mommy wandanat x little reader #mommy wanda x little reader #mommy natasha x little!reader #Wanda Maximoff #Natasha romanoff

[mspaesthetic]

Tidbit: The “Posterization” Effect of Panels Due to the Consequences of GIF Color Quantization (and Increased Contrast (And Also The Tangential Matter of Dithering))

There’s this misconception that the color banding and patterned dithering found in panels is an entirely deliberate, calculated effect Hussie manipulated the image into looking with some specific filter, but this isn’t the case, exactly. It wasn’t so much a conscious decision he took but rather an unavoidable consequence of the medium he partook in: digital art in an age where bandwidth and storage was at a premium.

Not to delve too deeply into the history and technicalities of it, but the long and the short of it is back in the early nineties to late aughts (and even a bit further into the 10s), transferring and storing data over the web was not as fast, plentiful, and affordable as it is now. Filesize was a much more important consideration than the fidelity of an image when displaying it on the web. Especially so when you’re a hobbyist on a budget and paying for your own webhosting, or using a free service with a modest upload limit (even per file!). Besides, what good would it be to post your images online if it takes ages to load them over people's dial-up Internet? Don't even get me STARTED on the meager memory and power the average iGPU had to work with, too.

The original comic strip's resolution was a little more than halved and saved as a GIF rather than a large PNG. That's about an 82.13% reduction in filesize!

So in the early days it was very common for people to take their scans, photographs, and digital drawings and scale them down and publish them as smaller lossily compressed JPEGs or lossless GIFs, the latter of which came at the cost of color range. But it had a wider range of browser support and the feature to be used for animations compared to its successor format, PNG ("PNG's not GIF").

You'd've been hard-pressed to find Hussie use any PNGs himself then. In fact, I think literally the only times he's ever personally employed them and not delegate the artwork to a member of the art team were some of the tiny shrunken down text of a character talking far in the distance and a few select little icons.

PNGs support semi-transparency unlike GIFs, which is why Hussie used them to preserve the anti-aliasing on the text without having to add an opaque background color.

While PNGs can utilize over 16 million colors in a single image, GIFs have a hard limit of 256 colors per frame. For reference, this small image alone has 604 colors:

For those who can't do the math, 256 is a pretty damn small number.

Smaller still were the palettes in a great deal of MSPA's panels early on in its run. Amazingly, a GIF such as this only uses 7 colors (8 if you count the alpha (which it is)).

Not that they were always strictly so low; occasionally some in the later acts of Homestuck had pretty high counts. This panel uses all 256 spots available, in fact.

If he had lowered the number any smaller, the quality would have been god-awful.

To the untrained eye, these bands of color below may seem to be the result of a posterization filter (an effect that reduces smooth areas of color into fewer harsh solid regions), but it's really because the image was exported as a GIF with no dithering applied.

Dithering, to the uninitiated, is how these colors are arranged together to compensate for the paltry palette, producing illusory additional colors. There are three algorithms in Photoshop for this: Diffusion, Pattern, and Noise.

Above is the original image and below is the image reduced to a completely binary 1-bit black and white color palette, to make the effect of each dithering algorithm more obvious.

Diffusion seemingly displaces the pixels around randomly, but it uses error diffusion to calculate what color each pixel should be. In other words, math bullshit. The Floyd-Steinberg algorithm is one such implementation of it, and is usually what this type of error diffusion dithering is called in other software, or some misnomer-ed variation thereof.

The usage of Pattern may hearken back to retro video game graphics for you, as older consoles also suffered from color palette limitations. Sometimes called Ordered dithering because of the orderly patterns it produces. At least, I assumed so. Its etymological roots probably stem from more math bullshit again.

True to its name, Noise is noisy. It’s visually similar to Diffusion dithering, except much more random looking. At least, when binarized like this. Truth be told, I can’t tell the difference between the two at all when using a fuller color table on an image with a lot of detail. It was mainly intended to be used when exporting individual slices of an image that was to be “stitched” back together on a webpage, to mitigate visible seams in the dithering around the edges.

To sate your curiosity, here's how the image looks with no dithering at all:

People easily confuse an undithered gif as being the result of posterization, and you couldn't fault them for thinking so. They look almost entirely the same!

Although I was already aware of this fact when I was much younger, I'm guilty of posterizing myself while editing images back then. Figured I may as well reduce the color count beforehand to help keep the exported GIF looking as intended. I view this as a complete waste of time now, though, and amateurish. Takes away a bit of the authenticity of MSPA art, how the colors and details are so variable between panels. As for WHY they were so variable to begin with, choosing the settings to save the image as requires a judicious examination on a case-by-case basis. In other words, just playing around with the settings until it looks decent.

It's the process of striking a fine balance between an acceptable file size and a "meh, good enough" visual quality that I mentioned earlier. How many colors can you take away until it starts to look shit? Which dithering algorithm helps make it look not as shit while not totally ruining the compression efficacy?

Take, for example, this panel from Problem Sleuth. It has 16 colors, an average amount for the comic, and uses Diffusion dithering. Filesize: 34.5 KB.

Then there's this panel right afterwards. It has 8 colors (again, technically 7 + alpha channel since it's an animated gif), and uses Noise dithering this time. Filesize: 34.0 KB.

The more colors and animation frames there are, and the more complicated dithering there is, the bigger the file size is going to be. Despite the second panel having half the color count of the first, the heavily noisy dithering alone was enough to inflate the file size back up. On top of that, there's extra image information layered in for the animation, leaving only a mere 0.5 kilobyte difference between the two panels.

So why would Hussie pick the algorithm that compresses worse than the other? The answer: diffusion causes the dithering to jitter around between frames of animation. Recall its description from before, how it functions on nerd shit like math calculations. The way it calculates what each pixel's color will be is decided by the pixels' colors surrounding it, to put it simply. Any difference in the placement of pixels will cause these cascading changes in the dithering like the butterfly effect.

Diffusion dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 25.2 KB

This isn't the case with Noise or Pattern dithering, since their algorithms use either a texture or a definite array of numbers (more boring nerd shit).

Noise dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 31.9 KB

Pattern dithering, 16 colors. Filesize: 23.1 KB

There's a lot more I'd like to talk about, like the different color reduction algorithms, which dither algorithms generally compress better in what cases, and the upward and downward trends of each one’s use over the course of a comic, but since this isn’t a deep dive on GIF optimization, I might save that for another time. This post is already reaching further past the original scope it was meant to cover, and less than 10 images can be uploaded before hitting the limit, which is NOWHERE near enough for me. I should really reevaluate my definition of the word “tidbit”… Anyway, just know that this post suffers from sample selection bias, so while the panels above came from an early section of Problem Sleuth that generally had static panels with diffusion dithering and animated panels with noise dithering, there certainly were animated panels with diffusion later on despite the dither-jittering.

Alright, time to shotgun through the rest of this post, screw segueing. Increasing the contrast almost entirely with “Use Legacy” enabled spreads the tones of the image out evenly, causing the shadows and highlights to clip into pure black and white. The midtones become purely saturated colors. Using the Levels adjustment filter instead, moving both shadow and highlight input level sliders towards the middle also accomplishes the same thing, because, you know, linear readjustment. I'm really resisting the urge to go off on another tangent about color channels and the RGB additive color model.

Anyway, there aren't any examples in MSPA that are quite this extreme (at least in color, but I'll save that for a later post), but an image sufficiently high in contrast can be mistaken for being posterized at a glance. Hence the Guy Fieri banner. In preparation for this post, I was attempting to make a pixel-perfect recreation of that panel but hit a wall trying to figure out which and how many filters were used and what each one's settings were, so I sought the wisdom of those in the official Photoshop Discord server. The very first suggestion I got was a posterization filter, by someone who was a supposed senior professional and server moderator, no less. Fucking dipshit, there's too much detail preserved for it to be posterization. Dude totally dissed me and my efforts too, so fuck that moron. I spit on his name and curse his children, and his children's children. The philistines I have to put up with...

In the end, the bloody Guy Fieri recreation proved to be too much for me to get right. I got sort of close at times, but no cigar. These were some of the closest I could manage:

You might be left befuddled after all this, struggling to remember what the point of the blogpost even was. I had meant for it to be a clarification of GIFs and an argument against using the posterization filter, thinking it was never used in MSPA, but while gathering reference images, I found a panel from the Felt intermission that actually WAS posterized! So I’ll eat crow on this one... Whatever, it’s literally the ONE TIME ever.

I can tell it's posterization and not gif color quantization because of the pattern dithering and decently preserved details on the bomb and bull penis cane. There would have had to have been no dithering and way fewer colors than the 32, most of which were allotted to the bomb and cane. You can't really selectively choose what gets dithered or more colors like this otherwise.

Thank you for reading if you've gotten this far. That all might have been a lot to take in at once, so if you're still unclear about something, please don't hesitate to leave a question! And as always, here are the PSDs used in this post that are free to peruse.

#tidbit #homestuck #problem sleuth #gif #dithering #posterization

[suzukiblu]

Another excerpt from the one where Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

Previously-posted excerpts: one | two

Thirteen is in a cell in the basement, to Match's entire lack of surprise–that's standard procedure, with his class of prisoner. There are no guards on the floor, but Thirteen is currently suspended in an anti-grav field in the center of the room.

No way to use his TTK on anything but himself, then.

That's not as secure a containment procedure as the Agenda thinks it is.

Match should inform them of that. And he will inform them of that.

Eventually.

"Superman," Match says as he inspects the room for a power source or some manner of off switch for the field. Thirteen says nothing, because he's unconscious. Sedated, presumably, which is also standard procedure with his class of prisoner.

That would explain the lack of guards despite Thirteen's recorded tendency to escape, Match supposes. Though there'll be someone watching the cameras either way, of course, so they don't have long before someone shows up.

The reinforced door on the other side of the room tears off its hinges and reveals Superman standing behind it. His eyes are blazingly red. There's crumpled metal twisted up in his hands.

"I found the other experiments," he says.

"Were they viable?" Match asks.

"No," Superman says, very darkly. Match wonders if that means Superman killed them, or if that means they were already dead. It's not really something he's going to think too much about either way.

He has a lot of dead brothers, after all. Some of them he killed himself.

Assuming that he uses Thirteen's definition of what a "brother" is, anyway.

They have a lot of dead brothers from Cadmus, too.

Or at least twelve of them, anyway.

Superman strides forward into the room, staring up at Thirteen's suspended form. Match inspects the power source he's found.

"I think I can disable the anti-grav," he says. "I don't see any traps or failsafes, at least."

"Then disable it," Superman says. He's still just looking at Thirteen.

He's only ever looked at Thirteen.

Match wonders what might've happened if he'd just pretended to be Thirteen after all, and never told Superman anything about this lab. It's a stupid thing to wonder, though.

He already knows Superman doesn't even like Thirteen, whether he looks at him or not. There's no reason he'd like Match any better.

Even if he is a better experiment.

Match disassembles the power source with a quick burst of TTK and the field deactivates. Thirteen falls out of the air. Superman catches him in his arms.

Match wonders why he bothered. It's not like the fall would've injured Thirteen. He's not even conscious enough to have noticed the impact.

"Ngh," Thirteen says, his eyelashes fluttering restlessly.

. . . alright, maybe he would've noticed the impact.

Still, though.

"You're safe, Kon," Superman tells Thirteen quietly. "I've got you."

"Ngh," Thirteen repeats, and then just sinks back into unconsciousness and goes completely limp in Superman's arms. There is no trace of wariness or fear or anything but absolute faith in those words in any part of him.

Match cannot even imagine ever having a similar interaction with another sentient being.

He feels . . . odd, he thinks, hearing Superman say "Kon". He knows it's one of Thirteen's preferred aliases, of course–he's heard the various members of Young Justice all use it more than once, usually by unknowingly calling him by it. It's not a secret or anything.

He's never heard Superman use it before, though.

#dc match #kon el #clark kent #superboy #superman #superfamily #rinfic #wip: clark panic-adopts his teenage clones

[esther-dot]

Braavos is For Lovers 3k

Tired of fighting, Jon and Sansa run away to Braavos to get warm. They take new names, find work as common folk, and struggle with a forbidden attraction to each other.

Jeyne and Bael 7k by @wendynerdwrites

Jon and Sansa escape to Essos after Jon finds her again in the Vale. They adopt to their fake married aliases so well, they forget they are not actually married.

Bittersweet Symphony 1k by @captainbee89

For the prompt I got: Could you write a Jonsa fic in which Jon and Sansa lose the war and they'll change their names and live somewhere (let's say at the seaside) in bittersweet happiness

Alive 2k

“Where will we go?” “Somewhere warm. Far from here.”

We Should Run Away 2k

“We were children,” he tells her when she asks for his forgiveness, a long since given thing. But they are not children any longer and he does not know what to do with this sister in a woman’s body. or Jon and Sansa run away to Lys, and they don't look back.

Setting Sail ficlet by @azulaahai

At twilight, on the brink of night, a ship sets sail from White Harbor. Based on a prompt by @thimbleful: "After the resurrection, they decide to be selfish and go somewhere warm after all."

Tomorrows ficlet by @misshoneywheeler

It’s raining today, a softer rain than the sort that fell in Winterfell or the Vale or even King’s Landing. Most things in Essos seem softer so far: the winds, the ground, the people. And Jon.

Voyage to a New Life ficlet by @alczysz17

The shift between them was gradual. It was so easy to forget who they truly were here. Easy to forget their old lives and even their past relation to each other. Easy for the lines to blur when playing husband and wife.

take me apart and I'll flow like water 2k

“We can leave here and not look back,” he says, as he steps nearer to her, unsure of how close to get to this sister of his, this sister who had only ever offered him cold, blue Tully eyes and a frost-lined frown that had mirrored her lady mother’s. “We can start over,” he adds softly, and he knows he has her then, can tell by the broken, tear-laced sigh she delivers, her breath visible even in the warmth of Jon’s solar. OR the one where Jon and Sansa escape to Braavos before the BotB.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

#jonsa #jonsa fic #free cities au #braavos au #dot fic list

[lilyginnyblackv2]

Buddy Daddies and Existing Outside of Social Norms:

I love how all of the named characters in Buddy Daddies has something about them that places them outside of societal norms. Some of them are more integrated into the regular systems and flows of society to some extent, but others are very divorced from it.

1. Kazuki, Rei, Kyutaro, and Ryo: They all work within an organization centered around assassination. 

We don’t know as much about Kyutaro and Ryo yet, but facts like how their names (either last name in the case of Kyutaro or both their first and last in the case of Ryo, seem to be aliases, due to them not existing at all or in the way they are written and read phonetically, also adds to this).

Meanwhile, Kazuki didn’t grow up with his parents. It seems he was a child who was part of the system. Many of these children often slip through the cracks.

And Rei...Well, Rei grew up within a hitman-based organization and did not have a normal childhood. We don’t know much about Rei’s past yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Rei didn’t get much traditional schooling (and therefore no traditional socialization) either because of this. We’ll have to wait and see on that though.

2. Misaki, Carol, and Dorothy: All women who work within the adult entertainment industry. This is an industry that faces discrimination in Japan still (for example, during the height of the pandemic, adult entertainment workers were excluded from the Covid Aid Package, thankfully, there was public pushback on this - link to an article discussing this topic will be in the comments below).

Misaki is also a single mother, which means she exists outside of the heteronormative “nuclear family” structure. Her being shown as a resentful mother is also something outside of the norm that is often presented of mothers in media (in general).

Meanwhile, in regards to Carol and Dorothy, we can see that Carol has darker skin. She may have naturally darker skin or she could tan her skin. Regardless, darker skin is often looked down upon on women (or fetishized due to the connection it has with the Gal street fashion, which is a whole other can of worms). And Dorothy’s two-tone hair makes her stand out instantly. 

Their names are also non-Japanese. They could be fake names that they use to sound more cutesy and appealing to customers (and for safety), but this could also be an indicator that they are biracial, which also makes them stand apart from “the norm” of Japanese society (despite the fact that number of biracial children in Japan is growing more and more with each year).

All of this is speculation that we may or may not get any further clarification on in the future regarding these two characters, regardless, their line of work and how they choose to express and present themselves makes them stand apart from the rest of Japanese society on some level.

The rest I’ll put under a Read More.

3. Yuzuko and Karin - Now, we don’t know much about Yuzuko, but her marriage to Kazuki instantly placed her outside of normal society, due to the nature of his work. 

And Karin states that she wants to study fashion abroad in France. The number of Japanese living permanently abroad is at a record high currently (as of 2023).

Her desire to learn and study abroad is an example of someone in the cast physically leaving the system and society in place in Japan. It’s for study, but it still shows her having a passion that requires her to exist outside of Japan.

5. Miss Anna - She works in childcare, an accepted field, and doesn’t have anything about her outward appearance that would set her apart (no tan skinned, no dyed hair). However, she isn’t skinny and that does set her apart from what is viewed as “normal” society. 

Being overweight in Japan is still viewed as rare, even though there are plenty of Japanese people who aren’t thin, however, the stereotypical image in society is still attached to thinness. That means Miss Anna exists outside of the societal norm. She won’t be able to walk into any clothing store in Japan and have any and all options available to her and there are also likely other issues that she faces in society because of her weight as well, that others simply would not, doubly so since she is a woman.

4. Miri - She is the product of a mistress and mafia boss. Her father was associated with the underworld part of society, and her mother is in an industry that is discriminated against (on a governmental level as previously noted). Now, she is living with Kazuki and Rei. She has always been in a family structure that was against the societal norms of the heteronormative nuclear family, but at least with her mother they shared a name. 

Whether Miri was registered under a koseki (family register) or not is unknown. But given the situation, it is possible she’s not or wasn’t. We don’t know exactly what Kazuki did for the forged paperwork to get her into daycare. But we do know that they all kept their own last names and that one of the themes the series wants to focus on is a “bloodless” family. So having a family set up like this and having Miss Anna point out that they all have different names, could be a social commentary on the koseki system, since it is so heavily tied to blood relation. (This is something I saw someone on Twitter mention).

Of course, we still have a number of episodes to go, so who knows how they will continue to handle Miri’s status in this regard, as well as the role of her mother, and if we will learn any more of how the relationship between Kazuki, Miri, and Rei is presented in the forged papers. 

We know that the “story” they are telling everyone is that Miri is a relative’s kid. Now, we know that Buddy Daddies takes place in Fukuoka, but what city isn’t made 100% clear (as of yet, as far as I know - if someone does know though, please feel free to share!). One city in Fukuoka, known as Koga City has a (ファミリーシップ) “Familyship” system in place (this is a system that allows same-sex households with children to be viewed as actual “families” and therefore have more access to rights, benefits, and tools that can help with childcare that a simple Partnership wouldn’t allow them access to).

In that system, the child in question has to be related to one of the people in the Partnership, either through birth or adoption (but in Japan, same-sex couples can’t adopt kids and adopted kids must change their last names to that of their adopted parents because of the koseki system). Miri could be viewed as being fostered by Kazuki and Rei, since same-sex couples are allowed to foster, but that still wouldn’t qualify them for the “Familyship” system. I’ll link to the Japanese page for Koga City that goes over the “Familyship” system for anyone interested. It also goes over the Partnership system too.

Anyway, given the nature of this series and how its focus is basically on found family and a bloodless family, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kazuki didn’t place them in a Partnership or Familyship and they are just existing as is. It would be the least “realistic” aspect of the more realistic child-care/SoL aspects of the series, but that may be due to the message they are trying to make. 

Of course, the above is all based on pure speculation, since we just don’t know the details of any of the forgery paperwork stuff. But, definitely some food for thought at the very least, and fitting for the “outside of normal society” message they have going on with all the characters thus far.

#Buddy Daddies #Rei Suwa #Kazuki Kurusu #Miri Unasaka #Kyutaro Kugi #Anna Hanyu #Miss Anna #Misaki Unasaka #Ryo Ogino #Carol-chan #Dorothy-chan #BD #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #long post #meta post #image heavy post #analysis #speculation #social commentary

[abibeur]

Headcanons about the "Serveur du Lundi" and how it integrates to QSMP lore

Somebody had to do it one day, and I had some ideas, so... Bear in mind these are mostly headcanons, even if I'm basing these on what we already have. Oh also, even if I don't write "q!", if I mention our French streamers' names, know that I'm obviously talking about the cubitos.

The server in itself

Vacations for the friends on it, think of it as wild camping

The land was bought by JDG (more on that later)

Aypierre wasn't here, because he fled in the wilderness due to being pursued by Ayr0b0t (yeah, funnily the "hardcore" season of his LP coincided with the Serveur du Lundi). Etoiles could still call him, tho', so he wasn't totally cut off.

Kameto also wasn't here, but we could imagine he was actually already spying for the Federation, lurking in the shadows, watching the Serveur du Lundi doing their thing...

The players (and their skins)

JDG / Jidège / Frederic Mollas / Fred / "Pepito Kawazakii"

Is actually pretty famous, like in our world

Big entrepreneur, responsible for many things: parkings, factories, recycling plants, architectural design, talk shows, tv programs...

"His theme" Antoine taught to Pomme is the theme of his talk show!

Antoine was the first to met him personally (probably due to being a doctor). He introduced him later to his other friends.

Aypierre didn't really met him, but he knew of the guy. He did talk to his engineer, though!

Was the one who bought the land for the Serveur du Lundi, under the name "Pepito Kawazakii"

"Pepito Kawazakii" is actually one of his (many) aliases (which include "Odessa Silverberg" and others), when he wants to travel incognito (or do some shady stuff without facing the consequences).

Horty / Hortense

Is a weird humanoid sea creature (and I must restrain myself from doing any Splatoon reference)

Met Baghera in her childhood, while she escaped Quesadilla Island

Both are pretty good friend (even besties!) since this, so Baghera introduced her to her other friends

Both of them are pretty close to nature (due to their animal nature?), causing conflicts between them and JDG

Due to being an aquatic being, she can actually come and go from Quesadilla Island, visiting Baghera sometimes, even if she can't help her escape (because she can't carry her and also because the Federation watches, this time!)

AngleDroit / Florence

Judge, PhD and lawwoman extraordinaire

Actually a furry (even if the idea of her being a human-animal hybrid without any link to the Federation was funny)

Met with Antoine and Etoiles through friends (Antoine really likes befriending powerful and influent people)

Baghera likes to make fun of her but they're still very good friends

Zerator / Adrien

Showman, he met most of the others through social events he organised

Even if he organises caritative events for environmental causes, it doesn't stop him from partnering with JDG in his urban projects

Once again, Antoine can't stop himself from befriending influent people-

Mynthos

Normal headcanons:

A man of the land: farmer, worker, miner, baker...

Met with Zerator through friends (well the French viewers reading this know which friend it is)

Has a Ricardo Milos shirt because why not

Probably the friend with who Antoine bickers the most

Unhinged headcanons:

IT'S A GIANT FLOATING HEAD (oddly similar to Ricardo Milos')

Antoine introducing him to the others, who quickly brushed off the fact that he is a giant floating head, telling themselves that if Antoine said it's a normal human, then it is, why would Antoine lie about that?

Has a weird obsession with animal reproduction

Seems to be abundantly secreting a mysterious liquid, which apparently is edible, but only Antoine dares to drink it

#qsmp #qsmp antoine #antoine daniel #qsmp aypierre #qsmp baghera #qsmp etoiles #jdg #joueur du grenier #hortyunderscore #horty #qsmp kameto #mynthos #angledroit #zerator #serveur du lundi #yeah this was fun to make

[heckcareoxytwit]

Kurt Wagner as the newest Spider hero (a.k.a Spinnenmann, Creepy Crawler, Devil-Spider or any other aliases/nicknames), has a conversation with Peter Parker the original Spider-Man. Kurt is having doubts with himself as he was framed for murder when he was in his monstrous form way back in Legion of X comic. Also, Kurt has a Bamf as his conscience.

Even though Kurt did not tell him what really happened, Peter understands him as he knows what it feels like for being framed (for a few times in Spider-Man comics), being turned into a monster (Peter had been turned into Man-Spider once or twice in the comics) or being hated by public and media (countless times with no thanks to Anti-Spidey rants from J Jonah Jameson).

Uncanny Spider-Man #1, 2023

#wednesday spoilers #Nightcrawler #Spinnenmann #Kurt Wagner #X Men #Bamfs #XMen #Spider Man #Spiderman #Peter Parker #spidey #peter benjamin parker #Fall of X #Uncanny Spider Man #marvel