#// he just assumes it's from the experiments they tried to do and he keeps gloves on sdhgkjshgk

[rinhaler]

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[not-a-space-alien]

Desperate Daybreak Chapter 1

Note: This story drops the dual formatting of MMSS, since I don't think it will add anything here except a bunch of work.

Here it is! I am so excited to start this story. The first chapter is a bit short and serves as a sort of teaser, so hope you enjoy! :)

Unexpected news complicates Valen's new, peaceful life.  Will it turn out to be a blessing or a curse?

MMSS masterpost

DD masterpost

On AO3

------------------

“Valen, I love you.”

Lex and Ari stared at each other.

“No,” Ari said after a moment.

“Valen, we love you.”

“That won’t work.”

“It worked when you tried it on me.”

“That’s because you’re you.  Valen is…shy.”

Lex sat back on the couch, curling up and putting her hands over her head.  “I knowwwwww.  But I want to kiss him so bad.”

“Hmph.”  Ari assumed that wanting to kiss Valen was a universal experience.

“Okay, how about this.  Valen, the past few months, seeing you every day, helping you with your experiments, keeping you safe… feeding you with our own bodies… getting to see you smile more and more…  And laugh…”  Lex went red, then pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head to hide her face, letting out a whine.  “With your adorable fangs.”

“For God’s sake, if you can’t keep it together, then I’ll have to be the one to do it, and I think nobody wants that.”

“It’s been amazing and incredible and you’re incredible and amazing and handsome and soft and touchable and strong and-”

“Slow down.”

“And Ari and I both care about you so much, and want to-  We want to what, Ari?”

Ari sighed and leaned back into the couch.  “How about we start by asking him how he feels about nontraditional relationship structures.”

“Right!”  Lex nodded, then put back on her “practicing” expression.  “Valen, how do you feel about three people being in a relationship?”

Ari groaned and put a hand over her forehead.  “This is never going to work.  No way in hell.  Right?  The guy is from the most conservative section of an uber-conservative society.”  Not to mention the whole We were responsible for you being tortured thing, no matter how much Valen seemed to have made his peace with it.

“Maybe if we phrase it like, ‘Hey Valen, do you think you could ever picture yourself in a triad?”

“Will he know what a triad is?”

“Ever picture yourself in a– Hey handsome, interested in a threesome?”

“Definitely not that one.”

Below the break room, one floor down below them and oblivious to their pained deliberation, Valen stood at the furthest bench in his lab.  In the intervening months since it’d been given to him, every surface had been cluttered by objects of every conceivable kind, beakers and flasks and sealed potion bottles and weigh boats and scales and unidentifiable powder and dried blood spots and gloves and mushrooms and jars full of mysterious crystals.

All to make this.

Valen held the flask up to the light, swirling it to note its color and consistency.  Perfect.  Almost perfect.

He lowered it down and took a sip of it.

It wasn’t… perfect.  But it was close.  It was really, really close.

Close to blood, and it’d never seen the inside of a human body.

The phone rang upstairs.  Valen ignored it.  The vampire hunters had told him he could answer the phone if he wanted to, but he never wanted to.

He heard Lex’s feet moving across the floor upstairs towards it.  The sound of the receiver being picked up.  Her greeting.  The very faint sound of the other person speaking indistinguishably through the line.

“Who’s calling?  Okay… What’s this about?  … Okay.  Just a minute.”

Lex’s feet moving towards the basement.  “Valen,” her voice called softly.  “There’s somebody on the phone for you.”

Valen paused, flask still up in the air.  “For me?”

“Yeah.”

Nobody ever called the vampire hunters to talk to him.  Except sometimes the Director, but then Lex would have known who he was.  Who would be calling him that Lex wouldn’t know?  Faint anxiety bubbled up inside of him.  “Okay.  I’ll be right up.”

He ran through all the possibilities as he climbed the stairs.  It could be a vampire hunter.  It could be a particularly brazen reporter, unsatisfied with his mailed correspondences denying them the opportunity for an interview.  It could be someone from vampire territory.

It could be Priscus.  That thought sent a shiver of fear through him.

Lex had a kind expression on her face, holding the phone out.  He took it.

"I'll give you some privacy," Lex said, looking at him with adoration. "Bye."

Valen watched her go with a slightly confused expression, then turned his attention to the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi!”  It was a man’s voice.  “Is this Valen Kithrara?”

“This is he.  May I ask with whom I am speaking?”

“It is he, right?”

“...Yes.  With whom am I speaking, please?”

“This is…  My name is Herod Tessandrax.  My friends call me Tessie.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that if we ever become friends, Mr. Tessandrax.”

“Right…  Well, well I’m telling you that because I’m, er, I’m a she, since I’m, uh, I’m also…”

“Oh!” Valen said, perking up instantly, his emotional walls crashing down.  “Are you also transsexual?”

“Yes!” said the voice with relief.  “Yes, that’s why I was so excited to talk to you!”  The voice pitched up considerably, much more comfortable and less on edge.

“Well it’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, then.  Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, yes, um, you see, I’m a lawyer that’s been working with the Kithrara estate.”

“Oh.”  Valen deflated just as fast as he’d risen.  He’d been talking to a vampire at his husband’s estate this whole time.  “What about, then?  If he sent you to try and coerce me into coming back, I assure you that’s not happening.”

“No, that’s not it.  Mr. Kithrara, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just speak plainly.  Your legal husband, Priscus Kithrara, has passed away.”

Valen just stood there for a moment in silence.

“Hello?”

“He’s dead, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“How?  He was barely three-hundred years old!”

“I can’t comment on that since the investigation was still ongoing.”

“Oh.”  What did that mean?  Had he been murdered or something?  “You can't give me any information at all?”

“There was an incident involving Priscus, his father Xavier, his uncle Mordecai, and his cousin Sebastian.  That's all I'm at liberty to say.”

“Oh.  Is Sebastian okay?”

“I'm– I can't– I'm not at–”

“--liberty to say, yes, right, I apologize.  Well, thank you for telling me.”  He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  Relief, for sure, but also a little guilty for being relieved and not sad. He'd never have to think about that fuck ever again. Hopefully. “Was there anything else?”

“They unsealed his will yesterday.”

“His legal will?  Oh, has he left something to me?”  That was… surprising.  He would have thought Priscus hated his guts by now, let alone like him enough to leave him something in his will even when they were estranged.  The Kithrara family surely wouldn’t be happy about that if it were anything valuable–doubtless they’d try to wrestle it away from him.

Tessie laughed.  “You could say that.”

“Tessie, while I appreciate it, I’m tempted to simply forfeit whatever possessions to which I might have legal claim in exchange for sparing myself the interaction with the Kithrara family.  I am not in want of money as of now, and my peace of mind may be more valuable.”

“You might want to wait until you hear what he left you before saying that.  Can we meet in person to discuss?”

Valen hesitated.  “You seem like a nice girl, but I’d really prefer to get some idea of what we’re dealing with over the phone, first.”  This way he could judge if it would be worth just washing his hands of it entirely.  There…weren't a lot of incentives he would accept for the price of having to entangle himself with the Kithrara family even more.

Tessie also hesitated.  “It's something really best discussed in person.”

“While I understand that, Mz. Tessandrax, please understand I live full time in human territory–as you're no doubt aware by the fact that you managed to track me down–and only come back over the border for absolute necessities.  If I could have some preliminary information to go on, that would be much appreciated.”

“Okay,” Tessie said.  “Um, in that case… so an established fact of the case I can divulge is that Xavier died before Priscus, which means that legally, for a few moments Priscus was in ownership of everything his father's will bequeathed to him, until the time of his death, at which point those assets were to be distributed according to his legal documentation.”

“...All right.  And?”

“Xavier’s will bequeathed the entire estate to his son, Priscus.  So, for a brief moment, after Xavier died while Priscus was still alive, Priscus legally possessed all of it as per his father's will.”

“...What are you getting at?”

“The estate was to then be distributed according to Priscus’s will, not his father's, since their deaths weren't entirely simultaneous.  Legally speaking.”

“Tessie, what did he leave me?”

“All of it.  The entire Kithara estate and the blood harvest web.  The blood processing facilities, the farms, the hunting equipment, the workforce.  All of it.”

***

Taglist

@tomato-whump @dragonfireridge @taterswhump @whump-cravings

@scoundrelwithboba @pigeonwhumps @whumpsday @whumpy-writings @fuzzydarkpebble

@melodicnommer @thecyrulik @snake462 @gt-daboss @appelsiinilight

@star-rott @mottinthemainpot @corvidat @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumplr-reader

[slimyalienfreak]

Okay now xenophanes and his litte darling toy reader is actually a Cannibal like him. But not showing it, after all, reader is playing the innocent role but xenophanes will probably notice it so reader is acting a little smart, let's say. I actually had a few questions, but let's say I found the answers now. I will just move directly to the point again, whatever I said. One night reader had successfully left the house but xenophanes of course notices it immediately so he prefers to follow instead of catching her and finds reader in the middle of the forest, doing nam nam to the human yk the rest.. Xenophanes was confused when reader turned back to her normal form xeno catch her and go back to their house what will xenophanes do or his obsessive behave will high up even more or not?

Also Xenophanes is doing his usual things, torture, gore but he cannot lose his only toy, so he heals back of course. For example, when there is torture, he says things like '𝔂𝚘ᴜ are only mine, they can't even come near you 1 millimeter.' or 'you can't run litte one' or 'my,my,what do we have here' etc.

I wanna it to be like platonic but like enemys to lovers and smut (a litte not much) at the sametime but I don't know I have a lot on my mind, but it might seem foolish, maybe I don't know, so I leave the rest to you, if you don't like it, I can do something else, no problem,

You know it already, also reader looks like This character when she turns her exe form)

It would be more sensible to take inspiration from her because I currently have no other character in mind.

Xenophane With A Demon!Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Homestly, I think I may of had a bit too much fun writing this lol. Not sure what came over me writing this. Also, I hope this is alright. I tried my best to include a bit of everything so sorry if it ain’t the best. Regardless I hope you like it. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Cannibalism + Torture/Harm Done To Reader + Kind Of Suggestive? + Mentions Of Murder and Corpses⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Xenophanes

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by Zerophao on Deviantart + Banner by itzmelonii (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- It’s been awhile since you’ve been a victim of Xeno and to say he likes you is an underestimate. One day everything was normal and boom you were blessed with his presence. That’s how it is and always will be. Everyday honestly felt like a long day for you with him starting to slowly become more and more every time you're still here with him. He just can’t help but love your reactions when he comes to visit you. Your body writhing in pain when he digs his nails deep in your skin causing blood to draw from the wounds seeing tears form in your eyes while he licks your blood off of his gloves keeping your body close towards him wanting to make you feel like you could rely on him even though you experience nothing but pain from him. If it gets you to stay with him then he will do it. Harming you only to heal you straight after just to torture you gets him off in a sadistic way.

- He finds you very interesting even before he figures out your true self. He can’t really explain, he just does. Due to his little obsession over you, you practically can’t have any time to yourself. Every second you're not asleep assuming he lets you if he’s not torturing you he needs to have you by his side. Wherever you are he’s next to you the same goes the other way round. It doesn’t matter if the situation you two are in is dangerous he needs to be with you in order you don’t escape. If you just so happen to get hurt he can easily heal you again. It’s as simple as that.

- It’s pretty rare that you have been able to get away from him. After a few steps outside assuming you didn’t get caught trying to get out you still get caught after a bit by him. He honestly doesn’t understand why you want to escape him. Isn’t he not perfect for you? Like sure he has gotten you fucked up before but that’s just how he shows how much he loves you. What else do you need to be shown to prove he’s right for you? Just tell him and he’ll do it. Unless it’s for him to let you go then he’s not doing that.

- However, there was a bit when you did manage to escape him for a bit and it kind of pissed him off once he figured you were off and that he let you get away. What he didn’t know was your little ‘adventure’ you had while you had some time to yourself. You found yourself getting more and more hungrier the longer you were out. This was mostly because you were some sort of demon/entity yourself and had to feast upon humans for sustenance. At first you didn’t want to do it but to be honest you couldn’t hold it back any longer so you ended up feasting upon a dead corpse to satisfy yourself.

- Leading up to discovering your little secret he was pretty much feeling a mix of emotions. A combination of pissed, dread and really impatient. Did he really let you get away for good? This thought was continuing in his mind as he desperately tried to find you until he managed to find some sort of figure which had the same figure as you. Then the previous emotions were replaced with excited, in a twisted way excited to finally finding you. That’s his face shifted into confusion. He saw you lumping over what seemed like a dead body, maybe a recent victim he had killed but he couldn’t understand why you would be near a corpse. You don’t have any reason to. But when he started to get closer towards you planning on catching you off guard but then once he gave himself a moment to process what was noticing something different about you. You looked completely different to what you usually do.

- Then when he got even closer he noticed you feasting upon the corpse. Then I guess when it started to click for Xeno. Were you a demon like him? It looked like it so with a smirk on his face he went up to you unaware of his presence before placing a hand on your shoulder catching you off guard before saying “well hello again little devil” he said his voice was very sultry yet you can clearly hear the evil intentions he was planning on doing to you after being separated from you for however many days.

- I’d like to think his opinion of you wouldn’t change once he had discovered that you were a demon. You still belonged to him, nothing has changed about that. However, I feel like he would try to encourage for you to let your inner demon (sorry if that sounded cringe lol couldn’t rephrase it any other way) but not in the way of ‘I want you to be more open about yourself’ but more of a way to torture you more. Probably using ways to try to coax it out despite you trying to make sure it doesn’t. He’ll try to use your need to feast on bodies to his advantage. Knowing that your hunger can change depending on how bad your day has been.

- “Aw come on [Name], I know you want this” he says as he flaunts an arm that once belonged to someone “you can’t handle the sensation any longer. It would be best if you just give into the urges.” He says dragging a claw towards your chin making you look at him. These are the types of things he might say to you. Teasing you about your needs, flaunting parts of bodies in front of you. Doing this until he forces you to give in. Once you do he praises you while also teasing you for giving into your urges. I swear you can’t win with this man.

- I also feel that since he discovered that you're a demon he’d like to test your limits when it comes to certain things. Knowing that what he did before was possibly child’s play for you makes him admittingly very excited to see. As I said in the first point this type of shit gets him off. The tougher he is towards you the more turned on he gets. He gets some sort of euphoria off of it. The sight of your groan in pain makes him more and more determined to see you like that.

- Overall, regardless if you were a demon or not he is still the sadistic hedgehog you know him to how craves nothing but having you by his side despite the things he makes you go through just to prove that you are his.

———————————

[decks-writing-blog]

Snow's a Scam

Summary: The Science Team decide to vacation at a ski resort.

[A/N] This was my 1st bonus idea while writing WhateverTF Benrey Is when I decided to make Benrey cold-blooded. It opens up the question of how he responds to extreme temperatures with potentially interesting answers. Such as: there are some frogs that can be frozen and then thawed and be perfectly fine with the whole thing, which is pretty neat so I decided it applies to Benrey.

I was gonna have be part of the drabble series but uh... even doing my best to streamline it, it got long. In part because the whole crew (plus Darnold) is there so I'm putting it in it's own fic. Especially since it puts me one fic closer to 400 total over on Ao3.

~

Benrey had been oh so patient in the car since they’d first entered proper snow territory. He’d wanted to wait until they were deeper in so his first touch of of it would be extra good so he might as well wait until they reached their destination; the ski resort. Plus the anticipation would make it more fun, right? Except no, it sucked.

He’d stuck his hand into the first mound of snow he’d come across and scooped out a handful of it and it sucked. It wasn’t anywhere even close to as soft or fluffy as it looked. Video games had of course exaggerated it but in real life it looked pleasant too. Sparkling and pretty, a winter wonderland. The physical feel of it though didn’t match the vibe of any kind of ‘wonderland’ at all.

Cold he’d expected so the unpleasantness of that only added to the rest of it. It wasn’t wasn’t soft or fluffy but instead crunchy and horrid. Despite that he tried but mostly failed to roll it into a ball as it froze to his hands, coating them in a layer of ice and snow.

He turned back to face the Science Team plus Darnold who were just now finally all out of their two rented special snow trucks. “Snow’s a scam.”

“I don’t think snow can be a scam,” Tommy said as he hooked Sunkist’s leash onto her collar – apparently this place had some dumb ‘dogs must be leashed’ rule. “It’s just frozen water and um… I don’t think anyone is claiming it’s anything else.”

Coomer stepped up next to him, lifting a finger to make a point. “It’s a scam in that, despite being water, when in a survival situation eating it in an attempt to ease thirst would only make you die faster.”

“And yellow snow is the biggest scam of all,” Bubby added.

“For the sake of my sanity, I’m gonna assume you’re not talking from personal experience,” Gordon said before walking over to stand next to Benrey. “But uh… Benrey, don’t like the snow, huh?” The ‘I told you so’ didn’t even need to be said. He’d warned that Benrey probably wouldn’t like to several times. Him being right was annoying.

“It’s got a bad texture and it…” Benrey ran his hands down the front of his coat, wiping as much of the snow off as he could. It being frozen directly to his form made it a bit stubborn but with a bit of work he did manage to free his hands of it. “It’s cold and sucks.”

“Try picking some up with your gloves on, you might have better luck.”

They’d already determined that cold weather gear wouldn’t do much for Benrey for the same reason normal blankets didn’t; he didn’t produce any body heat to trap and keep himself warm with. Gordon had bought him a full set before setting out on this ski trip anyway for whatever help it could offer, even if it only protected from direct contact with the cold air but mostly so he’d fit in. Meaning he did have a pair of gloves. Being for cold weather though, they were thick and thus he couldn’t move his hands right in them. But well, they weren’t as bad as sticking his bare hands in snow again.

He pulled them out of his pocket and slipped them on. Flexing his hands in them was annoying in the ways his movement was affected but as he scooped up another wad of snow, he did indeed have more luck. The awful crunchy texture of it was much less intense through cloth and it didn’t stick to the gloves nearly as much as it had to his bare hands, allowing him to roll it into a proper snowball. He stepped back a little more as he looked up at Gordon and…

“Don’t you dare throw that at me.”

Benrey paused, his hand rearing back to do just that. Was this one of those Gordon would be annoyed if Benrey threw it at him anyway or would it be upsetting? Like when he’d freaked out about the bucket prank because of his trauma about things jumping out at him. He’d certainly see this coming but it would still be something rushing at him really fast so it might be bad. Benrey only wanted to annoy him, not upset him, so… he lowered his hand. “I wasn’t gonna.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Damn,” Bubby cut in, “Gordon, you actually managed to civilize him. I never would’ve thought…” He cut off with a small yelp as Benrey’s snowball hit him in the face, knocking his glasses askew. He recovered quickly though as he scooped up a wad of snow and without even bothering to roll it into a ball tossed it in retaliation. Expecting it, Benrey let it phase through himself.

Bubby frowned at that as he fixed his glasses, though he didn’t bother to wipe snow of them. “Bitch.”

Benrey laughed as he stuck his hands in his coat pockets. Annoying Gordon might be the most fun but the others sometimes had good reactions too. Speaking of Gordon, he chuckled too; he’d also thought it was funny.

“We’re having a snowball fight?” Darnold asked as he stepped up to join them, carrying his ski gear. He was the only one who already had ski stuff, the rest of them were renting.

“We should uh… get settled in first, I think,” Tommy said. “Also the parking lot’s probably not a good place for it. There are cars coming and going.”

“Right, right. There’s no room for a proper pair of snow forts out here anyway. Let’s go sort out our cabins.”

As he marched off, leading the way, everyone else set into following. Gordon fell into step with Benrey at the rear of the group. “How you holding up?”

“Hmm… it’s cold.” True to expectation, the coat, thick as it was, didn’t seem to be doing as much as it was supposed to.

“That’s why I asked. Now that you’ve got a taste of it you still sure you’re gonna be okay up here for three whole days? Actually more than three because technically there’s the rest of today too.”

“If it damages me, I’ll heal from it.” Even if it was so far proving to be worse than he’d expected, he’d still agreed to go. Skiing seemed like fun though even if he had to suffer some intense cold for it.

“I know but… just if it gets too uncomfortable, let me know and we can find a warm place inside to hang out for a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” Benrey might take him up on that. This cold was rather unpleasant.

~

After checking in and dropping their packs off in their respective rented cabins, Darnold offered to show them around the resort with the rest of today’s sunlight since they’d arrived earlier than planned. Which meant they could skip the tour tomorrow morning and go straight to Darnold and Coomer teaching the rest of them how to ski. A good plan for sure, they didn’t have anything else to do but… Benrey would rather curl up in the cabin with Gordon next to the heater. Everyone else went though so he continued to tag along at the rear of the group.

He’d brought his camera and thus took advantage of the opportunity to take pics of anything that caught his eye. It was a very pretty area after all. Even all the buildings, cabins and shopping areas alike, were aesthetically pleasing. Like with the snow earlier, the visuals juxtaposed oddly against the misery of the rest of it. No one else seemed bothered by the cold, in the group or any of the other tourists going about their business around them, so it probably wasn’t as intense as it had potential to be. Even so it was more than bad enough; Benrey hated it more and more the longer he was out in it.

Was it possible for him to mimic what warm animals’ bodies did that made them warm? Like was there an organ that produced heat? … He’d seen human anatomy diagrams though and surely such a thing would’ve been important enough to get a label. So probably that wasn’t a thing. It had to be something physical though, right?

He lightly bumped shoulders with Gordon, getting his attention. “What makes warm animals warm?”

“Uh… what?”

“Like um, what does your body do that makes you warm?”

“I’m not a biologist so I don’t know the specifics well enough to explain it. Tommy probably does though, maybe try asking him.”

Normally Benrey wouldn’t have a problem with pushing forward to ask Tommy instead but it didn’t really feel like it was worth the effort right now. Likely he wouldn’t understand the explanation anyway because Tommy was bad at explaining things. Bubby probably knew too – he was designed to be the ultimate genius after all – but it wasn’t really that important. Benrey would look it up later or ask one of them or maybe just drop it.

“If you’re cold though, we could head back to the cabin.” Gordon gestured back the way they’d come.

“Nah, I’m fine.” The cold had sunk its claws into him like a million tiny frozen knives, digging deeper and deeper the longer he was out in it. He could just turn off feeling though and thus could indeed be fine, sort of. Not being able to physically feel anything, made him clumsier and brought with it a sense of being detached from his form that he also didn’t like. But it was a solution to the cold growing bad enough to cause pain so… he could do it intermittently until the tour was complete. Which it should be soon; how big could this place be outside of the ski slopes which they wouldn’t explore properly until tomorrow?

***

Given how the Science Team was and after how their time here had started, a snowball fight was basically inevitable. Gordon might’ve been willing to join in except he was tired from the drive down here and not in the mood to miss every throw because he had no practice throwing stuff with his left hand. Also, his arm was starting to hurt right where his gun hand melded with the rest of his forearm. Not particularly bad, he could easily ignore it, but any pain in that area was cause for concern, right? So instead after standing and watching for a little while, he quietly excused himself and sat on a nearby bench, close enough to watch but far enough away that he was he was unlikely to be hit by a stray snowball.

He carefully unwrapped it and pulled his coat sleeve up. The cold air hitting the part of his arm that could still feel temperature had him quickly regretting that decision. It looked find though, the same as it ever had so maybe he shouldn’t worry about it even if the cold air might’ve made the pain worse. … He’d wrap it more warmly tomorrow. For now though, he quickly covered it back up before anyone else saw and to escape the cold air.

As he looked back up towards the Science Team’s snowball fight, who was winning was impossible to tell. Sunkist had been let off her leash though, allowing her to run back and forth to catch snowballs thrown from both sides. Because there were only two sides now. Benrey had declared himself on a side of his own at the start but despite the game having gone for maybe ten minutes at most, he’d abandoned it to start for Gordon’s bench instead.

“You okay?” Gordon asked a few moments later as Benrey closed in, dragging his feet through the snow the whole way.

Benrey groaned as sat on the bench next to him. He pulled Gordon’s arm into a hug as he leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder. Even through Gordon’s coat, he felt cold, making it a bit uncomfortable. But Gordon wasn’t about to push him away because clearly the answer to his question was ‘no’.

“Wanna go back to the cabin?” Gordon wouldn’t mind that actually. The cold was getting to him too and it would start getting dark soon, meaning it was getting colder.

Benrey groaned again. “Too far. I’m tired.”

“You slept a couple nights ago though, right?” So he shouldn’t be tired, especially not enough to complain about it.

“Yeah.”

“Then we should definitely go back. Being tired is a sign of advanced hypothermia… I think. I don’t really know but I’ve heard that it is.” In hindsight he maybe should’ve done more research on the subject before coming up here in general but especially with Benrey in tow.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just need to sit for a bit. Wanna sit with you.”

“That’s very sweet but…”

“Shh… shh… Cold stopped hurting so I’m fine now. Just relax, ‘kay?”

“That doesn’t help me relax.” Yeah Benrey could heal from any damage the cold did to him so maybe Gordon shouldn’t be anxious about it but it was hard not to be. He didn’t want Benrey to suffer even if he could heal from it. He’d insisted he’d be fine on this trip every time Gordon had asked him though so… Gordon should maybe take his word for it when he said he was fine. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lied about being fine though. “But… all right, sure. We’ll sit for a bit then we’re gonna get up and head to the cabin. The cold’s starting to get to me too anyway. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Benrey nuzzled closer, leaning more heavily into Gordon, trapping his arm against his body. It’s not like he going to be using it for anything anyway though. With a sigh, Gordon turned his attention back onto the snowball fight.

Eventually a winner was declared; Bubby and Dr. Coomer’s team. The advantage Dr. Coomer’s robot arms gave him, even when he was holding back as he had been, didn’t seem to bother anyone but it no doubt played a roll in their victory. It was all in good fun so it didn’t matter who won anyway. … Though, if Gordon ever did feel up to participating in a snowball he’d try to finagle his way onto Dr. Coomer’s team. He loved Benrey sure but based off their co-op gaming experience if a funny betrayal opportunity presented itself, Benrey would always take it.

Speaking of Benrey, a look back at him revealed that he’d seemingly fallen asleep. He wasn’t limp against Gordon’s side though but instead oddly stiff. Not helping Gordon’s anxiety for him any. As agreed upon, they’d been sitting for a bit though, thus it was time to get up and head to the cabin the two of them were sharing with Dr. Coomer and Bubby.

He shook Benrey’s shoulder. “Time to wake up. You can finish your nap somewhere warm but first you have to get there.”

No response. Not even a twitch.

“Come on, dude. I’m not carrying you.”

Still nothing.

“Hello Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said as the group – minus Tommy who’d stopped to call Sunkist over to put her leash back on – reached Gordon’s bench.

“Yes, hello Dr. Coomer. Could you help me wake Benrey maybe?”

Dr. Coomer stepped over and gave Benrey a firm enough shake that Gordon felt it too. Benrey didn’t stir. “Would you like me to try slapping him?”

“Uh… maybe in a bit.”

Bubby stepped forward, frowning down at Benrey. “I’d say we could try rolling him down a ladder but I doubt there are any nearby. We could try slapping him though. Whether or not it would work would depend on what’s wrong with him.”

“He said he was fine.”

“Is he actually fine though?” Darnold asked. “I mean people say they’re fine all the time, right? I’ve heard people lie about that sometimes. So how often are they telling the truth?”

Gordon shrugged which didn’t dislodge Benrey or cause him to stir. “I don’t know. He can heal any damage the cold does to him though and he said it didn’t hurt anymore. Which implies that it did hurt at one point. But he fell asleep and uh… now apparently won’t wake up.” Gordon should’ve insisted harder they go back as soon as it became clear something was wrong.

“He could be in a coma.” Dr. Coomer’s tone was nonchalant enough that it took Gordon a second to catch the full implication of his words.

“What? Why would he be in a coma?”

“Some animals, such as certain tree frogs, go to a coma-like state of hibernation during winter. Essentially they freeze and cease functioning until thawed. I doubt Benrey has the same processes in his body to facilitate that but we know he doesn’t produce any body-heat and thus freezing is a potential concern for him. It is currently negative eight degrees Celsius out here after all, below freezing. He can’t die easily though so upon freezing solid, he perhaps goes to sleep and ceases functioning until thawed. Or he might be fully aware but not able to move or speak due to the aforementioned frozen state he seems to be in.”

Gordon tried to move the arm that Benrey was still holding. Which not only mostly failed – Benrey did indeed seem to be at least partially frozen – but also moving it brought to his attention that it had grown somewhat numb around where his flesh met gun. More comfortable than pain but worrying in a different way. “In that case I uh… think we really need to get somewhere warm sooner rather than later. Could someone help me move him please.”

Dr. Coomer bent over and manhandled Gordon’s arm free of Benrey’s hold. It didn’t seem to take much effort from him to move Benrey’s arms but it was Dr. Coomer so even if his arms were frozen all the way through, it wouldn’t be an issue. Benrey didn’t respond at all, not even when Dr. Coomer picked him up, proving the theory that he was frozen held water as he didn’t hang limp as one sleeping usually would.

Gordon stood and without another word started back for the cabins, fast walking. The sooner they got there, the better.

~

Pulling Benrey’s outer layer of clothing off – it was encrusted with snow – wrapping him in the heated blanket, and placing him directly in front of and leaning against the extra space heater they’d brought thawed him out fairly quickly. But he remained asleep and unresponsive to attempts to rouse him.

Gordon paced the length of the cabin. Ostensibly to warm himself up too but really it was because he was anxious. Benrey would probably be fine but… what if he wasn’t? What if cold was the one thing that could kill him permanently? Why that would be the case, he couldn’t come up with a sound hypothesis for but few other things about Benrey made sense either so that meant nothing.

Adding to his anxiety and need to keep moving was the numbness in his arm had thawed into sharp dagger like pain. If he got frostbite in his wrist bad enough from the cold metal of the gun they’d have to cut it off, wouldn’t they? So he’d have to be very, very careful about that too. In hindsight that was something he should’ve thought about before agreeing to go on this trip but he was stupid apparently and hadn’t. He would for sure wrap it better tomorrow and be more vigilant of it.

If he even went out tomorrow anyway. Because if Benrey didn’t wake then… He had no idea what he’d do but he surely wouldn’t be up to trying to have fun learning now to ski or whatever.

Taking Benrey to the medical station was technically a possibility but they wouldn’t know what to do for him. And keeping what he was secret in general was kind of important. If anyone find out it could easily make its way to the news and then who knows what kind of problems might come up? So maybe Gordon should try something instead? He knew the most about Benrey’s composition and whatnot after all but medicine wasn’t something he knew much about for naturally occurring animals so figuring out how to help Benrey would be even harder.

Maybe he should go back to college and get a medical degree. If his knowledge of how Benrey had been constructed in the lab made him the only one capable of potentially helping him should he encounter a real medical emergency then surely he should, right? What if it was already too late though? What if…

“Stop fucking pacing,” Bubby said as he stepped directly in Gordon’s path, forcing him to stop just in time to not crash into him. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Sorry.” Gordon might’ve gone elsewhere to pace but there really wasn’t anywhere he could go, the bedroom he was set to share with Benrey was too small. And he couldn’t tell Bubby to leave since he and Dr. Coomer were splitting the rent on their two bedroom cabin. “I’m just… a bit nervous.”

“I believe ‘a bit’ is an understatement, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer chimed in from where he remained on the couch. “You seem to be quite nervous.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just… what if he doesn’t wake up?” Plus his arm was still hurting. When was frostbite supposed to stop hurting? How bad did it have to be before amputation became the only option? What if he had to go through that and Benrey never waking up? “What if we killed him for good because of this?”

It would at least partially be Gordon’s fault too. He’s the one who’d first brought up the idea with Benrey even if Darnold was the one who’d suggested this particular trip. All of them knew Benrey was cold-blooded too and thus likely to not respond well to these kinds of temperatures. They, Gordon especially, could’ve all insisted harder he not go. Gordon would’ve of course stayed with him, maybe brought him on a different kind of trip.

Bubby sighed, his scowl softening a little. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“We could slap him and see if he wakes up,” Dr. Coomer added. “My slaps can be a bit extreme so maybe Gordon should do it. Unless extreme is what we want.”

“Let’s not resort to slapping yet,” Bubby said. “Give him another couple hours and then we slap the shit out of him until he either wakes up or is proven to be dead. For now Harold, help me get Gordon to sit down and stay sitting before I slap him instead.”

“On it.” Dr. Coomer stood and turned to face Gordon. “Please have a seat, Dr. Freeman.” He gestured towards where he’d just been sitting. “On this side, closest to Benrey.”

With a sigh, Gordon walked over and sat. He was too anxious to sit still for long but the best pacing path in the room was in front of TV so he undoubtedly was being quite annoying with it. So he’d try for as long as he could and then maybe find a less annoying path when he inevitably started again.

Instead of sitting back down as Gordon would’ve expected, Dr. Coomer walked over to the space heater, Benrey still leaning against it. He bent down and scooped Benrey up into his arms, heated blanket and all, then walked back over to the couch and deposited him on Gordon’s lap. Didn’t give him any chance to even try to protest.

“Oh.” Gordon really had no choice but to take him. Unlike earlier, between being near the heater so long and the electric blanket being on its highest setting, Benrey was warm now.

“And now you can’t move,” Dr. Coomer said as he sat down next to him, Bubby sitting on his other side. “It’s illegal.”

“It’s not illegal and wouldn’t even disturb him if I did. Or did you forget we were literally just talking about slapping him to try to wake him up?”

“You’ll stay.” Dr. Coomer’s tone indicated he knew that with a hundred percent certainty.

Gordon sighed but did lean back and adjust Benrey in his arms. With how cold it was outside, the warmth of the heater and blanket weren’t unwelcome. Maybe he would be able to stay for a while.

***

A tapping on his check woke Benrey. He lifted a hand to try to swat it away because he was warm and cozy and didn’t want to open his eyes yet. His arms were under the warm blanket though, they couldn’t reach. The tapping on his face grew more insistent.

“Benrey, I love you and I’m so, so glad you’re okay but you gotta wake up.” Gordon was whispering directly into his ear. “You’re purring and I don’t know if you’re okay with the others knowing about that or whatever so like… wake up.”

That was about the only thing that could convince Benrey to pull himself the rest of the way out of sleep so he could force the soft purr in his chest to stop. Maybe it would be okay if the others knew but he didn’t know who all ‘the others’ entailed in this instance.

He blinked open his eyes to look up at Gordon. Benrey was on his lap, wrapped in the heated blanket. “Thought you said the blanket was too hot.” They’d cuddled under it once before Gordon declared it uncomfortable.

“Normally it is but not when we’re up in the Rocky Mountains when its below freezing outside. But gosh, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Benrey had rarely felt less not okay. This was great.

Before Gordon could answer… “He’s awake,” Coomer said, prompting Benrey to tilt his head backward to look at him. He was sitting right next to them, killing once and for all the purr in Benrey’s chest. Had he heard the one before? Probably not, right? He was old and the TV and heater were on, creating a drone of noise. Probably, hopefully, Benrey’s cute secret remained as such. “Congrats on not freezing to death, Benrey!”

“See, Gordon, I told you he’d be fine,” Bubby added from Coomer’s other side. “Now, guess I’ll text Tommy and Darnold to let them know too.”

“Why would I have frozen to death?”

“Because,” Gordon replied as Benrey looked back up at him for the answer, “you were literally fucking frozen solid as far as we could tell. You wouldn’t wake up. I was worried for a moment that… I’m glad you’re okay.” He leaned in to kiss Benrey. Not particularly long but still intense, passionate. He’d apparently been quite worried.

Silly. Benrey never stayed hurt or dead. Gordon knew that, it had been a point of annoyance for him once upon a time. But they had established that emotions, especially anxiety and worry, weren’t always logical.

“Sorry. I’m okay though. How long I sleep for?” It felt like a long time.

“About five and a half hours,” Coomer replied.

Wow, not long at all. It must’ve been a very deep sleep. But that thankfully meant he hadn’t missed any of the fun. Or he had, the creeping tiredness had dragged him away from the snowball fight after all. But there could be more of those later, hopefully, there was plenty of snow after all even if it was wretched.

“Tommy wants to know if you still want to go skiing tomorrow,” Bubby chimed in. “Or if you’d rather hang out in the cabin.”

“It’s what we’re here for so why wouldn’t I?”

Gordon gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “Are you sure? I mean like… you froze dude.”

Benrey shrugged. “Don’t wanna come all this way for nothing, right? Maybe um, I won’t stay out that long again though. It kinda sucked.” But he’d been mostly fine for the first couple hours. And if he got to return to this, that discomfort would be more than worth it. A couple hours having fun skiing then a couple hours hanging out in the warmth, maybe with Gordon if he wanted to as well, before going back out sounded nice.

“Okay then if you’re sure. I guess you and I can stay out only a couple hours at a time. Not really long enough to get much done but… maybe it’ll be fine.’

“Sweet.”

[lightdancer1]

And while rewatching the series I've also had a pretty obvious thought about Tara's motivations re: Willow and magic that I use for both meta and my fanfics:

Namely 'Why didn't Tara say anything consistently about Willow's potential magic problems until Season 6 started'. And the simple answer is the elephant in the room that she both lied to Willow for that first year of their relationship and was instantly forgiven and then after that everything with what Willow did with and to Glory to bring her mind back out of her worst nightmare. I sincerely think that Tara was probably anticipating even if she somehow failed to do the demon thing that this habit was going to blow up in her face and then it didn't.

It's one of the areas where one of her flaws, namely being an enabler, contributed and where her own insecurities worked hand in glove with everything with Willow's increasing arrogance for the explosion to a point that I think the main problem with the Season 6 storyline was not so much some of the courses characters took, as it was set up very far back indeed, but the complete switcheroo and back again on how magic works.

Not changing that wouldn't have really changed much, keeping Tara's more nuanced characterization from the previous seasons with a 'yes I made very bad mistakes but I learned from them rather than insisting I didn't,' as I keep noting, would have cost the series nothing and given Tara's moral role greater strength. She was never a saint, but like Giles her own experiences with her own mistakes would have brought greater weight to her noting the flaws in what Willow was doing and the path to the time bomb that is Dark Willow exploding in everyone's faces.

This Watsonian Tara who was deeply flawed has just as strong a case against everything in Season 6 as the Doylist version, and I make a specific point with my use of the Tara resurrection trope to both note that and to provide various nuances accounting for the inevitable thing canon never really tried to do, namely 'if that wasn't really a case of magic abruptly going from lesbianism to crack to lesbianism again, what the Hell was it.'

The Watsonian Willow in turn is blinded by the increasing power of dark magic and her older displays of power trips and what she believes she's doing and very, very self-deluded and extremely dangerous, with Tara essentially seeing the problem, assuming the Slayer can solve it short of the worst case, and bailing for her own safety and the more power to her even if she didn't really bother to inform anyone else what was poised to happen in the ways it did happen.

But I also treat all of this, ultimately, as the real problem being less 'magic addiction' and more the combination of slowly unfolding realization that magic gave a bullying victim with a huge axe to grind absolute power with which to wield the axe and a complete lack of concern for the collateral damage in so doing. This changes very, very little of how things unfold in Season 6 and treating Rack as more of a parasite who dulled people's awareness of what he was actually doing to them with the endorphin rush to obfuscate the truth allows for him to keep the creepier trappings without having to have the magic crack dealer staying precisely that.

And that's the ironic part, keeping strictly within the lines of the rules of all the other 11 seasons doesn't require changing much of anything any of the characters did, as that part was in its own way logical extensions of things. Now the finance plot, OTOH, was a belated bid for realism by people who never had to pay anything on a McJob which even in the 90s couldn't have done shit and it's a case where everything they did with that just gets worse fractally the more it's looked at.

It was a poorly structured bid for realism that failed because the bid ignored how much of the underlying assumptions were....not realistic. And that this same stressful financial situation miraculously disappears with the implosion of Sunnydale through Season 7 and all those Potentials plus the Scoobies plus Spike miraculously had consistent power, water, and food without this being a time bomb of a different sort shows why the realism for Season 6 was an avoidable mistake.

If they could handwave that, they could have handwaved the other and had Buffy's depression over her resurrection stay about where it was anyway.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #11: Dollhouse

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The bed was bought from a garage sale, a cheap but sturdy thing from somewhere downtown. It came with a matching nightstand, so Heather had that taken care of. She considered buying a lamp, but giving Jackie anything close to a weapon was a bad idea. 

“What do you mean, a brush that isn’t sharp?”

Heather tried her best to sound polite. “I mean, if someone tries to stab me with that toothbrush, they won’t get very far. Something like that.”

The general store employee gave her an odd look, so Heather gave up and bought the least dangerous looking one. The mattress was ordered online. Heather was able to buy a few sets of clothes, alongside gloves and a new pair of black boots that would fit better than the old shoes Heather had let him borrow. She acquired a stronger light bulb, a nicer blanket, a pillow, and a shell-white bedsheet. A writing desk would be necessary for certain experiments, so she blew a few bucks on that. And a better chair, of course. Heather knew she was getting carried away when she almost bought a rug.

Three days passed before she could acquire everything. She didn’t visit Jackie in that time. She had left him food and water, obviously, and assumed he would figure the rest out by himself. She had enough on her hands with all the boxes in her living room, and the incessant calls. There were so many calls.

Heather lifted the phone for what must have been the sixth time that hour. “What is it now?”

“Heather, please!”

She heard that word a lot lately. Heather hung up without a moment’s hesitation. The phone rang again, however. It would keep ringing unless she answered. Her old boss was a determined man, even if he was a tad oblivious. 

She lifted the phone again. “Listen, I’ll let you talk once. But this is the last time you call me, or I’m placing a restraining order.”

“Yes, of course.” There was a deep exhale on the other side of the line. “Heather, the organization needs you. Nobody else can work on that project. You were our best asset, face it. Half these idiots don’t even know how to operate a Bunsen burner. We need you.”

“Nice speech, but don’t kid yourself. You need my money.”

“So what? Maybe we need your money. The coffee machine ran out of coffee three weeks ago! Come back, and we’ll give you the highest position possible. All the benefits. Come on, you’re a reasonable person, you gotta come back.”

Heather brought the box cutter out of a drawer. “Yeah, thanks, but I’m legally not allowed back there. Go find someone else to leech off.”

“You tried to drug one intern, who cares?”

“The police!” she snapped. “If the higher-ups hear of this, the authorities will get involved, and I know you can't afford a lawyer. Don’t call me again.” 

“Fine, fine. But it doesn’t have to be official, you know, just come with the money and we’ll collaborate in private. No more drugging the interns, but we’ll get some monkeys, whatever. What else are you planning? You aren’t working with someone new already, are you?”

“It’s been a month. What did you expect?” Heather ran the boxcutter along the taped edge of the bedframe’s box. “I’ve got another project. I’m not coming back. Goodbye.”

With that, she hung up and cut the last of the tape off. Damned bureaucrats. Sticking their nose where the money was like a pack of bloodhounds. Had all the politeness of a stray dog, too. Heather was done with them.

The research facility she used to work at had been dreadfully boring. Her colleagues shared different interests, to say the least. Benevolent, but horribly tedious interests. It was challenging, working on curing glioblastoma cancer, but she didn’t really care about curing diseases. She wanted to break the boundaries of what was considered science. She wanted to tear the universe apart and mesh it back together by her own design. Curing cancer was fine, but it was nothing compared to immortality. Those mice pumped full of steroids and painkillers were nothing in the shadow of Jackie Rockwell. 

Speaking of, Heather was ready to check up on him. A thick, black scarf had been tossed aside on a sofa. She grabbed it, made her way across the hallway, then knocked on the basement door.

“Who’s there?”

She rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Very funny.”

“Very funny who?”

Good to know he was awake, at least. She turned the lock and swung the door open. Jackie lay sprawled on the floor, still tangled in the blanket, surrounded by empty granola bar wrappers. 

Heather waved her box cutter at him. “What are you doing?”

He froze. His neutral expression shifted into slight alarm. It reminded her of the incident, as she’d taken to thinking of it, after she had cut him open. That made her guilt weigh a little heavier. And that made her anger burn a little brighter. She had no idea what past Heather was thinking. Hugging her test subject was one of the most unprofessional situations she could think of. The worst part was that it had actually felt nice—but that didn't make any sense! Heather was not lonely. She was alone, but not lonely. 

All she wanted was to forget about that mistake and move on with the experiments. That was nothing but a misstep, a fumble in the first half of the game. Nothing more.

“It’s not for you.” She pushed the blade closed and pocketed it. “Unless you decide to do something stupid.”

He relaxed, sighed, and sat up. “I’m not doing anything. There’s nothing to do here.”

“You’ll be happy with the change of scenery, then.” She stepped down the stairs. “Close your eyes.”

“I'm getting deja vu.” He closed them anyway. 

Heather stepped behind him and wrapped the scarf around his eyes, twice. “Can you see anything?”

He shook his head. 

“Excellent.” She pulled him up by the arms, and he staggered to his feet. “Follow my lead. Don’t take the blindfold off.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Exactly.” 

With her hands firmly on his shoulders, she steered him up the stairs and out of the basement, then up another flight of stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. There, she led him into a closet.

He felt for the walls, pushing his hands upon the sides. "Is this another experiment?"

"No. I have business to attend to. I don't want you running off in the meantime."

"The blindfold's a bit unnecessary."

"Is it?” She shut the closet door, then locked it. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t make too much of a mess.”

First of all, his room was filthy. The basement was splattered with blood and ash, filled with junk, and smelled like a slaughterhouse. The empty mirror was easy enough to move. The old dresser was pushed out without much effort, as were the remains of the table. The freezer was harder. She rolled it upstairs on an appliance dolly, as slowly as possible. 

Bloodstains weren’t hard to clean. Piles of peroxide powder scattered over the floor broke down the copper-red splotches, while she cleared out the garbage and rotting food. Dusting and sweeping took a good ten or fifteen minutes. Clumps of dust and flakes of charcoal soon lay in the bottom of a black garbage bag. 

The smell was harder to get rid of, now that it had time to seep in and settle, but she managed to cover it up with a few sprays of air freshener. Twenty minutes were spent on setting up the furniture, building the bed frame and putting the mattress on, then moving everything else into place.

By the end, Heather had to admit she was proud of her work. She never knew interior design could be so entertaining. That stillness, that empty perfection—it was all so fascinating. It reminded her of a diorama. After all, the room was primarily a safe environment for her subject. A contained space to observe him. An insect in a glass jar. A doll in a dollhouse.

Jackie was leaning against the closet wall when she came back. “Took you long enough.”

“Did I say you could take the blindfold off?”

“It’s a closet, what’s the big deal?”

She ripped the scarf from his grasp and placed it back over his head, despite his irritated expression. “Stop complaining. Come on.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Once they reached the basement, she lifted the scarf away. 

He rubbed his eyes. He walked around the room in sprawling circles. He sat down on the bed, at last. His arms fell gently into his lap. Then, he looked back at her over his shoulder, eyes full of an apathetic uneasiness, and did not move. There was something very candid about it.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s stupid,” he replied at once. “Do you wanna know why I think it’s stupid?”

“No.”

“You’re putting so much effort into this,” he continued. “You think this is going to be a permanent thing. It’s ridiculous. It’s a waste of your time. It’s a waste of my time. You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I can’t?” She smiled, faintly amused. “You’re right. Forever is a long time. It’s only until one of us dies.”

“I will kill you.” That candid air snapped as he rose to his feet. 

“Oh, you can try. If you need me to teach you another lesson—“ She pulled out the box cutter from her pocket, pushing the blade open—“I’d be happy to help.”

He sat back down, simmering with rage. “I can’t wait to see you rotting in prison, you fucking creep.”

“Oh, boo hoo. I’m a monster because I gave you a home. You have to live here, so what? I’m the one doing all the work. I’m the one taking care of you.” She pointed at him with the blade. “All you have to do is sit there and be quiet.”

“I have a home!” he snarled. “I already have a home! I don’t want you to take care of me. I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me and keep me in your fucking basement. I don’t want to be your fucking test subject. I want to go back home, back to my home. I want to leave.”

“We don’t always get what we want, do we? If whining about it makes you happy, then you can keep whining. You can kick and scream the entire way. You’re still not leaving.” His glare only dug into her harder, and she sighed. “Try thinking of this in a positive way. It’s not all bad.”

“Yes, I’m sure a positive attitude will fix everything,” he replied tartly.

“A positive attitude will make you less insufferable. Just a suggestion. Maybe there’s a reason you used to live alone.”

“All because I didn’t say thank you to the psycho who kidnapped me.” He crossed his arms. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? That’s a great way to make friends, isn’t it? Hey, maybe people would like you more if you didn’t rip their intestines out. Just a suggestion, you know. Maybe people wouldn’t think you were such a freak if—“

“Do you want to eat dinner or not?”

“I want to break your neck. Go to hell.”

Oh, how dare he. How dare he. Heather wanted to make him suffer for that. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to—but she needed to take her own advice and think logically for a moment. Of course he was angry. Who wouldn't be? He was scared, she knew that, and anger was how he tried to protect himself. Anger was his tooth and claw when he lost all his other weapons. It was only natural, even if it was idiotic. He'd see her point eventually. He'd get used to it. She didn't need to starve him. 

"It's alright," she said. "You're upset. I'll get you something to eat."

"You want to drug me again, don't you?” He scoffed. “I'll pass."

"You'll change your mind."

His expression said otherwise, but he would cave in eventually. Like rusted metal, all things could be worn down with time. Like frayed fabric, like rocky shores, like entire mountains. Who was Jackie in the face of all these things? Only a man, only an animal without any claws. Even an immortal couldn't win against the nature of things. The second hand would wear him down, sooner or later.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

[card-manor]

The girls arriving to the Devildom

|| assuming different timelines

Alice

Mad, frustrated and confused, but none of that really mattered in that moment-

“Send me back!”

“We can’t do that, you’ve agreed to join the exchange-“

“No no! I left a fire on!”

Alice is sent back to her study for just long enough to turn off the bunsen burner and shut off all the power from the main breaker, just in case. Before she can throw together a bag, she’s pulled back to the Devildom.

Now without having to worry about her house burning down, Alice can stand still long enough to listen to the welcome speech and simmer in her rage.

She mulls over the injustice of it all for a few days, anger coming to a boiling point when yet again she gets not-so-passive aggressively slammed into her locker between classes.

Fucking isekai ass program

But, despite her better judgement, she finds herself obsessing over her classes- now 4 chapters deep into her alchemy textbook before the first week is over. Entirely new fields of science were hers to explore, undiluted and unregulated chemicals readily available

If nothing else, she was going to have f-u-n this year

Carmafe

Resigned but can’t deny the excitement bubbling underneath. Or maybe it’s hysteria, it’s a little hard to tell.

She listens to the prepared speech, only growing a little reluctant when calling Mammon and hearing him swear up a storm over having to keep watch over her. He comes to lead her back to the dorms, but she hesitantly raises her hand, unsure of the protocol. Amused, Lord Diavolo beckons her to speak.

“Excuse me for speaking out of turn , but may I be returned to the human realm for a bit? There are some things I need to handle if I’m going to be away for so long, but I only need 4 hours.”

Lord Diavolo initially denies her request, but Carmafe has experience in diplomacy. She argues her point for a few minutes and it impresses (or amuses) Lord Diavolo enough that he allows her to return for 2 hours. She catches sight of the men with gloves standing next to each other, one indifferent, one irate, and knew this was going to be a one time request so she better make it account.

Having recently completed her final job, and since she hadn’t accepted any new contracts yet, it only took 30 minutes for Carmafe to set up an automated message saying she would be unavailable for the foreseeable future and set up a mailing list for her return.

The next 30 minutes were a mass phone call to her 4 friends, telling them she would be MIA for a while and asking them to take care of her house while she was gone. Since she wasn’t allowed to tell them about the exchange program, 25 of those 30 minutes were spent reassuring them that she wasn’t actually going to just off herself and call it a one year vacation.

She uses the last hour to cram as much as she can into her suitcase. Bottles of body soap, toothbrushes, toothpase, first aid supplies, essentials. Near the end, 3 sets of clothes, hoodies, and her favorite novel for comfort. Right as she zips up the suitcase and straightens up, she’s back in the devildom with her audience of 8.

“Thank you for the honor, I’m excited to start the school year..”

Danny

Tries to jump out of the window

LISTEN, she came out of an unexpected sleep only to be surrounded by 7 super tall and buff men in a meeting hall she doesnt recognize? Absolutely not, this is how you lose your organs.

She doesn’t make it far, getting yanked back down to the ground by a dude with gloves and dark red eyes. “Lord Diavolo” gets Lucifer to drop her, and after giving Danny a minute to get oriented, goes through the whole “exchange program” spiel.

The knowledge that everyone and everything here would be capable and willing to kill her was not lost on Danny, but she has to admit, the concept of a demon school and magic was far too enticing to worry over the logistics for too long.

Annoys Mammon on the walk to the House Of Lamentation by openly staring at everything and trying to touch every plant on the walk over, accumulating 10 cuts and scrapes by the time they’re through the gate.

Excitement is quickly shot down when she walks into her room and realizes she only has 2 uniforms, a toothbrush, some toothpaste, and the clothes on her back to her name.

Rose

Gaslighting 101 and “Cook and clean for 7 messy guys? No paycheck? No thanks!”

“I never signed the agreement.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You quite literally did.”

“That’s not how I write my signature.”

Honestly unsure what to make of her situation, but ultimately decides to roll with it. Flirts with Asmo, and has to keep the smirk off her face when he’s surprised that his powers don’t work on her.

Super grateful to see that her bedroom door has double locks but already has plans to install a full security system and tinkers with the phone that was given to her.

Roxanne

Pure confusion, but not about to fight her way out of this.

Puts up the least amount of fight but has a sense of wonder and intrigue at the prospect of magic and returning to school.

Doesn’t let Mammon abandon her when levi starts demanding money, she sees his plan coming a mile away and sneaks off to her room before either man can realize she’s gone.

School! School…. School.

In the silence of her room, the reality of her situation threatens to overwhelm her and instead of lingering on her anxiety, Roxie starts to reorganize and take inventory of her borrowed room. Thankfully, they seem to forget she’s in the house and no one calls her down to dinner.

[trickster-jpeg]

I Paced Around For Hours On Empty, I Jumped At The Slightest Of Sounds.

Summary: Jake’s experience with being trapped in a sarcophagus, and a healthy dose of claustrophobia.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 980 It's On AO3 -> Here

All Jake could see was darkness. While that could be taken as some kind of edgy, metaphorical statement of his character, in this moment all he could literally see was darkness. He’d been hidden away in headspace, unable to do anything as he watched Harrow lift the gun and fire it square into their chest.

They’d been surrounded by water, because of course it was fitting that they’d die in the water after escaping it as a child. Their life had come full circle to land when all of this truly first started. Dying alone wasn’t the nicest thing to have to do, but he was just glad that Marc and Steven had each other as they did it. He was terrified. Born out of a need to protect them. Born to shield them from the absolute worst of it, to keep them safe from the shadows. And he’d failed to do that.

He thought it was all over, until he woke up to darkness. Eyes wide open, and he couldn’t see a thing. Were his eyes even open? He reached up gently to move his hands to feel his eyelids. When they connected with a poke and a stinging pain, he assumed they were. It was just really fucking dark.

Where the hell was he? Where were they? Them. Marc and Steven. All of a sudden, Jake became so incredibly aware of the complete disconnect he felt from his counterparts. Radio silence. It was like they were just gone. They couldn’t be gone. How could he know they were alright if he couldn’t feel them? If he wasn’t there with them to make sure that they were safe.

He had to find them.

Blindly, he tried to surge forward where he stood and run into the darkness, a new found drive that kickstarted with a jolt of energy. And within not even half a second, he hit his head on something directly in front of him, his legs not even being able to move properly let alone take a step forward. Assuming he was just facing a wall, he moved to turn and go the other way. Which was when he realised he couldn’t turn around, not even by a fraction. In a panic, he tried to turn himself the other way only the be met with the same dilemma. He was boxed in.

What if they hadn’t died, not properly? Maybe it was some kind of sick joke and Jake was sat conscious in his own dead body. What if for some fucked up reason Marc and Steven had gone dormant? Who knows how long he could be in here, completely stuck and alone. What was ‘here’, a box? What if he was in a coffin? What if they were being buried? Was he being buried alive?

In an instant, he raised his hands to start frantically hitting at the wall in front of him. The pain that bloomed in his fists was instant as he bashed them against the coarse stone, sanding down his knuckles only to have its thirst quenched as his blood started to stain it. Panic rose further at the realisation he didn’t have his gloves. He wasn’t wearing them. Why would he be? No one knew he had them except Khonshu.

Khonshu. He could get them out of it. He’d be able to help Jake like he’d helped Marc that night in the desert. No. He would’ve been able to help. But he was gone. Just like Marc. Just like Steven. Just like everyone. It was just him and the dark and the fucking coffin he was trapped in and for once he had no clue how he was going to get himself out of this problem.

Honestly, he was almost tempted to start head butting it, if nothing else worked to open it at least he’d be able to knock himsef unconscious and relieve suffering through this purgatory. His chest heaved and his bones cracked as he continued to struggle in place. He spat strings of curses, both english and spanish, fluctuating from angry to frantic to scared to desperate.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME? HARROW- HIJO DE PUTA I WILL KILL YOU WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS- LET ME OUT OF HERE NOW-“

From an existence formed around trauma, it was understandable that he had some issues. One of those being his hatred confined spaces. So much of his childhood revolved around them, for protection, for punishment, for comfort, for fear. When they were controlled, when he could dictate them and have that micromanagement, a tangible way to remove himself if needed, then he’d be fine. Almost prefer them in a way.

But when it was forced, when he was shut away because he ‘deserved’ it, or when he saw it as his only option to stay trapped and hidden or exposed and endangered, that was when he couldn’t handle it. Locked rooms were fine as long as he held the key to dictate when it was unlocked. As soon as it became like some sort of cage, he’d be consumed with the overwhelming urge to claw out by any means possible.

Overwhelmed, and frustrated to no end, his movements started to slow. He grew more sluggish and his hits became heavier with less weight behind them as he started to realise all of his fight was fucking useless. It wasn’t going to move. He was stuck in there. Trapped. Waiting to die, or to be freed, or whatever the fuck would happen. Which is why he closed his eyes and tried to go somewhere else. Somewhere open, where he wasn’t completely shut in.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when it changed. But at some point, it did. And when he opened his eyes, he stuck face to face, sat in an office staring at Arthur fucking Harrow.

[asirensrage]

Find The Words!

I got tagged by @residentdormouse in this. Thanks! This is going to be fun! I tried to keep it to things I haven't posted or shared yet.

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story of you want. But honestly, guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: White, Cold, Snow, Frost, Ice, Gloves, Hat, Cocoa (or Tea), Blanket, Snuggle/cuddle (or any variation of this)

No pressure tags: @chickensarentcheap @ninjasawakenedmystar @mabonetsamhain @arrthurpendragon @faithfire-writes @starcrossedjedis and anyone else interested.

Your words: Deception, Ship, Register, Bike, Chair, Leather, Record, Dog, Cream, Gun.

White - (from my Demon Slayer wip The Sacrifice....)

“Apologies,” a woman says. “You did not hear me.” The woman is tiny, dressed with a white coat and a large butterfly clip in her hair. It’s easy to assume she’s the doctor but she looks as though she could blow away in the wind.

Cold - (from my Tokyo Revengers wip Saudade)

Takara ties the laces together and tries not to wince as her feet quickly get cold. She hangs the roller blades around the back of her neck, letting them rest just under her arms. It’s not going to be comfortable, but since Mikey had basically demanded she comply, he could deal with them digging into his back for all she cared. 

Snow - (from my original wip for a Divergent isekai oc Quest)

Since Groucho won’t talk to me, I whistle as we walk. If it happens to be the whistle song from Snow White…well that’s on Groucho here.  A muscle in his jaw is twitching by the time we reach the kitchen.  “Hey Ram! How much did these people eat today?” I call out. The not Steve Rogers looks over at me. He still looks like he’s going to cut me. 

Frost - from the wip part 3 of Unexpected Company - my oc Emma and Eddie Munson)

 “You’re not half bad.” “No?” “I didn’t attempt to pierce my eardrums with a fork, so no.”  “Well that would be a shame,” he says. “Might not be invited back with that kind of trauma in the audience.”  “You could say it was visual effects.” “Even when you’re in the hospital?”  “All part of the act.”  He laughs at that. “Quite an act, Frost. Maybe you should head to Hollywood.” “Can’t,” she says. “Banned. Too many deals with the devil there.” 

Ice - (I just wrote this earlier today for my Tokyo Revengers oc Takara)

She eventually skids to a stop, feeling more like herself. Her mother had forced her into ice skating in return for playing hockey. She never thought it would work like this. The repeated motions work better than any therapy. 

Gloves - (from my My Hero Academia wip Dig My Grave (take my hand))

Sayuri sits on the ground, letting the cold seep in through the floor. Eri is fast asleep on the bed, drained from the experiments done on her. Every time she closes her eyes, she hears Eri’s screams. She sees the way the girl was bound in that chair, Kai leaning over her and taking his gloves off as his man drew blood. Fury rolls through her. She’s getting the kid out. No matter what.

Hat - ...apparently the only mention I've ever written of a hat was Hoppers in Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down and I already posted those scenes...

Cocoa (or Tea) - (I also don't write cocoa...but I do write about tea. At least in my MHA fic...)

Sayuri stares at the small animal that makes up UA’s principal. “Yes, please.” She watches carefully as he pours out tea for both of them before he takes his cup and sits back. Sayuri picks her cup up with her left hand and carefully sips it. It’s light.  “How are you finding your accommodations?” 

Blanket - (from a Sons of Anarchy fic I started and haven't gone back to yet lol)

The phone was ringing. Again.  Her hand shot out from under the covers, smacking down on the nightstand before rummaging around, trying to find it. She yanked it free of the charger as she pulled it under the blanket and answered.  “Hello?” she asked, wondering who the hell was calling her.  “Dad’s dead.” That woke her up.  “What?” “Dad’s dead. Police just called. Apparently, he still had me listed as an emergency contact.”  “God damn it.” She shoved the blanket down and sat up. “Okay. I’m up. Sort of.” She pushed her hair back before running a hand down her face. “Now what?”

Snuggle/Cuddle - (I could only find this in a SPN fic I wrote AGES ago and only posted on ffn, so here...)

"Alright! Magic Fingers!" Dean exclaimed and I turned to raise an eyebrow at him before moving to the bed furthest from the door. "Right, have fun snuggling on that bed." I tossed my bag on the bed and turned to see Sam and Dean sharing awkward looks before playing rock paper scissors. "Son of a bitch!" Dean muttered with a longing glance at the bed. Sam won.

[wind-sage-serin]

If you aren’t interested in the baneful magic thing I’ve been doing to friggin move on with my life and let go, you should probably just keep scrolling. But if you’re interested, below this cut is my experience so far.

This spell work is entirely for the sake of ensuring that someone never ever comes into contact with me again by absolutely tearing the person several new ones.

After I placed red pepper and my nails into the curse box everything went nuts. I got called the next day by his wife as she assumed he was in an affair with me. I was not. I learned of a lot more disgusting actions he supposedly has taken so that’s also why I’m doing this— I’m no longer his only victim. For the sake of her privacy I won’t be discussing the gritty details of her side of things (not my place), but suffice it to say it’s enough that it drew blood.

Before you say “why would you put something that’s a part of your body in there??”— I don’t consider my nails a part of my body, not after I cut them, they end up in the trash otherwise. I have dissociated what was a “part of me” and thrown it away. Additionally, it’s more the hair that is associated with a witch’s magical power, and the nails are more negatively associated.

In Japanese tradition you’re not supposed to leave them in open spaces as spirits and witches will take and use them for evil. In a few Jewish traditions they’re meant to be disposed of ritually and kept short, especially during grieving periods. Nails, unlike hair, have less personal power attached to them as hair does.

Symbolically, I am giving the person the box was meant for the part of himself that he grafted onto me— the part he convinced me was “me” but was little more than an emulation of himself. By putting the nails in the box, I’m permitting the mirror he tried to construct within me the permission it needs to wreck his shit.

My nails are also really sharp when long, so putting them in the box is the grafted personality directly attacking. Animals use their claws, after all, to fight for their right to live. And I’ve earned it.

So no, I don’t think nails and hair work the same for baneful magic at all. Nails are attacking, hair is defensive. You’d be much better suited to use your own hair in a spell for loving yourself.

Another tip for that: if you don’t want to use your nails, get black nail polish that’s good at peeling off easily, get it in black for drawing out the negative energy, and when you feel it’s time, peel it off and use it instead of nails.

Now that it’s all sealed up, it’s time I tell you all the things that went into it:

1. A ceramic disc with a rare element in it (the cursed object that best encapsulates it all and the epicenter of attachment)

2. A thorn from a bush (the bitter side of sweet, it’s also a huge 2" thorn too, represents the knife stuck in my back)

3. Rose thorns from the decaying part of the bush (cursed with a decaying love)

4. A few rusty nails (items the fae wanted me to put in there, guess they’ll be getting in on the action)

5. A perfect “glove” of my pet gecko’s shed skin (to never feel comfortable in one’s skin again)

6. Every hematite ring I’ve ever broken (4-5 rings total, all the energy left over the years of agony will haunt the person)

7. Clipped fingernails (constant scratches and attacks from the fake personality he made up to harm me)

8. Red chili flakes (to make him stop talking about me)

9. A ticket to the 2018 Slender Man movie i saw with him (to invoke paranoia)

10. Crushed selenite/ “stardust” (simulates the Ash Phoenix Isthangr’s Cremated Remains, which are Ganim’s version of Hell)

11. A clipped feather dropped in our front yard from a small wild bird (I clip the upper plumulaceous portion and save it to burn so it can never be reunited with the lower plume and calamus, which are shoved into the box through a narrow crevice, represents “clipping one’s wings” to keep them from taking off)

12. Beeswax (seals the box closed pretty well, couldn’t brute force it if I tried, represents the Six sealing in the evil)

13. Teal candle wax (the least favorite color, used to add insult to injury)

14. Dolomite on Pyrite (standard “gift rock” he often gave when he didn’t have a gift, using that “gift” as an anchor that represents a stone-cold heart)

15. Black jute cord holding rock to box (binding the anchor to the box, ensnaring him in his final fate)

16. Black candle wax dropped all over rock (to blot out any positive associations with the rock and to completely seal the curse in place)

Since I’m going up to Wisconsin for vacation, the next step is (logically) to release it. I intend on ritually dropping it into the water. Though it isn’t anywhere near as many shipwrecks compared to Superior, Lake Michigan still is (in some places) a shipwreck graveyard. The final step, allowing the stone to drag the box into the deep, will have the intended effect of amplifying his greatest fears. He’s terrified of heights and that extends to not being able to touch the bottom when swimming, and he’s terrified of death, which the box will forever be surrounded by.

Am I a monster for going to this length? Perhaps. But after what I have gone through and what his wife is allegedly going through in this moment, I can’t stand for it any longer. Once I get back from vacation, I’ll be following up with a return-to-sender for the remaining malice (found through an egg cleanse) as well as a cord-cutting candle ritual for the sake of ridding myself of this wretch.

[labrats-and-clonetroopers]

"Risks" Ahsoka Tano x Chase Davenport Oneshot, Star Wars: The Clone Wars/Lab Rats: Elite Force Crossover

Masterlist 

Star Wars Masterlist 

Lab Rats/Mighty Med/Elite Force Masterlist 

LR/MM/EF x Star Wars [Ahsoka Tano/Chase Davenport] Masterlist

Request Guidelines 

Synopsis:

She didn't intend to fall in love with him. 

Well, maybe she did, but in her defense, she used to be Anakin's padawan. And his life experiences are not always the wisest to follow.

______________________

Ahsoka Tano. Jedi Padawan. Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic. 

Fulcrum. The superhero that isn’t really one of their kind. A vagabond who tried to keep her eyes ahead and not on her past, not on the family she left behind.

Ahsoka Tano. Member of Davenport Industries’ Elite Force. The only real loyalty bound to a desire to do some good, rather than the lofty ideals Skylar Storm aspires to, the superhero code of their order that’s shattering from within.

Ahsoka is tired of codes.  

Funny thing is, so is he.

_________________________________

She remembers the day they met. The day she had reluctantly agreed to aid Tecton in his mission to track down the Incapacitator.

She had sensed that Tecton’s assumptions were off. That the emotions of the teens interrogating Kaz and Oliver were just as defensive and confused as their own. Emotions not consistent with being henchmen of the Incapacitator, who had always been known to work alone anyways. 

But Tecton didn’t give her a chance to voice her concerns, singularly focused on his task, making the first move before she could get a word in edgewise. Launching himself at Adam, grappling strength against strength. Bree went after Gamma Girl. 

And Chase, whom she had already deduced to be their leader dove underneath Granite’s spear and brought the hero to the ground. He held out his arm, his laser bo manifesting in his hand. 

Ahsoka ignited her own lightsabers, and launched herself at him. 

He parried the blow, managing to keep up with her attacks. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Gamma Girl go down, Tecton following. She flipped backward, using a force push to send her opponent flying into the next room. 

She barely turned her back when her lightsabers are torn from her hands. She looked back in disbelief as Chase grabbed them out of the air. 

Before she could regroup, an alert blared, and a man appeared on the screen imbedded into the wall, crying for help. 

And the truth was finally established, their opponents not the foes Tecton had assumed. 

She walked back over to him then, holding out her hand. “My lightsabers.”

He hesitated before his gloved hand placed them in her palm. She clipped them back onto her belt, vaguely aware of the other bionic teens chattering excitedly to the superheroes. 

“You’re a formidable opponent,” he complimented.

“So are you,” she replied. 

And she knew then, even if only mildly, she was intrigued. 

___________________________________

That interest was simmering in the back of her mind when Mr. Davenport introduced the team to each other. And while Chase seemed weirded out to be getting involved with superheroes and aliens, he also had no trouble adapting to the hazards it presented. 

After Skylar’s rescue, she decides to tease him about it, challenge his stance a little. See if maybe she had misread him during their brief conversations at Mighty Med. 

“C’mon, Genius. Are you really disappointed to be working with me?”

And she had meant that to refer to her combat skills that he’d dueled against, to the mutual respect that had been established in that moment. But now that she’s heard it come out of her mouth it sounds more flirtatious. Too forward. 

With the way he’s looking at her, it seems he’s trying to decipher her intentions too. He eventually answers, “No. I’d be an idiot to.” 

“Good” she smirks. “Because otherwise, I’d have to remind you.”

___________________________________

If she’s honest with herself, she wouldn’t be able to answer whether spending so much time with him was intentional or accidental. She does know that she enjoys it: the meditating, sparring, designing the mission suit prototypes and building things. It’s nostalgic, working with mechanics, she learned everything from Anakin. It’s nostalgic for him too, remembering his father, remembering Leo. And it feels so fragile, sharing all these memories. 

And fragile and relatively new as their kinship might be, she knows she wants him. She wants his hazel eyes, to run her fingers through his short, spiky hair. She wants his goofy smile and strategic mind. 

She wants him to be hers, because he already feels like her best friend, and they have the potential to be more, to be lovers. 

And the potential to be powerful as well. 

___________________________________

She gets an inkling of how dangerous he is, of how really dangerous he could be, the day he accomplishes what the superhero world spent millennia trying to understand. 

She doesn’t even think he understands the gravity of what he’s done, getting Skylar Storm’s powers back. What this means to the culture that’s crumbling, to their enemies, should this become known. 

She knows that not being a true superhero had been her own advantage when thriving in this chaos before, what caused the name of Fulcrum to be respected and feared.

And resented. 

His advantage is clear, and she can’t ever be more glad than now, in this moment, that she had convinced Kaz and Oliver to seek help from Mr. Davenport after Mighty Med’s destruction. Despite Skylar’s severe reluctance. 

And yet what seems so plain to her military-trained mind, is ultimately lost on the rest of the team. They steadily push him to the side, diminished. And she’s concerned, for him yes, but also for the team. Have they forgotten who they’re up against? Have they forgotten the infrastructure of the superhero world has collapsed? The Elite Force needs its structure, the strength of all its members, or they’ll never survive. 

But ever since Skylar regained her powers, Ahsoka’s own voice has lost the weight it once carried. And slowly, whether she’s spending time with them or him, she finds herself becoming invisible, forgotten. 

It’s a different kind of pain, not one she’s used to. Not like her identity’s fading; she lost that long ago. Rather it’s a kind of fear, that no matter where she roamed, the Jedi Order would be only place where she could feel loved. 

And returning after Caldera, that nearly solidifies the fear into a belief. An unwanted conviction climbing around her throat and blinding her eyes. 

Blind, yes, that’s what crying feels like. Pain blurring what precious little sight one has left. 

She doesn’t expect him to leave them and come looking for her. To find her, but she tries hard to dry her eyes once she senses him, though she knows that won’t hide everything. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She frowns, shrugs, uncertain if she should just keep her feelings to herself. Skylar is his friend after all, and she doesn’t want to ruin that. But the gentle way he’s looking at her…she needs someone she can be honest with. She hasn’t had that in so long. 

“It’s just…hard. Watching Skylar be welcomed as a member of a family after her home’s been destroyed. When I lost the Jedi Order and came back to Mighty Med…I didn’t get that welcome. Skylar especially made it very clear that I didn’t belong.” She shrugs. “But I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I stayed anyways.” She sighs. 

He’s silent for a moment. “Do you not think of this as home?”

“Do you?” she counters. 

He holds her gaze, then huffs a humorless laugh. “I get what you mean.” And leans back against the wall, shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “No, I can’t think of this as a home.” He takes a breath, “And that may not be something either of us can change. But,” and his eyes have found hers again, “until they wake up and realize how much they need you, I’ll be here. I’ll do my best to be whatever you need me to be.”

She smiles. “Thank you,” she says softly. “If you ever need someone to talk to…”

“I’ll know where to look,” he finishes. 

________________________________

She knows what he thinks about two members dating, that it would ruin the whole dynamic. And she knows the risk it poses to any friendship, that taking it to something more may mean the former could never be reclaimed. 

Only she’s never been good at following the rules. Call it consequences of Anakin’s example or simply willful ignorance, it’s been a part of her character for a considerable while. 

It shouldn’t matter anyways when Oliver and Skylar are upstairs, on the balcony, enjoying a date. The boundaries have already been bent, so why shouldn’t she break them? 

“You know, when I agreed to help you with your shape-shifting serum, I didn’t expect that to entail digging in the dirt for…” she holds up one of the squirmy creatures in question, “what is it you called them, earthworms?”

Chase drops another into the jar. “I didn’t expect it’d bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” She shrugs. “I’ve watched Anakin eat worse.”

He makes a face. “You know, I think your mentor might’ve been even weirder than mine.”

“Compared to your father or Douglas?”

He considers. “Possibly both.” 

She chuckles at that, placing two more earthworms in with the others. “You think that’s enough? You only made like five vials of that serum.” 

“Seven,” he corrects. “And yeah, that’s enough.” 

They stand up, Ahsoka dusting the dirt off her hands. “You know if this serum works, we’ll be able to end this genocide before it really begin.” 

“I know. The next time they shape-shift into any non-human form, they’ll be unable to transform back. We’ll just need to figure out a way to inject them with the serum.” 

“I don’t think it’ll be too difficult to deceive them,” she muses. “They’ll expect us to fight them the way superheroes always do, power clashing against power…Just let me handle that part of the equation and I’ll make sure Roman and Riker are too busy to even see the needle.” 

“I take it you’re used to rushing into things,” he teases. 

“Not always,” she responds. “I value a good strategic plan…but one also has to be adaptable.”

“I see your point,” he acquiesces. 

And she studies him, tilting her head. “I’m not sure you do.”

His brow furrows. “I’m pretty sure I understood…”

“Really?” She smirks, stepping closer. 

“Well, are you going to explain it to me then?”

And she takes that moment, that risk, in closing the distance and kissing his lips. She pulls away to find his face flushed crimson. “That…was not what I was expecting,” he stammers out, “But I can say that I absolutely agree with your point now.” 

She smiles, and takes a hold of his hand as they walk back down the tunnels to Mission Command. 

She knows the road ahead of them is dark, and will likely lead to unexpected places. 

But she realizes that it’s done that already. 

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 8 Part 2 - Meeting

You can hear a conversation taking place. It sounds like Nobori. He's speaking with someone but you can't hear the other person's responses.

"Ah, I see. Well, they seem to be getting along just fine, all things considered," Nobori says.

Your eyes open, looking up at the ceiling. Turning your head to the right, you find Nobori facing towards the wall. Glancing around, you take note of a desk and chair, a nightstand, even a small dresser. This certainly isn't your room. Nobori notices your movements and comes to the bedside. "(Y/N), how are you feeling? Dr. Colress and I were worried Kudari may have hurt you, albeit unintentionally. He's likely back in his room by now." Nobori grabs the chair from the desk and pulls it to the bed, sitting down. "Dr. Colress was very upset. He asked me to bring you here to check on you." Bending forward, resting his elbows above his knees, he begins to squeeze one hand within the other. He must have returned recently, as he's wearing his coat, gloves, and make up.

Still slightly groggy, you respond, "I'm fine. You were the one that brought me here?"

"Yes, I carried you from the second floor. Kudari was adamant he didn't injure you. He professes that you are his best friend." He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders to signal his confusion about Kudari's statement.

You attempt to explain what happened, "No, he didn't hurt me. I'm just not a fan of spiders. When I told him they were scary, he tried to prove me wrong. You can probably guess how that turned out. He said he cut the power so he could meet me."

"Yes, Dr. Colress was able to deduce the power outage was Kudari's doing. According to him, he was going to set up a time for you to become acquainted with Kudari." Nobori comes to a realization and states matter-of-factly, "I suppose that would explain why Kudari thinks of you as a good friend. He's probably been building up this future meeting with you in his head, so to him it's as if he already knows you."

This was news to you. As far as you were aware, Colress didn't want you to have anything to do with Kudari. You shake your head, "I feel terrible," you admit. "Kudari wasn't anything like I thought he would be. Scary, sure, but he was not violent. There was a moment when he got upset and yelled, which was frightening, but he assured me he wasn't going to hurt me. Colress was positive that Kudari only had ill intentions. I think he's just lonely." Sitting up in the bed, you ask, "If I talk to Colress, do you think he will let Kudari out more often?"

Nobori ponders this for a moment, leaning back in the chair, stroking his goatee. "I… can't say for certain. He's usually very set in his decisions. Perhaps if you worded it in terms of some type of… experiment, he would be more receptive to the idea. But, I must warn you, Dr. Colress does not trust Kudari. At all. If he agrees to this, you will likely be the one to keep an eye on Kudari, on top of all the other tasks he will give you."

Would that be an issue? So far, you haven't been given anything difficult to do, just boring and repetitive. Assuming Colress did agree to let Kudari leave his room more often, and places him with you while you work, would having him around make it any more challenging? Even if it did, it would be worth it to try so Kudari wouldn't have to be a prisoner. Looking towards the end of the bed, you mention, "Kudari seems young at heart. How old are you two, anyway? Do you have any other family? Or kids?" You are trying not to pry too much into Nobori and Kudari's lives, but you really want to know more about them.

Nobori stops twirling his goatee and lowers his arm. "No, there is just Kudari and I. One could argue we are related to the Subway Bosses Ingo and Emmet, but that would only be in the most technical sense, as we are cloned from them. We were created twenty-four years ago. As for children, I would love to have some, but I'm afraid that's an impossibility for me. An aspect of being the hybrid of a Ghost type Pokemon and a human, is being sterile," he sounds heartbroken when saying this. "I suppose it should be apparent that Kudari also does not have any children, though not for the same reason as myself."

There was a lot to unpack in these few sentences. They weren't just hybrids made with human DNA. They were clones. Specifically, clones of the people Colress seems to greatly despise. Did they have birthdays? Would Colress have even bothered telling them the date of their creation? And Nobori's response to the question on whether he has children… You want to slap yourself. All the information you asked for was freely given, but it stung that it caused Nobori pain to answer one of them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ask something that personal."

"Please don't feel bad. Some things just aren't meant to be. You won't ever know unless you ask." There's a short silence as you both look at each other, not knowing what to say.

[ofgeneticperfection]

It was overwhelming. One minute she was normal and nothing was wrong and now suddenly her skin is basically flaking off and being replaced with feathers. Even now in front of her eyes she can see her hands are begining to form into birdlike claws. She can assume the same is happening with her feet.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She thought of her father, Blitz, anything that would remind her of who she was. While the transformation still continued, some aspects of herself remained. For another hour, she forced herself to remain calm as her body finished it’s transformation.

When she opened her eyes, which had taken on the familiar mako green hue, she noticed her eyesight felt sharper. She tried to stand up but stumbled, not used to her now birdlike feet which caused her to panic and flap her wings again. This time it was only a small breeze, just enough to help steady herself until she could stand up straight.

“Well…at least I’m not nauseous?” She attempted to joke, more so she would keep herself from panicking than anything else.

Isrieal scribbles down a few notes during that time and makes a rough sketch of the final transformation. “No?” She sets down her clipboard. “That’s good. Though I have to warn you, you may be a little sore after you..change back.” Here’s hoping that she could change back. Plenty of thoughts had rolled through her mind during the time spent with her so far. She could deem her a failure, end it all right now, but failures usually got destroyed or locked away forever. Neither a fortunate fate for Kat. Whereas this wasn’t so fortunate either at least it was better than the other options.

“Have you used materia before?” She asks her. “Remember what that feels like and remember that it is within you now.” She sits down upon the edge of the countertop. “And you’re not alone.” She peels off her right glove and holds her wrist out towards her revealing a black ‘X’ tattoed there. “I”m not just an assistant.” She hisses. 

“I was in your position once, but I fought my way to where I am now. You can do the same if you learn to accept what you are. To control it. Just a word of advice if you want to remain out of the spotlight. Don’t become a favorite.” She gives her a stern look. She would know, right? Though wether she was saving her from Hojo or herself with that statement was unknown. Isrieal was notorious for sabotaging other experiments that he started to take too much interest in. She wouldn’t want to have to do the same to Kat. 

Her face melts from that cold look into a far too sweet smile as she stands back up. “Well it seems to be a success so far, and the fact you are feeling well is always a good thing. Now to work on getting you back to normal...” She still hasn’t quite explained what exactly she happened to be as well.

@strykingshot

Begining Experiment

Closed starter for @ofgeneticperfection

The sudden bright light blinded Kat for a moment as she tried to cover her eyes, grunting when the chain connected to the bed she laid on allowed her to only lift her arm slightly. The chains were added only yesterday to prevent her from ripping out the IV that was slowly dripping a green liquid into her arm. She still felt nauseous from the mako injections she was given yesterday and the sudden brightness wasn't helping.

She could hear voices approaching her room and she shuddered at the thought of what else she was about to be subjected to. It had been almost a week of constant needles and mako treatments. Every time she saw Hojo's smirking face she had the urge to rip it off him with her teeth.

Which was why since day 2 she was forced to wear basically a muzzle to keep her from biting.

As the door to her room opened all the anger drained from her face as she recognized the person standing next to the smirking Hojo. It only registered now that if Hojo was the one leading this experiment, of course his assistant would end up seeing her like this.

"Izzy..."

[wlwloverwrites]

Everything’s in Check

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Reader x Dark!Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Dr. Romanoff has a check up appointment with the help of her nurse assistant, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: medical kink, latex gloves kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dark themes, smut (18+) crying, vaginal dilators, numbing with the use of injection

stop reading if it makes you uncomfortable! ALSO i’m not a doctor and refuse to do research, so if i say something medically incorrect… ignore it.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORK. YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DO SO. DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK ON AN OTHER PLATFORM OR “GIVE ME CREDIT”

To be transparent, you feared coming in this morning. You never really had a good experience with gynecologists.

Your first doctor was dull. His eyes looked bored, and he barely talked to you. Your second doctor more chatty. Except, his eyes wandered and asked questions that had no relation to your visit.

These past experiences pushed you into postponing your next gynecology appointment as much as possible.

After doing some research, you found a new doctor. So that’s how you found yourself in Dr. Romanoff’s office.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump. The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold or cover your backside. You tried leaving your underwear on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off to ‘make things easier for Dr. Romanoff’.

“A little,” you reply softly.

You try not to move because you know the medical examination table will squeak. Plus, you know the disposable paper beneath you will tear with a single flinch. You’re trying to save yourself from that embarrassment.

“You can always hold my hand if it gets too much, how does that sound?”

You eyes light up from the kind offer before you shyly nod. “Yes, please. I’ve never had good experiencing before.”

“It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She’ll do her best to keep you comfortable.” You smile at that and giggle when Nurse Maximoff send you a wink before closing the door.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices just outside the door. An unfamiliar woman walks in with Nurse Wanda not far behind. Her presence automatically makes you nervous, you don’t know if it’s her bold hair or the way she briefly smiled at you. On autopilot, the two women wash their hands with such grace. It’s almost like watching a choreographed dance; it’s art.

“How are you doing today, sweetheart?”

Her eyes were delicate, yet fierce. Green enough to get you thinking of flowers in spring and fierce enough to make you stutter.

“I-I am doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddled with your thumbs.

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” She pauses looking down at her click board before continuing, “Please call me Natasha.”

“I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she grabs the abnormal latex gloves for a doctor. They aren’t their usual light blue, instead they are black.

Nervously, you answered that she had and said no when she asked you if you had any further questions.

The doctor motioned for you to change positions on the examination chair. Latex-covered hands tap your ankles as they are moved on their correct position on the stirrups.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down, okay sweetheart?” She doesn’t really leave room for discussion; however, you think nothing of it as Dr. Romanoff’s hands rub your calves gently.

Your breath hitches when Wanda tightens the buckle over your ankles. With your feet on the stirrups and the medical gown stretched over your bent knees, you feel exposed.

You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes look between your legs. Your hands go to cover your face when you hear the two women whisper to each other.

“Oh no, honey. Are you shy?” Natasha coos. She motions for Wanda to comfort you.

Some nerves are put at ease when your nurse rubs your arms comfortingly. The friction is a bit awkward her her gloves on, but you think it’s sweet nonetheless.

“A little.” You whine softly and choke on your breath when you feel latex-covered fingers dip between your legs.

Your teeth bite the inside of your cheek when you see her grab the rather large speculum. Your doctor is more then generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. You’ve heard the horror stories.

Wanda’s hand slips comfortably in yours when Natasha pushes the tip of tool inside you. There’s a soft apology from Natasha when you hiss at the cold metal.

Nervous, the grip you have on your nurse’s hand tightens, enough to make your fingers cramp. You can’t imagine how Nurse Maximoff’s hand must feel. Restraints wrapped around your ankle and calves only tighten with every flinch.

Quietly, you sniffle and fight the tears that form in your eyes. Wanda catches a glimpse of your tears and shakes her head to her superior.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to tell her it’s okay, but when you move to look down and reassure her, the tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It won’t fit.”

“I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums.

“Yes doctor.”

The relief is immediate when pulls the tool out. At that point you couldn’t think about doing anything else but thank her.

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffled through her medical tools.

You nod as your blink away your dried tears. Anything but that. Glossy eyes glance up at the nurse in the room. Even with her mask on you can tell how beautiful she is. Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you a flirty wink. Shy, you break eye contact and try to close your legs. You swear you hear a light chuckle.

“Nurse?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Clean her up.”

Confused you watch your nurse walk around to the corner of the room. You hear the plastic before you see it. Nurse Maximoff settles down where Dr. Romanoff once was with a small pack of wipes.

You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever. You want to protest and tell both your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable to clean and wipe yourself away, but your hands are shaky and your heart is racing.

You’re ashamed and feel so useless when the nurse grabs the second wipe. She gentle and wipes away all the excess lube left behind from your doctor. Mentally you count in your head, blocking out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness and discomfort.

The colorful box in your doctor’s hands sparks an interest. You barely have a chance to read the label before Dr. Romanoff tears the unopened box. With new clean gloves, she carefully placed these multi-colored, plastic inserts on her sterile tray. There’s five different rod-like devices, each bigger and thicker than the last with a rounded tip.

“I know they look scary, honey,” your doctor paused as she gathered the rest of her tools, “But we will take it slow.”

You nodded, but gave a verbal answer after Nurse Maximoff raised her eyebrows. Once again, the red head found her place between your thighs with the smallest ‘vaginal dilator’ in her hand.

She was quick. Wasted no time.

You gasped when she pushed the small tool passed your entrance. This one wasn’t so bad. Your nails digging into the poor chair could finally relax. Whispers are shared between the two scholars as your doctor carefully switched the tool for a bigger size. This one didn’t sting too much. There was a slight burn.

“Relax.”

The third one hurt. The stretch stun and had your fingernails dig into your palms. Muscles you never knew existed felt sore from the sudden and abnormal stretch. You want to protest when your doctor reaches for the fourth one.

“Too much?”

You nod with shiny eyes.

A silent conversation is shared through the medical professionals with their eyes. Wanda taps your hand before moving to grab something behind you. Your doctor tries to distract you by rubbing her hand on your inner thighs.

“Honey, we are going to try that last thing, m’kay?” she pauses and you swear you hear a finger flicking thin glass. “You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thigh before continuing, “but we will give it a couple seconds to kick in and you won’t feel a thing.” 

An intimidating needle is passed onto your doctor before Wanda explains, “This is going to numb you up. The numbness is only temporary and should allow Dr. Romanoff to perform her routine check-up.”

You whisper out a soft ‘okay’ before reaching out for Wanda’s hand. Her hand is holding yours immediately, eager to distract you from the surprisingly painless poke of the needle.

“Perfect, sweetheart. That didn’t hurt, right?”

You shake your head, “No, doctor, it didn’t. Almost tickled.”

Both Wanda and Natasha share a laugh. It’s comfortably quiet as the three of you wait for the injection to kick in.

“How does that feel?”

You want to laugh at first, because you can’t feel anything, but your doctor is quick to get the message. She works between your legs as a very professional nurse distracts you. Nurse Wanda asks about your day when you see your doctor grab the cold, metal speculum. The same tool that made you flinch before was the least of your worries.

You don’t feel it, but you hear it. You hear how wet the space between your legs is. You can see the fascination in your doctor’s eyes when she replaces her tool with her fingers and you don’t even notice. You don’t notice she has three fingers inside you until she brings the soaked, gloved fingers to your nurse’s mouth. You watch, horrified and embarrassed when Wanda lets your taste sit before letting go of your hand and jotting down some notes. She studies you as if you were unconscious.

Your nurse is no better then your doctor. Humming when your slick hit her tastebuds. She even looks up at the ceiling so deep in a thought before she writes to the words ‘tastes sweet’. Settling her notes on a sterile table, your nurse, Wanda, stands behind Natasha staring hard between your legs.

“Doctor, what about this area here?”

Natasha eyebrows furrowed as her eyes followed her coworker’s pointer finger. She pointed to a small bud you never even knew existed, untouched. Numb between your legs, you jump at the feeling and overwhelming feeling of someone’s touch on the most sensitive part of your body.

“Oh no, looks like our anesthesia didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with fake sadness. Brushing her latex covered thumb over the bud again making your eyes roll back and mouth fall open. She hums to herself as she continues, “But that doesn’t seem to be a problem, huh?”

A small chuckle that leaves Wanda’s mouth pulls your out of the pleasurable trance. Suddenly, you’re excessively aware of the position you’re in. The straps holding you down are tighter then before, fingernails are now digging into your palms, and the heat between your legs was growing profoundly. Panic start to set when you hear the wet noises. Your whole rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers. The pads of her fingers hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your whole body cry.

Tears fall down your cheeks when you hear side comments like, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was a big whore” or “Look here, she can’t even control it.” The image of your doctor’s soaked fingers entering her mouth to “get a taste” for herself was something you knew would haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll never forget the way she hums at your taste or the intense eye contact she shared with you while she suck her fingers clean. You can’t bare it. The way the two educated women completely disregard you, yet took notes off your body and its reactions. You want to bury yourself in a hole.

“Nurse.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror and grab a tissue for our sweet patient.”

If it weren’t for Natasha asking for the tissue you never would have known she cared for your tears. The mirror was something that threw you off. Scared, not knowing what was coming next your eyes follow Wanda as she grabs a circle mirror. The two women share a silent conversation which results in Wanda holding the mirror above Natasha’s head giving you the perfect view of your own body.

You can see Natasha’s fingers glistening with your slick and her spit. You can see the way you drip. You can almost see the way you throb.

You can see it. Her fingers inside, the four fingers stretching you. Your muscles straining to fit the sudden fullest, the fullest you couldn’t feel. You can see the way your muscles contract involuntarily. But you can’t feel it. Not until Wanda’s fingers rub your clit. Your whole body jerks as if Wanda had some type of power. You didn’t see them, but you hear the smirks on the women’s faces.

“There she is.”

Moans fall pass your lips uncontrollably. Wanda’s thumb doesn’t seem to rest as she circles your clit over and over again. Every time you closed your eyes are turn away from looking at the mirror Wanda landed a firm slap on your clit. Each time your thighs flinch and involuntarily vote to shut, but the straps tying them down only tighten. Your eyebrows scrunch in both confusion and pleasure. You’re confused by what you’re feeling. There’s heat in your belly as your hear beats faster than a racehorse.

“Come on, honey. Let go.”

Her directions are comforting, but your mind is foggy. The view of your doctor and her nurse towering over —what used to be— your untouched body. Her fingers inside you move faster, you can hear your body’s reaction and see Natasha’s concentration in her eyes. Weakly you shake your head no. Your skin on your chest feels hot. The medical gown you wore felt itchy on your skin. Your nipples pebbled through the thin material. With every move you whined at the feeling of the cotton dragging against your nipples. So sensitive.

“Let go, Y/N. I’m not asking.”

Natasha’s voice is enough to have you shaking in fear. She has all the power, she’s calling the shots.

“I don’t know how.”

Natasha sends Wanda a look that has the nurse smirking before nodding. You don’t know how her hand wasn’t tired from holding the mirror. It felt like you spread out open for the two of them for years. Natasha leans forward, blocking your own view of yourself. Bambi eyes meet Wanda’s because you don’t yearn for her hand to roughly meet your clit again. Her touch send tingles up your spine from the pain. Instead, you’re meet with something sweeter. Warm lips press a soft kiss on your clit. Eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel her tongue lick parts of you, you never even thought people wanted to taste.

Your hands have a mind of their own when your finger bury themselves in her red strands of hair. Pulling her mouth impossibly closer, whining when the pleasurable sensation would disappear if she lick too low. Your teeth clench when Natasha’s teeth lightly graze your clit. You want to let out a loud moan, but it’s swallowed by Wanda’s kiss.

Wanda, feeling a bit left out, took matters into your own hands and stole your first kiss. The kiss is messy. An inexperienced mouth paired with a brain clouded with first time sex wasn’t a smart choice. Teeth clash together, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind. Her notebook and mirror were long forgotten as her hands slip beneath your medical gown and reach your breasts. Her lips find themselves wrapped around your tongue as she slowly pulls away there’s spit dribbling down his chin, it’s exotic. You have much time to process the wet dream of a woman right in front of you when Natasha works harder with her mouth and Wand’s fingers find your sensitive nipples. Rolling your nipples between her fingers while Natasha sucks, licks, bites, and kisses between your legs.

You feel your very first orgasm running you over like a truck. Your thighs shake as your body throbs in want. Natasha’s mouth doesn’t stop and Wanda’s fingers found their new home in your mouth. Latex-covered fingers trigger your gag reflex causing your eyes to blur with tears. You can’t see the way you soak your doctor’s face, but you get an idea when she pulls away and drags your hands away from her scalp and onto her face. Fingertips are met with a wet substance, then brought to your lips. Lips smeared with spit and a small hint of Wanda’s lipstick are now taking in a sweet taste.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Tuckered out, you don’t fulling understand the comment. You’re drained, literally, to a point you have no idea who spoke. You hear small shifts and feel hands on your knees. Wanda’s hands find the leather straps holding you down. You sigh, grateful for freedom. Only it never comes, the straps only tighten, you’re not sure how, but they do.

“Let’s try that again.”

Finally, the fic that’s long overdue. Don’t forget to reblog! If not comment :) also thanks for 4.3k followers!!

[wildestheart4ever]

@stealingyourbones, I know you already got a post about this au, but I really want to share this with you.

I really really want to write a bodyswap fic, I blame this post x

Scenes and shit have been rattling around in my head all morning while I was reorganizing my reblogs. I might not actually write it ever, but here are some things that I put into consideration

The bodyswap is between Danny the day of the accident and Jason after being dunked in the Pit, yes? Yes.

Now Danny, Danny is all brand new to this shit, right? No superhero experience, no ghost experience, no fresh added trauma [besides - you know! Thinking he’s gonna die]. The most exciting|terrifying thing he’s experienced beforehand is his dad’s driving - so given the events of the accident, I imagine he must be feeling pretty terrified waking up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, in a body that definitely isn’t his own.

Jason is a tough one, cause I don’t know if he was even the slightest bit aware of his situation pre!Lazarus Pit. If everything was muddled impressions, I’d imagine waking up in a body that just went through an alarming electrocution [and whatever side affects it brought besides the obvious] would be the first thing he’d notice. He’d be in pain, but he’d push that aside to take in the situation: Convulsive pains, everything feels wrong, disturbing basement lab, a massive glowing portal behind him, two teens crying and calling out for someone name Danny

But they’re looking at him

I’d like to think Robin training kicks in immediately, so he tries to comfort them and put them at ease before reaching out to reassure them all while trying to find any sign of this Danny.

Cue seeing the small white-gloved hand and finally taking notice of the prepubescent body he’s currently in possession of.

Now considering the fact pre!Lazarus Pit events might’ve been muddled to him in his catatonic state, the small stature might not be all that confusing to him, though the lack of lean muscle might be.

How confusing must that be? No recollection of the years that past, yet you come back to awareness in a body as small as you last might’ve remembered it.

Sam and Tucker probably assume his silence is due to him finally noticing the change in his appearance. So they trying calling his attention

“Danny, you okay?” “It’s clearly obvious he’s not okay” “Hey! I don’t see you trying to do anything.”

With a pit of dread in his stomach, Jason looks up at the two, confused and slowly coming to very correct conclusions, and asks “Who the hell is Danny?” 

Sam and Tucker are a little too worried the portal might’ve scrambled his memory to be thrown off by the cursing, “Oh man, I knew this was a bad idea. His parents are gonna flip when they find out.” “Doubt it, I think they’ll be a little too excited over the portal being on to wonder what happened.” “....Okay, but Jazz will definitely be freaking out.” “We need to get him out of here.”

Cue them trying jog Danny’s memory while dragging him up to his room, which just cements Jason’s horrible no good theory.

Danny was put in some random room, left to his devices to come down from first time Lazarus episode [Whatever that is], he can’t take any comfort or guidance from the strange woman, confused by the fact she keeps calling him Jason. Trying to stomp down the fear that has a choke hold on him, he tries to pinpoint anything familiar about his current location, but he can’t garner much of anything from what he can see out the window. 

Frustrated, he focuses his attention on the body he’s currently possessing. He might’ve thought this was a gone-to-the-future experience, but there’s no familiar birthmarks or scars on this body [and by the firm reminder that this body belongs to a Jason].

He’s still stumbling on these longer legs and under the extra mass

He might’ve been a little horrified and nauseated by the Y shaped scar running down his [Jason’s] torso.

Okay, so he probably jumps to the conclusion that things might’ve gotten mixed up in the portal with whatever necromancy these weirdos were up to. Now he’s just wondering if his friend’s are freaking out over his corpse....or over whoever this Jason guy is.

Jason. Does it take a while to convince Sam and Tucker that he is not their friend Danny? Yes, does it take another minute to convince them he did not possess their friend’s body on purpose? Also yes, his foot is still suffering under the girl’s clunky boot as she tried threatening him for info.

This is after he gets himself worked up and finding out Danny Fenton’s body isn’t that much of an animated corpse after all [Thank god, the lack of heartbeat was really creeping him out], much to everyone’s relief.

Does he fall into a bit of a panic attack at being asked what’s the last thing he remembers? Definitely, and now these kids look just as put off as he feels.

Does it nearly happen again when he learns that neither he, nor Gotham, nor Bruce Wayne exist in this universe? Also yes, but it’s nice to know they’re at least getting somewhere.

Is Danny Fenton an alternate universe version of him????

It takes a hot minute to get his head on straight and form some kinda of plan: Keep this on the down low, explore this Ghost Zone in hopes of finding anything about dimensional travel, and keep this kid’s life in track.

How much of his identity should he keep from Sam and Tucker? It’s not like he exists in this universe.

Danny knows he’s in deep shit. He doesn’t have the complete picture, and he still isn’t sure if Jason was here with these assassins willingly or not [He’s leaning more on not, considering the situation he woke up to]. And the longer he’s here, the further into a corner he’s finding himself in.

The woman, Thalia, is getting suspicious. She stopped trying to talk about him about his mission and his training when any information she brought wrought no visible reaction from him [Why should he care if this random Bruce Wayne guy adopted a kid?? Who’s Batman - and what guy goes running around in a bat themed costume calling himself that????] and it takes an admittedly embarrassing time to realize these things are all related to owner of this body.

His immediate thought is to act. Act disoriented, act like he’s still reeling from whatever it is these people did to this guy [It’s obvious it was smth serious, if Thalia’s whispered assurances on giving him time to adjust were anything to go by].

So he does, and he doesn’t know if he manages to convince Thalia [He’s never been that good at acting], but it gets her to back off. He’s got more time on his hands, more time to figure out how to get out of this secret fortress, more time to ponder what this guy was like so he doesn’t fudge up and get himself killed.

Jason. If there’s one thing he is certain of, it’s that this kid’s place is one giant OSHA violation. Sam and Tucker had to go home, leaving him with the enthusiastic weirdos that were Danny’s parents - they haven’t stopped yammering on in excitement over finding their life’s work suddenly working.

Did they not notice anything off about their son, were he and Danny that much alike in personality that they haven’t noticed? Even so, why were they not asking questions?? Where was the concern and anger over their son and his friends fooling around with dangerous equipment???

No, instead they were talking about how this success would improve their research, about the containment measures they’d make to do their studying. They seemed to notice nothing wrong with what was supposed to be their son.

It infuriated him.

The only one who seemed to show any concern was the sister [Jazz, her name is Jazz]. She was the one who fussed over him after hearing the trios carefully crafted story, she was the one who scolded him for messing around with the parents equipment, she was the one scorning her parents for leaving their portal in such dangerous conditions.

Why was this girl being more of a parent than the parents???

The fact that dinner once again [and isn’t that a concerning thought] came to life and tried mauling them didn’t help ease the anger.

Everything about this screamed wrongness to him.

[goldentemplariumcrow]

"I slept kind of bad, but my naptime after picking Lio from school was good — don't laugh, it's healthy. We always take a nap together after he gets back from school, it helps fix what he learned through the day in his mind." He smiled, techniques that worked, but very few people seemed to care for learning as they shoved all extra curricular activities possible in their kids' lives; Dio liked to have Lio close and to share experinces with him, even if his days were shortened and his time for himself was smaller, he simply adored being the doting older brother. "As for takeout... what do you have in mind?"

"By the way, your cadence is getting better. I'm proud of you." He pointed out and walked to Tim, pecking his lips with a short kiss and nuzzling on his cheek right after, then went back to his cleaning and organizing chore.

Dio reached in the box to pick some more journals, while listening to him speak, then chuckled when Tim mentioned his father's intellect. "The most awkward yet intelligent man I've ever met, a lover of all fields of studies, but his true calling was for Medicine, Languages and History. People say that I get all of my personality from my mom though, a true no-nonsense, spitfire woman."

Then, he stopped for a moment and tried to find something in the box, maybe there was some old photo of his father in there? Sure enough neither himself or his old man liked to take photos or be subject of photos, but maybe there was something in there that he could use to introduce Tim to the image of his father.

When asked about the gloves, he stopped for a moment and looked up, then back at the black leather and up one more time. "I simply got used to living with them, I guess." Dio rolled up his sleeves to show what was under it all; the right side was smooth and looked perfectly normal, but the left was wrapped in bandages that went all the way into the glove. "People don't raise eyebrows when I say I got my arms burned in the fire that killed my father, nor do they come up with questions of why I hide it. They just assume it's because my skin hasn't recovered yet, or that it'll never fully recover and look good again due to the amount of damage."

With careful motions, Dio unwrapped the silken bandage on his left forearm to reveal the golden and glowy marks beneath it, there was no point in keeping it from Tim when he had seen those before. "But these are harder to explain." Removing the glove showed it went down his fingers too, the tips glew with intensity and there were marks even on the palm of his hand when he offered it for Tim to touch and feel it. "These are my main receptors. When I have contact with other people and objects with it, I don't get access to their memories as a passive viewer, the experience is more of being in their body, I feel all they felt on a physical and mental level. It's like I'm hopping into another body, but I'm still in my own." His gaze fell to his hand and he smiled. "The good side is that once I've had contact before, the new ones are like small updates to it all, so it's less overwhelming."

@arobinwithoutbatman continued from here

"Tim. Timmy. Timbers. Timbo. Timbolino. Amore della mia vita, imploderai se mantieni tutte le tue domande nella tua testa." Love of my life, you'll implode if you keep your questions in your head. Dio joked and placed one journal on the shelves in his room — strangely enough, none of the journals had a cover as much as they only had a cardboard for cover and backcover and each was handbound with different binding styles for a few volumes until a pattern formed on them, the knots on the spines drew constellations with their positions when placed on the shelves; clearly, Dio's ways were passed down the line to him. "I might not have all the answers, but I bet we can try to find them in these."

There are like other seven boxes filled to the brim with Dio's father's old contents, more than a hundred journals filled cover to cover with his observations and studies. And the tapes were complementary to the written material, with numbers and times indicating where to look for what in them. A treasure trove of history and content, full of new concepts for anyone who knew nothing about his work... and a well of knowledge Dio could rely on when he needed to find answers to whatever new development to his genetics came up.

"My father used to say if you keep questions for long enough they become like a mental cork and clog all the other thoughts, then go pop when the pressure builds for enough time."