#Dangerous Experiments

[awesomecooperlove]

🤯🤯🤯

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

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~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 18~

Obi-Wan wakes himself up with a powerful sneeze. He groans, long and low. The sudden jerk of it sends a flash headache searing through his skull like a forest fire. As the pain fades, he realizes that everything aches, and his respiratory system feels scratchy from the back of his throat down into his chest.

Oh bother. He's caught a bug, one potent enough to overcome a jedi's natural immunity to illness. Or, equally likely, he's just that worn down.

The only good part of waking, relatively speaking, is that he's alone and somehow… on a mattress..?

Obi-Wan rolls his head to look at the situation. His vision lags behind the turn of his eyes, making him nauseous, and moving makes his scalp flare in warning. He closes his eyes and breathes for a moment, drawing the force to him in the same way a weaver might run their fingers through freshly sheared wool. It flows through him, and begins bolstering his body against the sickness.

Settled a bit, the jedi opens his eyes to try again. Carefully.

He is still in Maul's private chambers, but that doesn't change the fact that beneath him is a futon mattress, like he'd seen on daybeds in fancy guest rooms. It was thicker than his own pallet in the temple, and zipped up in a soft, removable cover. This is what he lays on.

Obi-Wan has the stray thought that it really needed proper sheets. He sets a hand on his face, and sighs at himself. No, wrong, what it needed was to go back where it came from, just like him.

Cautious, slowly, the jedi master sits up and looks around. He is nonplussed to see his clothes are gone, and confused but interested to notice a literal bottle of water set beside the bed. What he does not see is a sith lord turned deep sea creature.

The memory of claws comes to him, deadly sharpness trailing down his back in the gentle touch of a prospective lover. Obi-Wan droops where he sits. Unfair. This is all utterly unfair.

Maul had become something out of a fantasy. The idea of him, deep under the sea, pining for years to take his revenge, only to change his mind at the sight of his mortal enemy, and instead kidnap them away to be lovers? It was a the plot of a one credit bodice ripper novella, and the force hasn't even seen fit to give him a bodice to wear while, apparently, living it.

Blast it, where are his clothes?

Obi-Wan stares down at his calloused fingers, each digit a little paler than usual. They're dry and cracked from repeated dunks in salt water. The texture of his own fingertips distracts him.

‘I might be disassociating a bit,’ the stewjoni thinks to himself while rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together. ‘I’ve stumbled into somewhere between nightmares and dreams, and my options to deal with it are so few.’

He sighs softly, being open and forgiving with himself.

‘I want to have sex with the man that killed Qui-Gon,’ he mulls wryly, ‘if I make it out of here alive, I think that merits a trip to the mind healers for a guided deep dive of my psyche.’

Obi-Wan chuckles a little, but stops quickly when even that makes a flash headache shred at his brain.

‘Indeed, a good long look. In the meantime… I…’

The jedi draws his knees up, feeling them tremble with fatigue, until he can set his head against the sailcloth over his thighs. He leans there, bonelessly.

Obi-Wan feels cold, but is he actually? Is it emotional cold, fever cold, brisk air on naked skin, or true chill?

Blast it, but he wants Maul to come back. And that is a terrible sign.

Obi-Wan shivers a bit where he sloughs against his legs, just accepting the fact that he wants to be held and petted and treasured and doted on by his own personal monster. It is, most likely, a completely normal reaction to being ill, to want those things. Yes, it really is, isn't it? He exhales heavily, and just lets the truth of it be.

Obi-Wan refuses to cross that line, to consummate this foolhardy preoccupation with his own jailor, but, these feelings are still valid and reasonable.

He feels better for acknowledging it.

Now onto matters of the physical.

Gingerly, the sick jedi eases himself over to get a hold on the water bottle, drawing back and cracking it open. He sniffs it, questioning the water's potability. It's stale, but clean tasting. To his scratchy throat it's a little painful, and a little soothing. He dearly wishes it was tea with honey and lemon.

The jedi drinks half, then recaps the bottle and sets it aside in favor of lowering himself back down onto the futon. If asked, Obi-Wan would swear that he merely closes his eyes for but a moment…

He blinks muzzily, and comes around to fingers carding through his hair. Claw tips slide back over his scalp, so gently it almost tickles.

“Kenobi,” the sith calls, soft and singsong, “Keno… bi~.”

“Mmnnnh,” he replies, feeling the length of Maul's tail pressed against him under the covers. He is dry, sleek scales like rounded glass. One of his pelvic fins rests on Obi-Wan's hip, lightly holding on to him, while the silky upper caudal fins that trail the sith are draped over his legs under the sail cloth and tarp. They're soft. Smooth. When Maul shifts they flutter against the skin of his ankles pleasantly.

Obi-Wan is, once again, wrapped up in the arms and fins of the very same ‘dragonfish king’ he was sent to kill. With an incredible amount of ‘fuck it’ energy, he noses forward under Maul's chin.

“I'm a bit sick,” he admits.

“Hnnn… your flushed cheeks and reddened eyes told me so already,” the other man says, still toying with his hair.

“I want tea,” he sighs, “with honey and lemon. My throat hurts.”

Maul makes this… incomprehensible noise. Not human, not zebrak. In the force he feels… pleased?

“Making wishes of me now?” the sith murmurs, “I suppose I could share one or two, seeing as I have three but do not need any of them.”

...what?

Obi-Wan pulls away to look at him with all the skepticism his dizzy self can muster. Maul smiles back, a cruel twist of lips framed by the most charming dimples imaginable.

He is stunned. This is Obi-Wan's excuse for why he doesn't move away when the sith captures his lips, biting oh so gently at him with his needle-like teeth, then licking his way across and inside.

Obi-Wan lets it happen, eyes drifting closed as he reciprocates slowly. Oh. Kissing makes his head feel better. Whatever chemistry that's about, it's working.

“That's it, jedi mine,” the sith croons to him, “taste me in return, and I will bring you tea.”

Well if it's for a good cause.

Tentatively, Obi-Wan licks at Maul's lips. They're thin but plush, utterly normal if wider than before his transformation. The other man hums, encouraging, the tip of that long pink tongue flicking playfully against his.

Obi-Wan chases it as the slick muscle recedes, finding the pointed tips of Maul's new teeth. He explores them with care, finding out which of his experiences with making out can and cannot apply.

He finds a good angle and pumps his tongue into that wet heat, slickness sliding against slickness. Obi-Wan's head twinges with the movement, but he's a bit too enthralled to care.

Maul makes, just, the sweetest little noise. Begging. Needful. Obi-Wan feels himself stiffening, his cock pressed to Maul's belly where skin fades to scale.

Oh dear. Now that is quite enough of that indulgence.

With one light kiss of the traditional sort, Obi-Wan pulls back and relaxes onto the mattress with a sigh. He watches yellow-green eyes blink open, pupils blown and slow to focus.

“Very good,” the sith tells him, trailing the backs of his fingers down Obi-Wan's face. “You will learn that I keep my promises, Kenobi.”

“If you bring me bread of some kind that hasn't been drowned in salt water, I'll do that again.”

Maul chuckles, sliding out from under the makeshift covers. “You see? Gifts are a good way to show favor.

The jedi would roll his eyes if he wasn't a hundred percent certain it would feel like an icepick in his brain to do so.

To be continued...

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish @obi1-kenobae @milkcioccolato @cyborg0109 @krazykupid @messy-sunbeam

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[spiritsong]

wyll.y.am ravengard, I love you so

everyone loves to put him in gold (rightly so) but my personal style is lots of silver jewelry + heavy eyeliner so that's what I gave him. also roses because he's so damn venusian

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[emacrow]

Jazz always wanted a little brother.

Her best friend's mommy having a baby brother in her tummy, but right now they were at gotham, mom was meeting with some important people while she stay safe in the car with dad sleeping in the front passenger seat.

When she asked her mom and dad for a baby brother earlier that same week, mom had to explained that her tummy was broken after she had her because she was a very special miracle baby because they tried so hard to have her.

Jazz understood but at the same time, she wanted- no she need a baby brother, maybe one with dad's hair and mom's eyes, or maybe one with hair like hair and dad's eyes.

And she was determined, as she snuck out of the fentomobile car, sneaking inside beside the scary ninjas guards that were temporarily distracted.

She was very good at sneaking around thanks to mom training her to stay quiet and hide better then a ghost.

There was pools of ectoplasmic but much dirtier and less cleaner then the stuff mom and dad work with. Container and chambers full of them.

She saw doctor walking out of one room and snuck in before the the door close on her. There was another ectoplasmic container that had babies in them..

One sleeping upside down and the other upside up. The one of the bottom was sleeping but the older has his eyes open, revealing pretty blue eyes like dad's eyes.

She chewed on her bottom lip a bit and weigh her short limited choices as nodding.

She close her eyes, focusing as she quickly started to float a bit wobbly, sticking her small hands onto the glass ectoplasmic ball using her secret powers that she had learned without mom and dad noticing.

Her invisible hand grabbed the baby slowly, making it invisible as she pulled it out of the ectoplasmic ball.

The baby was very small and light then a feather while covered in wet ectoplasm goop.. the baby cough a bit, dripping ectoplasm out his mouth, squirming a bit as he was about to male a fuzz but quiet down as she held him close into her warm fuzzy jacket.

She snuck back out of the room and quickly out of the place all the way back into fentonmobile..

Covering the baby with her Einstein beat designed blanket, cleaning the baby up like she would with her baby dolls, and she open the empty toy baby bottle and open her mini almond milk jug, then pour the milk in and close it, after remembering to cut a little open hole on the tip of the hard plastic nibble part.

Scooting over to the baby, and carefully picking him up and helding him close onto her lap like she seen the mommy do on TV as she press the toy baby bottle again the baby's mouth.

It would be 1 hour later before mom came back looking excited then 2 hours later after they left gotham before a soft baby wail woke her dad from the backseat of the fenton car where jazz was.

Jazz was pink in the face as she was trying to hide the baby but she couldn't stop him from crying.

It would 20 minutes of jazz lying straight to her parents's faces on where she found the baby, and it would forever be her only best lie she ever told that convinced them to adopt the baby boy that was now named danny..

Meanwhile back at league of Assassin headquarters. The head scientist has noticed that the first unborn twin baby has been removed early then schedule, probably due to natural condition of death since the first one has a much weaker pulse compared to the second unborn baby which Talia had name Damian later.

The leading scientist check off the existence of the supposed first born who went without a name on the data base...

Unknownly to both parties, Jazz was very happy to have a little brother of her own now, even if his eyes flashes green a bit from time to time.

[redjaybathood]

You know, it's kinda funny to see the "Ukrainians are white so they are more privileged compared to Palestinians" posts right when there's another air attack alert in Kyiv. Will my low chances of being shot dead at traffic stop in USA help me survive a Kinzhal rocket dropped at my house?

"You're white so this is why the racist media supports you" - sure, if you disregard a campaign to smear Ukraine that's being going since 2013. Yeah, before the war started.

"You're white and that's why governments support you, so don't whine" ironic seeing yet another refusal to give us more weapons. More ironic is, our victory is crucial to the world's stability and food security - your, my friend, safety and ability to feed yourself. Even more ironic, that countries that oh support us so much, and who rely on us to keep them safe, are dragging their feet so we die, die, die... How white of us.

"You're white, you don't deserve to be treated with basic empathy. You don't deserve respect, your life is worth nothing" from one side, and from another, it's "You are subhuman, you don't deserve basic empathy or respect, your life is worthless..." from another.

Let me be clear. Whatever issues you have with white people, we didn't do shit to you. We were the colonized people, we were enslaved. We are experiencing genocide - yet again from the hands of the same empire. You don't have a higher moral ground here - you have a social media acceptable target. Our whiteness makes it okay to call us names, be happy when we die, manipulate data, pictures, to show how unworthy we are of the help we managed to get. Spread propaganda justifying our genocide. Spread narratives that become barriers to us receiving said help we are, in your merry-world, entitled to. Justify why you personally call for people to stop helping us.

We didn't do shit to you. You are doing it to us. You are punching down. And that's your privilege, being an arrogant and ignorant cunt somewhere a bomb is not going to drop on you, whatever your skin color is.

[karmicpunishment]

nothing is a more satisfying mental image to me than the rat grinders watching the bad kids absolutely dominate the last stand in disbelief because they thought they were going to fuck up and fail

[kitdreamzing]

Yonny is so silly, go commit your funky lil experiments

[dollmaxxxing]

[cross-d-a]

something something about Caleb Dume surviving the genocide of his people and divorcing himself from his culture and remaking himself entirely in order to survive

and something something about orphaned Ezra Bridger who loves Lothal but doesn’t quite belong being adopted into a self-made-cobbled-together family of outcasts from multiple cultures

and something something about Kanan choosing to embrace his culture and religion again despite his fear and the risk it brings to him and his family

and something something about Ezra embracing that culture as whole-heartedly as he can when so much of it has been lost

and something something about both of being denied the ability to practice certain aspects of their religion because otherwise they might be killed for it

and something something about Kanan remembering how Master Billaba carefully sheared his hair and oh so reverently plaited his Padawan braid and held it gently between her fingertips and told him she would do right by him and told him not to be afraid and told him she would be there for him until her dying breath and beyond and told him that he was going to be a great Jedi Knight one day and told him “you are our future youngling and I will do everything in my power to protect that future”

and something something about Kanan looking at Ezra’s wild hair with something hollow and aching tucked between his ribs because he longs to show Ezra the devotion his Master showed him and her Master showed before her and his Master before him but it’s not safe to gently plait that Padawan braid behind Ezra’s ear because such a sign of devotion will mean death and Kanan can only hope that Ezra understands how much Kanan loves him and how much Kanan is proud of him and how much hope and life he sees in his Padawan because while that Padawan braid may be the physical link between future and past tying together generations of Masters and Padawans who have lived and loved and passed on because “we are what they grow beyond”—

Kanan knows that every moment has led to this and Ezra is the future his Master and her Master before her never expected but they would be so proud to see Ezra now and Kanan can only hope Ezra knows how proud Kanan is of him too and know when he looks at Ezra he knows everything is going to be okay because “we are what they grow beyond” and despite everything that’s been lost to them Ezra is carrying the heart and soul of thousands of years of legacy and Kanan looks at Ezra knowing he can’t give him that Padawan braid but he’ll be damned if he can’t teach him the things that matter and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do everything to protect the future he sees in Ezra’s eyes

[mycherrycola]

I buy the brightest green dish soap I can find and put it in the pyrex florence flasks yeah I'm completely normal about Re-Animator (1985) why do you ask?

[deadsetobsessions]

Between the whole “clone trying to kill her original version” thing and the whole “trying to find herself after being freed from the millionaire fruit loop halfa” thing, Danielle “Ellie” Phantom figured that she’d fit right in with Gotham.

They’ve got shades, a concerning amount of undead, and the people there seem to have traumatic backstories galore. Perfect.

Danny might die again if she told him where she’s staying, though. So she won’t tell him!

Ellie touched down in an alley near the first bus stop into Gotham, returning to the visible spectrum and returning her intangibility. She wanted to explore everything, and where better to start than the entrance of Gotham?

She slips out of the alley, walking past the terrified looking tourists. Ellie ignores the smell of soot they gave off, attributing correctly that it came from the explosion she heard before she approached Gotham. The city, like any other major city, was littered with trash and odd bits of metal. There’s graffiti too, but less so than the sunnier cities. The clouds- and smog, because Ellie could smell it miles away from the city- that obscured the sky left the city in a chilling atmosphere. Hazy. Like, a graveyard at dawn. Perfect for someone like Ellie.

It’s so different from Amity, stone where she dreaded plaster, gloom and doom where she dreaded seeing sunshine she couldn’t reach. 

Ellie wandered, under bridges, and in between paths. She danced through shootouts, glides past brawls, laughs when pick pockets find their hands empty after bumping into her.

She gets a coffee and one of those delicious lemon bars, with Vlad’s money. Hers, now that Tucker’s gotten his hands on Vlad’s inner systems. The barista gives her a suspicious look, but she brings out her strongest midwestern accent and the look melts into exasperation. And pity, but Ellie doesn’t really care about that. She “ooh’s and ahh’s” at the grimy stone, the gothic inspired architecture that Sam would kill to experience, goggles at the boarded up buildings. There’s a cathedral or two or five, she doesn’t remember, but the pretty glass seems to be broken at most of them. She wonders what happened. Then she remembers that there are vigilantes here, and concludes that she has to remember to look up more often. A giant clock-tower. A district with less people and fancier homes. A university! She might apply after she’s done traveling around and have gotten her GED.

Her shoes pound the pavement, something about the effort it takes to take a step burns in her soul. Yes, this is what it means to be free. She kicks the knees of two would be robbers in as she passes them on her way to purchasing three bars of the best chocolates she’s had in her short existence.

The cashier looks at her like she’s odd. Oh, well.

And then night falls. Ancients, does the city truly come alive. There are screams and sirens and surges in ectoplasm that balances her essence of being out. Ellie, with a new pep in her step, follows the trail of ectoplasm right into an area called “Crime Alley.”

“It feels almost like… a haunt…?”

Ellie hums and keeps walking. Maybe this is the territory of one of the undead Gothamites…?

She’s got a bit of Danny’s saving people thing after all, because the three bars of candy on her is gone in minutes to children with hollow cheek and dead eyes. 



Ellie startles backwards as a body slams onto the pavement in front of her, barely missing the risen steps of the building they were in front of.

“Oh.” She says. Because this is one of the Undead. And he’s Red Hood. Danny is going to flip.

“Run- run, kid.”

Ellie tilts her head. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, brat!” The man barks, and winces as his ribs shuttered. The red helmet’s tinny voice doesn’t intimidate her nor does it hide the concern and fear bleeding into the guy’s body language.

“Not really?”

And with that, Ellie slams her elbow into Goon 1, knocking him straight into another building. Goon 2 tries to grab her and she phases out of his reach, floating upwards and slamming her fist into his face. He joins Goon 1 in decorating that building’s new mural, called the two dumbasses that picked a fight with a wandering Ellie.

Hood watches her, cradling his ribs.

“You a meta?” He grumbled at her, wheezing as she crouched down and poked his sides. He smacks her hand away.

Ellie, who has clearly spent too much time near Danny, replies, “Being dead is a medical condition.” without missing a single beat.

Hood, on the other hand, misses several beats.

“What?”

Ellie barrels on, amused at his fumble. “Did you know you died?”

Hood looks at her and Ellie swears she can see the dumbfounded expression.

Ellie laughs, free and sharp. Yes, Gotham is nothing like Amity.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep - A Fragmentary Passage - The World Within

[leal-hound]

in another life i found you sooner

[hoofpeet]

Call this the "I'm hyper-alert for any fracture in my mental health because a good portion of my extended family is either senile or insane"

[capricioussun]

He has anxiety