#I'm on a free fall to insanity

[cat-mentality]

I see you guys rebloging those posts about the new Cucurucho and like that's cool and all but it literally couldn't be me because I refuse to acknowledge the existence of multiple Cucuruchos.

Because If, big IF, I started to acknowledge it then I would be forced to think about the implications and I'm not mentally ready to go down this rabbit hole.

Because if I was then I would have to ask some questions about the nature of Cucurucho. As in, what are they? They look like a bear sure, we can assume their appearance was based on one, but there is no fucking way in hell they are just your average bear or even a random hybrid. If we apply creative mode to lore it has implications that Cucurucho is basically an entity in terms of power, all seeing and all powerful, literally untouchable.

And the existence of multiple of them?

Oh boy.

Are they on the same level of power? Not authority, not hierarchy, I mean actual power. And if they are, why multiple of them exist? Because one all powerful entity surely must be enough to run a Island with a handful of people on it.

The implications that Cucurucho exists to be perfect are sprinkled all over his interactions with others. Osito Bimbo is very much not the ideal of perfection the Federation expects him to be, he is kind, and silly, truly silly not whatever fuckery Cucurucho has going on when he pretends to be your friendly boss, silly in the way he is much more relaxed and seems to genuinely try to understand emotions and people.

And what, if I was actually thinking about this in deep, would interest me the most would be the implications of his "imperfections". Because why the fuck do they exist. Are they all clones of each other? Are they creatures made by the Federation as experiments?

Because on one option you have to consider that the Federation made a faulty clone and said "oops how we can fix it somehow!" and just.... Let him as he is. Wouldn't it make more sense to just scratch this failure and begin again? Were they in a hurry when they made him? Did something go wrong? Because if he is a clone he should in theory be exactly like Cucurucho.

Is it hard to make those copies? Is that why they just went along with it?

And if he is a man made being, more similar to the eggs, you would have to consider the implications that Cucurucho was raised by someone. That there was a person in charge of teaching him how to act and whatever happened to Osito Bimbo was a human mistake, was someone not following the guidelines.

Which also implies on thinking on how the fuck they managed to create this entity in a bear skin.

And while we are on the rabbit hole, that I'm clearly not diving head along in, which one came first?

Was Cucurucho created because Osito Bimbo was not perfect? Or was the opposite, Osito Bimbo was created because Cucurucho was perfect but something along the way went wrong, maybe they tried to fix something in the original design (make him more 'natural' perhaps? Less off putting) but it went wrong.

And what about this pink eared one. What is his deal.

Because clearly he has been along for a while as he refers to events in the past that he was a participant in. Is he the Original Cucurucho? The blueprint that was exchanged by the New Cucurucho? Or is he the middle man? Created to be literally an 'emergency Cucurucho' in case something went wrong with the first?

And he is clearly capable of some sort of emotion and autonomy as he states he shouldn't be talking to Antoine but did it nonetheless with plans of doing it again.

Which brings us to the biggest mind fuckery about Cucurucho until now: the "maybe" he answered to Tubbo when he asked if he had free will. He denied being controlled all the time and he also denied that sometimes someone controls him and sometimes not, so what does it mean? Because all of them are different in more than just details in their appearances, different enough that we can only assume they all have their own quirks, their own personality as much as the Federation allows it.

Is the maybe a "I don't have total free will because I must obey or be killed but I'm still a being with individuality" or a "I don't know what free will is so I can only assume what you mean" or even "It doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you".

I'm so glad I'm not acknowledging the multiple Cucuruchos! I would hate to write an essay about them!

[reggies-eyeliner]

TYPING IN "SORRY" GIVES YOU THIS HELLO THIS IS THE MOST HEART-WRENCHING DISCOVERY I'VE MADE ON HERE RUN ME OVER

[sunnicee]

hello tumblr! back at it again with the gravity falls theorism decoding nerd geek combo!

cw!! potential spoilers?

• ─────────────────────────── •

”you are now twenty-one grams lighter.”

”this contract is legal and binding. we reserve the right to use your likeliness, face, voice, and small town pluck in whatever nefarious manner is deemed necessary. your soulmate will not recognize you and will walk right past you on a cold autumn day, never making eye contact.. not even processing that you have eyes at all. no amount of interaction will move them to a place where they can remember. in lifelines you have closed spent together each time choosing whatever [???] closest like otters holding hands in a tumultuous river. you were birds. you were trees with roots entangled drinking in the sunlight together. wherever we go next, whatever you choose, I will always be right there with you.

that's done.

buddy congratulations, you have chosen bill instead!

mcdonalds reserves the right to put a giant yellow 'M' on your torso and send you walking around a crowded times square while you scream: ”THE FRIES, THEY DEGRADE IN NATURE. IT'S AN IMMORTAL FOOD!!”

”[there/they] will be landfills long past our deaths. good god, the things I've seen. ..who am I? im bills previous lawyer. He put my soul into a quill pen so I can write his legal documents until the sun snuffs out like a candle in this sick universe. I used to be so hot; I was so fine .. now, im fine print. speaking of which, ... ”

”bill reserves the right to put your soul into a:: inanimate object, a strange creature, a concept, a sentence, a [???] but rustic mason jar with wildflowers in it.”

”if at any point you wish to have visitation rights with your soul... you will be swiftly denied unless you had a cool day planned for the both of you, then bill might want to come along. by signing this document, you forfeit any right to eating soul food.”

”it will turn to ash on your mouth. a fitting punishment for a fool who squandered the only truth gift life owes you.”

bill reserves the right to dress your soul however he seems necessary, especially if your soul was a nerd before acquisition. your soul may become fractured and placed into different objects, this has no purpose and will not resurrect you if you die. signee has forfeited all rights to any [???] including but not limited to:: heaven, hell, purgatory, bug corner, [???] state, the dream house[?], [???], reincarnation processing center, axolotl tank, ant consequences, hole signee can can no longer board the train, and is advised to discard all bell bottoms. signee can no longer have a puppy as a best friend (they can sense what is gone.) cats are [???] [???] may experience occasional [???] possessions [???] [???] the [???] [???] the [???] [???] son on [???] [???] the [???] ant other [???].”

• ─────────────────────────── •

and yeah! that's it. condolences to my neck, brain, light bill, and eyes. I unfortunately fully committed to translating what I was able to decipher. I definitely did infact try my best, so if there are any mistakes or errors, please lmk!

[faaun]

we sang in the aeroplane over the sea tgth ☆

[luc1ferian]

Hi I'm thinking about writing a h2g2 and gravity falls crossover fic. I saw your post awhile ago and I was wondering if you had any idea on how the two fords would interact.

Oooh this is a really good idea!

Hm, I haven't properly watched Gravity Falls in a while (I KNOW IM SORRY), but comparing their personalities from what i know they have a couple similarities and differences.

For first interactions I'm not entirely sure how or where, neither of them are naturally social but if someone were to start a conversation it would be Prefect, and once they realize they're both named Ford P. they'd hit off perfectly.

I think they'd love to go out for a small drink and talk about their outlooks on life, about space, their own traumas and relationships, about their research and studies with their respective books (Pines to the Journals, and Prefect to the Guide), and about their plans for future. This interaction could also be a lot funnier depending on the tone you wanted to take.

Ooooh they could also rant about their annoying family members (Zaphod and Stan)

They would also engage in an epic game of Dungeons & More Dungeons no doubt

[myname-isnia]

I personally find it very funny that my sister and I are both obsessed with an unfairly attractive long-haired fictional man with a tendency to prance around without a shirt on who would do anything for his autistic daughter... and it's not even the same damn fictional man

"Oh we're so different we will never get along" Blatant lies, we're one in the same and completely incorrigible in what we are

[random-kido]

Genuinely feel like I'm going to start vibrating out of my skin due to sheer excitement because the movie is just *making grabby hands*

It's right there. I can feel it.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

You sent me an ask so I shall return the favor! What is the most recent Kpop group you’ve gotten into and how did you find out about them? I always love hearing fan “origin stories” lol

Thank you for returning the favor~ That would be The Boyz 🥰💖 I love hearing fan "origin stories" too hehe (This is gonna get long I love them sm)

Anyways I've known about them since debut? I loved Bloom Bloom Pow with my whole heart when it came out and tried to fall for them then- It didn't work. The next time was when The Stealer (TS) came out~ I had watched them perform for Road to Kingdom- because ptg was on the show too- But I really loved TS cb- sm so that I bought the album about 6 mos later with my favorite members as inclusions at the time (Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae). But nothing came about of it even after watching the weekly idol episodes... Then came Whisper era and I ended up biasing Changmin (Q) and loving that song but again nothing came out of it.

(A little backstory is that Changkyun (I.M) got me into Dominic Fike's music-) Thus, when tiktok showed me Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo dancing to Babydoll earlier this year as a dance cover: I fell. And then I finally checked out Watch It~ But Hui had his solo and it distracted me completely from falling further. Then I had gotten sick and decided 'well, what if I watch their content?' And I did... I watched their hello82 interview and their reaction to fanart of them, and lastly their mafia dance. And I loved each sm that I decided to check out more.

It was the first time I had watched their content and wanted to see more. And now, I watch their content almost daily. It's kind of like they revived the joy of kpop for me? My (old) ult of ults has been on hiatus due to the military so it's been stagnant content lately for me. But then they came in like a breath of fresh air- and I simply can't get enough. This month will be 3 mos and I honestly hope I'll follow them for a long time. (I think they're my new ult of ults tbh)

And lastly now here I am as a Younghoon and Juyeon bias (with bias wrecker: Changmin... he's doing everything to be bias again). And with them having a comeback I loved with my whole heart this past month, I think it really solidified them with me. Honestly, I'm so happy with them.

[lemurblog]

Hello lémurblogs I have a question, how do you make your drawings? (๑'ᴗ')ゞ

Hello! It depends on each drawing. Generally, I sketch on paper and bring the scan into Clip Studio where I adjust the levels (make the whites brighter and blacks darker without losing too much detail) and redraw anything or adjust proportions with the transform tools. I apply color on top with layers set to Multiply, Overlay, and/or Soft Light.

An important step for me is taking at least a day to look at it with fresh eyes. If I'm stuck, it also helps to check how it looks on my phone. And lately adjusting the Color Balance has been my friend.

My process is pretty messy and I often don't have a plan; I just feel around to see what's good for a drawing and do it a little differently each time. For example I don't plan to color, shade, or add a background to 90% of my drawings, but they end up that way bc something will feel missing, so little by little stuff gets added.

I followed a strict pipeline as a teenager ("sketch this way, do line art that way, color like this") and ended up dreading digital art, so I took a step back. Now I give myself permission to be as messy, lazy, and improvised as I like. I'll draw or edit all on one layer even though that's not what people teach, bc it actually works for me.

I also find it useful to strike fast and finish as 'quick' as I can. Because it's natural for me to have drawings that become months or years-long WIPs. and that's fine! but it can't be everything I'm working on or I get discouraged.

Oh, and drawing on post-it notes really helped me complete those small illustrations for madaparty! It was such a life-hack when I realized it'll help me complete small ideas in one sitting. I love drawing compositions, but forget about them on a big sketchbook page where lots of little drawings have no borders, so the small post-its really helped. It also helped me think more with metaphor or staging, rather than getting lost in anatomy poses and being too literal.

[valaruakars]

Is Wreathe Me in Darkness discontinued? Because it was really interesting😭

GASP!! NO!!! I have like... nine more decades to get through for that sucker (ha ha) and part two is halfway done. Lots of juicy little details to share still. I'm just incredibly short on time and focusing everything I've got on chapter 7 of Let's Get Physical. And tbh I don't have a lot in me right now.

That being said, I know I write at a snail's pace regardless of holiday season hell, so would it help if I marked things in my masterlist by updating, on hold or discontinued? Lemme know 💖

[loverboybrightsideghost]

thinking about rapunzel this fine night. never you mind the chainsaw noises.

[elijasz]

I've been reading a lot of literature written by people who have been displaced and most recently I've read parts of "The Ungrateful Refugee" by Dina Nayeri, which I can only recommend.

After reading the excerpts, the story has sparked an internal monologue within me. Between the white german perspective I grew up with and was raised on, and the one that started growing when I sat down with my grandma years ago and listened to her story of being displaced.

That side of me that has to carry my grandparents immigration papers and marriage certificate to every visit at governmental bureaus, as proof that they changed their name to fit in. Where they ask me why my birth name is different from the one I carry now even though I have never been married. (And I want to say "because this country deemed their names unacceptable and wanted proof that they were there to stay and wouldn't be easily able to return" every time, but haven't done so yet.)

I grew up unaware of the violence my grandparents and parents had experienced at the hands of the government or their fellow citizens. I didn't experience any. This is important to say. I am white. I only ever had this citizenship and I only ever learned German in my childhood. I am the product of integration so perfect that I didn't even know about the displacement my family went through. But their story isn't the same as that of other people who had to move away from their homes, because my grandparents moved within Europe and looked almost exactly like the people of the country they moved to.

Nowadays they are seen as European and German. They speak German, my grandma lost her accent, though her grammar is still a bit "strange", as her own daughter puts it. I love her strange little sentences and it makes me sad that her own daughter mocks her for it. But I never thought of that linguistic quirk as a marker for cultural identity. I thought of it as my grandma's identity, unrelated to the language she spoke in the past.

It makes me angry that her own daughter now complains that people who flee to this country, "our country" as she likes to call it, as if she wasn't bullied and beaten for her name and behaviour as a child, should try to fit in and be grateful. Learn the language, customs, unspoken rules, so they can become invisible. Abandon their past because it must have all been horrible. Any reminder of their past is a thorn in the eye of the observer. Identity a sharp stone that cuts the soles of feet which walk over them.

I cried after reading the few pages of the book, because I don't relate to my grandparents culture much anymore. I know the smells, the food, the traditions. But they aren't too different from the ones of the country I've lived in all my life. They're from another white european culture and thus more accepted. And still my grandma chose to hide them and my mother chose to abadon them almost completely, only displaying them in the safety of our home and only ever as a memory of the past. They aren't part of my present reality. They are something only presented on holidays and rarely performed unless we visit the rest of the family.

I don't feel like it is my right to reclaim this culture. It feels like I will never belong in this culture because I didn't go through the same hardship as those who openly lived it. I look the same as all the other white people around me. Light hair, light skin, light eyes. I speak the same language and eat similar food. I am "one of them" and I have never had the burden of being seen as different because my grandparents, at least the one who survived, was too afraid to teach her children about their identity. And those children assimilated and integrated themselves and lost their past to the place that said it would help them and then ripped their names from them, their titles, their achievements, their language and culture. And then told them to be grateful. And they are. Oh so grateful. So grateful that every time I criticise this shithole of a place, they say "Be quiet. At least it isn't this other place that we have learned is bad and dirty and barbaric. Be grateful you're born here!" And for so many years I was greatful. But I'm done being grateful for erasure. Grateful for the knife that flayed my ancestors identity, cutting off the unloved pieces. I have no wounds. My mother hides hers under bandages so thick and old she isn't even aware they exist anymore. Or maybe she's in denial. But my tongue itches whenever I hear others speak my ancestors language and my heart grows when I hear their songs.

I would learn their language. But I already learned enough European languages. Sure, I can speak them outside of Europe. They are useful there. But for what reason? I don't want to be the one pushing the knife through others skin, even if just by accident.

So now I'm learning Arabic, as here it is a language many speak in secret because its unacceptable to the white people. I'm cooking Iranian food and Polish food and Sudanese food and yes also German food and I don't care if sometimes someone complains it smells weird when I open my lunch at work. So does theirs, but I'm not complaining. I'm happy they enjoy their lunch. If it tastes good and if the smell makes the heart of a single person grow and their song grow louder and prouder then it was worth the work put in. I have endured a lot, but I am still whole and I am privileged enough to wield a knife myself. I intend to use it defensively, though I know I cannot avoid accidentally cutting others.

I'm a teacher and I want to allow my students to feel understood and represented and not like they have to shave off parts of their identity to be good and acceptable and successful. I don't want them to think they have to endure the knife and the pain to be acceptable.

Cultural Superiority is bullshit. We, as europeans, didn't respect other cultures in the past and we don't do it today. We carry knives everywhere we go to cut off what we don't like and then act surprised when others come wearing armor. You don't need to make yourself fit in to deserve respect. You deserve respect because you exist. You don't have to thank the people who cut pieces from you. You don't have to wield a knife to flay yourself either. And you sure as hell don't have to be grateful for being tolerated.

You are deserving of your identity.

[bravevolunteer]

@botbite asked: “I want someone else to take care of me. You’re terrible” don't listen to him he's a lying liar also their options are so limited- // A MEME FROM A FUCKING YEAR AGO DFGJKHJVFSDHBJ

MICHAEL FREEZES as he places the first aid kit down at the edge of the sink, fingers curling around the edges of the plastic box. He inhales, sharp, the trapped breath burning in his chest as he holds the response in, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from talking. Evan's right is the first thought to break through the hurt ( can he even call it that? GUILT, regret, but the arrogance to immediately think about his own pain when he was the one behind Evan's... he can’t wallow in self-disgust over that either, as much as it claws at him ). Michael's has never been good at mending, he can't remember the last time anyone thought his hands could be gentle, and Evan... well, Evan is the one most aware of the damage he's done with them.

It isn't much on the surface. A cut down Evan's arm, not very deep but bleeding enough to clean and bandage ( Michael swallows the deep-seated panic that swells in him at the sight of his brother's blood ). But why did it happen? Was it symptoms of the head injury again, dizziness or disorientation that will persist even after they cover the wound? Did someone target him? Did someone do exactly what Michael did, is that why his help comes off as another attempt to make him feel smaller? ( who is he fucking kidding, tension will always hang in the air ).

His jaw clenches, and he takes another moment to keep the overwhelming reaction at bay. He's... upset, angry ( always ), wants to storm out of the room and slam the door behind him and destroy himself anywhere that isn't the suffocating bathroom with his rightfully terrified brother. ...But it's not about him, is it?

Exhale, and he pops open the box. Michael removes the antiseptic, a wipe, and a bandage roll. "Well, I'm all you've got right now." He crouches next to him, and slowly begins to clean away the blood. At least, if there's one thing he knows how to do, it's this. "Let me stop the blood. Then I'll piss off."

[augustinewrites]

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC De-Aged Triplets and Their Tired Single Sister

Jason has seen the four of them a couple of times in Crime Alley now. They looked like a family, what with similar facial features- err, actually, the kids looked like carbon copies of each other, but their mom/sister/aunt/cousin looked similar enough to be related to them by blood.

Normally, Jason didn't care for each and every family that moved into Crime Alley. Sure, he cared about all of them as a whole, but there were a lot of people, and he couldn't possibly get elbow deep in every life story he came across. So all he knew about them were three things: a) they were on the run from someone or something, b) they trusted each other and no one else, and c) apparently, they have made it their life goal to never make any kind of sense.

The list of shit they have gotten into included but was not limited to:

• one of the kids biting a gun. Not the hand of the attacker who was holding it, no, the actual gun. And he bit a piece of it clean off, which earned him - or her, actually, Jason knew one of the triplets was a girl but he couldn't tell them apart - a lecture from their... mom? sister? parental figure. The lecture was about how chewing metal does not help with iron deficiency.

• getting kidnapped and creeping out their kidnapper to the point of him returning the kids back home. A few witnesses said one of the kids was actually driving, sitting on the kidnappers lap behind the steering wheel and cheerfully commanding the man to speed up or brake. Their mom actually apologized to the kidnapper for the incident and offered him homemade cookies for his troubles. He ran away without them.

• driving a lady at the laundromat insane by repeatedly walking inside and climbing into one of the washing machines. They never got out of it, just one kid walking into the laundromat, climbing into washing machine, then another kid, looking exactly like the previous one, walking inside, climbing into the same washing machine, then another kid walking into the laundromat- well, you get the idea. The lady claimed she's seen at least five kids do that in a row, but when she looked into that washing machine, there was no one inside.

• casually falling out of windows. Or, better, walking out of them like they were doors, at any given opportunity. The witness - an old man who was helping their mom with groceries - said the mom did not care in the slightest, and when he asked her about it, obviously concerned, she just said, tired and exasperated, 'they like the feeling of free fall, don't worry, they'll come back in a minute'. Sure enough, they did, not a scratch on them. The family lived on the sixth floor.

• eating insane amounts of food. Jason personally witnesses their mom give them her wallet, telling the kids, 'eat until you're full', and promptly passing out on the table, her head on her arms. The kids then proceeded to eat four whole pizzas, three burgers each, then seven brownies and at least five cups of soda. What was interesting about it was not only the amount of food they ate but the way they never left their mom unattended, one of the kids always staying beside her sleeping figure as the other two went to order.

And now, all four of them were standing in front of him. Not Jason Todd him, but Red Hood him. And he was... confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, can you watch them for a few hours? Three, maybe four," the mom, Jazz as she introduced herself, was looking at him like it was he who was speaking nonsense, not her. Because asking a crime lord to watch three kids in the middle of the night is not something a sane person would do.

"Why?" He asks, bewildered, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

"I need to kill a man, and if they come with me, it will take three times longer," Jazz tells him. Is she saying the kids slow her down or what? Jason can admit he's never been this confused in his entire life.

"You could ask me to kill a man, while you stay with them, no?" He tries to reason, but the girl waves him off:

"No, that will take even longer. Besides, no offense, but you kill people to simply end their life, and I need that man to fucking stop existing forever."

What's the difference he almost wants to ask. But instead of that, he just sighs.

"Why me? I'm sure you could find a babysitter-"

"No babysitter will handle them. The last one told me they have been running laps on the ceiling, which is, actually, not that big of a deal. They are kids. Kids like running around," she huffs, and Jason suspects she is missing the point here, but okay. He gets why babysitters are not an option.

"You do understand what they can witness if they stay here?" He asks, as the last attempt to reason with the girl, but she just nods and leans down, making all the kids turn to her.

"Okay, you menaces, tell me what not to do while you're staying with Mr. Red Hood."

"No eating people," one kid starts.

"No driving people insane," the other one continues.

"No, um, stealing eyeballs," the third one finishes, and what the fuck are those ground rules? Is this girl a mother to eldrith horrors? That would explain some shit.

Jazz turns to him, "See? They're all good."

In what world is that good? Jason debates if he should start running now or when she leaves.

"Do they have names?" He asks instead. The girl nods:

"Danny." His surprise must be evident even through the mask because she sighs and points to each kid, "Diane, Daniel, Dante. Dani, Danny, and Dan. Actually, you know what, let's make this easier," she rummages through her bag and gets a marker out before gesturing to the kids, "Come here."

As they do, she proceeds to draw numbers 1, 2, and 3 on their foreheads. Then she nods to Hood and puts the marker away.

"Okay, that's better. Behave, you monsters, I'll be back soon!"

After she leaves, Jason looks down at the kids. They also look at him, eerie and unblinking.

Finally, one of them - number 2, Dani, if he is not mistaken - asks:

"Do you want teeth? We have a lot."

"She doesn't mean her teeth," number 1 clarifies, "She means other teeth."

...This is going to be some very long three hours.

[suhsweet]

perv!mingyu ⟡ kmg

wc: 731 | pair: perv!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: roommates au, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: mingyu is PERVERTED, panty stealing, dirty thoughts, mingyu spies on the reader

summary: when your roommate mingyu is a filthy, dirty pervert obsessed with you

authors note: maybe i'm a freak, but i literally thought that mingyu uploaded a pic of himself sniffing either socks or underwear. this is a really short drabble. wrote this in an hour. i might write more about perv!mingyu :) i told y'all that this blog is really self-indulgent...

Mingyu can’t remember exactly when his obsession with you began. One day, you were his roommate. The next, you were the star of all his fantasies. He’s had plenty of roommates before you, but you were different.

Maybe it's the fact that he knows what you sound like when you’re touching yourself. He knows you only do it when you’re the only one at home, where you can freely vocalize your pleasure without being embarrassed by anyone listening in. Except, that is exactly what Mingyu does.

If he tells you that he’ll be back from the gym by eight pm, he’s actually home at 7 and listening to you use your fingers to pleasure yourself. He tells you that he’s going to be at work until six, and comes home at five-fifty to hear the tail end of your orgasm.

Most of Mingyu’s nights are spent leaning against the wall your rooms share, pathetically fisting his swollen cock in his palms. His head would be pressed against the wall, his ears straining to find your moans. If he’s bold enough, he’s right outside your door with his dick out, where it’s significantly easier to hear you.

Right after you cum, he loudly opens and closes the front door to the apartment, hollering, “I’m home!”

He listens to you stumble around your room before you peek your head out. With your hair a mess, and eyes wide, Mingyu finds your flustered state so cute. He prevents a smug smirk from appearing when you innocently ask him how his day was.

He’s well aware that it would take only three strides of his long legs to reach your room. He’s also certain you didn’t have enough time to wipe your fingers clean of your essence. The idea that while you’re smiling innocently at him, behind the door your fingers are coated in your cum drives him insane. It takes everything in him not to burst into your room, take your hand in his, lick your fingers clean, and then make another mess of your pussy.

Mingyu’s perverted habits have been ongoing for several months. Mingyu was too far gone to feel any sense of guilt at this point. Not when you didn’t have to know. Not when he stole a pair of your panties from your laundry hamper while you were out with your friends.

He tries to use it sparingly to preserve your scent. He pulls it out on the occasions where he is so horny that his imagination cannot satiate his needs. It’s erotic, Mingyu thinks, that he’s using your panties while jerking himself off without your knowing.

He’s flat on his back, in the centre of his bed with the sheets pushed to his ankles. His room is plunged into darkness aside from the bedside lamp that illuminates his filthy act of perversion with a warm glow. He has his eyes closed whilst imagining the sight of you seated on his lips. He imagines his nose is buried in your delicious pussy, not the fabric of your underwear. His free hand grips his cock fiercely.

His mind presents him the image of you gripping his dark locks, your hips rotating as you grind into his mouth. His tongue is expertly drawing circles around your clit, the pressure of it so perfect that he brings to you an orgasm that is so shattering that you threaten to fall off of him. His arms would lock around your thighs like a vice. His eyes would look up at you, telling you everything that his occupied mouth can’t. His puppy eyes would be imploring, begging for more. His gaze would track your every movement, every rise and fall of your chest, every ‘o’ your mouth forms, every time your eyes clench shut when he sucks on your pussy.

And when you’re finished with his mouth, you’d come off of him, and clean up the mess you made by licking your release off of his lips. You two would make out as a result, messy and slick with saliva and cum.

While his imagination goes wild thanks to your used panties, Mingyu struggles to keep in the pitiful whine that threatens to leave his throat. He doesn’t want to wake you up. You’re obliviously sleeping on the other side of the wall, unaware that your pervert roommate is thinking such depraved thoughts about you.