#green sludge guy

[canneddolts]

love these guys…[looks at smudged ink on hand]………………….barby & gorin

[reblogglelog]

I was doing my haha teehee post for this scene when I realized that Batman is a walking Trigger (capitol T) for Guy Gardner.

Sad Boy Hours: Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner has severe physical and psychological trauma. His dad is canonically physically and verbally abusive. Guy is pretty frank about it. So, Guy had problems before his frontal lobe got scrambled like an egg.

There are multiple times in the series where Bruce just has to give Guy an order and, counter to the way Guy acts with everyone else, Guy does what he's told. Now, it isn't every time. It wouldn't be Guy Gardner if he didn't try and piss off every human in existence. He knows they're going to find a reason to hate him, call him a piece of shit, so he'll give it to them on his terms. Because that's one way to cope with being the punching bag your whole life. Own it before someone else does. But, there are times Guy becomes timid in response to Bruce.

Guy Gardner doesn't know how to be quiet. There is nothing about this man that allows for subtly. It is physically impossible. The only reason Guy would be quiet is if it was to be bitchy and petulant, but that's not happening here. He's whispering and his eyes are on Bruce's hand, the hand that is gripping his shoulder hard enough to wrinkle the fabric. Guy looks stricken. The little motion lines around his head look like shaking. It's a jarring switch from the frothing man in the panel before.

All Bruce did was tell Guy to say he was sorry. Just to apologize. And he grabs Guy's shoulder. Guy doesn't have all his social tools anymore, but he has muscle memory and flight-fight-freeze, and he's using what he's got.

The "It's a start." is so disappointedly paternal. "It's a start" implies there will be more later. And later is never good.

I know it's not that deep, it's the 80s, they needed someone to be the team asshole. But, I'm also right because my brain is so juicy. Bruce is a walking trigger for Guy Gardner with his perpetual "Angry Dad" energy and the the fact that Bruce is the only one who can get away with bossing Guy around is a by-product of how thoroughly fucked up Guy's head is.

[nixii-sabre]

sludge reference except when he was 13 years old. he LOVES unicorns guys

minor nudity and heavy bruising + sh scarring under the cut

[deadsetobsessions]

DCxDP Writing Prompt: (I wrote some myself but yk)

Ghost was Gotham’s first cryptid. That’s right. Even before Batman. He’d established himself in the city as someone who takes care of things, helps the weak, aid some of the strong trying to do good. His information network sprawled the expanse of the city. In between the day the Waynes died and Batman’s reappearance, Ghost set up shop and slowly began to remove the sludge clinging to Gotham’s spirit.

Danny thought the name was a little bit on the nose but as someone who used to go by Invis-o-bill, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

Besides, people had accidentally aligned with ghost culture when they began calling Gotham his haunt. It was, and having people recognize that helped to boost his core. It was his haunt, and while he was taking down mob bosses, they were also considered his to take care of.

Which meant Danny felt it the moment Batman stepped into his haunt. He stayed his immediate violent reaction only because Gotham herself materialized to stop him from scalping the guy. She whispered to him how his parents died on these streets, how she wanted to choose him as her Knight. The Lady Gotham looked at her King, and asked him to withhold his judgement, bowed her head and pleaded.

Danny, eyes glowing a toxic green, stared at her until the rage from Batman’s presence- invader! trying to steal his haunt!- had calmed.

And he agreed, probationally.

The Ghost stood back and watched, commanding his network of people to assess and judge the Bat as a possible asset. A possible ally.

And so the Ghost’s continent of people, from prostitutes to white collar workers, from street kids to socialites, watched.

And Lady Gotham’s knight proved himself. And he found one of Ghost’s informants. And Danny?

Danny tilted his head back and laughed, glad he allowed Bruce Wayne to live despite his unknowing transgression.

[heartfullofleeches]

As much as I love monster darlings, monster yans are just as cute

Paranormal YouTuber reader and their totally 100% human definitely not an eldritch horror camera man yan - Tobi for now. The places Reader explores may actually be haunted, but no ghost or demon is popping out while that thing around. Their silly little idiot would be in serious trouble if they weren't around. People try to point out the odd glow in their eyes whenever they flash on screen, but the comments are quickly filtered and if you're lucky they'll be a new site of tragic, horrific and gruesome murder to explore.

-

Reader: Hm..... I broke a mirror, and even wore the same shade of green the ghost that supposedly haunts died in. Why's nothing happening?

[The camera man stares off at thin air, waving slowly before pointing down at their darling as they drag a finger across their neck.]

Reader: I'll try the board again- [They pick up the planchette ] R U N. Run. Is it trying to scare us?

[Yan camera man proceeds to stomp the Ouija board into fine pieces, a black sludge sticking to their heel]

"spider."

-

[in the middle of a Livestream with their followers]

Reader: Hey guys! Welcome back to another stream!~

Chat member: you've been right next to what you're hunting this whole time You're so cute. You should hold the camera person's hand :) :) :)

Reader: Aw thanks..... Hey, Tobi I think the chat is doing that weird glitch again. There's just a bunch of smiles on the screen now.

Yan camera man: :)?

-

Reader: I'm worried, Tobi. What if ghosts and monsters really aren't real?

Yan camera man: :)

Reader: What's that, Tobi?

Yan camera man: :))

Reader: You can find us a ghost right now?! I knew I could count on you!

[Yan camera man proceeds to kiss reader's forehead and roll up their sleeves as they walk off - picking up the leader of the rival ghost hunting gang up a few yards away by the throat and snapping their neck like a twig] :)

[jaketsparrow]

SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :) 

Playlist

*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth. 

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy. 

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern. 

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all. 

Professor Kiszka on the other hand… 

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man. 

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him. 

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad. 

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last. 

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone. 

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off. 

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears. 

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.” 

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare. 

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather. 

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room. 

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway. 

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room. 

It was empty. 

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work. 

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away. 

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever.  A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway. 

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. 

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover. 

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond. 

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level. 

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you. 

“-Your favorite?” He asks. 

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry? 

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him. 

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point. 

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?” 

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite. 

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer. 

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.” 

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table. 

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously. 

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process. 

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort. 

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.” 

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat. 

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs. 

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.” 

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber. 

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly. 

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart. 

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger. 

“Please, call me Jacob.” 

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips. 

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake. 

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand. 

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…” 

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

 He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings. 

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him. 

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite. 

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve. 

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try. 

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress. 

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items. 

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation. 

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so? 

“You look like a pirate.” You responded. 

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked. 

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth. 

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag. 

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there? 

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement. 

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago. 

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…” 

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave. 

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.” 

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up. 

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him. 

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you. 

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him. 

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.” 

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.” 

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him. 

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard. 

“Hey.” He prods. 

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands. 

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption. 

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues. 

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.” 

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.” 

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction. 

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product. 

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too. 

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance. 

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it. 

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello. 

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.  

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript. 

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old. 

You press play and lower the needle onto the music. 

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold. 

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity. 

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete. 

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important… 

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

 You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar. 

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels. 

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.” 

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass.  He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face. 

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily. 

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter. 

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before. 

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?” 

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you. 

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..” 

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters. 

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh. 

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.” 

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions. 

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue. 

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot. 

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.” 

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.” 

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care? 

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-” 

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him. 

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.” 

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate. 

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...” 

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.” 

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down. 

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks. 

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you. 

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you. 

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page. 

“See this paragraph here?” He questions. 

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement 

You need to focus. 

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?” 

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.” 

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost. 

“What…? What problem?” 

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist. 

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ” 

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside. 

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible. 

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from. 

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies. 

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.” 

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all… 

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin. 

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-” 

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand. 

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer. 

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off. 

“But?” He inquires. 

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber. 

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.” 

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression. 

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction. 

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you. 

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in. 

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.” 

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?” 

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.” 

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared. 

“How rough are we talking…” You prod. 

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.” 

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private. 

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before… 

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting. 

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles. 

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest. 

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language. 

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood. 

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter. 

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your… 

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.” 

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck. 

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing. 

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect. 

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you. 

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked. 

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from. 

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down. 

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.    

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?” 

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments. 

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice. 

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely. 

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.” 

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on. 

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion. 

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.” 

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own. 

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses. 

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him. 

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…” 

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease. 

His kisses start to graze you closer to your… 

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means. 

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.” 

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm. 

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you. 

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-” 

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to. 

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder. 

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission. 

You nodded your head ferociously  

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop. 

“Words.” He barked. 

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…” 

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg. 

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again. 

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding. 

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room. 

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you. 

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks. 

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?” 

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now. 

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you. 

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity. 

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once. 

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending.  It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more. 

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you. 

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation. 

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end. 

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness… 

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped… 

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen. 

A knock at the classroom door. 

“Hello?” Someone called out. 

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew. 

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?” 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

[undomesticated-catgirl]

im a snapjaw. im bitin the fart bubbles in the watervine patch. we smokin qudzu symbiotes. smokin that south sunderlies house isner deluxe megadram kasaphescence kush. we smokin beetlebum. im on 12 ubernostrum injectors smokin on q girl dick. we smokin mangrove gelatinous prism boogers. we snortin that good six day stilt hot and spiny jibblies. they must have amnesia, they forgot that im xem. that bey lah backwoods pack hittin that hindrussy smell like a chitinous puma. we smokin shit from a glass hookah blowin shekhinah's bubbles. im sick in the head. im on that rainbow wood soupy sludge. im on them ekuemekiyyen greens. im on them omonporch asphodelytes. i left my zetachrome pumps in the reliquary, i'll have to stunt on them next time. i don't give a fuck if i get decapitated, i don't need that head anyway. im high on 12 pax klanqs, lookin to beat the cum out of an irritable palm. we smokin dilute warm static you stupid piece of shit, i'll fuckin kill you. call that pussy the asphalt mines, cause im in this bitch and i can't get out. last guy who ran off on the pack got choked out by some ulnar stimulators. the last thing he ever saw was the engraving on them. slowly faded into darkness, and i let the argent fathers take him.

[vicmillen]

Why is Jason's revival so special?

Yeah yeah sure, Jason is far from the only guy dunked in the green pit, lots of others got dunked too, more than once even!

But as far as I know (which admittedly isn't very, so take some salt), Jason is the only zombie guy getting dunked in there.

Like, please don't forget the guy is already an undead zombie before the pit. Hell he literally crawled out of his own grave, it's like one of the key points of his story. I really don't think the 'came back wrong' part for Jason happened because of the Lazarus pit, it just boosted whatever is already going on with his weird state of being.

So what does that mean in the DPxDC setting? Idk, whatever you want really.

Maybe the guy is already on his way to becoming a revenant, and the dunk in green water supercharged his core/soul/whatever and overshoot the process, so he's much more alive than he should be.

Maybe his state of being a revenant means he generates ectoplasm by himself, and the pit contaminated the whole process which is why the pit rage became an ongoing problem for him.

Maybe there's nothing wrong with him and the supposed 'pit rage' isn't caused by the pit at all, it's just his state of slightly undead amplifies his emotions (especially rage) a tad too much.

Maybe he's like half a halfa, where his ghostly less-than-half is fused with his revived human side, just enough to give him the incontrollable ghostly urge to throw down and that skrunkly white streak.

Eh, I kinda lost track of what I was trying to say, just please remember there's more about Jason's revival than the green sludge, and that's what makes him weird. Anyways, have a good day.

[aealzx]

Okay, you guys convinced me well enough X'DDD

Though I skipped ahead a lil to address where Rise Leo and Rise Raph were.

Don't worry, they're just hanging out with April. Totally nothing out of the ordinary. ¯\_(979)_/¯

___________________________________

This takes place days after this first piece I posted.

(vomit and graphic injury warning) ___________________________________

Leon barely registered the entirety of his surroundings with the cacophony of sounds assaulting his ears, his hearing turned half deaf by his head swirling. A crash from something heavy hitting something metal. The pouring rain drumming on the pavement, brick, wood, more metal. His head hurt, he probably smacked it hard on the ground when he’d fell. It didn’t help the dizziness, or the building nausea. A stirring pot of sludge bubbling up into his ribcage. Into his throat.

A groan cut off as Leon rolled to his elbows and retched, bile pressing into his nostrils as well as his teeth and splattering the asphalt. There went dinner. Unfortunate. But at least his stomach felt mildly better, and the whirling pinwheel of an environment was starting to settle. At least enough that he could start to register the voices around him, and what they were saying.

“...sounds like drunk hooligans……call the police…..”

“HRRR-GHkk…. GuAAhhhh.”

“-eo!......LEO!.... C’mon Leo! Answer me. Raph needs help!”

That last voice. Leon didn’t recognize the first one, but the pained growling of the second one sounded like Raph. And the one calling to him was… “April?” Leon slurred slightly, dragging his head up more so he could look around. The last few minutes were spotty in his mind. He remembered something tearing through the space between inside their lair. Some sort of portals, but so different from any he’d seen before. Toxic black ooze whipping out of pits to wrap around his brothers. Donnie had grabbed Lil Mikey, and Raph had snatched up April and grabbed Leon’s wrist to pull him close as well. There was the brief thought of Donnie’s wrist computer, the old version, before Leon’s gaze had met his twin’s milliseconds before that same device came hurtling at his face. Use it to track the others. Whoever got separated, use the computer to follow the trackers on everyone. He wasn’t sure who’s idea it was, but he was glad they’d shared it. The wrist computer was held in a death grip in one hand. But right now he needed to address April’s wants. Raph was hurt. Leon could vaguely remember a sickening crunching sound while they had been in the oily blackness.

Coughing and wiping his mouth, Leon curled his legs underneath himself and forced them to work. Note to self, portal snatching from within strange gateways was not a recommended form of escape. April was saying something again, but raising his head to a level far above the ground as he stood up had caused his ears to ring. “...‘M com’ng…H’ng on…” he mumbled, using the wall as support to make his way towards where he could register April was with Raph. Green. Yellow. Red. April who was strangely cradling Raph’s head in her arms as he had his own arms wrapped around her in a tense comfort hold. A different shade of red where it shouldn’t be. Red, and a sliver of white.

“Shit.” Leon wrangled his brain back to the present regardless of how it felt like dragging through tar. White and red among the black wrapped green of Raph’s leg.

Compound open fracture.

Leon didn’t notice his stream of repeated curses muttered into the air, focusing instead on what he’d researched. Nothing was clean with this rain. They were in an alley. They needed to move. Not yet. Stop the bleeding, first rule. His own headband was ripped off his head, fingers strangely steady as he pinched the knot apart. The sturdy fabric was then hurriedly wrapped around Raph’s leg, just below the knee, and cinched tight.

“Sorry-” Leon’s cussing halted with an apology as Raph yelped. “April, give me your jacket.” A hissed order, and while April fumbled to comply Leon stole Raph’s headband as well to tie around his ankle. He broke away from his family for just long enough to give a damp pallet nearby a splintering kick to break off pieces of wood. Wood that was then wrapped in two sides of April’s jacket to act as a barrier between it and Raph’s leg.

“We have to move. Get out of the rain,” Leon explains shortly, the strap of his swords slipped off as well and used to secure the makeshift splint in place. Someone had called the police. They needed to leave. Now.

To where?

Something didn’t feel right about where they were. They had grown up in New York, running the rooftops and alleyways. Not sticking to any particular neighborhood. Some trips took them hours away from home.

But he didn’t recognize this place.

“....I’m taking you to the roof,” Leon announced quietly, slipping Donnie’s wrist computer onto his own arm before positioning himself to help carry Raph.

“What? Why?” April asked, wanting answers but not pausing to help move Raph.  Every whimper and hiss he gave at the movement made her lungs fail to breathe.

“I don’t know where we are. I want to get my bearings first, and then we can move to a safe place. But we have to get out of sight first,” Leon hushed, his form starting to shake, but not from the cold. A quick portal flashing open, and hobble dragging Raph through with April had them on the roof of one of the buildings next to them. Blessedly empty and near abandoned.

As soon as he got them settled under the half staircase Leon opened another portal. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get help.”

Before April could respond Leon had disappeared, and she had to swallow the lump of anxiety building in her chest back down, pulling Raph close and pursing her lips. “We’ll be okay Raphie. You’re gonna be fine. Leo will be right back,” she assured, both for Raph’s sake and her own. Raph wasn’t talking. But that wasn’t too surprising. He didn’t trust himself to speak at the moment. And April couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t bring herself to even look at his leg at the moment. She didn’t know how Leon did it. Just patching everyone up so easily. Watching all the bloody, messy surgeries on the internet just so he could have some idea how to help his brothers if he ever needed to. They were surprisingly sturdy, and it was remarkable that nothing like this had happened yet. She wished her mom was there.

Wait.

Drawing a quick gasp, April stretched to dig in her jacket pocket for her phone, decidedly ignoring the patch of blood that was now on it. A quick swipe and input of her password had her quickly tapping to her favorite contacts. And one more tap brought up her mom’s image as the call was sent. She started to breathe a sigh of relief.

Only for it to catch in her throat.

‘I’m sorry. The number you’re trying to reach is not available.’

Her phone mocked her attempts to find comfort. It was only after its jeers pierced her mind that she looked at her signal. Gone. She had no signal. Drawing a shuddering breath to calm herself deliberately, April set the phone aside. “It’s okay. That’s why Leo left instead of calling. He’ll be back,” she muttered, more to herself this time. She still appreciated Raph giving her a light squeeze in reassurance.

It was the longest six minutes of stress she could remember being through since the Krang had invaded.

The familiar blue portal swirling into sight again had April looking up in hope. Only to have it smothered back to where it was when Leon stumbled through. “Hueso’s is gone,” Leon stammered, his lightly trembling frame from before now visibly shuddering as he tripped to his knees next to them. “It’s gone. The Hidden City is gone. Our lair is still in service. Like it was never abandoned in the first place. Like we were never there. Nothing is there-”

“Leo!” April spoke up quickly, a little louder than usual to catch his spiraling thoughts before they went too far. Amidst his rambled words she had noticed something else. The computer on his wrist had the vitals screen displayed for all of them who had trackers.

Only Leon’s, Raph’s, and April’s were displaying vitals.

That definitely hadn’t helped Leon’s state of mind right then. Did he have a concussion too?

“It’s okay,” April assured, forcing her voice to remain steady. “It’s gonna be okay. Talk me through it. Let’s talk through it and figure things out. First priority is we need to find a place to stay, yeah? Somewhere clean. And then we need to get supplies to take care of Raph. All of our usual safe spots aren’t here, so that means….”

Leon fell silent, latching onto her words even as his gaze bored unfocused holes in the space before him. What April said helped build a track for his train of thought to follow, and he continued on even after she trailed off. “...This isn’t our New York.” That answered so many of the questions he’d had. This New York didn’t have yokai. That’s why so many of their familiar places were gone.

“Okay, so if it isn’t our home, then…,” April prodded, having not expected that for an answer, but willing to take it.

“I’ll have to scout out to find a place for us to stay. And then get supplies from a pharmacy. Then we can stabilize Raph while I look f’for the… oth..- khh,” he broke off, clenching his teeth and raising a wrist to squinted eyes. Don’t cry. They weren’t dead. There had to be an explanation. Donnie’s tech was wrong. It was old. He just hadn’t calibrated it or something. There was no way the others didn’t have vitals.

He couldn’t keep the tears back. His breathing started to catch before it could properly exit his lungs, and the headache from before was returning to throb behind his eyes.

“...Wha-?” Raph croaked out, forcing himself to speak, and hissing when a stab of pain shot through his body from his leg. “What- ghh, do you mean.. No vitals?”

Oh. He’d spoken out loud?

“It’s just like you said, Leo. Something is wrong with the trackers. They’re alright,” April rambled quickly to reassure them. “Donnie- You know Donnie’s okay. Right Leo? He’s still there?”

That was right. Leon didn’t have to rely on technology to know if his brother, his twin, was alright. He just had to focus a little. He shouldn’t have to focus, but this time he did.

Drawing a shuddering breath to try and calm his rattled brain, Leon closed his eyes to try and drown out the rain. It was so subtle. Again. Worse than before. Like Donnie was so far away. But he was still there. Now that Leon was paying attention he realized the connection he had to Donnie was still there. But he wasn’t responding. It wasn’t the same as when he was shutting him out before. Just still, and quiet. “I’i….. He’s okay,” Leon confirmed, letting out a shuddering breath. “H’he’s not responding to me though. I’i think he’s unconscious…”

He heard Raph let out a shaky breath as well, and April half sighed. “Is he stable?”

“What?” Leon asked, having been too focused to fully register what April asked.

“Is Donnie stable? You said he’s not responding, but does he feel stable?”

“Y’yes…. Yeah, he’s stable.” Leon confirmed after giving it a moment to confirm for himself. HIs brother was stable, not dead. Just unconscious. Maybe asleep. It was fine.

“Good. Let’s get step one taken care of then. Once Raph is stable too, we’ll focus on figuring out how to look for them. I saw Donnie grab Mikey, so they’re probably together. So if Donnie is okay then Mikey is just fine too,” April prodded, feeling herself relaxing more now that her brother’s were pulling out of their own spiral.

“Right… Okay,” Leon nodded, his mind branching to consider where might be the safest place for them that he would still know about in this new dimension. Donnie had played with the idea of alternate dimensions before, but had never explained much to them. Leon was starting to wish he’d listened to his twin’s ramblings. Underground was too different, and not clean enough. They needed somewhere above ground, but that they knew was abandoned, and not to be demolished any time soon.

An idea from an article Leon had seen before flashed across his mind, causing him to pull out his phone for a quick internet search. If this was a different dimension, then he should be able to connect to their internet, if his phone was capable. Which, while it looked like the network they hijacked off of didn’t exist, the wifi still worked fine. And with a shaky grin Leon held his phone out for April to see. “How’s this?”

The image April saw caused her to snort, but she nevertheless gave him a mischievous smile in return. “Bayley Seton? Good thing we’re not dragging Mikey there with us.”

What better place to temporarily hide an injured brother than an abandoned hospital that was supposedly haunted?

___________________

Previous Next

___________________

[1-800-fuccthisshit]

i know a lot of weirdos like this guy so here ya go :/

【𝘚𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘓𝘌𝘙𝘚 | 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕】

𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 1-𝘈 𝘚𝘛𝘜𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘛!𝘒𝘈𝘛𝘚𝘜𝘒𝘐 𝘉𝘈𝘒𝘜𝘎𝘖𝘜 𝘟 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 1-𝘉 𝘚𝘛𝘜𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘛!𝘔𝘊 | 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘕𝘌

𝘞𝘊 : 1,570

✦✦

not gonna lie, enemies to lovers is so easy when it comes to kacchan.

akina hayashi. grey eyes. bright purple hair. has a quirk similar to tomura shigaraki’s. anything she touches disintegrates, but she has the ability to reverse it as long as she doesn’t wait too long.

she had to learn that the hard way.

shortly after her quirk manifested, her parents got a divorce (the whole thing was so nasty), and as an only child, it became just her and her mom.

katsuki’s been akina’s next door neighbor since the womb. under normal circumstances, this would lead the two to become friends.

the problem lies with izuku being akina’s best friend.

she was so protective of him that she begged her mom to put her in a judo class.

“i wanna be able to protect my friend, mama!”

it was the most passionate she’d been about anything since her dad left.

akina was walking izuku home from school when they encountered the sludge monster. she did her best to hold him off, all might showing up just in time.

she couldn’t move fast enough to stop her friend from latching onto the hero as he took off. with a sigh, she continued her walk to the midoriya household.

an explosion in the opposite direction caught her attention. she didn’t plan on making a detour, but if she knew anything about izuku midoriya (and she knew everything about izuku midoriya), she knew he’d be there.

she pushed her way through the crowd of bystanders and caught sight of what was causing the ruckus. the spiky blonde hair and bright red eyes peeking from the muddy green sludge made her stomach cave.

her body felt stuck. it wasn’t until a flash of green ran through the chaos that she took off to help.

for izuku, she’d do anything.

she felt those beady eyes stare her down as she forced her hands through the mess. it seemed like no matter how much she was able to disintegrate, it’d come back tenfold.

after all might put an end, the two instigating teens got chewed out by the adults.

“what were you thinking? do you have a death wish?”

“at least we tried to help. that’s more than what can be said about you pros.”

she shut that down quick.

during their walk home (for real this time), she was properly introduced to small might.

after izuku committed to training with the hero, akina was there everyday working with him. if he was really determined to go to ua, she had to be there by his side.

after passing the Entrance Exam, akina hayashi ended up in class 1-b, much too far from izuku midoriya and katsuki bakugou in her own professional opinion.

she got requests from both inko midoriya and mitsuki bakugou to look after their boys.

she made no effort to befriend her classmates. outside of class, she acted as izuku’s shadow. she didn’t say much, but she always there. everyone thought she was his girlfriend for a while.

the tension between akina and katsuki was tense. every time she saw izuku at the end of the day, likely covered in bruises and bandages, she’d approach with a soft look on her face, find out it was from katsuki, and offer to kill him.

“WUH- kina-chan you can’t go around saying things like that! people will think you’re being serious!”

“but i am, izu-kun.”

during the UA Sports Festival, it didn’t take long for akina to lose sight of her friend. during the cavalry battle, she got grouped with neito monoma.

after her team got eliminated, she waited for izuku with some of the other class 1-a students. the boys were enamored with her aura and the girls were mildly intimidated by it.

it made her anxious to see izuku fight and not be able to do anything to help him, but his classmates were confident that he could handle himself well.

she mostly kept her eyes forward, but when uraraka came back from her round against katsuki, she turned her attention to the girl.

“…”

“um.. hi?”

“.. you did good.”

something about the way she said it had everyone’s except katsuki’s faces turning red.

akina ended up working under a hero in hosu for her internship. she tried to use it as an excuse to not worry about her friend for too long. the beeping on her phone though, ensured that that wouldn’t be the case.

she excused herself and took off, running in the direction of the blinking dot on her screen.

she ran towards the alley and came to a stop just as todoroki was rounding the corner. the sight of her closest friend, his classmate, and a pro hero all laid unmoving and the Hero Killer ready to strike.

it wasn’t long after her arrival that they were able to take the man down. that’s not to say they came out of it unscathed.

they were all wrapped in bandages, and akina had a long gash going down the side of her face.

after that, akina essentially became an honorary 1-a student; she was invited to spend time with them outside of school as her own person and not an extension of izuku.

katsuki’s eye started twitching when he found out class 1-b would be going to the same Training Camp.

while at the forest, akina was tasked with improving the restoration of things she’s disintegrated and forcing the pathway of the destruction.

being in the same vicinity as her genuinely had bakugo tweaking, and kirishima and kaminari thought it was hilarious.

“man, i don’t think i’ve seen you this worked up in a long time.”

“and she’s not even bothering you! it’s almost like you have a cru-”

the explosion shook the ground.

she’d been hiding in a tree when the smell of fire hit her nose. katsuki and shoto had just gotten past her. she jumped down and made quick work of joining the two (safety in numbers and all that) and one of her fallen classmates. it didn’t take long for them to come face to face with moonfish.

getting permission from the hero to use their quirks was unexpected, but hearing that katsuki was one of the targets made akina’s blood run cold.

as shoto started putting up ice walls, akina grabbed the kid off of his back and made something of a barricade by breaking down the ground just enough to hide the boy.

she soon joined the fight, turning the blades coming out of the man’s mouth to dust as they made contact.

she and shoto held their own until dark shadow came charging at them.

the group of students kept pushing through the forest, eventually running into asui and uraraka.

in the end, katsuki ended up in the hands of the league of villains.

akina, moving on muscle memory, ended up riding to the hospital in the ambulance with izuku.

when inko showed up, akina got down on her knees and apologized profusely for failing to protect her son.

she did the same thing at the bakugou household.

akina, to everyone’s surprise, joined the group for the Hideout Raid. she said it was to keep an eye on izuku.

he knew it was a lie.

it was nerve wrecking seeing mt lady, best jeanist, tiger, and gang orca fall against the masked man.

they were all frozen in fear until the sound of the angry blonde rang through the air.

the teenagers eventually came up with a plan.

akina reached for the ground, using her quirk to disintegrate the concrete under the boy. he was quick to notice it.

after the boys took off down todoroki’s ice ramp, akina stayed put just long enough to see katsuki shoot himself into the sky and grab kirishima’s hand.

after she knew he was safe, she ran in the direction of the rubble to help those in need.

it took her a while, but she was able to help civilians get to safety, disintegrating everything in her path.

when she got away from the chaos, she called izuku.

“kina-chan! where ar-”

“izu-kun. are you and katsuki okay? are you somewhere safe?”

she stood by, holding her breath as she watched all might go against all for one on the big screen.

as she watched the hero bulk up for what was probably the last time and raise his fist in the air, akina felt her legs give out, and for the first time in a long time, she cried.

she found the rest of the first years and went with them to drop katsuki off at the police station before going home.

she stayed in her room for a few days, not even coming out when vlad king came by to speak to her mother about the new dorms.

the day she went out the check the mail was, coincidentally, the same day all might and eraserhead were visiting the bakugou residence. katsuki had just finished a conversation with all might.

“katsuki.”

he stopped, but he didn’t look at her.

“i’m glad you’re okay.”

she then turned to all might, bowing at a ninety degree angle, and thanked him sincerely for protecting japan.

katsuki walked back inside his house, his face warm.

(not gonna lie this is probably the first time they’ve ever had an interaction that had nothing to do with izuku)

✦✦

𝘰𝘰𝘧, 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴. 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 (𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺). 𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪 (*＾წ＾*)

— 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘢

[chipped-chimera]

Aquarium update - I have a Betta again! Got kind of burned last time so I travelled wayyyyy north from where I am to get her, along with some cories. It's been about two weeks since, judging my water changes (do about 25% a week, not because the water needs it but more because any longer and my filter gets gummed up) and she's been doing really well. She's changing rapidly, but she was very juvenile when I got her (like literally only a bit bigger than some of my green neons which max out at 3cm) which I expected, since marble gene. The contrast of a few weeks though is kinda nuts.

Not quite named yet, since honestly I was so burned from last time (RIP fish Karlach 😔) that I've been hesitant to name her or even share anything about her online. Also because I literally have no idea how she's gonna look in a few weeks as she matures.

I was thinking maybe Arita or Imari since her patterning reminds me of Asagi Koi and Imari-Arita Ware ceramics? Leaning towards Arita since it sounds a bit 'sassier' I guess (idk, vibes) and she definitely is that. I'll take suggestions though!

Anyway more fish rambling below -

Honestly I was so hesitant to get her, but I was already putting in replacement Cories after a mystery disease decimated my Corydora population, leaving my admittedly kind-of-fat female Three Lined solo. Whatever contagion was in the tank is either gone or dormant (since a lot of fish disease I know is entirely reliant on how stressed a fish is - they can still be a carrier but completely fine) after basically doing every treatment I had at my disposal. I think it was a mix of parasitic and bacterial, maybe fungal? Hard to target given all my tank tests consistently returned a big fat 0ppm for all the bad shit. My tank is about as clean as it gets - I only change about 25% weekly and that's more to clean sludge out of the filter, it never really needs it. Admittedly some of the deaths I contributed to because I wasn't aware how much my tank PH had changed over the months (test your PH regularly guys), apparently the huge chunks of wood have exhausted all their tannins cause I've gone from acidic to more basic. It seems to be holding about 7.8, apparently related to the Seiryu stone in there. Basically water changes caused the PH to flux to much, contributing to stress for the Cories. Yeah I feel bad but I'm also not blaming myself since a. Literally first tank b. I am learning the fish hobby is really annoying for consistent information. Like literally information that doesn't contradict itself half the time. A lot of that is the reason why I've been slowed down in figuring out what is going wrong and that ultimately has resulted in a lot of loss.

Important part though is everyone seems to be doing fine, and I've learned enough now to maybe recognise stuff a lot faster. One of the Pandas, after my first water change developed a big fungal streak down it's body (I'm guessing it scuffed itself in a panic somewhere) but had that treated easily within about 3 days with just Pimafix. No seriously, they're doing well. Well enough they apparently spawned? Saw the betta striking some mystery thing on the glass. I thought it was a freshwater limpet (they've been in there, just haven't seen them in a while) and realised no, actually an egg. Not opposed to this since I'm pretty close to stocking limit (at least in a regular, unplanted tank) so I'm down for the population control.

Betta really is a little predator though. She's honestly weird for a Betta in that she doesn't show interest in food. At all. She might nibble at a fallen bit but couldn't care less about anything I put on the surface or during feeding time. Been monitoring her weight, and she's definitely not underweight. Guess I have enough random critters in my tank (Planaria, about a million scuds since my last-ditch effort treatment to save a Cory decimated my shrimp population. I lost my favourite orange/red shrimp too 😭) to sustain her? Worry is of course I need to re-establish more shrimp. There are some left but nowhere NEAR what I had before. I've seen her chase a few who appear, she definitely has them on alert but they tend to be too big for her anyway. And too fast. Juveniles though ....

I do have a HUGE amount of hiding places for new, young shrimp (just moss. So much moss) but I think I'll maybe raise them in a netted isolation box until they're big enough that she's no longer a threat maybe? Idk. That or I get technically-not-allowed Cherry Shrimp from someone local, since they tend to be adults. Juveniles are kind of my only option at my local store.

Anyway that's the ramble!

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Dang, these f.naf prompts are super good dude! Any chance we could get more a.nimatronic prey? Could be like a regular person or other a.nimatronics that eat em. G.utcrush and d.isposal if ya could too

I'd like to do that, yeah! Glad you've been enjoying them. I'll do something with the "OG cast" as prey. With a little swap out for someone.

The technician sighs as he looks up at the stage. This old pizza place is getting shut down and the robots gotta go. Apparently, they’re too dangerous, and the company is just going to start over. There’s three of them on the stage—F.reddy, a brown bear with a top hat, B.onnie, a purple rabbit with a bow, and M.onty, a green gator with red hair. There’s a fourth one in the back, F.oxy, a red fox that’s already half broken in the cove. That one will have it be last.

The technician stops in front of the robots. He feels like they’re watching him…but they’re just robots. “Alright, guess we’ll start with the star of the show.” Grabbing onto F.reddy, the technician opens wide. He’s been given permission to scrap them however he wants. And they didn’t give him a lunch break so…

The robot’s head is forced into the technician’s maw. Not bad, kinda tastes like pizza. The man is a bit surprise when the robot seems to come alive and tries to push on his shoulders with its clunky movements. He grunts in surprise and takes a hard swallow, forcing himself down F.reddy’s shoulders. Wouldn’t hear things be turned off? Oh well, they’re not going to be working very well soon anyway.

Getting further down F.reddy’s chest, the robot's arms are forced down finally. The technician starts to move more steadily down the robot’s body. He doesn’t notice the other two watching him on either side, or how nervous the robots seem. F.reddy’s legs start lifting off the ground, kicking awkwardly in the air. The technician’s stomach is bloating out heavily as the bear is shoved in, his face stretching the skin tightly. It doesn’t seem to be causing any discomfort, though.

The technician tips his head back, slurping wetly to send those kicking legs down the hatch. His gut grows bigger until it finally slams into the ground with a thud, F.reddy’s twitching feet disappearing down the hatch. The technician slurps over his lips and pats his gut roughly a few times. “Alright, easy enough. Time for decommissioning.”

The man’s stomach begins to gurgle harshly. He grits his teeth and flexes his stomach. There’s the sound of bending metal, and F.reddy lets out a yell inside. Then the stomach roars out, mixing with the sound of screeching, warping metal. F.reddy’s voice box makes a mangled sound as it’s crushed. The defined bulge of the robotic bear is suddenly reduced to a lumpy, round shape that makes the man’s gut look a third the side. A deep, rumbling belch escapes the technician, F.reddy’s top hat hitting the ground and rolling away. “Woof…alright, one down. You’re next, B.onnie.”

B.onnie shifts slightly when his name is said. Before he can move, the technician grabs him by one of his ears and pulls him down. He starts to wave his arms around in a panic as his head is engulfed and the gulping begins again. He tries to grab onto the technician’s head, ut they’re forced down once a hard gulp gets down over his shoulders and chest. He kicks around, feet slamming into the ground over and over as he’s dragged into the technician’s gut. Boiling metal sludge is waiting for him, parts of endoskeleton and brown casing from F.reddy half melted and icing the rabbit a rough landing as he dives in.

The technician pushes down on B.onnie’s feet, shoving him all the way into his stomach. It sloshes thickly, hitting the ground again as another animatronic is forced in. “Hff…gotta call management after this and figure out who left you guys on. Should’ve been turned off…” Oh well, it’s not stopping his work. It’s barely even slowing him down. B.onnie shifts weakly inside the technician’s stomach, the slop up to his waist and the space groaning deeply.

The technician’s stomach clenches down again, B.onnie’s body folding like wet paper. He’s crushed down with a few screeches of breaking metal. The technician’s gut now hangs down to his knees, bubbling deeply and wetly, starting to pump some of that molten sludge deeper. Another wet belch blasts out of the tech and he rubs his gut slowly.

He hears something moving and looks over to see M.onty trying to stop away. He grabs the gator’s tail and lifts it up. “Nope, show time’s over.” He doesn’t even register the gator as trying to escape him. He sticks the tail in his jaws and slurps it up, dragging the clunky robot back. M.onty starts to thrash around, legs kicking and arms clawing at the ground uselessly. His body folds up with a clunk, knees at his chest.

The tech’s jaws stretch over M.onty’s torso and legs at once. The robot starts sinking down with wet gulps, getting lifted off the ground. When he’s up to his chest and knees, his tail dips into the boiling metal slurry, and the robot starts to move more erratically, jaws snapping at the air.

The tech braves himself on the wall and tips his head back. A wet, hard gulp and M.onty gets slurped down with a cry. His head and feet disappear together and he drops into the tech’s gut, making it slosh deeply and slam into the floor. The tech huffs and rubs his belly over the gator’s face. M.onty gets a few seconds to threads, making all that slop slosh around. Then the ut clenches down, crushing the gator with a roaring Becky out of the technician.

The tech Ian sighs as he starts waddling along, rubbing over his gut. It’s groaning and gurgling deeply, each step making the whole thing slosh like a water balloon. He can feel all that metal scrap shifting around inside and boiling slop pumping deeper. He’s getting fatter form it already, his clothes growing tighter over his form. His gut is hanging halfway down his shins now and each step is slow and awkward. He has one more robot to take care of…

Getting the Pirate’s Cover, the tech moves the sign aside. He pulls the curtains apart and is take by surprise with F.oxy suddenly lunging at him. He tries to scream, but he can’t. His maw is suddenly filled with robot as he’s knocked onto his back. F.oxy dives right down the man’s gullet, sinking in up to his knees. His metal feet kick slightly outside the tech’s jaws, but a gulp and a slurp sucks those down.

The tech gets back to his feet with a slight huff, his gut resting on the ground again. He rubs the back of his head, looking at his stomach as it bulges slightly from F.oxy’s thrashing. “Weird…guess that thing really was malfunctioning. Mmf, well…” He burps into his fist and flexes his gut. F.oxy goes still with a few wet crunches and a deep belch escapes the tech. “That’s the last of them. Decommissioning is going well, too. Mph…better get to the dumpster…”

Dragging himself along, the tech’s gut slowly starts to shrink back. As the animatronics are pumped away through his system, his stomach reduces in size. The rest of him begins to grow, though, more fat heaping onto his form. Even as his gut lifts up and gets easier to manage, he’s still stuck waddling, thighs pressing together as they grow and pants tearing over his expanding ass. His uniform’s shirt never does come down over his gut as it grows thicker and softer and his chest and arms strain it more. Even his face grows rounder and softer as he huffs.

By the time he gets to the dumpster, the man has tripled in size and his gut is groaning harshly. His torn pants means he doesn’t have to undress at least. With a bit of effort, he hears himself up to the side of the dumpster, massive cheeks sitting on the edge. With a grunt and a push, he begins to force the robots out.

A literal ton of shit comes cooking out rapidly. The tech’s immense control of his core goes to his bowels as well, and what light take someone hours to unload only takes a few minutes for him. The dumpster fills to the top fast, the shit two feet thick all around and dense and black. The stink is rotten and strong and little bite of metal and wiring pokes out occasionally. But it’s very little, most of the robots reduced to shit and fat. As soon as the massive log ends, the tech closes the dumpster and gets back to his feet.

“Better let management known the decommissioning is done. Hope that new P.izzaplex thing works out. They’re not getting these guys back…” With a soft burp, the tech heads back inside, leaving the old models as waste waiting to be disposed of.

[fandomfuntimem]

Remember when I promised all my one shots would come with art? I lied. ANOTHER DOAI X RE CROSSOVER BE UPON THEE!

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

The folie of deux au x resident evil

Leon dove below a desk. Holding his breath he heard the sound of heavy boots slowly approaching the door. The door creaked open.

"Leon?" It said, "helloooo..." it began to wonder around the room. There would be footsteps, then they would stop, things would be shuffled around, then it would continue searching. This thing wearing Alex's skin just appeared and began stalking him! Like that freakish super soldier from the police station. It knew his name, but that wasn't his cousin. No. It was some freakish mind controling parasite or something!

Leon heard it stop again. The sound of a book being slid from a shelf was heard before the brief flipping of pages.

"Huh..."

"No. Nothings wrong. I just find books inturesting."

"Yeah... so. It seems he isn't in here."

"I know, but maybe you saw wrong!"

"Ugh! I don't even know what you like about the guy. I get he's your cousin and all, but he carries those gun things and keeps running."

"You're right. We aren't exactly what you used to be."

"Yeah... sorry..."

A one sided conversation, and it sounded regretful. Leon felt his shoulders relax, "your cousin" it said. Was it talking to Alex? Is Alex still in there? Leon shook himself. Maybe they were still there, but they have no control. He can't risk his life. Even if there was a sliver of a chance at saving them, he couldn't risk it.

The footsteps started again, moving away from his hiding spot. Soon the door creeked open, and the creature exited with the door slamming behind it. Leon listened as the footsteps slowley, but surely, became quieter and quieter. He let out a sigh of relief. Slowly creeping out of his hiding spot, he made his way to the door. Leon pressed his ear to the door, nothing, its safe.

~

Leon slowly made his way through the halls of the old office building. He hasn't found whatever Lankmann wanted him to find, but whatever it was can't be this hard to find. "It will revolutionize my research," he had said, "A matter of combining the two most optimal forms." Leon didn't believe it. Its probably going to result in a zombie apocalypse he'll have to clean up again...

He searched through some cabinets and desks. It would have really helped if they told him what he was looking for. Turning to leave he was only met with the tall lanky figure of what used to be his cousin. It basicly towered over him despite slouching. Black sludge dripped down half it's face, a glowing blue eye peaked through the curtain of slime. Clawed hands hung at it's sides, and the rest of their figure was shrouded in a black trench cout.

It smiled, "there you are!"

Leon tried to run, he really did, but it gripped his arm. A monstrously strong grip. He wanted to scream, yell for help, cry, but he couldn't. There was no one who would answer. The creature pulled him in, he struggled to no avail, and it just hugged him. A kind and firm hug. One that Leon hadn't felt in a long time.

Despite all his instincts telling him not to, Leon melted into the hug. He must be touch starved to take even the smallest form od affection from the mutated form of what used to be his best friend. "I missed you." It said.

"What?" Leon stepped back. The glowing eye was gone, instead he was faced with Alex's normal green eye on the right side of their face.

"I missed you. It's been years!"

"You were able to talk this entire time and you never did!?"

Alex laughed, "sorry sorry! Winfrey likes her freedom! It was pretty spooky though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah... it was."

"Ugh, yeah. Sooooo..."

"So?"

"Wanna grab something to eat and catch up? I know a place willing to make our burgers raw!"

Leon took note of the sharp teeth, carnivorous. Leon has seen weirder,

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

My list of potention crossovers is extensive. I am also on a 9hr road trip rn and the most well behaved person is my 1yo niece. She's just straight vibin.

[burningexeter]

[PITCH]

Where The Magic Happens

What is it —

A 25 episode limited series event that's both a second yet truer Ben 10 reboot and an action-animated series that's a combination of not just action but also sci-fi, horror and magic.

PREMISE:

Set in the fictional Bellwood, California, we follow Gwendolyn "Gwen" Frankenstein, a 10 year old girl who is incredibly intelligent and well read for her age but at the same time she's also a rude, mean, obnoxious, spoiled and stuck-up brat who rarely gets into any trouble due to her manipulation skills. Her summer break has been planned out by herself and herself only and Gwen seems perfectly fine and comfortable being the awful know-it-all who nobody likes. That is until the night that summer vacation starts when Gwen is forced to answer the front door since she's the only one home, she is kidnapped and bagged by three women — her mother's closest friend Sandra Tennyson, her school principal April Munroe who's revealed to be a green skin alien named Xylene and one of her neighbors Camille Mann who's revealed too to be a dark purple skin sludge alien — who proceed to bring her to a deadly, twisted, boisterous, vile and sadistic femme fatale teen witch named Charmcaster that is responsible for the disappearances of several spoiled girls and has her eyes set now on making Gwen her 100th victim to add to her body count.

However, things that have already taken an unexpected turn takes another turn equally unexpected when Charmcaster decides to let Gwen go once she senses that unlike the other girls, she has a magical aura which leads to her giving Gwen her dark purple lipstick as a way to contact and have her come by and visit.

In doing so, this ends up setting off a chain of events that not only brings Gwen into this almost-hidden world of witches, wizards, aliens, creatures and enhanced robots but also has Gwen, Charmcaster, Sandra, Xylene and Camille form together as an unlikely team in order to take down the main threats that affects them all in some way, shape or form with each of them changing for the better in too their very own ways.

NOTES/TRIVIA/DETAILS:

• While the limited series will be done in the same animation style and overall aesthetic as the original Ben 10 series, it won't be the only thing that the show will share with the OG. The series will have the same dark and intense edge in this case to show the high stakes and danger that the characters are in especially Gwen who is devoured whole by Charmcaster who blows her out of her stomach later, has her nose fall off, is split in half, her eye squeezed so hard her pupil pops out of it and is kissed by Charmcaster on the cheek only for her lips to stick to it.

• Meagan Smith, Kari Wahlgren, Tara Strong and Grey DeLisle will all reprise their roles as Gwen, Charmcaster, Sandra, Xylene and Camille but will be given new and interesting material to work with and be given new and fresh takes on their previous characters.

• A perfect example of the type of dark storytelling that the limited series will have is that in a middle episode, Charmcaster finds that she accidentally traveled into the future and she's arrested by a police force with ways to block and subdue magic. Here, she discovers that not only is she the captain of this police force but that also she's a good guy and married to Gwen. We delve into what this does to Charmcaster and her having to come to grips with who she'll be.

• All five of the protagonists will each have their own distinctive arcs where they both learn, face and see the consequences of their actions and how it affects others, especially Gwen whose main arc is turning into a better, kinder and more caring person.

• The influences for the limited series are the following: Return To Oz, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003), The Incredibles, Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Beware The Batman, in terms of the tone, dark edge and most of all style.

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Give me one good reason

Summery;

Instinctual mimic Flirting tactics normally involve shifting to have similar traits, and martyn is not beyond this. Grian and Jimmy just have to deal with the consequences.

Beta read and edited by mayself

No trigger warnings!!

Ao3 link

(This is for the @mcyt-halloween event, for my giftee @v1neyy)

“It’s not my fault…”

Martyns voice was more of a defensive huff than him actually talking, despite the fact it, very much was his vault. Small green parakeet wings puffing up with his defensive words. Jimmy just sighed into his hand. Gesturing at the man sat on his couch. Trying to find something to say to him before grian takes the words right out of his mouth.

“Pray tell, how exactly is this, “not your fault”?” grains voice grumbles out, arms folded over his chest, his own wings spread awkwardly in the arm chair, as if to show his own emotion, even though it was clearer than need be across his face.

Martyn wasnt born an avian. That was just a simple fact, he wasnt born anything even near human like, to be completely honest. Being a mimic, martyn was more of…a moving glob of sludge when he was born. One that jimmy and grian were warned against growing up.

Being two little kids they thought martyn was more of their…new shared pet between the two. Martyn would hide in grains garage one week, and jimmys backyard the next. Well. that was until one day jimmy went out and on his porch sat a boy with the exact same shade of blonde hair as himself. And grains brown eyes. And a height right between the two. And he just waved, flashing the, at the time, human, a large toothy grin that jimmy knew well, and waving his hand.

After those days, no one really, knew martyn was a mimic, that he just copied traits as he went, eventually his eye color changed, and he started to become more of his own person. A person who was really just a collection of the people he loved.

When grian texted jimmy this time though, jimmy is going to be honest, he didnt expect the words. “Martyn decided to grow wings.” it was not on jimmy bucket list, hes going to be completely honest. Of course he invited the two over, to talk this out of course, but, there hasnt been much talking about it. No. it’s been mostly martyn denying that he meant to do this and the two only questioning him further.

How the actual fuck do you explain mimic courting to an avian and a guy cursed with bird wings? You dont. Thats how.

“Listen it’s just, not my fault, i didnt mean to.” martyn said. Bargaining for the two to just, let the subject drop. Jimmys wings puffing up, making all the wings in the room puffed up and spread out in some form of emotion. “Cant you like, control your form??” jimmy asked, his voice raising as he stressed the words, both hands flaring out gesturing at martyn.

“Normally yeah!! But not right now!! So can you please, show me how to take care of them while theyre stuck to my fucking back?” he pleads, curling up further and holding his head, grian’s sigh is far more disappointed than what jimmy has ever thought hes ever heard. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sighing deeply as he decides to give in, standing up and folding his wings against his back.

“Bloody- fine. I guess martyn. Lay down on your stomach. On the floor. “ he grumbles looking over to jimmy. Martyn lets out a breath he knew he was holding in. chest heaving with relief, at finally being left alone. And jimmy lets out a sigh as well. The 3 only mirroring each other without really noticing it.

“I’ll make us some tea.” he says, finding his way out of the room for his own mental sake.

“This is called preening.” grian said, hands on the base of martyns wings, as he sat on the small of his back, sharp talons picking scratching at the skin, causing martyn to let out a happy sigh at the feeling. “You’ll need to do it just about every other day to keep your wings from hurting.” martyn nods turning his head to look at jimmy, who sits with his back against the couch, sipping at his own mug of tea watching the two.

‘True avians, like grian, only let people they trust preen their wings.” jimmy pipes up as he grins at martyn’s relaxing and happy face. “You preen grian wings all the time.” martyn says quietly, half a question and half a statement. And jimmy only grins. “He preens mine too.” jimmy trails off, sentence ending as he sort of changes topics. “Ill let you preen mine when you get better at your own.” jimmy states and martyn feels the smallest flare of joy in his chest at the words. Jimmy would trust him with that. Maybe martyn does have a chance.

“Youd have to cut off my wings before i let you.” grian said jokingly as his hands move through the outer feathers. Silently hoping martyn learns by the way it feels. But martyn just lays like a puddle on the floor as talons move through his new found wings. A small trill rises in his throat as he closes his eyes and lets himself become one with the floor. It isnt uncommon for martyn to trill as he often picked up vocal habits from the two. But from some reason in the smallest bit where his eyes are still open he sees jimmy.s face turn pink. How odd. He doesnt say anything about it, because thatd be like pointing out the way grian has always rested the ends of his wings on their backs. Thatd be like pointing out the way martyn inspects them, or the way hes never made himself look exactly like the two. It’d be crazy to do so. It’d just be calling eachother out, and if martyn calls them out, then they can call him out, and that never ends well for anyone.

Martyn hums, stretching his arms out across the floor, only relaxing more into it as grian goes further. “You pull out any bent or broken feathers, straighten out the other ones, and scratch out the dirt.” grian says absentmindedly like he isnt quite paying attention anymore to his words and just trying to get the job done. Martyn does see anyone reach for the remote, but he hears the clicks of it and the sound of the tv turning on. “What do you guys wanna watch? Jimmy asks with a hum as he scrolls through the movies, and martyn isnt even sure what streaming service hes on. But he hopes its a good one. Like. nextflix. Well. actually. No, fuck netflix. Hulu. he hopes its hulu.

“Nightmare before christmas” grian answers before martyn even has time to realize how lost in his own head he is at this point. His voice still mumbled with focus, and martyn just nods his head. Grian sounds cute like that, all focused. He bets he has that little frown he’s always had when focusing on school assignments. And martyn feels whats close to a purr rise in his chest at the thought of grian focusing on him like that, having all of grians attention. And he can hear jimmy’s surprised laugh at the sound, mixed with grians. “Oh he’s already gone dude.” jimmy giggles out as he reaches down hand in martyns hair, only causing the purring to go up in volume. He must be so lucky, two pretty boys, both touching him. What did he do to deserve this.

“Im surprised it took this long.” grian laughed as one of his hands moved to scratch the spot between the wings fondly, causing martyn to let out a long, happy trill. Jimmy only cooed along with his laughs. Martyn pays attention to the words just enough to understand them, but his brain only circles back to how nice the two sound and how he’s the one making them laugh and giggle like that. “Feels nice..” martyn grumbles into the floor, word airy and light as he seems oh so happy about the turn of events.

“It’s going to, naturally relaxes you.” jimmy chuckles as he scoots closer to martyn, lifting the mans head and setting it in his lap to give himself more space to mess with the mimics hair. And martyn swears he almost chokes, hiding his turning red face into jimmy’s thigh. It is both the best and worst feeling to have all their attention. Both of them paying so much detail to every single noise or twitch from martyn. Both driving him crazy and making him so fucking happy that he cant stand it. So he decides to not face any feeling and just try to close his eyes and hide.

Grian returns to simply preening, and jimmy puts on the movie like planned. The two whispering words that martyn doesnt have half a mind to make out. All the roams in his mind is the hands on him. God. he should have sprouted wings years ago if this is how itd go.

Time ticks by and has much as martyn would like to say its been hours, its more likely to have only been a singular hour. But every single second feels like forever, even in his almost entirely asleep state, his eyes feel heavy and his body is warm, a perfect mix that leaves his trails and purring quieting down, but still going.

Before he can really notice grian is done, the man is getting off his back, a high whine leaving ,martyns throat as he tries to blink his eyes open to look at whats happen, a small sound of distress leaving him at the mere thought of grian leaving. He cant go. Martyn needs him. He really does. Jimmy’s hand only smooths down his hair. braiding a piece between his fingers. “Snap out of it mar.” jimmy snorts out in a laugh, martyn can only huff and flop fully back into jimmy without a single care for what the avian says.

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - WASP COLONY (IT TAKES TWO)

[Image ID: A screenshot of the robotic Wasp Queen from It Takes Two surrounded by dozens of Wasp Soldiers /End IDs.]

As decided by you guys in last week's poll, today, we're taking a look at It Takes Two! This seems like a fairly interesting one, as this is a rare instance of non-bee wasps actually being a fairly major part of the story! Now, admittedly, I do have my issues with the game given its message and the way they chose to get it across, but that's a story for another time, for now, let's start, as usual, with the look of these wasps!

Quick preface before I get started, though, a few screenshots were gathered from videos of the game so I apologize for the potential lack of quality here, but I got the best ones I could!

With that out of the way, my first impression of these guys, the Soldiers, is that they're very clearly based on yellowjackets, with the particular layout of their markings as well as their head and body shape. The limbs seem fairly accurate, with the correct number of them and generally correct coloration, if a little dark. The wings seem mostly right but, once again for this series, they don't seem to have hindwings, only forewings. Because I can't see any visible ocelli it makes me think that either they're not there or they're black (like in the Vespula germanica species shown below), but if anybody can look into the textures or models to confirm that for me then let me know! The abdominal markings aren't entirely right, compared to the species they're more than likely based on, but get the general look across. And the antennae are alright, although the yellow base of them is inaccurate.

[Image Source: Oregon State University | Image IDs: Two screenshots of the Wasp Soldiers in It Takes Two, one from behind and another in front, followed by an image of three different yellowjackets, Vespula atropilosa, Vespula pensylvanica, and Vespula germanica. /End IDs.]

Many of the defending wasps seem to be disproportionately male, except for the Mortar Wasp and possibly a few of the various Soldiers. This is highly inaccurate, as most members of a hive are, in fact, female, with these typically being the only ones to defend the hive, given it's exclusively the females that have stingers. Yet again, the wasps in this game don't seem to use their stingers much anyway, instead electing to use spears (a classic for Hymenopteran enemies), some form of pizza-cutter-like bladed weapon, and, as previously mentioned, mortars.

[Image IDs: A screenshot of the Mortar Wasp followed by a render of the Shield Wasp /End IDs.]

Speaking of those weapons, throughout the tree you traverse through this segment of the game, you encounter two specialized wasp bosses, the already mentioned Mortar Wasp as well as the Shield Wasp. Not a lot different between these guys and the standard Soldiers, which makes sense. Most of the differences are through their outfits, of which, I must say, their helmets cover their eyes a bit too much! I can hardly see the holes they see out of, with the vast majority of their eyes covered. They would have to rely almost entirely on smell and vibrations, given how much their visual image would be obscured, which wouldn't be impossible for an insect, but is notable nonetheless.

Perhaps even more notable is the young of these wasps, which are encountered further into the tree! Typically, the larvae of social wasps do not leave their nest cells and are incapable of any form of defense, but in this game, they're found actively crawling around, and, strangely, exploding into a green sludge as a form of defense! Self-destructive defenses aren't necessarily unheard of in Hymenopterans, but I'm thus far unaware of any social wasp larva that will actively charge into battle and blow up. Even one of the main characters, Cody, recognizes this, as he says "Since when do larvae explode?".

[Image IDs: Two screenshots of the Wasp Larvae from It Takes Two, the first one with the cells of their nest in the background /End IDs.]

Furthermore, these larvae seem mostly featureless, including a lack of legs, which is accurate, as wasps generally develop legs and other distinct features as they pupate into adulthood. One thing that isn't accurate, though, is their weirdly segmented and striped body. If anything, the stripes kind of remind me of some carpet beetles, although they're not really the same, with the darker parts being raised on carpet beetle larvae rather than the lighter parts on these guys. Also, they oddly seem to glow sometimes, which, luminescence isn't really found in wasps apart from some instances of fluorescent silk produced by paper wasps that glows under UV light, and even then, that glows green rather than yellow.

[Image Sources: Texas Insects, Drees, and Utah State, Colorado State, Whitney Cranshaw | Image IDs: A photo showing the developmental stages of yellowjacket species Vespula squamosa followed by some beige and brown carpet beetle larvae /End IDs.]

Something you may have also noticed in the screenshots above, is the cells that have been built directly onto a surface, which isn't exactly right, as social wasps that make celled nests like Vespids and Honey Bees, when they build inside a crevice such as a hole in the ground or inside a hollow tree, they generally create a similar structure to (or the same structure as) the one they would on the outside, only occasionally making cells directly onto a surface.

[Image Source: Hornet King | Image IDs: A photo of a sawed open tree that contains a layered structure built by European Hornets, followed by a screenshot of a small cluster of nest cells in game /End IDs.]

The cells seem to be oddly separated too, as if two cells next to each other don't share a wall, as opposed to being all apart of one structure as you can see in a celled nest like those of real yellowjackets.

[Image Source: Capital Naturalist | Image ID: A photo of a yellowjacket nest with some open cells, some capped with silk, and some with larvae visible inside /End IDs.]

Another thing about these is that there are a multitude of clusters in different spots across the inside of the nest, all appearing to belong to the same colony of wasps. This is inaccurate, as nests like this tend to just be a single structure all the way through. Although when you do make it to the end of the tree, there is more of a regular nest structure, which isn't entirely accurate to the real thing, but gets pretty close.

[Image Source: Ohio State University, Joe Boggs | Image IDs: Two screenshots of the big nest structure at the end of the tree, followed by the nest of a real colony of Baldfaced Hornets, which are actually a type of yellowjackets /End IDs.]

I'll get into what else you find at the end here in a moment, but first, I'd like to mention why exactly you're up here in the tree to begin with! Apparently, these wasps are at war with the squirrels, who also want to live in the trees, which, isn't necessarily inaccurate. I'd say that if real squirrels were trying to get inside the hole of a hollow tree that already contains yellowjackets, the yellowjackets would likely be, rightly, on the ready to attack the incoming invader, same for any humans suddenly finding themselves in doll bodies trying to get in the nest too. Of course, this is played up to a cartoonish extent, and you end up going in to rudely invade the wasps home yourselves in the name of helping the squirrels, as well as defeating the tyrannical traitor that has tricked the wasps into believing she is their queen.

As you saw at the beginning of this review, this traitor is inside of a giant wasp mech suit, hanging by a steel chain! This mech is impressive for being made by squirrels, but visually, I don't believe it would be enough to fool a wasp, especially given it hardly has any indicative markings/coloration. However, mayhaps it would be possible to trick them with the right mix of synthetic pheromones, which would take a lot of species specific study to get right, unless they somehow extracted the pheromones directly from their fallen enemies.

In any case, in the end, this robot ends up being taken down by our dear divorce court dolls and the supposed supreme Wasp Queen ends up being...

[Image ID: A screenshot of the Bumblebee in game /End ID.]

A highly inaccurate Bumblebee. Eyes are too small, too round, and mammalian in nature, head is too wide, mouthparts are too small, antennae shouldn't be curly, wings are too small (although this time they got the wing count right), abdomen is a bit too wide. There are just Layers of wrong to this design, although it generally gets some things right.

[Image Sources: DPIRD Agriculture and Food Division, and Flickr, scyrene | Image IDs: Two photos of two different black and yellow bumblebees /End IDs.]

After this all transpires and the faker is revealed, as well as her greed in hiding nectar to be kept all to herself (bonus points for recognizing that adult wasps eat nectar), the wasps turn on the bee, attempting to attack, before the nest is ultimately blown up in a blaze of glory. The Bumblebee, without having any power anymore, is left questioning what the point is if she can't be special, at which point our protagonists explain that she is special as a noble pollinator! The estimate of 90% of human cultivated crops being pollinated by bees stated by Cody is off by some amount, but is fairly close to the truth, and I do appreciate the sentiment, as bees are extremely important to the ecosystem.

In the same vein, I think it's important to mention the role that other, non-bee wasps play in the ecosystem, as they too are vital to the continued survival of the very nature we live amongst, from pollination, to natural pest control, to the cleanup of dead animals. Wasps do so much to keep our world in good shape, and yes, that includes the alleged bastards that are yellowjackets!

On that note, though, this colony is good on accuracy in some places, but makes some weird decisions and disappointingly falls short in others. It's sort of a 50/50 really, which leaves me with only one possible score.

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Overall: 5/10

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