#i wish there was a way to put my brain into a jar and go to school and not think about anything except whatever lesson is going on

[nameissmile]

And I don't knowwwwww I just want to be happy and alive at the same time but I'm so worried all the time about everything because I'm going toa a school in the south now and it's just talk stressful because I'm literally surrounded by people who might kill me for being alive and I don't want to be bullied but I also don't wanna say I support trump because that will make me throw up if I say that with my mouth but if I say I want to vote Harris then I'll be bullied or killed or SOMETHING and then also I've heard so many more slurs here said by people who don't have the right to say them more than in any school I've been to and I switched schools every two years or some stupid shit and then I miss my friends because I just wanna forget about all the stress of living in dogshit America because dogshit America and the way things will affect me personally is something I have to worry about and then I'm going to be an adult soon and I'm going to have to move away and go to a good college because I wanna be an art major or something and there's no art schools in my state and then I'm trying to do a bunch of after school stuff because I think it will be genuinely cool and fun but it takes SO KUCH effort to be the me I've told everyone that I am everyday because some days I gldint want to talk at all and I just want to blast music and draw for hours on end so I don't have to talk to anyone and then I've been thinking about the future because I have to decide which college I want to go to because of dmcourse of I have to and then I've been thinking about what will happen if my dad dies and I've just been grieving something hasn't even happened yet and how am I supposed to tell him that?? You can just say that your sad because your grieving something that hasn't even passed yet and there's this one guy in my class and he's so annoying and horrible because he doesn't let anyone else speak their opinions or ideas if he thinks he's in the right and then he doesn't even fact check people if they say stuff why would you do that and I'm in so many classes with him and his voice is so grating and horrible I just wish I could puncha and kill and hurt and bite him till he bleeds and make him feel the pain that he makes me feel even if he doesn't mean to and it's like just be CD use your a white guy who happens to be gay you aren't interesting and you are horrible person to be around I hope you know that and then I wrote an essay last week and I finished it then I re read my essay the next day and realized I didn't really answer the question I just rambled on about a topic that was sort of related to the question ask I was going to work on it but this weekend I wasn't able to get into my email because OF COURSE I COUDLNT and it's like??? I wish there was something there has to be something something I can do or take or maybe I'm missing just one vitamin or SOEMTHING na did If I take it everything will be perfect and amazing and I won't be so weak anymore. I wish I didn't have that one panic attack when I moved away from my friends and I wish I didn't have such great friends because they make me feel emotions and cry and think about stuff and help me realize who I am as a person and I just wish I wasn't a person because animals can still make art can still have friends Aldan still have fun I wish I was religious or that my dad hated me or I had a horrible family so I could blame my problems on SOMETHING ANYTHING ANYTHING BUT NO IM JUST QEIRD AND HORRIBLE AND MY BRAIN HATES ME FOR SOME REAOSN BUT IM TRYING MY BWST???? I WISH I PERSON AND I WISH I WAS JORMAL AND I WISH I WAS A MLAFEICAN MILLIPEDE AND I WISH WE WOULD STAY TO GETHER FOEEVER. I wish I could take tomorrow off but I have an essay to write and I have to do a lab tomorrow too and I have to sit in the class with the lower grades and their horrible horrible horrible and I wish I could just pause time for a moment everything going so fast too fast I need a moment to BREATHE

Nobody has to listen to me. I hope you do though because I really need help I need something anything

[whatsnewalycat]

mindfuck

Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Dave hypnotizes you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2.8k+

Warnings: hypnokink, not entirely good praxis of hypnosis, humiliation, implied infidelity, praise, smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, dom dave, literal mind fucking so like a bit of body horror get into it

Notes: For @iamasaddie kinky May writing challenge. Prompt was hypnosis + Dave York. I found a lot of inspiration for this from a post in r/EroticHypnosis about mindfucking (can find again if anyone wants the link - lemme know!). Posting this in a hurry bc I am late to a thing so hopefully not tooooo many missed mistakes. OK THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

[ my masterlist ]

-------

All your life you wished you could turn off your thoughts at will. 

Growing up, on those nights where your crowded head wouldn’t let you sleep, you would imagine twisting off the top of your skull like a jar lid and plopping your brain on the nightstand. It even worked sometimes, too, if you tried hard to convince yourself. When reminders of an upcoming math test or images of that cute boy in class crept into your purview, they had nowhere to go. They evaporated, and you slept. 

Dave says you’re too smart for your own good. Sometimes when you’re lost in thought, he tells you he wants to empty that pretty little head of yours. Not in a condescending way, although you can see how someone might interpret it like that. 

What he means is that he wants you to be with him when you’re with him. What he means is that he wants you to be present. Not thinking about the past or the future. Not reminding yourself of deadlines or analyzing the data stored in your brain or wondering what you mean to him exactly. 

The first time he suggested hypnosis, you balked. Even after he explained how it worked, you were hesitant enough for him to drop the subject. 

When he brought it up again, though, your skepticism swayed. You asked him for more details, so he dispensed the pros and cons and the step process. He could do it for you, he said. He knew how. He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. 

So you did. 

And you do. 

Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays. This isn’t the only one-on-one time he dedicates to you, but it’s by far the most reliable. He doesn’t always hypnotize you, either. 

Regardless of whether he puts you in a trance or not, this standing date always starts the same. He slips you the keycard at some point throughout the day, only after he’s adorned it with a vase full of seasonal blooms and laid out something for you to wear. 

Tonight he left you lilacs and matching lingerie. Intricate floral appliqués embellish the pastel nightie he laid out on the bed. 

Opulence becomes you when you slip it on and pour a glass of champagne from the bottle Dave left to chill on ice. You mosey around the spacious high-end suite, sipping frosty bubbles as you admire the birds-eye view of downtown, the tall buildings and bustling city life all drenched in golden light from the setting sun. 

As the time nears eight o’clock, you empty your champagne flute and make yourself comfortable on the plush bed. Crystals hanging from the chandelier fragment soft white light into dazzling tiny spectrums, sparkling rainbow when the door to the suite opens, then closes. 

Dave enters the room with an air of authority that makes you straighten your spine and draw back your shoulders. After chucking off his jacket, he empties his pockets on the dresser and loosens his tie, then turns around to meet your gaze. 

His stern expression melts as he looks you over, seeming to appraise how your body fills out the lilac nightie. Heat sparks in the middle of you when he greets you, “Hey beautiful.” 

“Hi.” 

He approaches your side and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Comfortable?” 

Nodding, you sit up to pull him in for a kiss. His plush lips respond without hesitation, firm but generous as he slips a wide palm around your body and brings you even closer. 

When he pulls back, he asks, “Are you ready?” 

“Ready.” 

He cradles your jaw, searching your face with blatant admiration before separating his body from yours. You lay back into the soft embrace of the pillows and wiggle around until you find the sweet spot of comfort while Dave drags an armchair to your bedside and sits down. Once you’re both settled and still, he begins. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You close them. 

“Take a deep breath in…”

You take in air until you can’t. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

You exhale, rationing your metered breath through a straw-sized ‘o’ formed by your lips. 

“Good. Take a deep breath in… two three four… and slowly release it. Deep breath in… two three four… now slowly release it.”

Behind closed lids, you concentrate on the rhythmic ebb and flow of your lungs contracting and expanding. His warm voice surrounds you. Envelops you. 

“That’s it. Keep breathing just like this. Each time you inhale, draw the life from your breath, and exhale the rest. Notice how cleansing it feels to let it go. How the tension melts from your muscles every time you take a deep breath in…”

You inhale. 

“…two three four…” 

Hold it. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

Then exhale.

“Perfect. Keep doing that. Now imagine that every time you take a deep breath in, a warm wave washes over you… and as you slowly release it, the tide carries away tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax…”

Each big lungful heats the tar holding your body together. You dissolve into the mattress as Dave’s deep, honeyed voice resonates through you. 

“Again, take a deep breath in as the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… and slowly release it as the tide carries away your tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax. Concentrate on my voice. Recognize it as a touchstone. If your mind starts to wander, have it return to the touchstone, return to my voice, and relax even deeper.” 

Trees tower above you, stretching high into the pale blue sky. The moss-covered rock before you glows as he speaks. 

“Notice how relaxed you feel. Notice that every time the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… tension melts from your body as you allow yourself to sink deeper and deeper into the sensation. Allow the relaxation to seep from your muscles into your bloodstream… to course through your veins and calm every cell in your body.

“Focus on your face. All those tiny little muscles in your forehead and around your eyes, notice how relaxed they are. Notice how the relaxation melts the muscles in your cheeks and jaw, letting your mouth go slack. You might feel as though you want to speak, but find yourself so relaxed that you can’t. That’s ok, because it feels good and safe to let the words dissolve on your tongue. Doesn’t it?” 

When you try to respond, your lips don’t move. This fact doesn’t bother you. It feels good and safe in the forest, staring up at the treetops. 

You realize you’re floating in a pond. You hear birds peacefully chirping and know it’s just you and them and the touchstone for a million miles. 

Everything feels profound, but simple. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good to relax, darling?” 

Your fingertips rest against the soft moss of the touchstone. 

“Yes, it does,” you tell it. 

It glows with a satisfactory hum that vibrates through you.  

“Perfect. Continue to focus on my voice. Soon, I will ask you to open your eyes, then close them. When you close your eyes, you’ll notice a warm wave of relaxation washing over you, turning knots into snarls and snarls into strands, every muscle in your body gently untangling as you allow them to go limp and heavy…”

You understand and follow his instructions. 

“Open your eyes and take a deep breath in, two three four… and slowly release it, closing your eyes, letting the warm wave wash over you and pull you in deeper. 

“Soon, I’ll ask you to open your eyes again. When you close them, you’ll notice the warm wave of relaxation wash over you even stronger than before, pulling you even deeper. 

“Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes, sinking deeper and deeper. Good job. We’ll do it one more time, and when you close your eyes and relax, sink as deep as you can, all the way to the bottom. Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes.” 

You’re lying in a meadow of wildflowers outside the forest, looking up at the serene blue sky. The earth beneath you is solid and brings you an immense sense of comfort. 

“I want you to think about desire. Think about that warm, lush longing inside you. Concentrate on how good this sensation feels in your body, pleasure swelling thick at the center of you.”

His voice surrounds you, but you don’t see its source. The soothing timbre resonates from the wildflowers and the earth and the sky, from everywhere and nowhere all at once like how you imagine God sounded to Old Testament prophets. 

You bring your focus to desire. It does feel good. Amazing, actually. Tangible like a glowing ball of heat between your thighs that throbs with each syllable he speaks. 

“Allow the sensation to grow. Let it stretch and pulse and heat your skin. Let your mind empty of everything except this arousal. When thoughts arise, you let them fall away and arousal fills the empty space. You’ll let this happen over and over again until your head is empty of everything but arousal. Do you understand? You can speak now, darling, go ahead and answer.” 

“Yes.” 

“Try it for me.” 

You acknowledge the cognitions that populate your mind. When you think about how you need to put gas in your car, you imagine the reminder dropping away, then imagine the warm wanting glow of desire branching up through your body to take its place. You think about a work project, but it loosens and falls into an abyss. Desire floods the space in its wake, a thick hot liquid that glows with light like lava, spreading to each new vacancy with ease as the thoughts drop from your consciousness. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Good,” you breathe, voice faint on your tingling tongue. 

“Do you like how it feels, being horny and mindless?” 

Your husband’s face appears, taking up your whole mind, then falls away. Rich, bubbling pleasure surges through you to fill the gap. You have to suppress a moan to respond. 

“I like it,” you nod, “Fuck, it feels amazing.” 

“Good girl. Now, you might notice something interesting happen when I ask you a question. You might notice that when I ask you a question, you’ll try to form a thought to answer. When you do this, you’ll feel my cock enter your mind. It’s bigger and harder than you’ve ever seen it, swollen and thick and so fucking ready for you, darling. When you try to form a thought, it pushes forward into the wet hot folds of your brain, severing the connections that typically allow you to think, preventing a response from forming. My cock pulls out, and slowly thrusts forward again, pushing out the thoughts, over and over for as long as you consider a response to my question. It becomes impossible to focus. You might notice that this penetration feels like it would in your pussy. My hard cock rutting in and out, sending waves of arousal through your body, fucking the thoughts from your head. Every time my cock moves, you’ll try to respond but cannot make yourself focus. It feels amazing. You give in to the sensation, allowing it to overtake you completely. When you’re fully saturated with arousal and nothing else, my cock pulls out of your mind.” 

Your skin feels static and warm when you imagine him pushing his smooth, throbbing length into your brain. A shaky whimper croaks in your throat. Your heart thuds heavy within your chest, circulating desire, warm and wet, to every cell in your body. 

“You might notice that when I ask you another question, any attempts at thought or sensations that come up except arousal will be fucked from your head until you surrender to the arousal. It feels good to be dominated in this way. To let pleasure consume your entire being.” 

Licking your lips, you nod to show you understand.  

“Now when I ask you a question, you’ll allow your subconscious to follow my instructions. Are you ready, darling?” 

“Yes.” 

“How was your day?” 

When you try to recall your day and formulate an answer, the tip of his cock pierces the equator of your brain, splitting the hemispheres. He drives forward slowly, steadily, making you moan as he stretches you apart and tears all those delicate tissues that generate thought. Still, you try. 

My day, how was my day…

He drags his cock out, then drives it deeper inside you. 

Day… how was…

Your nerve endings buzz as he pulls out, gooey arousal shines on the shaft of his thick cock. He plunges forward into the hot center of you. You work your hips and whine. You can’t remember what he asked. It doesn’t seem as important as the pleasure clinging to your insides as he fucks you, so you give up. 

His cock pulls out of your mind completely. 

“What’s the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?” 

You consider the question. The tip of him breaches your brain, forcing out forecasts and clouds and sunshine. Fragments return as you attempt to answer again. 

The weather tomorrow…

He pumps in and out of you, obliterating whatever it was he wanted to know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the insatiable pleasure thrumming through you as he rubs against all your hungry nerves, giving them what they want. 

“Oh my god,” you hear yourself gasp. 

“How often do you think about fucking me?” 

Seeds of embarrassment sprout the tender beginnings of thought, then he fucks them out of your head until you’re rolling your hips, moaning and nodding for more. 

“Do you make yourself come when you think about fucking me?” 

Only a loading screen appears before he’s inside you again. His perfect, thick cock pumps you full of this throbbing heat. You wish it would never end. You want to feel this and only this forever. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So horny and mindless for me. Letting my cock push deep and hard into the folds of your brain, fucking out all your thoughts, leaving your head empty to stuff you with arousal until you’re swollen and ripe, nothing else left but how fucking horny you are.” 

“Sssooooo fucking gooood,” you slur. 

“How would your husband feel if he saw you like this? In this hotel room, all dressed up in lingerie I bought for you, moaning and writhing on the bed?” 

A thought starts, and he pounds it out of you, merciless in its rhythm as each thrust pushes you higher and higher. Horny and mindless, that’s all you are. Nothing matters except this.

“Do you really think we’ll run away together? Do you really think I’d leave my wife for you?” 

A rotten sensation tingles in your chest before you feel him enter you from both ends, the cock in your mind working in tandem with the cock in your pussy. You choke out a moan and nod, body vibrating with a thick, hot sensation you can’t find the beginning or end of. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, holy fuck—” 

He groans, rolling his hips faster, fucking your entire being so hard and fast that you become pleasure itself. It’s everything and everywhere for eternity and you gladly accept this fact, wanting to forever exist in this moment. 

“That’s so good, darling. So fucking good. You want me to let you come, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically as the edges of you start to fray.

“Go ahead, come for me.” 

His permission completely unravels you, ripping away the last delicate thread holding you together. You sob as you fall apart into a thousand pieces. His hips stutter and he moans, giving you a few deep thrusts before pulling out. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. You float in the peaceful pond, staring up at the towering treetops that kiss the sky. 

“Now in a minute, I’ll bring you back to your normal state. When I count to four and tell you to wake up, you’ll come out of the trance relaxed and refreshed. Your mind will feel spotless. You’ll know that I adore you and hold you close to my heart.”

You hear birds peacefully chirping. You know it’s just you and them and Dave for a million miles. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“And one two three four… wake up.”

[svsssbrainworms]

🍃 SVSSS fic rec list

(shen yuan / bingqiu -centric edition) 3/3

[ au/abo; bingqiu shameless fluff and smut ]

au / abo 🌹

• I Wish You Were My Husband

Wherein Shen Yuan transmigrates into a harem intrigues romance novel (gay edition), Yue Qingyuan really fucks up, Liu Qingge is not suitable for his job, and no one even remotely sees Luo Binghe coming.

• Honored Eternal Path of Demise 

It's bad enough when Shen Yuan dies. It's even worse when he transmigrates into the worst horror game inspired by Proud Immortal Demon Way that could ever be imagined. But nothing is more terrible than transmigrating as the scum villain Shen Qingqiu, the character with the most violent and grotesque deaths the game has to offer! Couldn't he have transmigrated into the stallion novel instead? At least there his character would only have to die once! Now Shen Yuan has to navigate his new life as Shen Qingqiu while trying to keep not only himself alive, but also a cast of characters, each more suicidal than the next. A goal he is going to fail. A lot. Many times. Too many times! At least he can spend some time with his favorite character Luo Binghe while stuck in this mess.

• The First Law of Alchemy

Shen Yuan is jolted awake and finds himself worlds away from his comfy modern bed. Instead, he's in the middle of a summoning circle, but nobody seems happy to see him! Least of all the fearsome Emperor who takes one look, judges him as defective, and promptly throws him into the dungeons like trash. Excuse him if he’s not up to standard! It’s not like Shen Yuan asked to be delivered here! Where is he, anyway? This must be one long, shitty dream his sleep-deprived brain cooked up, right??? OR: That one BingYuan fic where nobody wants BingYuan to get together XD

🌹 • Better Lock It in Your Pocket

Shizun has a secret. When Luo Binghe figures it out, his true purpose in life becomes clear. Now, he just needs to make Shen Qingqiu accept him as human again so he can perform it.

🌹 • Moon Thistle Madness

After the events at Maigu Ridge (where dual cultivation didn't happen and they sorted that out another way); Shen Qingqiu has come to know a type of peace he hasn't felt since Binghe was a little student running around his path. Luo Binghe is currently in his care, restricted to the bamboo house to repent for his wrong doings against Cang Qiong Peak, and looks after him just as before. As if nothing happened and he was still his perfect little alpha lotus student. And then the system kicks back in with a new update. It's taking forever to load and it's driving Shen Qingqiu crazy! What the heck is it?! -- Or the one where Shen Qingqiu gets a rude awakening after a beta-only mission and goes feral!

bingqiu shameless fluff 🪷 and smut

🪷 • Wine-Flushed (Your Rosy Face Is Rosier Still) 

“This is all really mine,” Shizun is loudly whispering into his curls. He presses a kiss to the crown of Luo Binghe’s head, then places a few more as if dissatisfied with just the one. Then he pulls Luo Binge’s head away from his bosom without warning, holding him at arms’ length. Binghe feels his gut tighten with instant reaction when he meets Shizun’s half-lidded, liquor-sweet stare. Or: Luo Binghe puts his drunken husband to bed, but it’s BingMei, so there’s lots of feelings and some tears.

🪷 • sweet thing, just call me yours

Post canon, Shen Qingqiu suddenly has a thought: if they're married, and Luo Binghe calls him 'husband' - that has to mean that Luo Binghe is the 'wife,' right?! Luo Binghe is thrilled to hear this conclusion, but still tries to work with his husband's thin face.

• The Shizun Motivational Rewards Programme

Whereby Luo Binghe just wants some attention, and Shen Qingqiu is weak for his little white lotus.

• a thousand jars

The first time Shen Qingqiu feels it, he thinks he’s experiencing some sort of minor qi deviation. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks quietly. “Are you okay?” “Am I not allowed to look at my husband?” Shen Qingqiu asks, doing his best not to get snippy. After all he’s a Peak Lord, a powerful cultivator, a man that has cheated death. There’s no reason for him to act like a needy spouse. “My lord,” the servant leans down again with their voice practically purring as they refill a cup that’s only a quarter empty. It catches Luo Binghe’s attention, interrupting the beaming look he had been about to shoot towards Shen Qingqiu. Despite the fact that Luo Binghe looks more bemused than entranced, Shen Qingqiu feels the porcelain cup in his own hand crack.

• look at me

Luo Binghe is jealous of the attention Shen Qingqiu's showing other demons. In Shen Qingqiu's defence, they look really fucking cool. “We cannot leave our guests,” Shen Qingqiu starts. Quicker than he can comprehend it, Shen Qingqiu is flipped around, and immediately pressed against the wall once more. Normally, Shen Qingqiu finds Luo Binghe’s jealousy cute, but this time it punches the breath out of his lungs. Luo Binghe looks down at Shen Qingqiu, thick lashes lending to the lethal look in his eyes. “Of course,” Luo Binghe murmurs, reaching forward and running a knuckle alongside Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. Shen Qingqiu is so used to Luo Binghe’s extortionate expressions that when he turns something smoother, darker towards Shen Qingqiu, he’s at a loss for words. “We would not want to displease them.” “Now hold on—”

• Mommy? Sorry, Mommy?

Luo Binghe accidentally calls Shen Qingqiu A'Niang in bed. Shen Qingqiu goes along with it. No one does too much thinking about why that happened.

• Shen Qingqiu, Resident Milkman

In which I explore Shen Qingqiu lactating. The first chapter/series up involves Bingge going back to his past body, with a Shen Yuan who transmigrated much earlier. Bingge is now Shen Yuan's disciple, lactation ensues.

• The Mirror is the Window to the Soul

Ranking high among suspicious objects in the world of PIDW (below only the general flora) was the mirror. So when Binghe shows up with one, Shen Qingqiu shouldn't be all that surprised that he ended up looking... not quite like himself. Or more accurately, not like his current self. What was more surprising though, was that Binghe didn't look quite the same as his normal self either.

• Hold Me Down, Lift Me Up 

After five years of marriage, Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu are getting better at communicating their desires. Still, Luo Binghe is taken by surprise when a visit to the dream realm reveals Shen Qingqiu’s interest in a less gentle form of intimacy. Determined to indulge his husband’s fantasy, Luo Binghe devises a roleplaying scene for them in the waking world. But as their game begins to stir up some of Luo Binghe's long-buried insecurities… can they both manage to stay in character?

[2012wannabe]

Lace Dreams

cw/tw: rich!abby x reader, little seed of sugarmommy!abby, poverty insecurity woohoo, reader grew up poor, references to sex

wc: 986

an: financial stress has been hitting a bit too hard lately. I always write with a femme reader in mind because that’s what I know but there are no indicators of gender/looks. (unless wearing panties counts as an indicator of gender for you)

Abby came into your life suddenly and you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was almost as if the universe had heard your prayers and sent a guardian angel into your life. The second you saw her, you felt your knees get weak and every cliché stereotype come to life.

When you met her in person for the first time you had gone to breakfast at a diner near her college, pancakes for her sweet tooth. She was not only the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid your eyes on, glistening muscles and all, but you both clicked immediately. With her, the words flowed, and getting lost in conversation was easy. The way your stomach had butterflies around her was jarring, something you hadn’t felt since you were a kid with your first love. Texting and FaceTime calls almost immediately became a constant and you shared each other schedules to plan around your college classes.

For the first few months of your relationship, you hadn’t ever went to Abby’s apartment. You knew that she had one and she had a one bedroom, extremely impressive for a college student, but that was really it. Money was never really a topic of conversation either, so imagine your shock when you found out she was loaded. You had figured she was doing pretty well since she was always insisting on paying for dates and you were glad because honestly, you couldn’t really afford to keep going. But going back to her apartment after she took you to a Broadway show, your jaw dropped before you even got into the elevator.

Walking in, she greeted the doorman and instantly you felt kind of down on yourself. You had had her over at your dorm and now insecurity started to push at every angle in your brain. Still, you pushed it down and followed her up. She was being funded by her lawyer mom and brain surgeon dad until she was able to work as a doctor, she explained. The apartment was absolutely beautiful, and modernly decorated, with stainless steel appliances and a fully stocked fridge. It was perfectly clean, with not a speck of dust and certainly no vermin or bugs, unlike your childhood home. The nice soap alone could have brought tears to your eyes.

Why would she like me? I’m not on her level at all! Your brain taunted. Abby seemed oblivious to all this and put a smile back on as her she showed you around the apartment. She brought you to her bedroom and your jaw nearly dropped. Her bed was possibly the most comfortable looking bed you had ever seen, several thick plush blankets with two huge pillows. You wanted to cover up your insecurity with a joke about what you could you do in the bed but no joke came.

“Your apartment is so beautiful,”

“Thanks.” Abby said with a slight tinge of awkwardness in her tone.

“Is there something wrong? You got quiet.”

“No, no. Definitely not.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just so nice. I kind of wish I didn’t show you my dorm now.” You said, reflecting on your tiny room. Something was always broken and everything was put back together with the shittiest of quick fixes.

You studied her face as she responded, wondering if she had judged you in the past. It didn’t seem like it and it definitely didn’t seem like she was judging you now. She invited you to sit on the bed with her and laced her hand in yours. You had gotten so close to her in only a 6 months, it seemed like such a short amount of time now and you even agreed on moving in together after your lease at your dorm was up.

“I don’t know how I had never come over before. What, you hiding it from me?” You attempted to tease. Abby laughed,

“I’ve spent so much time studying for the MCAT, the library was more my home than here.”

“Right. How does it feel to be finally done?”

“Weird. I honestly feel kind of old because in 4 months I’ll be a senior in college and then I’ll be in medical school.” You flopped on your back and let out a sigh. She laid down next you and shamelessly admired you. Your cheeks flushed and Abby giggled.

“I hope you’re not ruminating.” She said.

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Can you talk about it? I can practically see the wheels turning in your brain.”

“It’s the same as I said before, everything here is just so nice. It’s nowhere near what it was like for me growing up. The fact that you have soap that hasn’t been watered down several times to make it last longer makes me want to cry. Having soap shouldn’t make me cry.” Abby’s features softened and lightly caressed your face with the pads of her fingers.

“I’m so sorry baby. I have a lot of privilege, there’s no denying that and if it hasn’t been obvious enough I want to share what I have with you. I love you and you deserve more than I could ever give you.” Your eyes teared up and she wiped away a tear as it fell. You rushed to get closer to her and let her strong arms hold you as you cuddled.

“I don’t have words to express how much I love you. Things are going to get better one day. I mean fuck, they already have.” You said. A moment of comfortable silence passed until you suddenly turned to her,

“You can bet your ass one of the first things I’ll be buying with my paycheck from my adult job is some lacy panties. Lavender ones too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said.

“How about you make forget all about my shit and top me into this comfortable ass bed?” Abby let out a laugh.

“How could I ever say no?”

[charliemwrites]

LONG ASK I AM SO FUCKIN SORRY

I always think of people's tumblr accounts/discord servers as actual places, and my mind is very fantasy centered. I've been in a big writing drought and thinking of your tumblr, how tumblr works as a whole with reblogs and asks and interactions, how the discord is set up with a bunch of brain jars really got me thinking.

I see your tumblr as a quaint shop in a small town, mainly full of hand-made books and pages everywhere, with a single shelf a Jars. I combined your discord and your tumblr into one place: your shop. I figured there's so many things going on in both places, so a fitting name would be "Charlie's Trinkets" since it's not just one thing and Trinkets are fun.

Anyway here is a little writing ramble I made, it's also in my "Not A Murder Jar" section of your "Brain Jar Collection".

While resting on your journey you find a quaint shop, simply titled "Charlie's Trinkets". You decide to venture inside, not knowing what is in store for you. However, that is half the fun, isn't it?

"Welcome, traveler!" A voice from somewhere you can't see states. "Come in, feel free to have a look around."

The shop smells like a campfire, in the sense that it smells as if people have come and gone, sharing stories, thoughts, things that have mattered to them. It smells as if you walk in as a stranger, yet leave as a friend. It leaves you curious.

The shop is stacked with multiple things. Now you realize why it is named “Charlie's Trinkets”. There's paper on every table and shelf you look. Some have even been bound into books, you realize. They're quite messily put together and obviously hand-made, as if the writer had no idea these individual pages would become one giant story. Other pages are ripped; intriguing sentences half-finished and leaving you wondering. You soon come to the conclusion (after reading a few pages) that all the books- or even pages of the same book- are not written by the same person. These stories have been shared and tampered, many lines bore into time and time again, erased and rewritten until they fit.

As you look around, you find where the voice came from. In the back corner, a person is writing. They are sideways to you and are instead facing a wall full of shelves. On the shelves are an assortment of jars, varying in shape and size.

"Do you need any help? Are you looking for anything specific or just browsing?" The person asks, looking up from their page. You tell them you are just browsing, and you inquire about the shelf of jars, asking if they are for sale.

"Oh no, they are not for 'sale'." They chuckle. "These jars are no ordinary jars."

They do not explain more, which urges your mind to ask another question: what do you mean?

"Well," she- Charlie- starts, glancing at the shelf as they set their page aside, "these jars are the thoughts of many who have come into my shop. We have been friends for a while, and they wanted a place to keep track of and organize their thoughts. These jars give them a home. While these jars rest here, a person has a copy of their jar. When they have a thought they wish not to lose, they open their jar, speak into it, and their thought is kept safe here, in my shop." you take a cautious step closer, attempting to read the labels on each jar. Some are completely empty, you realize; such as "Soleil jar". Others are filled with thoughts, yet never seem to run out of space.

"You are welcome to open whichever jar you would like, but be cautious about it. It will take you inside the jar, to a different place. There is always a way out. It can be very nerve-wracking for your first time."

You find a jar on the edge of the shelf. It looks newer than the others, taller than it is round, almost touching the shelf above it. You pick it up and read the label "Not A Murder Jar". Charlie watches you with careful eyes the entire time, struggling to find the right words to say.

"You might want to choose a different jar for your first one.."

You shake your head, saying it'll do just fine.

You force open the tightly screwed lid.

Finally, you realize one detail too late:

You Should Have Listened To Charlie.

I hope you had fun reading this, I'm glad I was able to escape the dark grasp that Writing Block had on me by thinking D&D thoughts lol

Have a nice day/night!

WALTZ

I don’t even know how to begin expressing my adoration for this. It’s… it’s like a fanfiction of the community? Of me? (Is that vain? I hope not)

And oh my god it’s so ADORABLE! The brain jars, the shop, the imagery!! I could cry this is so beautiful and sweet and thoughtful. It was the most wonderful thing I could have woken up to after a rough night.

I am constantly blown away and humbled by people like you, that I’ve gotten to interact with and share thoughts and ideas and writing with. I am so lucky and grateful. I’m seriously going to cherish this forever. It means so so much to me 💕 words cannot express just… how much this has blown my mind.

Sincerely, thank you, Waltz.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Can I request Clorinde for 7?

“I hate you.” “You hated me. Big difference, my love.”

characters: Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none, rivals to lovers

a/n: Considering how we don't know too much about Clorinde yet, this might prove ooc for her in the future, but I tried my best with what we got so far... so yeah.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Clorinde

You weren’t exactly sure what you hated more, the stoic, detached and almost arrogant aura Clorinde put around herself while at her job, one that made her so unapproachable that your past self managed to convince yourself that she was looking down on you without as much as thinking about getting to know her first, or the fact that this stoic-... Clorinde turned out to be better at expressing herself than you.

The memories alone were enough to make you want to repeatedly hit your head with something, wishing for nothing more than to forget the person you once were… or admittedly still somewhat were, even though a lot more honest with your insecurities and feelings.

“Shut up, I hate you”, you mumbled to your brain while massaging your temples, hoping the slight pressure was enough to make it stop before it got to deal with the full extent of your urge to shut it up, only for a voice awfully distinct from your inner voice to ring out.

“You hated me. Big difference, my love.”

Your head immediately shot up, staring at Clorinde with your eyes getting bigger, her tendency to quietly do her own thing having made you forget her presence.

“Ah. I wasn’t talking to y-”, you tried to explain in a panic, only to stop when you saw the unusually wide grin on her face, causing your cheeks to turn slightly red as you glanced down, the rest of the sentence leaving your mouth as nothing but an incomprehensible mumble.

“Trying to talk your way out of this isn’t going to help, not put the Mora in the jar”, Clorinde spoke with an amused voice, taking a look at the jar the both of you had set up so long ago, one you were so proud remained as full as it was a year ago, a visual reminder how far you had come from your ways of mindlessly proclaiming your hate for her whenever you couldn’t be honest with yourself.

“You knew I wasn’t talking to you, so why-”

“That new pistol isn’t going to pay for itself”, Clorinde bluntly responded, sending waves of frustration through your body before you let out a sigh, grabbed a coin from your purse and placed it into the jar, trying to remain at peace even with her self satisfied smile.

“Feel free to speak to yourself much more often”, she said in her usual calm tone, although it wasn’t difficult to hear the layer of sarcasm her words were coated with.

“I hate y-”, you began only to stop yourself when you saw her eyes widen in anticipation, “-oghurt.”

The silence between the two was telling enough and before long you opened your wallet once again.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

"Monster High gen 3 has queer stuff and disabled stuff and autistic stuff and it's all put in casually just part of the show"

good great wonderful- was no one going to tell me it comes in 11 minutes of distilled ADD candy goodness??? ITS ANXIETY FREE THERE'S NO TIME FOR STUFF TO GET AWKWARD!

and it's spooky! the franken stein monster's limbs keep falling off! a mummy girl was told to 'pour her heart out' for an assignment so she picked up her canopic jar and POURED HER STILL BEATING HEART OUT ONTO THE DESK! with a SPLAT! the werewolf girl was fighting a burger monster brought to life by magic (don't ask) and she just SHREDS IT? CUTS IT TO PIECES??? the headmistress's head keeps coming off?????? Spooky in a fun way! but still spooky!

hey! HEY!! I spent my whole childhood wishing for this!!!!!

Clever too?? the eps are 11 min long but stuff gets set up and called back and when frankie is using spark of life franken powers to reanimate a monster puppy, the electricity in their eyes takes the shape of a HEART MONITOR line? I love that! it does nothing at all it's just there for fun and coolness!!

ALSO SO SWEET LIKE IM THREE RANDOM EPISODES IN AND THE VAMPIRE STARTED DABBLING IN WITCHCRAFT (illegal for monsters, also her dad is like monster prime minister movie star or something so uhhh) YADDA YADDA YADDA, HER FRIENDS/DORM MATES FIND OUT, THE HALF HUMAN WEREWOLF TAKES THE FALL FOR SOME WITCHCRAFT GONE WRONG AND THE FRANKEN MONSTER USES THE PART OF THEIR BRAIN THEY GOT FROM A LAWYER TO ARGUE THAT MAKES IT OKAY BC HUMANS AREN'T BANNED FROM BEING WITCHES, THE TWO GET CALLED TROUBLE MAKERS BY THE HEADMISTRESS AND- AND THEN THE VAMPIRE WANTS TO MOVE OUT SO SHE WON'T ENDANGER THEM WITH HER SECRET BUT THEY'VE ALREADY BUILT HER A SECRET WITCH ROOM IN THE DORM ARRGHGH

THANK YOU cleo and frankie for flirting and being cute and gay in that one ep bc THAT'S how monster high gen 3 got on my dash and now I have to consume it allllllllll

[oonajaeadira]

Hi Adira!

Last week and next week I am living the life of a paid musician (pit then orchestra) and I am fried. Seeing as how you’re familiar with the professional performer life, I was wondering if you have any advice on how to make it mentally and physically sustainable?

I am hoping that more of these opportunities will come my way and I want to be able to do it without spending a week in bed afterwards…

Ooof. I've been there. I mean, you gotta do the basics--sleep, good food, water. I also rely on copious amounts of coffee.

But the thing that usually gets me through a prolonged show-mode slam is plan ahead and then literally taking it one. day. at. a. time.

Don't look down those calendar days and wish for Friday. It's only going to make you burn out on Tuesday. Literally living in the moment saves my ass every time. Assess what you need from moment to moment. Are you hungry? Need a snack? Just sit and rest? Got a couple of hours but just exhausted? Don't worry about the "other stuff." That will be waiting for you at the end of the week. Just do what you need to that day to feel rested in your mind and body. Even if it's just zoning out to tv; don't feel guilty about that. It's just for this moment. There will be productive moments later. This one is for Narcos.

This is not to say you shouldn't plan ahead. Get your laundry done before the big week. Make big batches of good food you can eat on the go or take very minimal time to prepare for a meal so you don't stress about food prep or fall into the trap of fast food which will zap your energy and time and moneys.

One of my biggest events of the year is a two-week period where I'm literally at the office at 10am, participating in the evening events from 5-11pm, and then co-hosting an after-event until around 1am. When you factor in drive time and showers, that leaves me just enough time to sleep. Sometimes.

So I make sure to do my laundry right before. I'll even maybe organize my closet in a way where I can just pull out clothes without thinking too hard. Take an assessment of your groceries/toiletries and make sure you have what you need, because nothing will frazzle you more than not having it and/or having to squeeze in time to get to the shops. (If you do have to have something, mail order.) Make a go-bag for the week with anything you might need (including an extra change of clothes if you need it).

And if there's anything you can put off until after the big event, PUT IT OFF. Just mentally prepare yourself for big focus on the performing for that short burst of time.

When my big event is coming up, this is an example of what I do for food:

Bag of nuts and/or trail mix to keep in my bag.

Bag of carrot sticks I can keep in the fridge at work and a jar of peanut butter at my desk specifically for them. Fk spooning that shit out, dip your sticks in it.

I will boil up an entire family-sized package of Buttoni tortellini, dump in a whole container of the brand's pesto sauce, one whole chopped bell pepper, three whole packages of sprinkle tomatoes (or one package of halved cherry tomatoes), a whole package of peas (steamfresh microwave packet), and half a chopped red onion. MIX. That will give you a pasta salad for at least a week that you can eat cold right out of the fridge or warm up real quick and has a ton of veggies. And if you need protein, you can fix your meats separately and just add them in when you fix up a bowl. The key is to pack it full of tasty veggies you like that will balance the oils/fats of the pesto and turbo charge the carbs for lots of energy. (Pro tip: get a pair of really good kitchen scissors if you're like me and bad at chopping veggies or have terrible knife skills or terrible knives. So much quicker to cut.)

Starbucks via packets are a life saver if you have access to hot water and don't have time to make/grab coffee.

Laugh when you can. Step outside and focus on one thing--one flower, the way the sun hits a stop sign. Let your brain be simple for a little bit every day--I call this "letting it hang to get the wrinkles out". When you've been stationary too long, stretch. And when you feel stressed, close your eyes and imagine Pedro gently placing a finger on any spot that is tense until you let it go.

[blackjackkent]

Rakha squints at the machine. To judge by Balthazar's notes, this Gortash constructed it. It is a translator of the memories of brains.

The head mounted on it is deathly still - but it twitches to life as soon as Rakha places one of the jarred brains (labeled "True Mind") onto the pedestal nearby.

"Every day he comes..." it whispers . "Every day for three days, to ask me how I feel... I want to tell but... I am confused. Which... which day is it?"

Rakha tilts her head uncertainly. "Who is this 'he' you're talking about?" she demands.

"We are his pets. His plan," mutters the head. "Lord Gortash."

Rakha keys in with more interest now. If this head - or the brain, she supposes, its memories filtered through the machine - can tell her anything of Gortash, perhaps she will learn something useful...

"It's the first day," she says quietly.

"The first - yes!" the brain says eagerly. "Five days since he put that thing in my eye. But the first day he came to visit. He says I am the last. That the other subjects have all changed."

Rakha's eyes narrow. "It's the second day."

The head shudders. "Eye hurts. Head hurts. But he says I am past the worst of it. That I won't change like the others. He's given me a place of honor, so he can repeat his miracle. And a name... 'True Soul'."

Ah. It is coming together now. This is a memory of whatever experiments Gortash did to change the tadpoles. Halsin said they had been altered; so did the guardian. This brain has the memories of the first to survive the process.

"It's the third day," she says harshly.

"She whispers in my mind..." croons the head dreamily. "She sings. Praise the Absolute..."

The worm squirms inside Rakha's head and she winces. "Tell me about these others."

"Separate cells," whispers the brain. "I never saw them. But when they changed." A pause, and then suddenly a bloodcurdling scream that rings in Rakha's ears. "MY HEAD! I CAN FEEL THEM IN MY HEAD!"

-----

"Hand me one of the other jars," Rakha mutters.

Wyll shifts uneasily and looks at Minthara, who picks up one of the jarred brains and passes it in Rakha's direction. "Let's move on," he says. "Let's leave this accursed thing. It's foul - evil."

"It might have answers," Rakha says curtly, fixing the next jar into place.

-----

The next brain is labeled "Willing Mind." Its voice is jarringly cheery; it seems unaware of its horrific state and causes the rubbery face to stare up at Rakha with a wide smile from ear to ear.

"Ahem-hem. Pardon!" it says brightly. "Wouldn't do to phlegm all over Lord Gortash during my first performance, would it? Acoustics are a little off in here... which is where, exactly?"

Rakha blinks. "Are you some... kind of performer?" she asks doubtfully.

"Just a serving girl with notions." The head would shrug if it had any shoulders. "Til I met Lord Gortash. He heard me singing in Beggar's Rest. Said he needed someone to 'give voice to lost knowledge.' A little over my head, being honest, but the lord has gold. I trust he knows his business. Now... I'd best warm up."

A singer. Someone small, snatched up as a subject for experiments. Innocent - and still lost in a delusion, even now.

Rakha scowls. "Snap out of it," she mutters. "And look around you."

"Could do with a bit of natural light, all right," the head says promptly, seemingly unbothered. "But you know these nobles - odd as fae folk. Now, I need to prepare! Wish me luck!"

-----

The head goes slack again. Rakha's lips tighten with a discomfort she can't explain.

"By all odds, the happiest person we are likely to encounter in this wretched place," Minthara says dryly.

-----

The third brain is labeled "Butchered Mind." The head shudders and vibrates and whispers, its eyes narrowing in sudden conspiratorial intensity.

"Ssshhhhh..." it hisses. "This place listens. It knows. If we're going to escape, we have to be smart."

Escape is most certainly beyond this brain's capabilities at this point... but perhaps its information will still be useful. "You know a way out?" Rakha asks.

"This place is alive," the head says eagerly. "A big thinking thing, and it needs our flesh to grow. I've seen them put corpses in the walls - and they just melt away. So we've got to trick it, see? Make it think we're part of it. That's why the doors only open for--"

It breaks off and its eyes go wide and terrified, staring up at Rakha with horror. "Wait. How did *you* get in here? Away, SLAVE! They might have taken your mind, but they won't have MINE!"

And then it goes limp and says no more.

[glisten-inthedark]

(clothing analysis anon is back, hope you’re doing well🌻💛💙)

something I’m kind of bummed about but also torn over is how from what we’ve seen of season 5, Mike’s wardrobe is back to polo shirts

The reason I’m bummed is because I loved his fit in early season 4 when he’s going to Hellfire Club—it felt more counter culture and edgy, and there’s an argument to be made about his modeling after Eddie because he harbored a bit of infatuation for him, so watching him go from that to the airport outfit is extremely jarring (on purpose) and emphasizes that he’s putting on an act for El. This isn’t real life where I get to go from pink all over to chokers and punk vibes from day to day because I like both aesthetics. This fiction and a visual medium; what the characters wear is so carefully curated to match the story and their personalities and the themes and whatnot.

Mike’s windbreaker is more neutral and reflective of earlier seasons (in my brain, season 3, because both 3 & 4 are warmer seasons so the bright, more neon blue evokes season 3 more than the more muted season 1 & season 2 clothes Mike wears) so when he’s wearing it, it feels more like the Mike we’re familiar with. But I just wish we had spent a bit more time with that more punk/counter-culture Mike. (Which, I know all his outfit really consisted of was a raglan tee, black jeans, his watch which honestly looks really good with this outfit, and converse, but it’s quite different than the previous 3 seasons for Mike, so to start the season with it kinda primes your brain for this new look to continue—so maybe it is best they went straight to that jarring, dorky airport look because it was so clearly not a true representation of his style and made the transition back to more Standard Mike almost comforting rather than abrupt.)

The reason I’m torn about it, though, is because of how his clothes from what we’ve seen of season 5 evokes season 1 and 2 sooooo strongly, and that bodes extremely well for Byler because those were the two seasons where Mike was extremely Will-focused. So visually it sends our brains back to season 1 and season 2 Mike and like, almost settle into a familiarity? If that makes sense? A return to form, I guess.

Like, from what little I’ve seen of season 5 Eleven’s clothes, it feels way more season 3 than season 4: more athletic, less hand-me-down Byers (which isn’t bad, I love them so much for becoming her family), less Hopper’s cabin “I had to buy boy clothes so no one would get suspicious,” and more El’s journey in season 3 of finding out what she likes and what she wants to wear + her connection to and friendship with Max. So seeing her clothes in season 5 automatically makes me go, “I think her arc will be about herself and solidifying who she is and being more independent, while also emphasizing her friendship with Max and how what happened to Max and her failure to fully save her but her success in keeping her alive has effected her.”

And I almost forgot—Mike’s hair! I loved it long (the bangs kill me a little though, I like when they’re parted the most) and seeing it short definitely brings him back into season 1 and season 2, even though it’s even shorter in season 5 than it has ever been. But there’s something about it to me that evokes this…..how do I describe this? Quietness, almost? A quietness of the mind? As if he’s less distressed about who he is now? Less conflicted? Which definitely conflicts with the him-getting-cursed theory unfortunately, but I also am just going off of personal vibes in regards to his hair lol so take that with a grain of salt.

The muted colors harken back to season 1 and season 2 and give him a more grounded feeling, almost a maturity or strength of character vibe? So far, Mike has been at his most noble and likable in those first two seasons. So it’s giving that again: a more reliable leader. And someone (Finn, maybe?) has said that we’ll get more Leader Mike in season 5, and I definitely see it reflected in his clothes.

Clothing anon signing off🌻

Hell clothing anon! It's so nice to have you heard again ❤️ (and BTW I love that you gave yourself a lil nickname)

Firstly, I also love Mike's more edgy style at the beginning of season 4, I think it fits the moment he's going through with that sort of punk style that was all the rage at the time.

But I also really like his style during season 2, it felt more grounded, all pastel tones and deep colors that I feel fit his style really well.

One thing I found interesting is that as far as I can tell, both he and Will seem to wear a lot of layers. Will in particular struck me because he was in California wearing layers and a elbow length shirt but just when Mike was around. I wonder if there was a reason for it because I remember thinking it was weird considering how warm California is. Jonathan for example was wearing lighter clothes (which don't really fit his style) whereas Will was there wearing something way too warm for that weather.

Anyway I just rambled for a little bit, sorry lmao. As you said, Mike appears a lot in darker clothes that remind us a lot of what he wore during season 2.

Thanks for the ask and for your amazing explanations about their outfits!

[lovetrouble123]

MCR lyrics you can use for writing prompts:)

Bullets

“The amount of pills I’m taking counteracts the booze I’m drinking”

“And you can cry all you want to I don’t care”

“We’re not working out”

“And you can’t keep my brother, and you won’t fuck my friends”

“You put the spike in my heart”

“And you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat”

“Will it wash away this jet black feeling?”

“The night club sets the stage”

“We’ll shoot back holy water like cheap whiskey”

“Please save my soul”

“Can you stake me before the sun goes down?”

“Imaginary wedding gown”

“We’ll eat goodbye the hundredth time, and then tomorrow we’ll do it again”

“A thousand bodies piled up I never thought would be enough”

“These hands, stained red,”

“We can wash down this engagement ring with poison and kerosene”

“Without a sound, I wish you away”

“We could be perfect one last night”

“Please understand it has to be this way”

“You said were not celebrities. We spark and fade, they die by three”

“And I think I’ll blow my brains against the ceiling”

“Just think happy thoughts”

“You’re not in this alone”

“And if the world needs something better, let’s give them one more reason now”

“Hello angel, tell me where are you?”

“Tell me where we go from here”

“And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?”

“Then holding hands and life was perfect, just like up on the screen”

“Running away and hiding with you”

“And if I had the guts to put this to your head”

“Before I pull this trigger, your eyes vacant and stained”

“And in saying you loved me, made things harder at best”

“But does anyone notice, there’s a corpse in this bed?”

“When we met in the emergency room”

“Well I felt I couldn’t take another day inside this place”

“I thought I heard you say ‘I like you. We can get out, we don’t have to stay inside this place’”

“Set the Farris wheel ablaze”

“You left my heart an open wound, and I love you for this day”

“One day we’ll run away!”

“If you took the time to notice me”

“But you don’t work here anymore”

“I can’t help but think I’ll die alone”

“I’d end my days with you, in a hail of bullets”

“I’m trying to let you know just how much you mean to me”

“All we are is bullets”

“Know how much I want to show you, you’re the only one”

“Like a bed of roses there’s a dozen reasons in this gun”

“And as we’re touching hands, and in this pool of blood”

“I’ll meet your eyes”

Three Cheers

“And what’s the worst you take, from every heart you break?”

“Things are better if I stay”

“We’ll meet again when both our cars collide”

“This is how we like to do it in the murder scene”

“Can we settle up the score?”

“But I miss you more than I did yesterday”

“You’re beautiful!”

“Oh don’t I look pretty walking down the street in the best damn dress I own?”

“‘Well there’s no way I’m kissing that guy!’”

“He’s not around he’s always looking at men”

“Got nasty blisters from the money she spends”

“Increase the medication, share the vows at the wake”

“And the choice you made, to the end”

“In the middle of a gun fight…”

“Say a prayer”

“I’ll kiss your lips again”

“My cellmates a killer”

“Oh I miss my mom, will they give me the chair?!”

“Nobody knows all the trouble I’ve seen!”

“Do you have the keys to the hotel?! Cuz I’m gonna set this mother fucker on fire!”

“What will it take to show you that it’s not the life it seems?”

“I’m not okay (trust me!)”

“I never said I’d lie and wait forever”

“If I died we’d never together.”

“You are never coming home”

“And I remember now, at the top of my lungs, in my arms, she dies”

“(…) get the feeling that you’re never all alone?”

“And all the things that you never ever told me”

“Gaze into her killing jar I’d sometimes stare for hours”

“She even poked the holes so I can breathe”

“It’s the hardest part of living”

“I’m lost in the prescription she’s got something else in mind”

“And for the last night I lie, could I lie next to you?”

“Pull the plug”

“Slip into the tragedy”

“You’ve spun this chamber dry”

“(…) I’m not much a poet but a criminal”

“I’m just the way that the doctor made me”

“What’s life like bleeding on the floor?”

“You’re running after something that you’ll never kill”

“If this is what you want then fire at will!”

“Preach all you want but who’s gonna save me?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“That girls not right in the brain!”

“She won’t stop me/put it down/so get your gun and meet me by the door”

“For what you did to me, well I’ll do to you!”

“You told me this gets harder, well it did.”

“I’m taking back the life you stole”

“(…) from the razor to the rosary”

“This hole you put me in, wasn’t deep enough”

“I’ve lost my fear of falling/I will be with you”

“(…)in the dress your husband hates”

“Where the search lights find us drinking by the mausoleum door”

“And they found you in the bathroom floor!”

“Did you get what you deserve?”

“Is this what you always want me for?”

“Can I meet you alone?”

“Touched by angels though, I fall out of grace”

“Another knife in my hands, a stain that never comes off the sheets”

“Clean me off, I’m so dirty babe!”

“It ain’t the money and it sure as hell ain’t just for the fame”

“I tried but I lied!”

“They gave us two shots to the back of the head”

Black Parade

“Now come on, come all, to this tragic affair”

“Wipe off that makeup what’s in despair”

“You might wake up and notice you’re someone you’re not”

“If you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, you can find out first hand what it’s like to be me”

“I’d encourage your smiles!”

“When I grow up I want to be nothing at all!”

“Too young to die yet, my dear”

“Did you get what you deserved?”

“You never fell in love”

“And live my life alone forever now”

“(…) all the good girls go to heaven”

“Can you hear me cry out to you?”

“I’m really not so with you anymore, I’m just a ghost”

“(…) so I can’t hurt you anymore”

“If I crash on the couch, can I sleep in my clothes?”

“You’re the one that I need/I’m the one that you loathe”

“So why don’t you blow me?”

“Sometimes I get the feeling she’s watching over me”

“Disappointed faces of your peers”

“Just a man, not a hero”

“Don’t ever think I’ll try and make you stay”

“You’re still a good for nothing, I don’t know”

“I don’t love you like I did yesterday”

“I think I’m gonna burn in hell”

“Tell me I’m a bad man”

“Tell me I’m an angel”

“It’s a compliment, I swear”

“I’ve been a bad motherfucker, tell your sister or another”

“Help her gather all my things”

“(…)Bury me in all my favorite colors”

“I will not kiss you”

“Know that I will never marry”

“I’ve been counting down the days to go”

“I’m writing this letter and wishing you well”

“Stop asking me questions”

“And right now, they’re building a coffin your size”

“Mama, we’re all full of lies”

“You should’ve raised a baby girl, I should’ve been a better son”

“I could have been a better son”

“Don’t return to me”

“But the shit that I’ve done with this fuck if a gun”

“So raise your glass high, for tomorrow we die!”

“It feels like somebody is gripping my throat”

“Undeserving of your sympathy”

“Cause there’s no way that I’m sorry for what I did”

“How could you cry for me? Cuz I don’t feel bad about it”

“The hardest part is letting go of your dreams”

“Cause there ain’t no way that I’m coming back again”

“Sometimes I see flames, and sometimes I see people that I love dying”

“(…) keep an eye on your son”

“All teenagers scare the living shit outta me”

“Maybe they’ll leave you alone but not me”

“The boys and girls in the clique, the awful names that they stick”

“You’re never gonna fit in much kid”

“Well, I was there on the day they sold the cause for the Queen”

“I hate the ending but it started with an alright scene”

“It was a lie when they smiled and said ‘you won’t feel a thing’”

“And as we ran from the cops, we laughed so hard it would sting”

“How can you listen all night long?”

“I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree”

“I know I can’t make you stay”

“A life/love that’s so demanding”

“Honey, if you stay, you’ll be forgiven”

“I see you lying next to me”

“Awake and unafraid/asleep or dead?”

“Send you roses when they think you need to smile”

“And they love it for me honestly”

“The doctors and the nurses, they adore me so”

“I’m such an awful fuck (why thank you)”

“They never had the time”

“You were always born a crime”

“Can’t find my way home, but it’s through you”

“My gun fires seven different shades of shit, so what’s your favorite color punk?”

“Could you sign this photograph? Cuz I’m your biggest fan!”

“No way home”

“Come on angel, don’t you cry”

“Well, you can hide a lot about yourself”

“But honey, what’re you gonna do?”

“And you can sleep in a coffin but the past ain’t through with you”

“Cause we are all a bunch of liars, tell me baby, who do you wanna be?”

“And we all get together to bury our friends”

“It’s been 8/9/10 years since I’ve been seeing your face around here”

“I ain’t feeling the love”

“(…)never paid attention in school”

“I was killing before killing was cool”

“You’ll never take me alive”

“Do what it takes to survive”

“‘Someone save us!’”

“Heaven help us now”

“But I can’t tell if I’ve been breathing or sleeping, or screaming, or waiting”

“I’ve been sprawled on these cathedral steps”

“And will you pray for me?”

“Cover me in gasoline”

“And the punchline to the joke is asking ‘someone save us!’”

“You don’t know a thing about my sins”

“(…)how the misery begins”

Danger Days

“Killjoys, make some noise!”

“Drugs, gimme drugs, I don’t need it but I’ll sell what you got, take the cash and I’ll keep it”

“Hit the gas, kill ‘em all”

“We’re on your property standing in V formation”

“Eat plastic surgery”

“Keep your apology”

“Oh, let me tell you ‘bout the sad man”

“Remember when you were mad man? Thought you was Batman”

“Kiss me, you animal!”

“Everybody wants to change the world”

“But no one wants to die”

“It’s death or victory”

“I’d rather go to hell than be in purgatory”

“Pull this pin, let this world explode”

“Gag and bore me”

“I got a bulletproof heart, you got a hollow point smile”

“Lets blow a hole in this town”

“(…) do our talking with a laser beam”

“‘Jenny, could you come back home?’”

“Let me be the one to save you”

“Stop your preaching right there, cuz I really don’t care and I’ll do it again”

“Tell the truth and god will save you”

“Dying in the process”

“Buy yourself the motivation”

“I am not the singer that you wanted but a dancer”

“I refuse to answer”

“Keep running”

“There might be something outside your window, but you’ll just never know”

“Fame is now injectable!”

“Faith is unavailable!”

“I can’t slow down, I won’t be waiting for you”

“Don’t fuck around, this is our last chance!”

“Kill the party with me”

“I’m unbelievable”

“I’m undefeatable”

“Are we still having fun?”

“Are you holding the gun?”

“Take the money and run!”

“I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“I think I’m gonna go now”

“Remember me”

“I still think of the bombs they built”

“Can I be the only hope for you? Because you’re the only hope for me”

“I say it’s okay, I know you can tell”

“And though you see me smile, I still think of the guns they sell”

“Everybody pay attention to me!”

“I got the answer!”

“Ain’t no DJ gonna save my soul, I sold it long about for rock n roll”

“(…)we’d be killing ourselves by sleeping in”

“And keep your cars, and your dogs and your famous friends”

“Ain’t nobody gonna take my life”

“Ain’t no preacher gonna save me now”

“We came to party!”

“Cuz the devils got your number”

“Not a victim of a victims life”

“We’re believers”

“We can steal this car if you folks down mind”

“If you save yourself tonight”

“I’ll tell you all how the story ends”

“It ain’t about the friends you made but the graffiti they write on your grave”

“Who gives a damn if we lose the war?”

“Save yourself and I’ll hold them back tonight”

“Make a wish when your childhood dies”

“Hear the knock, knock, knock when she cries”

“We’re all alone tonight”

“Count to seventeen and close your eyes”

“I’ll keep you inside/tonight”

“See the rust through your playground eyes”

“We’re all in love tonight”

“Love won’t stop this bomb”

“Run, bunny, run!”

“(…)with brick in hand, your lip gloss smile, your scraped up knees and—.”

“How long until we find our way in the dark and out of harm?”

“Terrified of what I’d be as a kid from what I’ve seen”

“Turn my headphones up real loud. I don’t think I need them now, cuz you stopped the noise.”

“You can runaway with me anytime you want”

“They don’t like who you are”

“Brother, protect me now”

“You/I don’t believe in god”

“You/I don’t believe in luck”

“I believe we’re the enemy!”

“They laugh, we don’t think it’s funny.”

“Hold on tight and don’t look back”

“When we were young we used to say”

“(…)that you only hear the music when your heart begins to break”

“Now we are the kids from yesterday”

“All the cameras watch the accidents and starts you hate”

“Does the television make you feel the pills you ate, or every person that you need to be?”

“(…)we came to fuck”

“When you wanna be a movie star”

“Play it right and drive a Volvo car”

“Pills don’t help but it sure is funny”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you!”

“The music is way too loud, gonna have to turn it down a little—sorry!”

“The tabloids lie”

“We don’t dare to sing another song for California!”

“Every second that you take to fake your life”

“I don’t like being alone”

“I’ll meet you down at the metro station”

“I’m going to show you how much I love you”

“Don’t need the system”

“We can kill/leave it if we try”

“And write it on the walls, I hope you die”

“Manipulation, just to form an alibi”

“You’re the prototype/only type for me”

“And if Heaven wants to take us they can try!”

“Got the eyes on you”

“I don’t have much of an education, but I got a knack for elimination!”

“This is the bonus stage!”

“I want annihilation!”

“A new design for X and Y”

“Exterminate the dream”

“I hate you!”

“Kill everybody!”

Conventional Weapons

“I’m not asking”

“He’s not dead, he only looks that way”

“You can watch them stab me on your television”

“We got the bomb (let’s go!)”

“Say a prayer for ___.”

“You fell in love with a vampire”

“Say hello/goodbye to the good times”

“If we crash this time, they got machines to keep us alive”

“(…)choke down the words with no meaning”

“We got no heroes cuz our heroes are dead.”

“But the words get lost when we all look the same”

“The microphones got a tap wire!”

“Keep your money and I’ll see you in hell”

“You don’t know a thing about this life”

“(…)we are not afraid/we are not ashamed”

“I’ll be the one who drives you home tonight”

“We are not the same”

“We could get somebody else, but we want someone like you”

“I’ll tell you all about it when you fall in love”

“If I’m old enough to die for your mistakes”

“They’re teaching me to kill, who’s teaching me to love?”

“I’m/she’s never gonna have a son”

“You’ll never fight alone”

“Cuz I wanted you to know that the world is ugly, but you’re beautiful to me”

“Are you thinking of me now?”

“(…)there’s a morning after”

“Are you thinking of me like I’m thinking of you?”

“I would say I’m sorry”

“I’m thinking of you every night, every day”

“Stop your crying, helpless feeling”

“Dry your eyes and start believing”

“There’s one thing they’ll never take from you”

“So long to all my friends, every one of them met tragic ends”

“If I could be with you tonight, I would sing you to sleep”

“Never let them take the light behind your eyes”

“One day, I’ll lose this fight”

“Be strong and hold my hand”

“Time, it comes for us, you’ll understand”

“If you promise not to cry”

“I’ll fail and lose this fight”

“When I’m here no longer, you be stronger”

“We kill the girls to get paid”

“(…)put the whole damn room on the edge of a blade”

“I’ll keep believing”

“Stay clean”

“(…)put the record on”

“Grab the cash and run!”

“Let the suits watch each other kill one another”

“You gotta kiss that ring”

“Keep the faith”

“Is it hard to stay clean?”

“The cannibals are starving when they’re looking at you!”

“White lines, nose bleeds”

“Anybody gonna come and rescue me?”

“One day, you’re gonna have some explaining to do”

“Got a taste for the cash and androgyny”

“She’s alright”

“I’ll remember this night when you’re gone”

“I surrender every dream”

“I’ll remember your eyes when you’re gone”

“So give me all you’ve got, I can take it”

“Kissed all the boys in your city lights”

“Did you make it?”

“Cuz it makes me who I am”

“I took the pills for these empty nights”

“They always told me that you’ll never get to heaven with a life like yours”

“And though I missed the change for this”

“I confess that I can’t wait until it’s gone”

“Don’t go if you have more to say”

“(…)the world don’t need another hopeless cause”

Extras

“These eyes have had to much to drink again tonight”

“I’ve been calling you all week for my shotgun!”

“Pick up the phone fucker!”

“I wanna see what your insides look like”

“I bet you’re not fucking pretty on the inside”

“Well lie another day”

“And did you come to stare or wash away the blood?”

“Did we all fall down?”

“From the lights to the pavement, from the van to floor, from backstage to the doctor, from the earth to the morgue.”

“I can see you awake anytime in my head”

“You can run but you can’t hide from this”

“We laughed about the time we fell”

“There’s writing on the ceiling that only I can see”

“(…) I don’t give a fuck”

“We got the right to anything we want”

“Well, gather ‘round, I’ll tell you all a story about heartache and woe”

“I think your politics stink”

“Somebody buy me a drink”

“Well, she’s always going on about the town you grew up in”

“You’ll never take me back home”

“I never wanna go home with you”

“And you’re walking away, and I will drown in the tears”

“(…)I’m not backing your decision”

“I’m not afraid of you”

“Come on, you have something you wanna show me?”

“(…)a new toy to self destruct”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve”

“There’s all types of people in this city; what kind of person are you?”

“Could you please just hold my hand?”

“Everybody’s talking ‘bout the way you left your man”

“I fell in love with her again, my baby”

“Cuz I’m not that type of girl”

“All your life, I let you down—not again”

“Love was just a passing phase”

“But don’t leave me here!”

“Don’t believe what you read or sometimes what you see”

“Are you happy this way?”

“Tell the judge that I’m innocent. Tell the jury I’m no one at all”

“She won’t stop the bleeding, baby”

“The others are to blame”

“Darling, I’m a bad man”

“Sing the praise again”

“What if I’m that bad man?”

“You can bitch all you want but I’m never gonna leave you alone”

“I’m a bad motherfucker, an abandoned mental lover”

“(…)maybe if that bad man killed me once again”

“It was the worst thing that I’d ever done”

“You gave me gun”

“I won’t tell a soul”

“It was the last time I saw her/him/them alive”

“Sometimes you do things you need to do to survive”

“I’m needing your touch”

“And ___, come home”

“I waited so long for someone to say, ‘if you could hold on, I’d maybe get you to stay’”

“You sad motherfucker”

“She got the call, and then she threw her jacket on”

“(…) stormed off down the hall”

“You are all to blame”

“She went alone and went to the emergency”

“(…)parked her car in the dark”

“They told her, ‘please, he only has but minutes more…you might just say goodbye”

“(…) find a better way to love me”

“Some people watch, some people pray”

“But why we have to stay?”

“We were born to lose”

“Just look at all that pain”

“I think it got you laid”

“Fake your death”

“Come on and feel that shame”

“They wanna grip the cross”

“Kiss my battery”

“Fuck this whole wide world!”

“Turn up the fakes and lies”

“Spit casually”

“Medication and the way your eyes look into me”

“Lubrication, can you turn off all the lights so I can’t see?”

“I’m so fucking old!”

“I’m so fucking alone!”

“Crash into this institution”

“I’m putting off medication, it always makes me tired”

“I can’t play pretend”

“I’m wide awake most minutes”

“I’m not asleep most days”

“Well did I say too much?”

“I’ll never go to bed”

“I’ll kiss their lips again”

“Just give me peace tonight”

“See the man who stands upon the hill”

“He dreams of all the battles won”

“But fate had left its scars upon his face”

“And so time with age, it turns the page”

“You find god in pain”

“We lay in the foundations of decay”

“He was there, the day the towers fell, and so he wandered down the road”

“And press til you can’t take it anymore!”

“And so he gets to die a saint but she will always be the whore”

“You look stressed out!”

“The poison is the cure”

“You must fix your heart”

“Yes, it comforts me much more”

“Get up coward!”

[spiralinghours]

“Fading Out” (continuation/installment of “Filth”)

Fandom/media: Saw franchise

Rating: R/18+

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm

Tags/content/warnings: humiliation/degradation, teasing, name-calling, feeding kink, weight gain… a lot of the same from the previous fic

Summary: A canon-divergent continuation where Strahm is alive and well (and didn’t get put in the cube), but does know Hoffman’s identity. Hoffman, meanwhile, is done with the Jigsaw business, too confused by whatever he has going on with Strahm. Low key teasing continues to happen during work hours, which culminates in Mark experimenting on his own at home.

Author’s note: I was gonna add more to this, but it felt long enough and I got impatient haha. I’m not great at long form/chapters because I get bored by the idea, so there’s no set length, but just know this installment is a filler before I churn out the next part.

Enjoy. Or don’t. Make your choice.

So things hadn’t gone as planned, but they seemed to work out. For the time being.

Strahm had strolled—intently stamped, more like—his way out of the meat plant on the night of those simultaneous games, looking the victor, as he gave the exact story he promised he would (blah blah, came in alone, everyone dead but Hoffman, helped him out of the trap, blah blah blah) and reported that Jigsaw, finally, was dead. That was that.

Jigsaw was dead, in more ways than one. Mark had anticipated carrying out the last couple games as John’s dying wish, taking out anyone who put even a slightly inconvenient kink in the grand scheme of it all. But, the blunt truth was John was gone. Amanda was gone. Jill, while probably wanting to respect John’s will, did not have the heart to play murder games. (And this Logan fella… he was never coming back. He had a whole life. Who cared?) Mark didn’t want to associate with anyone left alive in John’s legacy—his fucked up family.

And with Peter knowing the whole smoking truth of it all with some sick fixation and the potential for blackmail, there was no point for Mark to dig his hole deeper. He would tie up the loose ends and move on.

On a formal, procedural, surface level, tying loose ends also entailed wrapping things up with the feds. It was a whole parade of paperwork, exchanging identical manila folders, making the same public statements to major media outlets, and staying caffeinated into the ungodly hours of the morning to make sure all the stories on record were solid.

It meant Peter was still around, digging through the inner sanctum of the precinct like a mite. He was always lurking, and actually focused on his job, to be sure. But at moments when Mark thought he’d look up and make eye contact, or see him walk through his office door, there was nothing.

It was jarring, in fact, how removed Strahm seemed, given the immense tension and lingering promise of their last interaction. Perhaps it was best left that way. But if anything, despite all else—the wet dreams and fleeting, empty want—Hoffman felt the need to confirm some kind of arrangement given what Strahm knew of his identity.

Yeah, that was all it was. Just business, in that sense.

In a completely random occurrence, in the middle of one of the many days hazing into the next, Mark spotted Peter, alone in what was his and Lindsey’s makeshift office watching something on the old TV. It was the tape from when Mark originally interrogated Jill from however long ago—the one Rigg wracked his brain on, watching it on repeat.

Mark could only assume Peter was looping it for completely different reasons, but he let his crass curiosity get the better of him.

“Hard at work?” Mark sort of muttered as he entered the space, cringing at how stupid and generic it came out.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, not even turning to look. It was as bland an answer as if he’d been offered a cup of coffee.

“My tape with Jill have something we missed?” Mark probed on, tilting his head at how Peter rewound the part where he passed in front of the camera, backside in full view. (‘Jesus, I look like that back there?’)

“Just enjoying the view,” Peter replied, tone unchanged.

What a stone cold prick.

He made an obvious point of pausing the spot where Mark had twisted his torso just enough as he leaned over the table, showing at just the right angle the way his belly hung over his belt, past his generous chest. The blue hue of the tape made even his fuzzy visage look very shapely.

“You’re a sick fuck.” Mark was going for a threatening, undercutting slant to his words, but it fell short into something on edge.

“I’m not doing anything sick, stupid,” Peter finally turned around, looking annoyed for barely any reason.

“Enjoying the view? Yeah?” Mark mocked. “You’re a creep, lookin’ at me like that.”

“Who said I was looking at you? Ms. Tuck is pretty gorgeous.”

Mark was well aware that one of the many skills he possessed was passively getting on people’s nerves until he got something out of the situation. But Peter had out-obnoxioused him somehow. Mark shook his head, lips fixing into a dumb pucker, and started to turn away.

“You look fucking fat in this tape.” Peter’s cold voice trailed behind Mark, smacking him and reeling him back in.

“Excuse me? Fuck you.”

Strahm stood up abruptly and got into Hoffman’s face, his eyes drifting momentarily to the open door to make sure Lindsey or Erickson or even some subordinate didn’t pass by. “Why are you taking that as an insult? Looks good on you, big boy. Say ‘thank you’ when you’re complimented.” A rare, menacing smile cracked across his face. “I like having something to hold onto.” He swatted at Mark’s lower belly, just out there, pushing prominently over his belt buckle and badge.

The TV clicked off and Strahm exited the room without another word. He was frequent with sudden, callous departures like that. It left Hoffman standing there, gears visibly turning behind his eyes and a hand reflexively cupping his stomach where he was just touched.

What the fuck?

—

For the most part, Mark had little awareness of his own body and his overall perception. Outside of his hair and his face, he didn’t pay mind to much. He was just there, just a guy. And, over time, he cared less, living a lifestyle where there was so much stimulation, too much to focus on, too much worry, death and dying at every corner…

He never stopped and realized that people looked at him and just saw a “big guy”, let alone found it attractive. That was the part that alluded him. Like the general public, he assumed the stereotypical thing people wanted to rub their hands over were rock-hard abs and sharp jawlines or whatever. All that to say, Mark felt like Strahm was ogling him for the weirdest reasons.

Late into the night, hours after the little tiff about the tape, Mark was still mulling over what had been said. He knew he was thinking too much on it, but that type of interaction was just too specific and new.

He breathed a bored, unfocused sigh and traced around his house, debating on if he was hungry or just frazzled enough to go to sleep. But a weird impulse seeped into his mind as he leaned towards the former.

In a bit of an autopilot state, lightheaded with a tingle up his back, Mark trudged from one side of the kitchen to the next, alternating between grabbing items from the fridge and the two cabinets. Each “dish” (if the senseless piles could even be called that) merited another garnish or more to add to the taste profile. The remaining four slices of pizza needed more protein, so the egg and sausage leftover from the morning were topped on. But then it needed a dipping sauce, so he had to throw a little ranch in there. But all that became too salty-savory, so Mark made a side salad (which ended up being a mixing bowl’s worth) stacked with croutons, cheese shreds, and chips (because they were spicy, and the whole deal could use a little spice). But then after that, a little sweetness made sense to cut through all the cheese, meat, and sauce, so ice cream came next. But it was too frostbitten to dig a spoon in, so he microwaved the pint… maybe a bit too long, as it ended up mostly melted. But hey, that was just a milkshake, right? So into a glass it went, with some extra milk to thin it out.

He was incredibly hungry, sure—more than he realized—but there was a ping, some kind of creeping inspirational spark that kept him going. There was the idea of Strahm watching him eat this way, maybe even pushing him through it with nasty little remarks the whole time. The condescending “Oink oink” Peter demanded of him from that night in the plant echoed in his head, like an obsession, over and over, unfurling a blackout sort of feeling.

It was over as quickly as it started, leaving Mark in a haze, a little confused at what he just put himself through. He didn’t come—didn’t touch himself or get off or even get super hard—but it felt like he was experiencing “post nut clarity” all the same. There was a hint of shame to it, as Mark recognized how secret and foul gorging himself felt, and how it would be a struggle to hide the results if it kept happening, shifting around slowly with a likely angry and wobbling gut fighting against his pants button.

Peter would be around, and he would see. Would he? Hoffman was curious to know what he would say, how his sharp, dour expression would shift. What catty comments would Peter let burrow into Mark’s dumb, eager brain?

As itch-inducing as the mental image was, Mark’s energy would be reserved for that at a later time. Down for the night, he had slumped into the corner of his small burgundy couch, hyper aware of the way his white undershirt stretched and smoothed out across the expanse of his belly, creasing only at his sides, above his love handles. Every breath was a chore, the shallowest inhales and exhales making him slosh, which eventually set off a chain of hiccups that made his gut bounce uncomfortably.

Letting a hand creep under the tight fabric, Mark ended the night absentmindedly scratching the side if his stomach while some previously-aired episodes of The Girls Next Door droned on his meager TV.

“Guess I’m a pervert too,” Mark mumbled to no one in particular.

[kingsleydied]

The memory you left // Kaveh X Reader Genshin Impact

Kaveh x Reader WC: 1,900 GN reader Warnings: death, kinda angst, my cursed writing

Sun holding still, casting its light upon every leaf, rock, and insect in its path, the atmosphere of the lack of clouds in the morning sky told the tall blonde that the peaceful weather wouldn't be changing anytime soon. Kaveh, the young and master architect, was finishing the golden buttons of his shirt. Checking his fair colored hair for the dozenth time that early morning, he sighed to himself, peering in to the full body mirror of his bedroom. He stood there for quite a time, studying his own subtle brown eyes. "Everything will go just fine." He whispered to himself, his voice the only sound to what he thought was miles upon miles.

The man made his way downstairs, ignoring his slightly taller room mate, Alhaitham. He brushed past him, trying to let his brain let go of the delicious smell of breakfast. Although the food may put a calm to his over growing anxiety and would fulfill his human hunger, no, he decided. He mustn't eat. As his hands reached for the brightly appearing flowers he'd previously laid out in a clear jar of water on the counter the night before, the eyes of his room mate settled and locked onto him. He could feel it burning into his back. "I hope your date goes well today." Wished Alhaitham. Kaveh continued to remove the delicate flowers from the jar. "Thank you," he said in a laid back monotone voice "But I'm sure it'd all go well, so I won't need it." Not bothering to meet the annoyed glare of Alhaitham's, he simply rolled the flowers in a neatly tied knot he'd crafted himself. Once pleased, he recalled your forgotten bracelet. Swiftly, he opened a drawer, taking it out. After an examination of the pink and green jewelry, he wore it on his own wrist. "Goodbye," Kaveh called throughout the shared home "I'll be back his evening." And left without another word.

Architect leaving his home with the flowers and decorated bracelet, he did his best to assure himself that everything will go pleasant and as planned on his date with you. Just as he'd told his room mate back at home, but of course not all things Kaveh said he believed for his personal thoughts. You didn't live too far, fortunate for Kaveh. Not much of a exercise, though he felt at times he needed it, all that time drawing up blue prints for buildings and structures was spent at his desk, not on his feet. Soon, your home was in his sight, an undisturbed looking house, the widows always kept clean, the plants surrounding were more lively than any wild flower he'd ever seen. But undisturbed was the last thing your home ever was. The closer the blonde got, so did the dread get eating him inside out. He felt as if there was a force pulling him back, back towards Alhaitham, to the safety of his bedroom, away from you. Still, he fought. He wasn't about to let his anxiety win, not again, not after everything you'd taught him. Breathing in then out, only to breath in again. He summed up the courage to knock on the door of your shared address of your family's. Knuckles meeting to the wood of the door, he impatiently waited for a response. Fidgeting with his hands, his eyes moving side to side, the sooner someone welcomed him the better. His heart couldn't withstand much more mental torture. A twist of the knob came, the doorway suddenly changing to the warmth of the house you'd grew up in. Your mother stood before him, her glare something he wasn't quite used to, not from her at least. She usually greeted him with a timeless smile, gesturing him indoors. Yet that friendliness seemed to all have faded. "Ma'am," He finally broke the awkward silence. "I'm here to see Y/n on our date." Mother stopped to stare at him with shock, only for it to switch to something with more concern. "I'm sorry Kaveh," she started off sad, tears began to drip from her crystal orbs "but they're dead. They're dead. You know that don't you?" "I know, but I still want to see them. Is that alright with you?" He spoke calmly, forcing the tears to not roll down his paling face, but it only made it more difficult when Kaveh saw your mother cry. Slowly, the woman gained the strength to hold back her sob, doing her very best to nod. Stepping aside to take Kaveh walk through the house to the backyard. He took great care in not recognizing any object around him, afraid of the reminder of you behind it. You always haunted his life, and you were sure to haunt your own house too. Yet even the flooring held your absence. It all brought sadness to him, the times of being bored, nothing better to do than lay on the floor and stare at your own ceiling in the hallway. He would have found it funny, that was if you were still here, but your absence of the memory made him feel guilty along with empty.

Another tear had made its path down his cheek as he made contact with the door to the outside. Carrying the flowers in his left hand, he turned the knob with his right, hoping the fresh air would help ease the overgrowing dread within him. It did release some of the mournful energy he'd had from your home, not nearly enough to make him forgetful of why he traveled here in the first place. Swallowing, he looked around for the heavy grey stone in the tall wavy grass, it was reduced to hardly a task, the tomb sticking out like a sore thumb. Wearily, one step after another, he crouched down to the spot where your body laid underground for exactly a year now. A year had passed since your incurable sickness, not even doctor Tighnari could fix. It'd happend all too fast, stealing you away from him without mercy. Now, here a year later, all he managed to do was sob unto your headstone. Moments of pure sorrow passed, until Kaveh's broken tone finally broke the off charm tone from the cloud of birds. "I'm so sorry. I should have done something different. Tired harder. You deserved so much more...so much better than this." Laying down the bright flowers and removing the bracelet you'd left by mistake on your stone, Kaveh unbent his knees, towering over the spot which you laid. He brushed the tears away from his reddened eyes, he was sure he'd looked awful now, unlike the way he arrived. Sadly, he peered at the stone with your name one last time before walking back towards your old house empty handed. "Kaveh," Your mom called, her crying paused "would you like something to go? Maybe a snack or a glass of tea?" "I appreciate the gesture, ma'am, but I'll be fine. It's all just...unsettling. I miss them." "So do I. I miss them everyday." Nodding her head, she peered deeply into the young man's eyes. "I'm happy you stopped by, really. I have something for you." The lonely woman picked herself up the stairs. Minutes later, she returned with a thick pink book, the spine he guessed somewhere between 2 to 3 inches wide. Kaveh eyes the book more and more, seeing a scribbled note on it. It was your handwriting. "When I was going through their things a couple days ago...I found lots of pictures of them, they hurt me to see them, so if you could, take those photos with you." Said the mother, orbs shiny with teardrops again. Nodding, Kaveh held the book close to him in posion. He hadn't seen your smiling face in so long, the book would truly be a blessing for him. Oh, how you were so dear to him. "Thank you very much. I'll be sure to take great care of this." Though he never dared to peer at any of the pictures within the book at the moment, as he was sure it'd be too much to bare, he believed that this book would be a treasure of history for the both of you and himself, Kaveh.

Opening the door to his own home, he found his room mate relaxed on a bar stool in their shared kitchen. He instantly turned alert upon the arrival of the blonde, his eyes locking onto the book. "Welcome back, Kaveh." For once, it didn't sound like Alhaitham was swearing his name. Knowing a need to hide the book would be completely unnecessary, he held up the pink binder of pictures of you, his now dead lover. "What is..." He stopped, eyeing the words of the front. They said Y/n L/n. "How did it go?" Not daring to look at Alhaitham, he kept his head to the floor, stepping on by and he spoke: "It went well... Y/n's mother is doing as expected." And scurried out of the other man's line of sight, wishing to peer at the album alone. Sitting on his wooden bedroom floor, the album sat flat open in front of him as he examined every picture carefully. Your face in every photo. It was so special to him, seeing you smile as if you were still existing with him, as if he could kiss you just like he used to. If only. Fingertips lingering on a certain picture of you, left eye winking, other left wide open, and grinning wildly. He was right beside you, accompanying you in the image. The photo said all there was to know, as his brown crystal eyes gazed upon you, love sickened undoubtedly, and then simply you, enjoying life. Yet, here the man was, despising it. Hatred suddenly filled him, hating and utterly disgusted with it all. Ever since you've been gone it'd all went so rapidly downhill. Motivated by anger, he stood to his feet, book in hand, and tossed it with a loud smack against the wall. Tears clouded Kaveh's vison as he breathed heavily. "Why Y/n!?" He shouted on the every top of his lungs. "Why would the Archons take someone so innocent!? They never did anything wrong!" He didn't know what really happend, but he felt the warmth of another nearby, a hand touching his shoulder. Then, a voice rose. "Kaveh, Kaveh calm down." Alhaitham was by his side. The brokenhearted boy only cried harder, sobbing into the palms of his hands. "I miss them too." Alhaitham said, looking at the fallen book on the ground. "But you must push forward. Y/n wouldn't want you to stop here. You...you're such a talented architect, you're bound to get called in for another job any day now... You were a great boyfriend, you know that? I don't think I ever heard Y/n complain about you besides how you never did the dishes. Still, I believe you can get through this." After a few moments, the sounds of crying started to die down. The red on Kaveh's face made him look sick. "Th...thank you Alhaitham. I just...miss them so much." He spoke between hiccups. The grey haired man said nothing in return, but instead leaned in to hug him. Taking control of his breathing, Kaveh for the first time in a year Kaveh felt something that wasn't emptiness.

[sepdet]

Do you ever hear/see something in a dream that's so ridiculous it jars you wide awake like a bucket of water?

My subconscious tends to do it with feeble puns. Today's was:

“Aragorn failed a saving throw versus noble, and was forced to come clean.”

I wish I could remember the rest of the dream that led up to this… Something something saving throws.

Well, even if fibromyalgia fatigue has killed my ability to write creatively bc I fall asleep if I sit down to write for very long, at least there's a glimmer of a writer buried in my subconscious? It's trying?

Dreams tend to pastiche bits and pieces of stuff you've been thinking about, which means that my brain was trying and failing to put Donna Noble in Middle Earth, possibly facing off with an unwashed Ranger. The only way I can make it work is by swapping out Ioreth for Donna and having her far less impressed, while Aragorn grins at the no-nonsense head of the Houses of Healing ordering him around. Writing prompt, since I can't: Go.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #6: Organ Theft” On the right is a bright green animated figment of a brain in a glass case. The top of the glass case is labeled "PREZ" and the base is labeled "NO TOUCH." The figment is based on one of the images from the Milla's Adventures! memory vault.

The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Organ Theft” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

FINALLY WE'RE BACK!! This one took me WAY too long, but here's the next fic in my @badthingshappenbingo challenge!

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This request is for @of-science-and-stars! Sorry this took so long, and hope you enjoy! Thanks to @jaywings and @pinkygrocket for beta-reading!

Prompt: Organ Theft Characters: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, Ford Cruller Warnings: None

---~~~---

The doors leading into Sasha's lab slid open, and he trudged through them, making his way to his office, then all but collapsed down onto his couch. Automatically, he TK'd a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with pyrokinesis, and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He took a slow drag, sighing through his nose and watching the smoke spiral toward the ceiling.

He truly enjoyed his work. But there were some days that made him wish he had a different job—one that didn’t leave mental and emotional burdens weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Soon the first cigarette was smoked down to the filter. Into the ashtray it went, and it was swiftly replaced with another.

It was days like this that made him wish that he had never taken Ford up on his offer to join the Psychonauts when he had run into him so long ago. Of course, deep down he knew it was the best decision he'd ever made, and that mental exhaustion was causing his emotions to behave irrationally, but right now, that knowledge did nothing to change how he felt. As the events of the past several hours played out again in his mind, he sank lower into his couch. Truly this was one of the worst days of his career.

It could not possibly get worse.

If Hollis would no longer allow him to wear what he chose, then—

Shoehorn, Dustpan, this is Grease Jar.

Sasha jolted upright, scrambling to TK-grab his dropped cigarette before it burned the couch.

Got an important mission that's slipped through the cracks. U.S. government's deemed it too unimportant, but the entirety of Country's future is on the line if we don't do something.

Rubbing his forehead, Sasha wondered if Ford had misspoke. Before he could comment, Milla chimed in:

Of course, Grease Jar. Shoehorn and I would be happy to help. What's the trouble?

President's been captured.

What? That had to be wrong—how could that have slipped through the cracks? Are you sure?

Do I ever contact you when I'm not? You gonna help or what?

Well, he couldn't argue with that. ...Yes, he replied. We're ready.

Great. I'm getting things set up on my end. Paperwork will be handled as usual. Gimme a minute and I'll get you ready for transport.

Very well. Just... warn us this time, please. You recall how last time went.

You were fine, son. I know how to use the heimlich, and I can do it again if I need to.

He could feel Milla's gentle laugh, and he couldn't be too upset.

For a few moments he sat in his office, putting out his cigarette and straightening his jacket. Ford didn't like to waste time, so he'd likely be here any minute. Sighing, he stood up to stretch—

—and just as he realized one critical error he'd made, someone abruptly appeared next to him, grabbed his shoulder, and with a yank, he was out of his office.

—-

Sasha stumbled in the sudden dim light. The beeps and chirps from the nearby consoles weren't unfamiliar to him, but the use of teleportation was always jarring.

With a rush of green psychic energy, Ford and Milla appeared next to him. Nodding in satisfaction, Ford clapped both of them on the back. "Good to see you two out here to visit an old coot again."

"You know you're much more than that to us, Agent Cruller," Milla said with a smile.

"Pshaw." Ford waved a hand. "I didn't bring you here to get all sappy on me, anyway." He glanced over at Sasha, then blinked, one of his bushy brows raising. "Didn't take you out here for a vacation, either."

Milla followed his gaze, then covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Meanwhile, Sasha looked away, shuffling his feet in his very comfortable pair of socks and sandals.

Shaking his head, Ford strode over to a console and tapped in a few keys, bringing up holographic images around the platform they stood upon. The first depicted a map of the globe, which zoomed in on a teeny tiny island. "So this here is Country."

"Which country?" Sasha asked, frowning at the image.

"It's not a country, it's a territory," Ford snapped, eyeing Sasha over his shoulder.

Milla exchanged a glance with Sasha before raising a finger. "You did just say it was a country—"

"No, I said it was Country. Keep up!" Frowning, Ford brought up a second map, which was zoomed a bit further out. "Country is a small island territory off the coast of Nation."

Sasha could feel regret creeping up his spine the second he opened his mouth. "Which nation—"

"The nation of—” He broke off into a sputter. “It's not a nation, it's a republic! Didn't you young'ns ever go to school?!"

Clasping her hands, Milla nodded. "Of course, Agent Cruller. What's going on there?"

Ford relaxed a little before bringing up another image—this one appearing to be a short, squat man with mint-green skin. "President's been found in danger."

"...The President?" Sasha asked, wilting.

"Yea—I mean, no!" Ford snapped, his body trembling in agitation. "His name's President—goes by Prez—and he's the Prime Minister of Country. He's been captured by terrorists and is being held captive in the Company Building."

Once again Sasha nearly opened his mouth, but Milla shook her head, and he held himself back. "So we'll head to this office building and—"

"It's not an office—it's a—a—" Ford broke off into sputtering once again, but this time shot a glare at the holograms around him. "Who names these things?!"

Milla laughed, and Ford rolled his eyes. "Laugh all you want, but I'd like to see you keep this stuff straight!"

Sighing, he brought up the layout of the fortress on the holograms. "Prez is being held somewhere in these walls. Now you'd think it'd be at the top of this tower here—" he pointed at a tower on the leftmost side of the building "—like some princess in a fairy tale, but the intelligence I've gathered shows he's most likely located somewhere around here." He indicated a number of smaller rooms in the middle of the building, then paused, indicating the tower again. "Or, if we're unlucky, he might be held there, where they apparently keep the gators."

The ridge of one of Sasha's lenses raised as he exchanged a glance with Milla. "Alligators?"

Ford scratched the back of his scalp as he glanced off to the side. "Or maybe it was crocodiles? Same difference. Anyway." Shaking his head, he pulled up another image that showed an aerial view of the building and its surrounding grounds. "Now, the authorities are camped out outside, and they’ve been notified that you’re coming. Hostage situations are delicate and all that, but if you can get Prez outside, they can take it from there."

"I assume these terrorists have a psychic on their side?" Sasha asked, examining the map. "Otherwise we would not have been called upon."

"Now that we're not sure," Ford admitted. "But one thing we do know is that they may have access to sneezing powder, which is going to complicate things. They may have some brains switched up."

"Ach, of course."

"We can handle it, Agent Cruller," Milla said, giving Sasha a nod.

"Good," Ford replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple photos as well as printed sheets of paper, which he handed to Sasha and Milla.

"Here's some pictures of our target, and some questions you'll need to ask him to verify his identity, in case they tried a switcheroo. Study 'em and burn 'em. I got the coordinates logged in the Pelican, as well as your disguises for the mission. I'll stay down here for now so you can reach me, and I'll give you more mission details along the way. Now git!"

With that, he waved his hands toward them in a shoo-ing motion.

"Tchau!" Milla said with a short wave.

"We'll be in contact," Sasha added, and the two of them headed for the tree stump exit. From there, the transport system brought them to the hangar. To his dismay, he found a bird's nest had been built atop one of the wings of the Pelican. "Ach... How do they keep getting in here?"

While Milla gently TK'd the nest off to the side, Sasha glanced around. While well-disguised on the outside, the hangar was above-ground, which led to... problems like this. At least the bears and cougars couldn't get in.

Milla gave him a playful psi-poke, and he shook his head. Right, they had bigger things to worry about right now. Arguably.

Once they had both levitated into the Pelican, a psychic message from Ford reached them: Once you're onboard, you should find your outfits on the front seats.

Nodding to each other, they approached their respective seats to find Milla's had one of her custom Psychonauts outfits folded neatly there, complete with the rarely-used hood. It also had a set of large, circular earrings on top, each of them transparent while giving off opalescent reflections. Sasha, meanwhile, found a fancy blue suit with a pin on the breast reading "Logan Smith - AquaSpark Amusement Parks.” Accompanying the outfit was a small briefcase with the fake company’s logo: a blue lightning bolt with a splash of water directly beneath it.

There were, however, no matching shoes for the outfit.

Sasha curled up inside himself.

So, Dustpan, you'll be handling the sneaky stuff. Those earrings there are one of Egg Carton's inventions—supposed to give you more invisibility time.

Milla smiled, turning over the earrings in her hand. Oh, that's wonderful! So stylish, too.

Yeah, yeah, he's all about style. Now, Shoehorn, you'll be the distraction. You'll be Logan Smith, CEO of AquaSpark Water Parks. For some reason these terrorists are just nuts about water parks, so they'll be happy to see you there.

Wonderful, Sasha thought, looking over the outfit. They sound reasonable.

"I'm sure you'll do great, darling!" Milla said with a smile.

Sasha almost raised a hand to protest, only to stop himself, and placed a hand on his temple to speak to Ford. Ford, there seems to be something missing from my outfit.

Eh?

The shoes.

Didn't give Milla shoes either. Figured you'd both come dressed for work.

He almost argued that he was dressed for work, but bit back the comment; a man's life was in danger, and there was no time to worry about shoes. Tapping the button to open the hangar door and flipping a number of switches, he sent a message to both Milla and Ford. Very well. Starting up the jet.

Good, Ford replied. Course is already set, so you should be there in about two hours.

We will notify you upon arrival.

As the jet took off, they braced themselves, and waited until the plane leveled before relaxing. Sasha turned to Milla. "We may as well familiarize ourselves with our target while we wait."

“Good idea!” Milla replied, TKing out the papers Ford had given her.

Sasha, meanwhile, TK'd out the photo he was given of Prez. Looking it over, he found himself staring into the face of a man who looked well-meaning, if somewhat baffled. Recalling the glimpse he'd gotten of the picture Ford had shown earlier, he wondered if that was the man's perpetual expression. Or perhaps he was just not photogenic.

After studying it for a while, he switched to the document. Said document detailed basic facts about the man—his birth date, his partner's name, the date of their anniversary, the names of all seven of his Samoyeds, and various other factoids that could be useful to know, ranging from basic to obscure. Fortunately, Sasha was used to memorizing this sort of thing—it was standard procedure for when a brain swap was suspected.

After he studied the notes for some time, another copy of the document entered his vision, and he didn't have to look to know that Milla was TKing it to him. Without a word he TK'd it off to his other side, gave her a moment to look away, and lit it on fire with pyrokinesis, doing the same with his own paper shortly afterward. "Aside from the odd names, this should be a fairly standard mission."

Milla nodded. "It will be over soon enough, and then we can throw a party!" She gave him a grin. "Perhaps that would cheer you up?"

Sasha stiffened. "Ah... I had hoped that wasn't obvious."

"It's all right, darling." She reached over to pat him on the shoulder gently. "Now let's get ready. It looks like we'll be arriving soon!"

Milla retreated into the bathroom, and stepped out in her Psychonaut outfit, without the hood—understandable, as it would not be comfortable to wear for an extended period. As his partner settled herself in her seat again, Sasha took a moment to step back to change into his own outfit. The suit tugged at his shoulders, but otherwise he found himself able to move around in it well enough. He kept his Psychonauts badge, however, slipping it into his pocket in case he needed to identify himself. But as he stepped back out, he frowned down at his feet.

"Oh, are you worried about your footwear?" Milla asked. He gave a start to find her looking back at him with an amused smile. "I'm sure you'll find a way to roll with it, darling."

"Hopefully," Sasha remarked, taking a moment to straighten his tie.

By this point, the jet was slowing down as it approached the Island of Country. Milla carefully tied her hair back into a bun and pulled her hood over her head. Her earrings poked out from the hood, looking obvious against the dark outfit, but half a second later she turned herself invisible.

"So far, so good," Sasha remarked, nodding approvingly in the direction where Milla had been standing. However, he felt her presence just behind him, and turned to see her smiling at him beneath her hood.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes.

He gave a huff of amusement. "Even if Otto's new accessories don't work as advertised—which I'm sure they will—your stealth is unmatched."

"Naturally." Milla gave a soft laugh.

Looking down at the briefcase he’d been given, Sasha picked it up with his hand, and frowned. Well, this wouldn’t be enjoyable.

When the jet landed, the two drew their attention to a holographic screen near the cockpit. It displayed a map of the island, indicating where the jet had landed and where their target was.

"All right, listen up, cuz this recording's about to delete itself once it's done," Ford's voice crackled out of the speaker. "You've landed here, west of the target." The blip on the map indicating the jet flashed. "The authorities are gathered outside the building, and they've been made aware of your arrival. Dustpan, you're gonna sneak in through the side entrance here." The map zoomed in on the building, highlighting something on the western side. "The code to enter is 5002. Meanwhile, Shoehorn, you're gonna enter through the front, and make a show of pushing yourself through the cops. That'll get these guys' attention, and I'll leave you to figure out where to take it from there."

Sasha nodded grimly. Playing things by ear was not his favorite way to do things, but he could handle it when he had to.

"Remember, the fate of Country is on your shoulders, so don't screw this up. Grease Jar, out!" The screen switched off, and a dull bleep indicated that the message had been deleted.

Exchanging glances, Sasha and Milla gave each other a nod before exiting the Pelican, levitating onto the ground outside. With a wave of his hand, Sasha activated the jet's cloaking mechanism to hide it from view, and took note of his surroundings to remember where it was. They'd landed in a clearing in the middle of a forest, where enormous trees surrounded them. The air was thick and humid and alive with the buzzing of mosquitoes, and the sky was overcast. There was nothing really noteworthy here, but luckily, the building was a straight shot east of where they'd landed.

Also a straight shot east was a puddle of muck that Sasha had just stepped into.

His skin began to crawl, and he was certain about half a dozen regrets had spawned in his mental world.

"Watch your step, darling," Milla said, hovering gracefully over the ground.

Grimacing, Sasha levitated a few inches upward, telekinetically keeping hold of his sandal so it didn't slip off his foot and get devoured by the mud. He joined Milla in floating over the ground, but rather than the natural-looking hover Milla performed, he moved parallel to the ground as though standing upon an invisible moving walkway. As they traversed over the mud, he realized that this was more than just a patch of soggy ground—this was an outright swamp. He wished Ford had mentioned this.

Granted, it wasn't relevant to the mission, but it was relevant to his outfit.

Fortunately it wasn't long before they caught sight of a massive structure just beyond the swamp. It was a centuries-old fortress featuring a number of towers, giving the brief illusion that they had somehow stepped back in time. The illusion was shattered by the sight of modern police cars sitting outside, with various officers milling about idly.

Turning to Milla, Sasha gave a nod, and she faded from sight.

Let me know what's happening once you're inside, Milla said. I'll start scouting.

I'll try to draw their attention, Sasha replied, though he couldn't help but wish their roles were reversed.

Approaching the police, he TK'd his Psychonaut badge out of his pocket and flashed it at the police chief. It took a moment for the man to notice, but when he did, he did a double-take. "Hey, you're not supposed to be here," he spoke in a deliberate, dull tone.

As Sasha TK'd the badge away, the other cops looked at the chief, then at Sasha, before continuing the charade with little to no conviction. "Hey, get out of here. This is a police investigation!"

Sasha winced, but made his way toward the fortress nonetheless. "No," he said, also with volume, but hopefully more convincing than the police. "Let me through! I must speak with the men here!"

"Stay back. We have weapons." Several of the officers lifted batons (with a couple more enthusiastically raising guns).

Mentally Sasha prepared a psi-shield should the officers decide to attempt to be too convincing of the act they were putting on of keeping him out. "No!" he cried, raising his voice more with a rapid glance at the entrance to the fortress. "It is of dire importance that I speak to these people!"

To his relief, their plan seemed to be working—a few men wearing ski-masks were now staring at them from the other side of the iron gate that blocked the entrance. They looked at each other, then at him, and seemed to take notice of the logo on his briefcase. They gave a jump and their movements seemed to be growing more excited.

Unbelievable, Sasha thought. Shaking his head, he realized the officers were starting to close in on him (but not too much of course), and he redoubled his efforts to reach the fortress. "Let me through!"

There was a rusty screeching noise as the iron gate that blocked the entrance was raised. While a few officers turned to look at the gate, they looked away again, remembering the plan. With the police pretending to be preoccupied with Sasha, they “failed” to notice one of the men sneaking in their direction. Sasha continued to push his way toward the gate when the man suddenly rushed forward, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the fortress. The officers gave a half-hearted shout, a few of them pursuing before stopping at the closing gate.

"Bout time one of you guys heard about us!" the masked man said as he hauled Sasha through the courtyard. "Now we can finally be makin' some progress here!"

"I-indeed," Sasha stammered, wishing that this man would let go. His sandals were slapping noisily against the stone path and mud was flaking off of his pant leg. He noticed that the courtyard was filled with, of all things, inflatable water slides (many of which were deflated), but before he could comment on these, the man led him into the main building.

More people, these ones not wearing masks, hurried up to them, their brows furrowed in consternation. "Who's this bozo?" one woman demanded.

The man at Sasha's side yanked off his mask, and his expression was that of a child right before a birthday party. "He's with a water park!" he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at Sasha.

Straightening his back and rolling his shoulder, Sasha nodded. "That's right. Logan Smith, Aqua Spark Amusement Parks."

The others' faces lit up. "Finally!" the woman cried.

"May I speak to...?" Sasha balked, realizing he'd never been given the name of their leader.

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Georg is this way." With a bounce to their steps, the people led Sasha further down the hall. Said hall seemed to be littered with trash, but on closer inspection, the mess consisted of small pool toys.

Something struck him, and he sent a telepathic message to Milla. I've entered the fortress. It was strangely easy.

To his shock, Milla's mental voice was slightly heightened in distress. That's great, darling, but I'm busy at the moment!

Sasha's heart jumped. Are you all right?

I can handle this. Try to find President!

Understood. Sasha frowned—in spite of Milla's insistence, he couldn't help but worry that they'd fallen for a trap. This group couldn't be that simple, could they?

As though reading his mind—can they? Sasha wondered in alarm—one of the men turned to Sasha with a raised eyebrow. "I've never heard of Aqua Spark."

Thinking quickly, Sasha replied, "We're a startup company looking for a place to build our first park. We believe that Country here is an untapped market."

To his relief, the man looked at his fellows with a wide grin. "That's what I've been saying!"

They continued to lead him further down the hall until they reached a doorway guarded by two women. They seemed cautious at first, but Sasha's companions hurried up to them to explain the situation, and they eagerly stepped away, ushering them into the room.

Stepping inside, Sasha found himself in a wide room that was probably once used for war meetings, which now had a banged-up desk shoved in one corner, misaligned with the wall, and a large aquarium in another corner, bearing a few cracks that were patched with duct tape. Said aquarium was devoid of fish, but a woman in a dark suit was bent over it, tossing in diving sticks with mild interest. One sank to the floor of the tank with a shower of bubbles and turned on its side, and the woman gave a cry of disgust, yanking it out of the tank and turning it over until she spotted a number of punctures in it. Hissing a curse, she turned to hurl the stick across the room, and Sasha had to stop himself from reflexively grabbing it with TK to avoid being hit.

Spotting Sasha, the woman paused. "Who are you?"

The first man who'd spoken to Sasha stepped forward. "This man is Logan Smith! He's with a water park!"

Rather than being ecstatic like her henchman, however, the woman frowned, looking Sasha up and down, studying him. Her gaze stopped at his feet, and Sasha stiffened, sweat trickling down the back of his neck. This was bad, this was going to end very badly, he should have told Ford to give him a moment to change his shoes before—

"Well, Mr. Smith..." she began, looking up into his glasses, as he gazed frantically around the windowless room for some sort of escape route. "It seems you share our enthusiasm for water parks! You've even brought your flip-flops!"

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "I—yes, of course." He gave a tight nod. "Hearing of your enthusiasm, we knew this would be the perfect place to launch our first theme park."

"That's great news!" the woman cried, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "We were hoping someone like you might show up!"

Please do not.

Realizing her forwardness, she backed off. "But where are my manners—my name is Georgette, but everyone here just calls me Georg." She held out her hand, and Sasha shook it uneasily. "It's great to have you here, Mr. Smith. Have a seat."

Before he could ask where she expected him to sit, one of the henchmen used a pump to inflate a chair, which was then propped up in front of the table. He stared at the chair for a long moment, almost debating remaining standing, before remembering he had a disguise to maintain. He lowered himself into the seat, which squeaked noisily against him. Likewise, Georg took a seat on the other side of the table, sitting on an equally squeaky inflatable chair.

"So!" she began, leaning forward. "Let's hear about your company. I'm all ears."

It took half a moment for Sasha to spin a quick story. "Right. Aqua Spark is a startup water park company in America. We're employing people who have experience building for other parks—Eight Flags, Oak Fair, Queen's Island..."

Georg nodded, her eyes and grin growing wide.

"Of course, there's a great deal of parks there, so we wanted to... make a splash—" Sasha repressed a shudder "—by building our first park here." He jabbed his finger just over the desk for emphasis. "We believe Country is an untapped market, and the perfect spot for a water park."

"Excellent!" Georg cried, clapping her hands together. "We've thought the same thing and have been campaigning for this for years now, but the government won't budge! But with our bargaining chip and with the backing of an amusement park company, there's no way they can turn us down again!"

One of the phrases made Sasha's ears perk. "Bargaining chip?"

"Oh yes, of course." She leaned forward, tilting her head. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, I assume."

"I believe so." Sasha mulled this over in his mind. "Though, I will say, it would look poorly on the company if we worked with you, and it turned out he were harmed."

"Oh! Goodness, no, we wouldn't do that!" Her smile went a bit too wide, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. "He's perfectly safe!" As she spoke, she gave a pointed glance at one of her lackeys, who hurried out the door. She rose to her feet. "But we'll get to that later! First, I wanted to show you some of our own ideas for the park we wanted—"

"Ah, yes," Sasha said, standing and taking a quick glance at the door. "First I'd like to make a quick trip to the restroom."

Georg sighed. "All right. Geoff, please show him the way, and then we can get right back to it."

"Sure thing! This way." The lackey, Geoff, waved him over to the door and began to lead him down the hall. As they walked, Geoff started to ramble. "So what kind of stuff are you planning?"

Sasha was only partially paying attention, scanning to look for the lackey who had left earlier. "We have a number of attraction concepts we're considering," he mumbled. He could definitely hear footsteps up ahead, and he hoped it was the woman who had been sent out. She must have gone to check on President.

"Like what? Oh, I really hope there's gonna be water slides—"

"Yes, of course. We’re planning a... ah... looping slide."

Geoff whirled on him. Sasha froze up, nearly expecting the man to attack, but instead he bore a huge grin.

"Like the one in Adventure Park?!"

Sasha relaxed. "Yes, but, uh... improved."

"Ooooooh man!" The lackey turned around again, continuing to lead him down the hall before stopping at one of the doors. "Here you are, Mr. Smith!"

"Thank you." Hastily, Sasha stepped inside, balking when he realized that the bathroom consisted only of a few reeking outhouses that had been dragged into the room. Steeling himself, he stepped into one, holding his breath, but did not quite close the door. Instead, he put a hand to his temple. Dustpan, this is Shoehorn. I have a lead on where President is.

Milla's mental voice sounded exhausted. That's great, darling.

Are you all right?

For now. Let me know when you find him, and I'll meet with you.

Understood.

Nodding, Sasha activated his invisibility and exited the outhouse, quietly shutting the door behind him. Relieved to be out of that germ-infested place, he crept out of the room, but froze when he realized his sandals were slapping against the stone floor. He was almost certain he had been caught, but he glanced at Geoff, who leaned against the wall. "Oh man..." the lackey was still muttering as Sasha shook his head.

He hated what he was about to do, but he could not levitate while invisible, nor could he risk compromising the mission any further. Reaching down, he slipped his sandals off his feet and held them in his free hand so his socks were now touching the ground, and continued creeping down the hall.

Sure enough, he spotted the woman who had been sent out of the room earlier. She was looking into each room frantically, as though she wasn't sure which room the captive would be in, which struck Sasha as odd. Frowning, he kept a short distance behind her, and at one point she opened one door only to close it with a yelp and lock it, hurrying ahead even more urgently. Sasha made a mental note to check that out later, if he had time—they would notice his absence eventually.

Finally, she turned a corner before reaching the last room in the hall. She opened the door with a key, and looked relieved. Sasha hurried behind her to find a man matching President's description blindfolded, gagged, and bound to a chair in a very, very cluttered room, full of old pool toys and several unlabeled tubs.

Noticing that the woman was about to shut the door, Sasha quickly CV'd into the man, only to bounce back immediately. His face went pale.

Dustpan, he said, exhaustion dragging at his mind, we've got an egg missing from the carton.

Oh dear.

That was putting it mildly. Still, Sasha steeled himself and made a mental map of where he was, projecting it to Milla. Dealing with a debrained target would be difficult, and he'd need all the help he could get.

For a moment he considered following the lackey who had locked the door so he could grab her keys, but his invisibility was already starting to wear off. Instead, he waited for her to turn the corner and psi-blasted the lock, catching it with TK before it could hit the floor. Now that he didn't have to hide it, he transferred his suitcase and sandals to TK as well.

Carefully opening the door, Sasha poked his head in. "President?" he whispered.

"TV...?" came the dreaded, muffled reply.

Sighing, Sasha squeezed into the cramped room and shut the door behind him. Though he knew he wouldn't be understood, he went on, "My name is Sasha Nein. I'm here to help you." With a few quick tugs of telekinesis, he undid the ropes that bound the man to the chair. Another few tugs and the blindfold and gag fell to the floor.

President stared at him seriously. "Puppy."

"Yes, we'll return you to your spouse and dogs as soon as we've found your brain." Sasha regarded the man for a moment—he was somehow more serious-looking than when he had a brain. Otto would have had a field day. "But where to find your brain?"

President continued to stare at him, then pointed a finger in his face. "Prime Minister."

"No, that's you," Sasha said, TKing the man's hand away. "Now, where—"

The doorknob rattled.

Sasha went invisible, ducking behind President's chair. If they'd been caught, then hopefully whoever opened the door to find this scene would assume that the ropes had fallen off of President on their own. Regardless, Sasha prepared for things to go south, placing a hand to his temple.

The door opened slowly, and Sasha tensed.

And then it shut, and before Sasha could wonder what happened, Milla came into view.

"Thank goodness," he breathed, ridding himself of his invisibility again. "It's good to see you again." But when he studied her closer, he frowned; Milla's outfit was roughed up, a few tears visible on the legs. It was rare to see her in such a state. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine, darling," Milla said, pulling down her hood partway. "I finally managed to get past those terrible alligators."

"Alligators?" he asked, eyebrows raised, then he shuddered when he remembered what Ford had said earlier. "It seems that bit of intelligence was accurate."

"Yes, they're everywhere." Milla moved some strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ears. "But that's not important right now. Poor President!"

President looked her in the eye. "Dog treats."

"Yes, and we have little time to waste. They'll discover my absence soon."

"But how are we to find his brain? Where could they have put it?" Milla looking out over the mess of tubs of toys. "They don't seem very organized, and they let those awful alligators chew on everything!"

A thought struck Sasha as he recalled the information Ford had given them. "...The tower."

Milla nodded grimly. "Where they keep the alligators... Though it seems now they let those brutes roam everywhere."

Something’s not quite adding up… Sasha shook his head. "Regardless, we've no time to waste. Let's take him with us and get to the tower as soon as possible." He looked down at President and helped him up from the chair. "Time to leave, sir."

"TV. Puppies. Kibble!" the man said with increasing enthusiasm. "Dog treats!" And with no further warning he grabbed one of Sasha's sandals, which he had still been TKing off to the side, and began chewing on it.

Sasha winced back. "Aaaaach...!"

Milla placed a hand on his shoulder. "It will keep him quiet. Now let's go!" Putting up her hood again, she turned to open the door. "Hopefully we haven't been caught y—"

And the hiss of an alligator greeted them, the reptile opening its jaws wide as it sat in front of the door.

"Too late," Sasha grunted. He placed a hand to his temple and fired a psi-blast at the monster, knocking it back into the wall. "Come on!"

"Puppy!" President mumbled around the sandal in his mouth, reaching out toward the incapacitated alligator as Sasha plucked him up with TK.

Milla activated her invisibility, and Sasha led her down the hall, mentally mapping out the place. The tower they were headed for was on the western side of the building opposite of where they were, so they would have to be fast. Since their cover had already been blown, Sasha went into full-blown levitation, blasting down the hall.

As they passed one door—the door the lackey had checked and locked earlier—it began to rattle before bursting open off its hinges, and several more alligators scrambled out after them. "Doggies!" President mumbled in delight, while Sasha moved even faster.

Turning a corner, he spotted Geoff, still standing outside the bathroom. The lackey looked up at him in surprise. "Woah! Mr. Smith? What's going on? Isn't that Prez?"

Is he not aware? Regardless, Sasha did not answer, blasting past him. Before Geoff had time to question him again, the alligators turned the corner, and he let out a scream, bolting away.

They're afraid of their own guard dogs? Milla asked.

It seems so, but now's not the time to question it.

They continued through the building, any lackeys they discovered fleeing the second they saw the alligators giving chase, with some of the gators even pursuing them. Sasha was nearly relieved until another alligator burst out of a door ahead of him, its snout bearing a scorch mark, much like the one he'd psi-blasted earlier.

"What—how?!" Sasha cried.

As if on cue, several more gators suddenly appeared just ahead—literally, spawning out of mid-air.

That was it—they were teleporting. Perhaps that was why the people here didn't seem to be in control of them—the gators were as much of a problem to the criminals as they were to them.

Looking over the swarm of hissing alligators, Sasha frowned. We cannot teleport, but we can levitate! Get ready.

Ready when you are, darling!

The alligators continued to hiss before one of them charged, the others following suit.

NOW!

Sasha and the still-invisible Milla leaped into the air, levitating over the alligators. A few raised their heads and snapped at them, but they managed to clear the swarm, landing on the other side and resuming their charge through the fortress. Several of the gators hissed, giving chase, but a few more were distracted by the lackeys that stepped out of their rooms to panic.

Finally, Sasha came upon what he was looking for—a stairwell. With a motion to Milla, he hovered into it, ascending the narrow, spiraling stairs while the gators scrambled up after them. Milla and Sasha had the advantage here, and managed to reach the top before the gators could.

The room shouldn't be far from here, Sasha said, glancing to his side. He was somewhat surprised to find Milla visible again, but even with the equipment she had, it wasn't easy to stay invisible for an extended period, especially not when using other powers. Meanwhile, the alligators were nearing the top of the stairs, the one at the lead opening its mouth wide. With a well-aimed psi-blast, it was sent tumbling backward, knocking into the other reptiles and sending them all crashing down the spiral stairs.

That may or may not buy us some time, depending on if they decide to teleport again. Now to find...

This way! Milla cried, charging forward with a burst of levitation. Sasha followed, and they soon found themselves approaching another door, this one sealed with a giant padlock. One psi-blast later, the lock was smoldering on the ground, and they opened the door.

They found themselves in a circular room with a large circular grate raised up in the center. Sasha and Milla exchanged glances before grabbing it with telekinesis and heaving it up and off to the side.

As Sasha finally set President down, he leaned over the hole and opened his mouth. "Teeeveeeee!" he called, his voice echoing as the sandal he'd been holding in his mouth dropped down, down, down.

"No—!" Sasha cried, but before he could react, there was a splash, followed by the snapping of alligator jaws. He heaved a long, deep sigh, looking down. "More alligators."

There were two alligators swimming in the water far below, and in the midst of them was a small pedestal, upon which sat a glass covering. The pedestal had a large "NO TOUCH" sign attached, while the covering was labeled "PREZ."

And sitting within the glass was a human brain.

"There it is," Sasha and Milla found themselves saying together, and Sasha looked up. "I'll get it."

"No, you watch President," Milla said with a wink. "Leave this to the levitation expert."

"Fair enough."

With that, Milla raised herself up off the floor and down into the shaft, nearly upside-down as she reached out toward the glass jar. The alligators hissed up at her, swimming in circles beneath her like aquatic vultures, but she paid them no mind.

"Squeaky toy," President said, frowning down at his own brain as Milla TK'd the glass away.

"Stay put..." Sasha said, holding a hand in front of President as he watched Milla. She was raising the brain upward, drawing it closer to her hands.

At once there was a flash of psychic energy, and one of the alligators from below was up in the air in the middle of the shaft, snapping at Milla as it fell down toward her. She let out a startled cry, backing up against the wall of the shaft as the alligator teleported again, this time falling closer.

"Milla!" Sasha cried. His fear and fury took the form of raw psychic energy, blasting forward into the alligator. It slammed against the wall, skidding back down into the water. Before either of them had time to celebrate, the second alligator teleported higher up in the shaft, jaws focused on President's brain.

In a sudden stab of frustration, Sasha took his remaining sandal that he'd been TKing off to his side, and chucked it into the alligator's mouth. The reptile's jaws snapped shut, and it began to wheeze and choke as it plummeted back down into the water. Eventually, it spat up the mangled sandal and swam down into the water with an indignant flip of its tail, its slightly-scorched companion following suit.

With a sigh of relief, Milla levitated the rest of the way up the shaft, landing next to Sasha. "Thank you, darling."

"Thank me later," Sasha said, already opening up his briefcase and pulling out a funnel. He turned to face President. "Stay still, sir."

President was still frowning at his own brain. "Chew toy," he said with a look of disgust.

Sighing, Sasha took the brain from Milla and TK'd the funnel over to President's ear. "Hold him still, please."

Milla held the President with TK as Sasha forced the brain into the wider end of the funnel, shoving it inward until it slipped into the Prime Minister's empty head.

President staggered back as Sasha removed the funnel, the man's eyes rolling and blinking several times before coming into focus. "Wh... where am I?" he stammered, looking at Sasha and Milla in bewilderment. "Where are my dogs?!" He looked all around the room, his movements becoming more and more frantic. "Spot? Daisy? LEONARD?!"

Sasha grit his teeth, looking out the door to make sure they weren't going to get jumped on, while Milla bent down, shushing the man. "It's all right, Prime Minister President. You've been kidnapped and debrained, and we've just recovered your brain."

"Is... is that true?" Prez asked, rubbing his head. "That would explain my headache... Also, just Prez is fine."

"There's no time for questions. We're bound to be discovered at any moment, and we need to get out of here." Looking up and down the hallway, Sasha noted that any windows he could see were barred. "Milla, where was the entrance you came in from?"

"Not that way," she said. "It was crawling with alligators!"

Prez chuckled, and Sasha frowned. "Noted. We'll have to go back through the main entrance. Hurry!"

With that, the three charged back toward the stairs they'd ascended. The stairwell was empty, but to save time, Sasha grabbed Prez with TK once again as he and Milla levitated down the stairs.

"Woah!" Prez cried, eyes wide. "You're some a' them psychics!"

"Indeed, and it seems the alligators here are, too," Sasha replied, and Prez's brows knit in confusion. Once Sasha touched down on the floor, he took off in a burst of levitation down the hall, which was deserted. "We're nearly there. We just need to make it outside!"

The courtyard was in sight. Sasha and Milla both put on a burst of speed, feeling a great relief that their mission was nearing its end.

And with several puffs of green psychic energy, a dozen hissing alligators filled the courtyard, surrounding them.

"Not this again!" the three of them said simultaneously, and Sasha and Milla briefly gave Prez a look of confusion.

"I'll need all concentration on my psychic powers," Sasha said, dropping in his levitation to the ground in a psychic attack pose and setting Prez down. "Stay between me and Milla!"

As the alligators pressed in closer, Sasha and Milla both fired blue and pink psi-blasts respectively at the reptiles. While he could hear one be struck by Milla's attack, the one he'd fired at disappeared again. Whipping his head around, he searched for the missing gator, only to realize a shadow was falling over him. With a cry, he staggered out of the way, only for his feet to slip against the slick grass and send him crashing down on his back. The alligator landed in front of him, hissing, and more were closing in behind him and to the sides.

Before he could do anything else, however, there was a deafening chorus of barking from somewhere behind him. All the alligators looked up, and began to scramble away as a pack of enormous white dogs came charging into the courtyard. They howled and snarled as they chased the reptiles away from Sasha and the others, until the gators gave up, disappearing as quickly as they'd appeared.

"Daisy!" Prez cried, holding out his arms. "Spot! Leonard! Barkley!"

Any other names he called were drowned out by the sound of elated barking and whining as he was surrounded by the pack of dogs, who all jumped over each other at the chance to lick his face.

Milla pulled her hood back, wiping at her brow. "That was a close one..." With an invisible psychic hand, she helped Sasha to his feet. He dusted himself off, for all the good it would do.

"Indeed," he said, looking back toward the entrance. "I presume these aren't K-9 units..."

"Nah, those are probably on gator duty," Prez said, squeezing his way out from the swarm of samoyeds. "C'mon, let's get out of here!"

With that, the group stepped out of the fortress, the dogs cheerfully surrounding them. Milla couldn't resist the urge to pet one of them, and it leaned into her touch, tongue lolling.

Outside, the police seemed preoccupied with handcuffing a number of criminals, including Georg and Geoff. The former looked furious, while Geoff looked out toward Sasha with his lower lip wobbling. "N... no looping water slide?" he whimpered, eyes shining with tears.

"I'm afraid not," Sasha said, replacing his name tag with his Psychonaut badge. "This place seems ill-suited for water parks regardless."

"How did you capture them all?" Milla asked, looking toward the chief officer. "How could you have known we'd already rescued the Prime Minister and his brain?"

"We didn't," the officer said with a shrug. "These guys came runnin' out 'cause of the gators."

Prez let out a hearty laugh. "That's a real shocker!"

"Prez!" Another person came bolting through the crowd—someone Sasha identified as the man's spouse. They threw their arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're all right! We were so worried about you, and I couldn't leave the dogs..."

"I'm fine! Thanks to the dogs, actually. And these guys too, of course." He waved a hand at Sasha and Milla.

Something had been nagging at the back of Sasha's head, and he hovered over to Prez, frowning. "Please excuse me for interrupting this moment, but I must ask." He waited for Prez to step away from his spouse and face him before continuing: "You seem to have a very serious problem with psychic alligators here. Why have you not called upon the Psychonauts for help with this?"

Prez, his spouse, and several of the police officers turned to give him bewildered looks. "Yeaaah, you mentioned that before," the Prime Minister said, crossing his arms. "How do you know they're psychic, though?"

Sasha balked. Had Prez been blind to what had just happened moments ago? "They can teleport, sir."

The man's face broke into a smile. "Yeah, and fish can swim! What's your point?"

Sasha glanced back at Milla, who was laughing. "Alligators don't normally have that ability."

Prez began laughing again, but stopped when Sasha did not join in. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Indeed," Sasha replied, suddenly feeling even more tired than he had before. "We can arrange to send a zoolepathy expert here to begin work on this issue, if you like."

"Uh. Yeah!" Prez blinked. "Yeah, that'd be great! Honestly, they're sorta the reason we couldn't build a water park here in the first place."

"WHAT?!" Georg cried some distance away, as a police carted her off with the rest of her lackeys.

Meanwhile, the police chief nodded. "If that's true, we'll send for one of you again."

As Sasha rubbed his temples, Milla stepped forward. "As for us, it looks like our work here is done."

"Right!" Prez rushed up to Milla and shook her hand before repeating the gesture with Sasha. "Thanks for your help!"

"And with that, we must be on our way." Finally, Sasha began hovering away from the crowd, back toward where they'd parked and cloaked the jet. Milla followed suit, waving to Prez and the others as they went their separate ways.

Once out of view of the crowd, they both dipped slightly in their respective hovers. Milla gave Sasha a tired smile, and he returned it.

"This has been quite the day," he admitted.

"Yes, but at least it's over now, darling."

Soon they were back onboard the Pelican and en-route back to Whispering Rock. While Milla stepped back toward the restroom, Sasha tapped a few buttons on the console and leaned back in his chair.

"This is Grease Jar," Ford's voice crackled over the radio. "What's the word?"

"The criminal group has been apprehended and Prez's brain and body rescued."

"Excellent work!"

"That said, it seems the Psychonauts are not yet done aiding Country. They seem to have an infestation of psychic—"

"ALLIGATOR!" Milla cried from the back.

"Pretty sure there's supposed to be an 's' at the end for the plural..." Ford grumbled, but Sasha was barely listening, rushing to the back to find Milla backing away from the bathroom in horror.

An enormous alligator stood over the toilet, where a large clutch of rubbery eggs sat within.

It was going to be a very, very long flight.

[charliemwrites]

Hey there! I have a hard time actually trying to reach out on here. I have anxiety really bad about talking to people. But I need to start pushing myself a bit to at least tell writers like you that I fully enjoy everything you write. I'm pretty silent in this fandom (COD) but I'm trying to be better. I just want to say that I love everything you write and the former 141 fic you're writing has been so cathartic for me. I lost my job a while ago and I'm dealing with some hardships but I love reading your angsty stuff! It helps somehow in ways I can't describe. I'm glad I stumbled upon your blog. I'm thinking of starting a new one just to reblog fanfiction. Thank you for all your stories. They legitimately get me through the day sometimes. I love your brain and I promise I won't try to put it into a jar 😂 Best wishes to you ❤️

Hiii!! First of all, I hope it’s not too presumptuous to say that I’m proud of you!! I’ve gotten braver in the last few months, but I also greatly struggle to reach out and engage in fandoms. So thank you for taking the time time, energy, and courage to reach out 💕

I am so very sorry that you’re going through a tough time right now, and I’m truly humbled that my writing has helped in any way. I hope that things improve and you can find some support in the COD community. There are a lot of wonderful, kind people here that can relate to anxiety about talking to others ❤️

All my love 🥰