#well functioning buttons so it would seem but still works

[blmpff]

22.06.2023

[paceprompting]

getting up to mischief

written for ‘formal’ and ‘eggnog’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: drug use (marijuana) | tags: no upside down au, strangers to lovers, vacationing steve, coat boy eddie, smoking together

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

The worst duty to pull was coat check during an event at the resort. Eddie was only really busy at the start and end of the event, with hours of absolute nothing in between.

And he wasn’t allowed to leave.

The richy-riches didn’t leave early most of the time, so Eddie didn’t bother standing at the counter waiting around just in case. He picked a spot far from the counter and lit up once the charity function had gotten into full swing.

He smoked to the distant sounds of idle conversation and laughter, all with the background of Christmas music played by the live string instruments. If he closed his eyes, it was almost peaceful.

Except for the fact that the rest of the staff, besides him and the kitchen crew, had an early night off.

And then, of course, someone decided to barge right into the coat closet.

There wasn’t much Eddie could do to hide what he was doing. Caught red-handed, with a lit joint in his hand and no way to duck into the coats without bringing attention to himself.

The guy was definitely a guest, in black dress pants and shoes, with a white-button up shirt and a fitted vest over it.

No neck or bowtie though, Eddie noted.

The guy listed his head and noticed he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought.

Eddie had turned off the overhead light for some privacy—and look how well that had worked—but the guy’s eyes still found him, or the red cherry of the joint, in the low light.

“Sorry, the door was…unlocked,” he apologized.

Eddie raised a brow at him. If it had been quite literally any other guest, they would have jumped on the opportunity to curse him out for not only lazing about on the job, btu acting a like a delinquent right next to their expensive coats.

The guy shifted a bit more into the light from open space over the counter, and Eddie finally recognized him.

“Steve, right?”

They hadn’t spoken since that first day Eddie had taken Steve and his friends’ coats. He’d done it again since, quite often actually, but each time Steve only tipped for himself with that same smirk he wore before he’d initially walked away.

Eddie still had no idea what to do with it.

“Charity dinner not your scene?” he asked with a short pull of the joint.

Steve gave no hint that he was appalled by the action. Instead, he brushed his hair out of his face and answered, “It’s all people my parents’ age. And their kids who don’t want to be here, either.”

Eddie hummed in the back of his throat and exhaled smoke up toward the ceiling. When he dropped his chin, Steve was watching him, head cocked just so.

“You partake?”

Steve let out a huff through his nose. “Not since my parents dragged me here.”

Eddie held the joint out with the tips of his fingers in invitation, his voice just off of being a lilt. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

There wasn’t much more convincing than that and Steve’s held gaze on the joint for a full two seconds.

Steve unbuttoned his vest with one hand as crossed the small room, and didn’t seem to care about his nicely pressed pants when he sat straight on the carpet. He plucked the joint from Eddie’s hand as brought it to his mouth, taking a slow inhale.

Definitely not his first.

“Daring little socialite, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” Steve corrected, leaning his head back to blow out the smoke. “First year my parents bothered to bring me along.”

Eddie left that alone, especially when Steve passed him the joint. It wasn’t exactly a good time for either of their life stories. Not when getting high was so much more enticing.

But, Steve seemed a bit more on Eddie’s level than any of the other spoiled brats running around the place. More…corruptible.

Eddie let them sit in the quiet for a moment, taking a drag and letting the warmth settle in his lungs and throat before he asked, “You want to be a little more rebellious?”

“And do what? We’re in a coat closet,” Steve said with a snide side-eye.

Eddie gave it right back, gesturing to their utter isolation from the festivities. “Right, because there’s absolutely nothing that two young people could possibly do by themselves in the privacy of a closet.”

“Oh.”

Steve ducked his head, and if Eddie didn’t know better than to look, he might have thought Steve was blushing.

But they were halfway through the blunt and Eddie was loose and uncaring of the consequence, so he kept on.

Steve didn’t answer straight away, staring at the carpet in front of him. Eddie took another inhale of smoke.

“Yeah, alright,” Steve said finally, shifting to turn toward Eddie.

Definitely not going to stop and question why Steve was totally fine with hooking up with the help in a coat closet, Eddie stubbed out the joint on the bottom of his shoe.

And apparently Steve had been waiting for him, because as soon as his hands were free, Steve had sidled close and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s in that abrupt way of horny boys.

Eddie could taste the weed right away, and even more when Steve slid a hand onto his jaw and tilted Eddie’s head where he wanted it to be able to slip his tongue past Eddie’s mouth.

That…and something else. Something with cinnamon. And alcohol.

Eddie pulled back, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip to taste the lingering flavor from Steve.

“What is that?”

Steve paused, eyes unfocused from the weed.

Then, “Eggnog, I think.”

Eddie frowned, and making out be damned, he asked, “Who the hell serves eggnog at a charity dinner?”

Steve ignored the question entirely, choosing instead to shove Eddie onto the floor and let Eddie lick the rest of the taste from his mouth for the rest of the party.

[pipwasreal]

Day 5: magic + marking

Characters: Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne

Content warnings: marking, knifeplay

Now with an illustration by jube-art!

Charles has been trying to untangle the string of this yo-yo for ages. It's a handy back-up weapon, with the string magically extending as long as needed to hit a target, but it's a pain in the arse to manually reset afterward. He wonders if it'd be possible to add a retract function, like a vacuum cleaner.

"I believe I have found a way," Edwin says slowly, stepping out from behind the desk, "of ensuring we can find each other, should we ever be separated."

Glad of the distraction, Charles abandons the tangled mess on the floor and springs to his feet.

"That's brills, mate!"

Charles grins and Edwin smiles in return, but he still seems tentative, his fingertips pressed together in front of him and his thumbs circling each other.

"What's it involve, then?"

"It works a little like the enchantment on the tracking stones, only more... permanent."

Edwin gestures to a book laying open on the desk and Charles dutifully glances down at it.

A load of text he can't read, some fancy runes... and a helpful little diagram of two Medieval-looking people, hearts visible through their chests and a dotted line picked out in gold ink connecting them.

Charles looks back up at Edwin expectantly.

"Essentially, each person is marked with a rune, the runes are magically linked, and they can activate the connection between them as needed, with just touch and intent."

"What d'you mean, marked?"

By way of answer, Charles can only assume, Edwin begins to unbutton his shirt. They've been alone in the office all day, so Edwin is dressed down to his rolled-up shirtsleeves, collar undone. It delights Charles that only he gets to see Edwin this relaxed.

"I took the liberty of marking myself first," Edwin says, "to test if I could faithfully replicate the rune on spectral flesh."

He leaves the lower half of his shirt buttons still done up, moving instead to unbutton his undershirt.

The skin revealed is smooth and pale, with a few freckles and a sparse dusting of hair. The rune, inch high and intricate, is scar-white on his breastbone.

"You did that to yourself?" Charles gapes, impressed and... a little bit uncomfortable, if he's honest. It seems oddly reckless, for the usually careful Edwin.

"I did not wish to mention it until I was quite sure there would be no ill effects. Are you... amenable?"

Edwin looks almost shy, which makes Charles want to be bold.

"Yeah, course. Don't want to lose you, do I?"

Edwin smiles properly at that, teeth and dimples and all.

"Nor I you," he says softly.

Then he clears his throat, all business.

"Right, well," he says, "according to several sources, the placement of the mark is important. If you wouldn't mind removing your undershirt?"

Charles immediately pushes his braces down and tugs his singlet off over his head, baring his chest.

"And the implement."

Edwin picks up a small knife from the desk and holds it up for Charles to inspect.

It has runes etched into the curved blade and tooled into the dark green leather wrapping the handle. There's a dainty silver chain attached, for hanging from a wrist or belt, Charles guesses. It's a pretty little thing, but the blade is a wicked sharp claw.

Edwin rests the tip on Charles' breastbone.

"Now Charles, I'm afraid this may sting a little."

Coming from Edwin, with his disturbingly high pain tolerance, that probably means it's going to smart like blazes, but that's alright. Charles swallows, stuffs his fists into his trouser pockets and nods.

Edwin places his other hand carefully on Charles' shoulder, squeezes gently, and begins.

The pain is bad, but Charles has had worse. And it's kind of nice, having Edwin so close, focused so intently on him.

After what can't be more than a minute, but which feels much longer, Edwin lets go of his arm and steps back to survey his work.

Charles cranes his neck to look down at his own chest. The mark looks more like a pale scar than a fresh wound, and already the pain is fading.

"Kinda looks like an E, doesn't it?" Charles says.

Edwin tilts his head. "I suppose... a little. Back-to-front."

"Right way round from here. Looks good."

Edwin's critical expression softens into a hopeful smile when he meets Charles' eye.

"Shall we link them?"

Charles nods.

Edwin presses his right palm to the mark on his own chest, Charles mirrors him, then Edwin takes Charles' free hand in his. He says a few brief words in an unfamiliar language.

Charles doesn't have to ask if it worked because he can feel it, pulsing between them. He laughs, delighted and oddly relieved. When he closes his eyes he can see it, a gold thread guiding him home.

[keruimi]

Can I request a fluff??? Kenma tutoring the reader since the reader is bad at studies?? And later they confess and all?? Thank you!!

Infatuation or Love?

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: I'm sorry if it took so long. I really know Kenma as an introvert so him agreeing on tutoring someone seems too impossible. But I thankfully manage, I just hope he is not that out of character. Hope you enjoy it!!

_____________________________

I sigh in relief after hearing the school bell and was ready to take my console out of my pocket when the teacher called for me.

I stay still from my seat thinking what will we talk about knowing I didn't even do anything wrong this week.

I decided to finally stand up and walk to her desk and saw she was checking something in her grading sheet so I just stood in front so we wouldn't invade each other's space.

But this is nerve wracking.

"Sensei?" I called out in a whisper to alarm her of my presence.

"Kenma, I'm sorry for what I'm about to request" she started as I bit my lip a little to distract myself.

"I know that you are really busy especially if you are a regular in the volleyball team" she started as I nod in understanding but still thinking where our conversation is heading.

"But I need you to tutor someone"

It felt like my brain stopped functioning on her words.

I hope, I wish, if you don't mind.

It seems like those words are not in her vocabulary.

Do I even have a choice in this?

"Sensei, don't we have other students for that?" I mustered up the courage to question her as I tightly grip on my gaming console.

I need time for myself too. Lev is already a heavy problem I'm trying to unload from my life.

"They have declined"

"Then why can't I?" I almost slap my hand on my mouth when it let out the words that shouldn't be stated.

"Well I thought you would agree since you and Y/n seem to be close compared to the other students I gave this request to"

My ears pick that one name.

"Y/n?"

"Yes Kenma" she answered.

"Game"

"Come again?" The teacher exclaims in puzzlement as I tried to supressed the growing blush on my cheeks.

That came out loud than what I intended.

"I mean I don't mind, Sensei" I murmur that lifted a small smile from the teacher in front of me.

"Alright then, here's her contacts. Both of you should talk about your schedules so you know when you will have tutor sessions"

She handed me a card before I bid my goodbyes and immediately went to the volleyball boy's changing room.

I peek inside and saw that everyone seems to be already in the gym so I changed to my practice clothes.

I took my phone and typed her number.

It took me a lot of courage to even send a greeting and need to double check my spelling so I won't look stupid.

I hope this is the 'Y/n' I knew well due to Kuroo's constant nagging.

I quickly turn off my phone when I click the send button and just started walking to the gym, trying to calm my heart down.

Kenma, this is not you.

I remind myself when I start to notice I'm getting work up in this set up.

"Kenma! You're late!" I heard Kuroo immediately as I took a deep breath because I can really feel my racing heart.

I am not even sure if it was really her.

"Hey you ok? You look lost?" Kuroo ask as he stop in front me so I just walk past him and just start warming up.

"You look red, did you run on your way here?"

"Shut up"

"I'm just asking! Who knows you might be experiencing heat stroke right now"

I just ignore his nagging and just let the time pass by but I can't deny that my mind was in the phone.

Silently yearning that she would message me back.

Just because of one tutor, I had the chance to spend time with her.

"Kenma right?" My ears perk up when I hear her soft voice amidst the crowded hallway of the school.

I glanced up from my gaming console and saw the girl I started to secretly admire out of nowhere.

I just know I liked her when my heartbeat went faster and felt my face turn warm.

This infatuation just decided to target me right now.

"You're the one I'm going to tutor, correct?" I ask in a whisper as she hums in agreement.

I started to walk towards the library and felt her follow me.

My nerves started to get more out of control from the silence between the two of us until we finally managed to take a seat in the school's library.

"Where do you want to start?" I decided to break the silence and hid my gaming console to focus but I can't deny how my hands tremble under the table.

I really don't like socialising.

I only agree because it was her. Seems like I screwed myself up.

But thinking of the bright side, I prefer here than the gym where I won't even have enough rest unlike here where I bask in the cool and calming surroundings of the library without anyone annoying me.

Extra credits because of her presence.

"Wherever you want to start with" she answered in a whisper and my heart seems to calm down.

Is she also shy?

I mean, I only see her in every match we play, except when it's outside of tokyo.

That's why she always catches my attention until it turns into infatuation.

Now I need to suffer with the quick heartbeats every time I hear her name.

I shook my head to remove the thoughts that keep distracting me as I put my bag down to the floor.

"Alright then, we'll start with the easiest"

I need to take the lead which I have never done my whole life but this is a girl I'm talking about.

A shy one to say the least so since I need to teach her, I need to take the lead no matter how much I hate it.

As long as it was her.

Yet those moments where I need to push myself out of the bubble, will be one of the memories I would be honor to remember.

Because our relationship started to progress until we finally become comfortable in each other's presence.

She became a part of my routine and in exchange of fighting against my anxiety, I get to know more about who she is.

The reason why her grades started to fail was because she was also a working student. She can't balance school requirements and her work.

But she is not that really hard to teach. I think I only need to repeat myself twice and she will understand the lesson we are tackling.

And right now, three weeks after this tutoring session, I'm starting to have the urge to just lean on her shoulder and rest because I'm really starting to get comfortable in her presence.

It feels like I don't even want this to end.

"Kenma, I finished it" I heard her beside me as I finished the round I started playing like 10 minutes ago as I stopped leaning on the chair to check the worksheet I gave her.

Is this still infatuation when I'm starting to put efforts for her own good?

I slid the paper in front of her as I leaned towards her so I can point out where she went wrong in the third equation.

"In this part, you need to use the exact value. The only thing you're going to estimate is the final answer. Alright?"

I heard her hum as I finally had the urge to look at her and saw her focus was already on me.

It felt like my world stopped at that moment.

I saw how her face started to turn a little red until a notification sound caught my attention that made me break our eye contact.

I immediately turned away my face from her to hide the obvious blush appearing on my cheeks.

I was really falling in love that time.

And the obvious glances as the time passed by started to get to me.

"Kenma?" I heard her call for my name after I finished a practice match that brought the focus of my teammates on me.

"Oh, you're here" I muttered before I permitted myself to leave while drying the sweat from my neck using my towel.

"What brought you here?"

I finally glanced at her and saw she was holding a small box. I also noticed her shifting her feet from time to time and I unknowingly smiled.

"Sensei said that my grades are already good. So you won't need to tutor me anymore"

She mumbled as I nod but I can't help the sadness I felt in my chest and I out my mouth in a firm line to avoid saying something I shouldn't.

"Is that so?" I lost my words as my mind blank knowing it might be our last before we become strangers again.

"Yes, so as a little gift for keeping up with me. I made you an apple pie"

"Apple pie?" She nod when I repeated her words before she handed me the pastry.

"I've heard from your teammates that Apple Pie is your favorite" I didn't fail to notice the small blush forming on her cheeks that really confirms to me that this feeling of mine is not one-sided.

"Thank you Y/n. It was nice being with you" I exclaimed as I took her gift from her.

"Would you mind prolonging our time more?" I suggested and she immediately lifted her head up in delight.

"Are you sure?" She asked as I nod.

I saw her clasping her hands together as she seems to think whether to let out the words she is thinking or just let it be.

"I like you, Y/n"

I admitted it first so it won't be more difficult for her and I saw how her eyes met mine.

"That's why I ask you if you would like to prolong our time longer" I can't prevent myself from lifting a small smile.

And out of nowhere, I felt her own body on mine as I raised the box so she won't crush it.

"I like you too, Kenma. I really do"

Can I still call this infatuation?

When I'm starting to fall in love

[bigboysfalldeep]

Soccer Boy - Mind Slave

I moved to a new town, got a new job, and started a new life. I wanted to start over, but all of that changed when I found my new roommate. Mike, 22, is chronically obsessed with the gym, playing soccer, and, what matters most, broke. He was looking for a roommate to basically pay rent while he spent all of his money on his body and his athletic career.

I simply couldn't resist. I saved so much money throughout my life that I could sustain that flat, pretending to be an office worker, when in fact, I use my time to take over men's minds and have my way with their bodies and their bank accounts. I tried to hide my desire in front of him, but somehow he saw right through me. It must have been the way I was looking at him working out, or maybe he realized I was going through his stuff.

One day, he confronted me, got angry, and called me a faggot. Still, he didn't kick me out; instead, he even teased me more and more, but got angry with me when he caught me looking. I needed him to obey me soon. One day, he joined me in the living room, wearing his soccer kit, while I was watching TV. "What are you doing here, fag?" He grunted, snatched the remote from my hands, and made space for him on the sofa. "Watching TV." I mumbled when he shoved me aside with his body, so I was now on the edge of the sofa. "Not anymore." He smiled for a second before giving me an annoyed look. I believed that if it were for my money, he would have gotten rid of me ages ago. But he needed me, and I wanted him.

I took my phone, unlocked it, and went to a specific app. A wonderful little thing I came across a year ago. It lets me remotely control any phone with this installed, sending signals, images, and electronic impulses through the device. While he was showering, I prepared his phone, just waiting for the perfect moment. I wanted him so bad, seeing him in his kit, his thick dick bulging already, and his muscles testing the limits of the shirt fabric.

With one little click, I sent a push-up note to his phone, a small message disguised as an Instagram notification. Mike took his phone and, with a smirk, opened it. Right when he clicked on the note, his screen turned dark before a spiral appeared all over the screen, a dozen colors spinning and turning, sucking him deeper and deeper. He instantly froze, his body tensed, and his eyes grew wide. "What the fuuuck?" he said, stretching the last word.

I could tell he was hooked right away. I have seen that countless times before. Those men, strong and buff, are mostly weak-minded. Easy to manipulate. "A pretty little thing, isn't it?" I said, moving a little closer to him. Mike moved his head to look at me, but something made him look into the beautiful spiral. "It...is." He nodded slowly, still focused on his phone. With one press of a button, I activated the second function of the app, letting it send low electric impulses through his hands and, later, his entire body. Mikes body twitched shortly, once, twice, the phone firm in his hand. I love seeing men like that, their bodies getting encouraged to tense and to grow bigger, and so did his. At first, his biceps grew larger, followed by his pecs, chest, and abs. They're now extremely visible through the shirt, and his nipples pierce through it as well. My eyes wandered down his beautiful body to his pulsating dick. It moved from left to right, up and down, dancing, wanting me to grab it. But I needed to be careful. I place a hand on his shoulder and lean in.

"Mike, can you hear me?" I said, and he nodded. "Yes." He started drooling slightly. "Good boy. Then listen to me. I want you to go even deeper into your mind. Let go of your physical form; let your body obey me; follow my every order." I said, intensifying the grip on his shoulder. For a second, it seemed like it wasn't working, until he leaned his head back, moaning quietly. Mike closed his eyes before his head sank down to his chest. "Heads up, boy," I said, and slowly, he did. I watched him sit there, drooling, his cock still twitching and his well-formed body pressing against his clothes.

I couldn't help but start to touch him. I placed my hands on his chest, stroking him harder and harder while he looked into the void, his normally bright eyes now dull and vacant. "So good." I chuckled nervously. Better than I imagined. "Lean Back." I ordered. "Yes." Mike said it like a robot and rested his back against the sofa while I kept touching his wonderful chest. I could tell he enjoyed it, partly by the derpy smile spreading across his lips and his cock tenting inside his shorts. "I want more." I ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to do next. "Take your socks off." I grabbed his hard cock before he reached for his feet as I got up.

"Very good." I smiled and kneeled down. As Mike sat there, I fondled his big thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with a finger before grabbing his cock some more. It was already leaking quite a bit—a wet spot spreading through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"You like it, faggot?" I said angrily, channeling his anger towards me. "Yes." He drooled harder while I began to move my hand up and down his massive cock. Mike started to moan loudly, again and again. "Fuck." I removed myself,got up, p and motioned for him to do the same.

"Take that shirt off." I pulled at it and watched him slowly undress himself.

"Very good boy, indeed." I said, and I took a step closer, placing both of my hands at his thick pecs again, before playing with his cute nipples. "Freeze." Mike's body tensed again, all of his muscles reacting to my every touch. I began to touch him again, firmly, with my hands encompassing all of his upper body.

My hands ran up and down his pecs, abs, and even up to his neck. I felt his shoulders, his firm biceps, and back to his beautiful chest, but when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was slowly gaining consciousness again. "No." My whole body was shaking, and I panicked for a second before I saw his phone still lying on the sofa.

I took it and handed it to him. "Mike, look at the pretty spiral again." He nodded and looked at his phone again.

I needed to do something. And there was one thing I could do. I picked up my phone, opened the app, and clicked on the electrical impulse button. This time, I increased the frequency and power of the pulse. Mike's whole body got stiff and rigid while shaking slightly. "Can you hear me, Mike?" I said nervously, and after a few seconds, he opened his mouth again.

"Yes." I sighed. "Good. Now. You will go even deeper. Let go of your struggles. Let me tell you what to do. Let your body be my slave." I said, and with that last word, he closed his eyes, and the phone dropped to the floor. I walked around him and hugged him from behind, letting my hard cock grind on his tight hole through his shorts. I needed to restrain myself, or otherwise I would have shot a load right then and there.

"Take them off." I moaned loudly, pressing my crotch against his arse. Slowly, Mike moved his hands and managed to pull them down without falling over.

Now just in his boxers, he stood there, drooling and his cock leaking more and more, staining his tight white boxers with precious cum. From behind, I grabbed his erect cock and played with it, jerking him off while he let out moan after moan. I felt myself leaking now too. "Kneel." I whispered into his ear, and without another word, he did. Enjoying the sight of my cocky roomate on his knees, I walked around, positioning my throbbing cock right in front of his soft face.

"Pull my pants down." I smirked and watched him grab my waist and slip his fingers inside my pants. Tenderly, he pulled it down, causing my cock to bounce, making me chuckle. I never imagined him sucking me off, and right now, I could live that fantasy. "Worship my cock, boy." I touched myself before he leaned in, kissing it, licking it, and touching it passionately. Mike steadied himself against my thighs and went all in.

I shot a load prematurely, the thick liquid pressing through the thin fabric. Instantly, Mike sucked it off before fondling with my dick again. "Good boy, now, suck." I grabbed my cock and felt him pull my boxers down. At first, my wet dick slapped him roughly, flushing his face with color, but he didn't mind. In a second, he took all of me inside his mouth and started to suck me off. And it felt good—so good, like fucking the perfect mouth—and even though he claimed to be straight, he must have done this before. Mike knew how to push my buttons, how to move his mouth, and how not to gag with my cock inside him.

It didn't take long for me to reach my limits, but before he could finish me, I pulled out. Just in time for me to cum all over his face. It spread all over his face; he flinched and groaned. The second one erupted towards his bare chest, covering him in my sticky cum. Again and again, I shot another load, covering him fully. "Fuuuuck." I moaned, trying my best to control myself. As soon as I went dry, I stroked Mike's face, neck, and chest, rubbing my cum into his skin. "Like that." I pet him playfully while he just nods.

His eyes rolled back for a second before a derpy smile spread across his face again. "Get up." I said, and he did. I could tell he enjoyed it too, given the massive wet patch all around his still-throbbing dick. "Are you done?" I touched his neck and his dick. To my surprise, he shook his head. "Follow me then." I led him into my bedroom and sat down on the bed, motioning for him to join me. Turning him around, I hugged him from behind again, one arm on his chest, the other around his neck.

"Now for the finale." I breathed down his neck, choking him slightly. Mike didn't fight back; he took a deep breath, awaiting my commands.

"Every time I touch you, you will get hard. Your body will crave my touch; it will crave a release from my hand and my will." I said, stroking him lovingly while choking him. I managed to pull his wet cock out of his briefs, causing him to groan breathlessly. "You can touch yourself and play with yourself; nothing will make you cum. And once the pressure gets too high, you will get back into this state and follow my orders." I said, tightening my grip. Instinctively, he grabbed his own cock with both of his hands, trying to make him cum, but nothing happened. "Do you understand me?" I said, letting him breathe again. "Yes." Mike moaned, and his body went stiff again. "Once you release yourself now, this will be your reality. You will be mine; you will be a slave." I stroked him while he took another breath. "I will be yours." He said that, and with that, I wrapped my hand around his cock. With one move, the tip erupted, and I aimed for his chest again. This time, it was his own cum. I loved seeing his body twitch, his eyes so blank, and his cock so hard.

After a minute of shooting massive loads, he went dry as well, and I released Mike. "Get up and get clean, pig." I pushed him, and he stood up. "Once you're done, you will get out of that state again and won't remember a thing about today. The condition is what stays." He looked at me with his eyes shining slightly, nodded, and left. 

I fell down onto the bed, touching myself again. This is going to be fun.

[ilovemybishies87]

The Vacation from Hell - Chapter Two

Chapter two is now uploaded to AO3! It is also below the cut, in case anyone prefers to read on tumblr.

This chapter is VERY loosely based on the response sketch from @damntheyare's original 'human hotel' fanart. Because some tropes will never die (nor do we want them to).

Despite the numerous changes since Alastor was alive, he could more or less navigate thanks to a few familiar landmarks, like the old Hermann-Grima place. Back in his day, it had been a boarding house for single women. He slowed as they passed its faded blue shutters and gated front door.  

“What is it?” asked Charlie. “You know this place?” 

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I know about it. This house has quite a history, spanning back to before I was even alive! The families who owned it are well known around here.” 

“Speaking of, where is here? I didn’t ask since you seem to know the way.” 

“New Orleans.” Alastor paused. “Home, I suppose.” 

Charlie’s eyes widened. “This is where you lived when you were human?” 

“Born and raised!”   

“And the hotel we’re staying?” 

He didn’t answer. He could only hope it still existed.  

Their suitcase wheels clacked on the brick sidewalk as they strode down Saint Louis Street and turned right. Many of the businesses were from after his time. He didn’t care for their newer architecture: some flashes of style here and there, but mostly it simply existed. Functional without any flavor.  

They crossed over two more streets before reaching their destination.  

Alastor allowed himself to drink in the sight. The name Hotel Monteleone was embellished in bold cursive on all three sides of the sign above the main portico. Festoons and cartouches, worn with age, adorned the hotel’s facade. Flower-filled planters lined a set of windows, and sky-blue flags waved on poles attached to metal guards.  

Charlie’s jaw dropped, and her bag nearly so. “This is . . . wow.” She laughed. “Good choice, Al!” 

“Thank you, my dear!” he said, and found his mood marginally improved. 

A solitary footman stood before a pair of golden doors. His attire was more suited to the weather—a short sleeve button down—but the black hat couldn’t have been comfortable. As they approached, he swung the door closest to him open.  

Cold air wafted out from the lobby.  

“Maybe we should have someone greet our guests at the entrance, too!” she whispered, nodding her head in thanks as they entered. “Nothing says hospitable more than a friendly face greeting you when you arrive!” 

“Oh? And who would you suggest for our doorman?”  

“Angel Dust?” 

“Not the worst suggestion.” He thought she might suggest Vaggie, but Charlie seemed to realize her dour expression would deter sinners seeking redemption. “Though I can’t say the types of guests he’d attract are what you’re hoping for!” 

“That’s the point, Alastor! Everyone is welcome,” she insisted. “The problem is whether Angel would agree to it. He already works for Valentino. But maybe this will be a step in the right direction!” 

The lobby was even more impressive than the hotel’s front. Their suitcases glided over parquet marble floors. Framed paintings of the founder, along with other men Alastor couldn’t place, decorated the walls. Above them, gold inlayed panels adorned the bases of crystal chandeliers. The lighting filled the entrance with a soft glow, making the place feel otherworldly.  

To their left, a rose centerpiece stood in the middle, bench-like seating surrounding the arrangement. A set of stairs, most likely heading to the establishment's rooms, lay before it. Another smaller set of steps led to the entrance of a restaurant. Alastor filed that away for later. Once they were settled in, food would no doubt be a priority. They passed more seating in the form of sofas and upholstered armchairs, along with a grandfather clock ticking away the seconds.  

Charlie lingered behind as he approached the counter. 

The receptionist was a completely average woman. Not too tall or short, heavy or thin. Completely unremarkable. Her only standout feature was the short reddish locks framing her face. Her smile screamed ‘customer service,’ but she didn’t appear to be in a mood either. 

“Can I help you?”  

Alastor read the tag pinned to her blazer. “Why, yes, I believe you can, Marie!” he said with a flourish. “My companion and I are needing a room for the duration of our stay.” 

“Of course, sir.” Marie began typing and glanced between him and a screen that suspiciously resembled Vox’s head. “Do you already have a reservation?” 

Fuck.  

Yes, he did. Decades ago, when they were supposed to arrive. Alastor was left with quite the conundrum. Did he take a chance on the hotel having an open room? Or did he use his magic to . . . turn the odds in their favor? The latter was the obvious choice, but he had expended more energy than planned to transport the group and their belongings. 

Alastor lightly tapped the top of the machine and infused it with his magic. A green glow came forth from the monitor along with thread-like tendrils. They reached out toward the receptionist and infused her pupils with the same green glow.  

“Yes, indeed!” he gritted out. “It should be for Alastor Malveaux and Charlotte Magne.” 

Marie blinked; her eyes returned to normal. “Thank you, sir. One moment while I pull up that information.” 

“Was that your last name?” whispered Charlie, joining him at his side. 

Alastor shrugged. “Who knows?” he replied, his voice low. “Whatever it was, it’s lost to the wind. The Radio Demon is what I’m known as now, and I have no complaints.” 

“Okay, but what about my name? Charlotte Magne. Really? What’s wrong with Charlie Morningstar?” 

“Your last name might . . . raise a few eyebrows,” he said, smirking, “and Charlie Magne is too obvious.” 

“How so?” 

Marie interrupted before he could explain. “Okay, so I’ve found your reservation.” Her face twitched. “But I’m afraid the room you requested was double booked. Another couple has already checked in.” 

“I see.” Charlie turned to him. “I guess we’ll have to cut our trip short?” 

"No, no, Miss Magne!” said Marie. “This was entirely our fault! We do have another room available, though. Fortunately for you, it’s an upgrade!” She started furiously typing away. “How long did you and Mister Malveaux plan on staying again?” 

Alastor struggled to keep his grin. “Six days.” 

“And what time were you planning on returning home? Check out is before noon.” 

So many questions. “We can be out before then.” 

“Perfect! So, that will be five nights total—” 

“What a relief!” Charlie scooped Husk off her shoulder and held him in her arms. He had somehow managed to remain affixed the entire trip to the hotel.  

Alastor wholeheartedly agreed. “We’ll have to decide who gets which bed once we are in the room.” 

“Oh, you wanted two beds?” asked Marie, the clacking on her keyboard slowing.  

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”  

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clearer.” She held up her index finger. “The room only has one. If it’s any consolation, it’s a King.”  

He would not murder the woman for doing her job, even if she was getting on the very last of his nerves. Alastor forced the violent urge down and laughed. “It would be quite improper for an unmarried man and woman to share—”  

“We’ll make do,” Charlie answered, much to his shock. She looked up at him. “Is that okay?” 

“As you said,” he stated with a deep breath, “we’ll make do.” 

“All right! That’s five nights total with two pets,” Marie said, eyeing Niffty and Husk in their arms. “They receive their own little welcome package for free. Trust me, everyone loves it! And did you want any add-ons or upgrades for your stay? We offer overnight valet parking, along with a wide selection of wines and hard liquors—” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

“Maybe some macrons for you and Miss Magne—” 

Charlie watched their exchange with rapt attention. No doubt she was mentally taking notes on what could be added to their hotel. That was the purpose of this visit. And while he appreciated her passion in theory—the more invested, the more satisfying it would be to see her dreams torn to shreds—the only one suffering at the moment was him. 

“Just the total,” Alastor ground out. “Please.” 

“That’ll be $2,204.60.” 

Alastor turned to Charlie and handed her Niffty, who let out a small ‘Yip!’ of dismay. Charlie gasped. She barely managed to catch the other demon—now dog—and juggle both her and Husk in her arms. 

Alastor unzipped the bag sitting on top of Niffty’s luggage and made a show of rummaging around. As he suspected, Husk had packed nothing but alcohol. He was grateful for once. A bottle of whiskey was calling his name. Hopefully the staff didn’t check the contents before they settled in. With his last bit of magic—at least until he could get some food and rest and alcohol—he conjured a stack of bills and zipped the sack closed. 

He pulled out the cash and began counting.   

Marie’s almond eyes widened. “Wow, don’t see that too often!” She stared at him grimly. “You’ll want to be careful. You’ll be a target for sure.” 

Alastor chuckled as he placed the last bill down. The remainder was shoved into his pocket. “I’m not worried.” He took Niffty from Charlie, much to her relief, and held the small dog under his other arm.  

Marie picked up the bills and double checked the amount. “Suit yourself. We don’t keep change here, but—” 

“Don’t worry about the extra. Consider it a tip for your hard work! Otherwise, we’d be looking for another hotel or returning home.” 

“Thank you, Mister Malveaux!” This time her smile was genuine. “If you don’t mind me asking, where is home for you anyway?” 

“I'm technically from around these parts, but it's been years since I’ve been back. Things have changed quite a bit.” 

Marie nodded. “You’ll find yourself at home in no time. Change doesn’t happen that fast here.” She turned to Charlie. “What about you?” 

“Well . . . ,” said Charlie nervously, “where I’m from is pretty big. And dry. And hot! Not to mention very . . . intense! It’s nothing like here.” 

Marie raised a brow. “Huh?” 

“California!” said Alastor, and he felt Charlie relax.  

“It’s where we met,” Charlie added, smiling at him.  

“Oh, so you must be an actor,” said Marie to Alastor. “You sure are dedicated to the craft, not breaking character! It explains the accent. The glasses and cash too. Those Hollywood eccentrics sure have rubbed off on you.” 

Alastor quirked his head. “Pardon?” 

“I’ve never seen you in anything before, but I'm not much for historical pieces.” She reached for the safety deposit box below the counter and locked the cash away. “But I’m trying to branch out. I’ll watch for you.” 

He and Charlie shared a look. A smirk graced her lips. 

“Not a word, Miss Magne,” he said under his breath. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Malveaux.” 

“Your room will be ready in a few minutes. Our bellhop will take your luggage for you.” A stout man with curly black hair approached. He wore the same outfit as the doorman, though his dark pants still held the crisp line from when they were pressed earlier that day. “Olivier, could you take their things to room 606?” 

He tipped his hat in her direction, then piled their bags onto the luggage cart. “I’m on it!” 

Alastor eyed the sofas in the lounge, but before he could move, he heard the shuffling of papers from behind the counter. 

“So,” said Marie, “what do you two plan on doing while you’re here?” 

No. 

Charlie bit her lip. “I’m not sure honestly. I was only interested in the hotel,” she admitted. “Alastor did all the planning.” 

Absolutely not.  

“I see.” Marie nodded. “Any sites you wanted to visit with Miss Magne?” 

He was not having any small talk. 

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he said, his tone clipped. 

Marie’s expression brightened. “In that case, would you mind if I made some suggestions?” 

“Not at all!” exclaimed Charlie. 

“The Phantom of the Opera is in town,” Marie said, handing over several brochures. “Not sure if you’ve seen it yet. Broadway is probably better, but it hasn’t been to New Orleans in about a decade, so we’re all excited.” 

Charlie turned to Alastor and placed Husk on his shoulder before he could say a word. She took the pamphlets from the receptionist and flipped through one.  

“Is this any good?”  

Marie leaned over to see what Charlie was showing her. “The Voodoo, Witchcraft and Vampires tour? If you’re into supernatural stuff, sure. There's no shortage of that around here, even at this very hotel.” 

"How so?” Charlie asked.  

“There’ve been countless unexplained happenings over the years. Doors that open on their own, elevators that go to the wrong floor, even shadows of kids playing in the halls! Eyewitness accounts from different times, guests, and staff. Hard to write it off as coincidence!” 

What drivel. Charlie seemed to think so too, judging by her incredulous expression. If anyone knew what happened to a soul after they passed, it would be the Princess of Hell. They were either in her domain or they weren’t. It was as simple as that. 

“What about this, Alastor? They have jazz bands and even a jazz museum!” 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing a live session again,” he said. “It’s been ages! But I also wouldn’t mind some place . . . quieter.”  

“Then you have to go to Oak Valley Plantation,” said Marie. “It’s about an hour away from here, but if you want to get away from it all, that’s your best bet! It’s like stepping back in time.” 

Alastor considered her briefly. “Maybe before we leave, to wind down.” 

“Excellent! I can help get you tickets for any or all of those excursions. Give me another ten or fifteen minutes to calculate—” 

“We’ll do them all.” He glanced at Charlie, who couldn’t have looked more thrilled than if every sinner in Hell had been redeemed in one fell swoop. Alastor pulled all but a couple of bills from his pocket and placed them in her hand. “I trust you with the schedule, my dear.”  

Charlie grasped the cash tightly. “Thank you, Al! I won’t let you down.” 

“Yes, yes.” He sighed. “I’m taking a breather until our room is ready.” 

“Olivier should be nearly finished if you would like to head up, Mister Malveaux. Here’s your key,” Marie said, handing him a piece of plastic. “I’ll give Miss Magne the other so she can join you when we’re done.” 

Alastor held the rectangular thing awkwardly between his fingers. What odd material to use for a key.  

The elevator was several paces behind them on the other side of the stairs. Leaving the two women to hash out their plans—a decision he hoped he would not come to regret—he stepped into an empty lift and pushed the backlit button with the number 6. 

Husk pawed at his head, nearly knocking his glasses off. 

Alastor turned, his glare ice cold. “You’re trying your luck, Husker! I’m not in the mood to be messed with. Unless you care to find out if cats really do have nine lives, I would suggest you mind yourself for the rest of the trip.”  

Silence filled the compartment for the ride up to the sixth floor. The elevator’s ding! notified them of their arrival, and the doors slid open. A gold cart was parked in the hall several doors down. He could see the last of their luggage—pink, in all its shameless glory—being picked up and transported inside. 

“Thank you for your hard work, my good sir!” said Alastor, steadfast in keeping the last of his remaining patience in check. He handed the man a crisp . . . twenty? Fifty? He didn’t look. “Much appreciated!” 

Olivier’s eyes widened. Had he slipped him a hundred by mistake? “You’re too kind, sir! Thank you. Let me know if you need anything!” He pushed the cart back toward the lifts. 

The room’s door remained open long enough to slip in. Alastor allowed it to close behind them as he placed Niffty on the ground beside him. Husk jumped from his shoulder and landed on the carpeted floor. They surveyed their accommodations. 

White. It was very white. Alastor crossed over to the king-size bed and upholstered headboard, a wallpapered inset behind it. They were white. So was the bedding. As was the much smaller, more rustic chandelier hanging up above. The nightstands, the single-seated sofa, and the vanity and set of chairs at the foot of the bed.  

The carpeting. The floors. The ceiling. 

Everything was white. Even the bathroom gave him no reprieve. 

Was this what Heaven was like? 

Alastor felt like he was going mad. The only hints of color came from the trio and the baggage they had dragged along for the trip. Charlie’s and Niffty’s luggage were a sight for sore eyes against the colorless landscape that was their room.  

Husk’s was too, but for very different reasons. Alastor picked up the leather bag, placed it on the vanity, and pulled out a seat. A small glass was set upside down beneath a mirror. He grabbed it and quickly zipped the bag open. The bottle of whiskey he eyed earlier clinked against a bottle of gin, and without hesitation, he twisted the cap off with his thumb and poured out a healthy amount.  

Husk jumped up and hissed.   

Alastor tipped his glass and downed the drink. “Even when you can’t pour, you make an excellent bartender, Husker old pal!”  

An almost imperceptible beep alerted him to Charlie’s arrival. “That receptionist really knows her stuff!” She dropped a handful of brochures on the vanity, along with a much thinner stack of cash, and pulled out the seat next to him. “So, I know we’re here for research—” 

“You are,” said Alastor, pouring himself another glass. “I am but the chauffer.” He picked up the money, returning it to his pocket. “And sponsor, clearly.” 

Charlie hesitated. “Are you okay, Al? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before.” 

“Well, we are on vacation, aren’t we?” This time he didn’t down the liquor in one gulp. He allowed it to linger on his tongue before swallowing, relishing the slight burn. “You were saying?” 

“R-Right. I still plan on getting the full hotel experience while we’re here. Even checking in has given me so many ideas! I’ll need to take notes, so I don’t forget anything.” She took out a notepad and pen from her purse. “Everything is so luxurious, don’t you think?” 

If someone enjoyed the ‘padded room’ aesthetic, then certainly. 

“But I figured, we might as well take in the sights too! I can only imagine how much has changed since . . . .” 

Alastor allowed the silence to hang between them.  

Charlie looked around awkwardly. “I’m sorry about the bed. We can ask for more pillows to create a wall between us. If that helps.” 

“You needn’t worry about me.” Alastor took another long sip before grabbing a different bottle from Husk’s bag. He read the label and realized he didn’t care what he was drinking, so long as it was strong. “I will make do.” 

“I don’t want you sleeping on the floor, Al. Or in the chairs. You should be comfortable!” 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” he said, fumbling over the words. His accent slipped as well. “In the meantime, you should do what you set out to do! There’s a whole hotel waiting to be explored.” 

Charlie stood and tipped her luggage onto the floor. “What about you? You’re not going to spend the whole day drinking, are you?” 

Alastor made one last drink and toasted to her. “Well, you could say I have some research of my own. But until then”—he tipped the glass back and grimaced—“I’m starting this trip off with a bang!” 

[lurkdragonstuff]

I'm an atheist and a philosophical materialist. I don't think there's anything more to the universe than what can be observed and measured. Disagree if you want, that's fine, but take as read that this is where I'm coming from.

As you can imagine, this makes it very strange to me that my brain thinks I'm a dragon.

I have been trying to square this circle for years. Since around the 2000's, when I first made contact with the Internet, I would look in on the otherkin community, and the draconic community nested inside it, and I would think, man. I wish I could believe that. I wish I could believe that souls were real, and that I had one, and that it was a dragon, and that's why I was so odd. For quite a while, I just explained it as a furry fandom thing. Sure, yes, my fursona is feral, but ferals are furries, too. This is still true! I'm still in furry fandom, and my dragonself still acts as my fursona. But they are also, in a deeper sense, me.

I'm a secular pagan. I don't think gods exist, and I don't think magic is literally real. I can't really cast a curse on shitty charities. The moon's a big shiny rock. It doesn't care if I roar at it when the sun reflects off it just so and I can see the whole of its tidally locked face.

But my dragon brain doesn't know that. It likes the big shiny rock. It likes little shiny rocks, too. It likes to light things on fire, and considers this a sacred act, both bringing destruction to noxious things and bringing honour to things worthy of it. It likes to growl and hiss when things annoy it. It likes to collect things, to have a hoard. It likes to range around its territory, keeping an eye on what's around in what season. It finds it frustrating that its wings don't seem to work at all, and its other limbs barely better. It wants its tail back. It wants its fire breath.

I'm autistic. Sometimes speaking is hard, and I growl and hiss when things annoy me. I like to collect things related to my special interests; I have a sprawling collection of cetacean, Nintendo, and SEGA figurines, as well as lots of little animal figures. Plushies, too, and videogames, and books. I do wildlife photography, as well, marking who's around in what seasons. This is, to my frustration, limited a lot by waning energy because of chronic health problems.

If backed into a corner, to say what I really believe, of course I'm a human. It is in my DNA, expressed in a bipedal body plan, five fingers on the forelimbs only, nails and not claws, no wings, no muzzle, no tail, short neck, skin and fur instead of scales. Not even any horns. I find this frustrating, but it is what it is. I also find it frustrating when people call me 'she' and not 'they', and that really there is no feasible gender presentation that would guarantee that strangers would use the right word. The best I can hope for is that people will read the 'they/them' button on my hat, or otherwise call me 'he'. Still wrong, but at least novel.

I honestly think my draconic identity developed when I was younger as a way to explain why I was so weird. I have never been normal. I will never be normal. As an adult, I have fancy words like "autism" and "anxiety and depression secondary to post-traumatic stress disorder" and "seasonal affective disorder" to explain why I'm abnormal.

But a part of my brain, I think the same one that still believes in magic and deities even though I don't, tilts its head, then grins a sharp grin and says, "Cool story, bro. I'm still a dragon."

I generally have, for any given of my eccentricities, the philosophical materialist explanation (generally that I am either brainweird in some way or another or am playing pretend for placebo purposes to manage executive function etc.) and the dragon explanation (generally what the pretend play revolves around). But - and this is hard to explain - it isn't exactly playing pretend, either. It's me.

When I'm pretending to be Link, either playing a Zelda game or writing Zelda fanfic, Link isn't me. I might be inhabiting him as an actor, but he isn't me. When I play Animal Crossing, and I'm playing a character named after me, that's closer. It's me but greater. Me but more. Me existing in a life I wish I could have.

When I put on my mask, when I sit and daydream about the multiverse-hopping shenanigans I get up to, when I hiss at someone startling me by getting into my space, that's me. I'm not a dragon, I'm a human wearing a mask, daydreaming, hissing because "back the fuck off!" isn't allowed in the workplace.

Yeah. Cool story, bro.

I am still a dragon.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey bunny! I'm back at it with my brainrot XD this time the trope is brother's best friend but the subject is still Kang Yeosang cuz I'm obsessed with him and the anti delulu meds didn't work 😮‍💨🫠🫠

I think this is the result of reading too many teacher/personal tutor yuyu fics + seeing posts about how our slow boy is actually hella smart, but can you imagine bratty MC and brother's best friend Yeosang (the brother in question being San or Yunho) who's known all over campus and your neighbourhood as being this sweet lil angel boy.... but who has been an absolute MENACE to you since you were kids?

Not in a harsh way cuz I don't think our boy is capable of that, but he's so indifferent and blunt? Barely pays you any mind at all and when he does it's this clipped, measured politeness?? Which is so unfair because he's beautiful and you've had a crush on him since forever???

Honestly it's more your fault than his that you're always so angry at him, but it makes you snappish and bratty just to try and push his buttons, but he never seems phased, always responds in a cool levelheaded way that's kinda hot and makes you even MORE pissed

So when you're failing math and your oh so wonderful brother decides to volunteer his only number literate friend as a tutor? And for some reason that friend says yes??

I can't finish these thoughts cuz I have a dinner to get to but yeah! Hope you have a good day bunny! Thank you so much for blessing us with all the incredible content that you do, make sure to get some rest and stay hydrated while you're at it <33

~Lyra

no bc i love this so much!!! just reader being bratty and then yeosang being all nonchalant about it AHDKSGDJSV ITS SO GOOD!!!!

but i feel like yeosang would be patient to a degree. like sure, he’s chill and cool about it usually but if you push his buttons too far he just snaps and you don’t expect it at all.

“can you focus?” he grumbles as he tried to find the relevant page in the text book. you’ve been watching the way his hands move over the pages for the best part of 5 minutes now, not taking in a single word he has to say. sure you’ve been listening, kind of, but that’s just so you can hear his deep voice in your ear - no other reason, “i’m not here for fun, y’know…”

you can’t help but scoff because of course not. why would he be here for fun? honestly, you have a hard time working out why he’s here at all, especially when he’s not getting paid for it.

“well, it’s not like you ever focus on what i have to say,” you spit back at him as you put your pen down defiantly. he doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge it, which only serves to drive your frustration up even higher. it’s not like you need a tutor anyway. sure, you’re failing, but you don’t see why that means yeosang had to be called in to help.

“maybe say something worth listening to,” he says, voice as calm as always, “now pick up your pen and work through these logarithmic functions for me.”

years ago you probably would’ve jumped at the thought of doing anything ‘for him’. what with his stupidly pretty face attached to that stupidly muscular body, and his irresistibly deep voice that only seems to come out with irritatingly quick quips. he was the only man to exist in your eyes, and perhaps he still would be if he weren’t so annoying. always so polite with you like you couldn’t see him being so free with other people. never responding to your jokes or rising to your teasing. it’s like he wants nothing to do with you, and you hate it.

in fact, you hate a lot of things, like the fact that you love a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you, or the fact that everything he does regarding you pisses you off. you hate that you can’t seem to shed your feelings of affection and lust towards him despite his apparent distaste of you.

but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s tutoring you, and for some reason he’s doing it for free.

you sigh and try your hardest to brush away your annoyance. if he’s going to be here, you may as well make him pay, right? maybe if you push his buttons enough he’ll decide he doesn’t want to come back.

“i don’t want to,” you push your pen further onto the page with a shit-eating grin, “so you’re going to have to make me.”

you watch him as he mumbles something under his breath, eyes rolling into his skull in annoyance, and you can’t deny that it feels good to finally get a rise out of him.

“i’ll tell yunho you’re not being cooperative,” he threatens. you shrug your shoulders.

“and what’s he going to do?” you reply, “find me a different tutor? i doubt it,” you smirk and lean in close, “you’re the only one willing to do this for free.”

at this, he closes his eyes and puts his own pen down. you almost cry out in victory when he rubs at his face in frustration, a small groan leaving his lips when he pulls them away again.

“believe me, sangie,” you say in the most sickly sweet tone you can muster, “nothing you can do is going to make me cooperate.”

he turns his head in one shaky motion, and he looks at you properly for the first time since entering your house. he’s pretty as always, but you can hardly take the time to study him when he’s looking at your like he’s a predator about to pounce. his eyes are icy cold as he runs them up and down your body. his jaw is clenched as his gaze finally settles on your face, and you have to admit that the quiet boy has suddenly got very intimidating. you shrink back into your seat.

“fine then,” he says through gritted teeth, “either you do this, or i’ll have to find some other way to teach you a lesson.” now it’s his turn to lean in close. his elbows find purchase on his knees as he lowers his face to yours. you can feel the way his breath brushes against your exposed collarbones, and you hope to anything out there that he doesn’t see the way it sends a shiver down your spine, “don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me, little girl. i’ve seen you staring at my hands. i know you’ve been daydreaming about me, hm?”

in the blink of an eye, he traps you. with one hand on one of your chair’s arm rests, he spins it until you’re facing him fully. his own rolls forwards until his thigh’s sit either side of yours. you blink at him, all wide eyed and confused. he just smirks at you.

“i’ve seen what you’ve been doing all these years,” a hand drops to your thigh, rubbing gently up and down against the skin that your short skirt - that you’d worn for no reason… no reason at all - had left exposed, “teasing me, trying to get me to drop my act and finally do what we’ve both been craving for so long. i’ve always kept to my lane for the sake of yunho, but i don’t think i can anymore.”

you whimper when he moves his face in close to yours, lips barely brushing up against yours. he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip gently.

“not when you so clearly need to be taught a lesson…”

[blmpff]

15.04.2023

[welldonekhushi]

[EVENT REDACTED]

Universe: Call of Duty: Black Ops 6

Characters: Vasili Mikhailovich Sokolov/Vincent Stephens, William "Case" Calderon

Summary: Vasili and Case, two individuals bound by a shared torment, face a critical moment which will reshape their fates forever.

"William Calderon." Vasili's voice echoed in the sterile quiet of the laboratory. Through the small window of the chamber, he saw Case—another lost soul, trapped like an animal, a test subject for the Pantheon’s cruel experiments.

"You did quite.. pique my interest, lately. Ever since I worked for this organisation and you came here, I find you one of the people who strikes themselves as unique yet — painfully familiar." Vasili continues, his voice hinting as the past memories seem to flourish in his head.

"You know why I'm here? And for what?" Vasili explores the controls, and caresses the buttons, understanding the functions related to it as well. "I feel pity. Pity that they've kept you here, when you should have been free. Out of this wretched place. And I'll do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

Case frowned, confused. Since he had no idea what he was talking about, but it was pretty weird for a Pantheon member who had stayed loyal to the organisation for years — feeling sympathy for a person like him, a test subject.

"People like you.. turn into something they never wanted to, and when they look back they realise nothing could be changed anymore. Once it's gone.. you can never have it back. The Pantheon, or the MK-Ultra. They will consider us as outcasts the day they get their job done." He roamed around in the room that he was present in for a while. "And I don't want you to face.. what I did."

Vasili caressed the mirror, as Case walked towards the window, placing his hand over it, staring at the rugged-looking man whose eyebrows were furrowed, looking at his condition. Vasili was able to see a reflection of himself — caged, unaware of what was happening, helpless to the mercy of a group of people, and Case was one of the individuals he deeply felt scarred of. Despite how he 'almost' destroyed everything after being exposed to the Cradle, and finally contained him, Vasili was going to do something absolutely obnoxious — yet life-threatening for him, and for the rest. But taking this choice felt like it was necessary for this change to happen. This man had all his paths closed. He thought the Pantheon might give him answers, while giving him all the freedom to do what he wants.

But, he still felt trapped into some spiral of consciousness, and questioned if he ever had the power to control his life anymore. Was he still in control? Had they known if he tried reaching his goals, he'd rather suffer and not feel satisfied? Vasili stared at the faint reflection of himself in the window. His face seemed hollow, a ghost wearing his skin. He raised a trembling hand to touch the glass, hesitating, as though afraid it might pass through. Did this face even belong to him anymore? He felt like a smear of existence—blurry, undefined, and forgotten.

And before he could see another person, like Case meet the same fate, he had no choice.. but to make this very decision happen.

Case saw that Vasili had started to override the controls one by one, much to his panic, whilst knowing the consequences. He tapped the window with his fist, begging to stop but the man had a special pleasure doing so. "I need you, Case. Because I know what it feels like to be trapped in one place, while being a "test subject" for the rest of their lives. You'd never know what horrible things they've made you do, and in the end.. your life would mean nothing. You were just.. a killing machine. Just like me." Vasili looked at Case, his eyes with tears to the brim.

"Does redemption even matter anymore? And will I ever achieve it? Is it too late to make up for the mistakes I've made before? Had I ever had free will? To do something I believe would truly make a difference but — I just.. kept losing. Again, and again.. and again. Sometimes.. I wish I was never alive, Case." The tears streamed down his cheeks, smiling half-heartedly.

"I should have taken my final breath in that trunk of that car, the day that the bastard shot me, so I shouldn't have seen or witnessed all of this. So before you become like me.. and regret for the rest of your life. I'm freeing you. From this Hell that I found comfort in. Because we 'both' are monsters for the world, Case. And the truth is just in front of us."

Vasili’s fingers hovered over the lever, his breath catching. The cold metal felt heavier than it should have, as though weighed down by the enormity of his decision. With a sharp exhale, he yanked it down. A low hiss filled the room, and the chamber fogged with thick, swirling gas. Case pounded on the glass, his muffled screams blending with the ominous hum of the Cradle’s activation. Vasili stepped back, his expression unreadable as the gas consumed the man inside. Everything went silent for a few seconds — but Vasili grins, chuckling as he stares at the mirror, before the ultimate chaos wrecks.

"Welcome back, Case." Vasili greets him with a smile on his face. And just then, a fist broke through the glass, the scene turning to black.

[punderdome]

Infernal Jurisprudence: Bonus Chapter!

I was hoping to get this done before Christmas, but here is a New Years/Christmas bonus chapter from Infernal Jurisprudence. It's a little out of order but the content is standalone. It'll take place sometime in Act II between Last Light Inn and Gale's Last Night Alive scenes.

Raphael's about to get a little unhinged and possessive over his Little Mouse. Enjoy!

Summary: Raphael meets a new client.

Infernal Jurisprudence: the Sardine Fork

Raphael sat down in his host’s parlor with grace.  He was dressed in a crisp silk doublet with no hairs out of place.  Raphael wore his human guise, as tended to be prudent when working with skittish mortals on Prime Material.  He found himself making a deal in Waterdeep with a Conjuration professor at Blackstaff Academy.  

The home was immaculate.  Every surface was spotless and shining.  The wooden parlor table had been freshly polished with a functional oil cut with a touch of cedarwood oil.  A porcelain vase of fresh wildflowers adorned the windowsill and instilled the room with a light and pleasant aroma to cut the musky bouquet of too much soap.

Raphael was seated in the parlor and had been asked what beverage he preferred no fewer than three times by three different servants in an ostentatious and arrogant display of wealth in the number of staff sent to serve him and disrespect that their master had not returned.

Raphael’s tea had grown tepid for the third time long before the master of the house had come to greet him, despite their agreed upon meeting time.

“Master Raphael,” Professor Zagevekt welcomed him.  He tapped his shiny leather shoes on the parlor floor as his servants set out a spread of seafood hors d'oeuvres on the table in front of them.  The Professor never seemed to inspire speed in his staff, leading a dramatic display of displeasure before Raphael.

“It is impossible to hire competent staff,” Professor Zagevekt lamented.  Raphael looked the mage over.  He was ruggedly handsome, despite his spectacles and unshaven face.  He had deep hazel eyes that his smile never seemed to reach.  Raphael had seen many mortals just like him over the centuries.  He was the type to portray one image and conceal his true intentions deep within.

“Your staff seemed able to provide me with hot tea on several occasions in succession,” Raphael contested weakly, letting his potential client respond.

“I told them to offer you the finest liquors I have in my home.  I’m embarrassed that they saw fit not to provide you with suitable libations for our discussion and left you drinking that.”  He motioned to the cooling china cup in front of the devil.  “I should have a well-aged bottle of Wyvern whiskey should you care for something finer.”

“I appreciate the hospitality, but I would quite prefer a fresh cup of Earth Dragon’s Eye,” Raphael informed him, still fuming beneath the surface that his most beloved client was late to their meeting.  Though of all the meetings he could schedule, this one was worth being very patient for.

“Earth Dragon’s Eye?  I think you must be my first guest who has ever had a taste for teas from Kara-Tur.  Most prefer tisanes of local herbs.”  Raphael thought back fondly to the image in the scrying mirror of Tavara warming herself at Last Light Inn with a strong, steaming cup of tea from Kara-Tur, brewed at double strength in an attempt to ward off Shar’s embrace from the Shadow Curse.

“I prefer liquors served in a very different fashion,” Raphael ran his finger over the rim of the porcelain cup.  Tavara’s quivering belly button would be ideal.  “Your tea selection is extensive and delightful.”

The foolish professor snapped and a servant ran to freshen Raphael’s teacup.  

“I wish to make a deal with you, Master Raphael,” the professor wasted no time on further pleasantries.  “I want to make a deal for more power and wealth.”  Raphael waited patiently for the fool to elaborate and didn’t want to play his emotional hand so quickly.  “I am a respected Conjuration professor at the best university in Toril, but I wish to become a wealthy and respected Archmage, the first of the Zagevekt family’s famous bloodline of Archmages, soon to be known through all of Faerun.”

“And what, exactly, were you looking for?”  A servant placed a fresh cup of Earth Dragon’s Eye in front of Raphael and took away his empty teacup and its dirtied saucer.  “More time in a laboratory could earn you a better position at the university and more time wooing patriar daughters would earn you your wealth.”

“I do wish to secure wealth from a local patriar’s daughter.  She is attractive enough.”  Professor Zagevekt started to serve himself from the hors d'oeuvres that were spread in front of them.  He spooned some oysters on the half shell and drizzled them with an aromatic oil before pouring the sea creatures down his gullet.

“And your dynasty?” Raphael inquired, his fingers tapping against the painting on the teacup.

The fool dabbed a napkin over his lips to remove any excess oil.  “I will be an Archmage with or without your help, but I want my children to inherit incredible arcane talents.  I want to be remembered as the patriarch of a grand dynasty of wizards.”

“And how would you wish me to secure that for you?” Raphael cocked an eyebrow and took a sip of the murky, bitter tea that he had requested.

“Sorcerers have uncommon affinities in accessing the Weave, and every child they have carries on that bloodline.  I won’t have trouble securing my own wealth as a third son if I can show I am of superior breeding.”

“Every child?” Raphael needled the wizard.  “You are too knowledgeable to forget that sorcerer bloodlines can often skip generations.  The lineage depends entirely on your seed.”  Raphael tried to hide his growing disdain for the professor in front of him.  

The fool was slurping down oysters and forking prawns from the platter.  His table manners left much to be desired and were unlikely to win him any favors with the patriars or their daughters that he wished to court.

“I wish to become a sorcerer to secure my dynasty.  There has to be some lineage you can give me retroactively.  I was always destined to be powerful, but with your help I will be legendary.”  The foolish professor was too sure of himself.

“A sorcerer’s bloodline?” Raphael confirmed.  “Can you be sure that that would give you what you want?  With your incredible experience in the academic field,” Raphael primed for a response.  “You must have experienced sorcerers in the academic body, why would you not simply marry one?”  The one he cast aside and mocked.

“Sorceresses tend not to be very useful for much outside of the bedchamber,” Professor Zagevekt said before uncrossing and recrossing his legs.  The mortal fool was trying to play at appearing indifferent.  Raphael knew he was lying.

“Marriage would still provide the easiest pathway to what your heart desires.  You must have seen at least one sorcereress through your time at the academy,” Raphael argued as he probed for an admission, taking a large bite of a toast with a dollop of chopped white fish.

“Yes, I have,” the fool admitted.  He glared as though his firebolt was about to burn a hole in Raphael’s fine doublet, “she was one of those talentless dragon sorceresses.  She was fairly dim, and I’m surprised she managed to complete any of her coursework at all.  She was always begging for favorable treatment with the faculty.”  Raphael had read numerous writing and spell samples from Tavara’s thesis himself and found them well reasoned though they lacked the sophisticated Weave jargon that other wizards tended to employ.

“And did this sorceress receive such favors?” Raphael inquired.

“If I can recall, I think she was expelled for spreading her legs for the alchemy and evocation instructors.”  Raphael’s jaw clenched.  It wouldn’t be long.  Raphael wouldn’t let his defamation of Tavara’s name go unpunished.

“Then how are you so confident that your awakened powers won’t cause the same sort of issues with the university?”  Raphael waited for the professor to explain how he would be immune to the gossip of the university and not seen as seeking additional favor from his innate abilities himself.

The professor grinned.  Raphael watched as the fool used the sharp sardine fork to shovel oily sardines onto his plate next to a piece of dark bread.  “I’m not going to start those rumors against myself.”  Raphael used every ounce of control within his being not to use his superior Hellfire magic to burn the idiot into a pile of ashes, the finery and order of his parlor be damned.  Raphael then imagined depositing said remnants of the professor into his chamber pot and letting Yurgir soil the mage’s good name.

“Here are the terms: I shall grant you a retroactive sorcerer’s lineage, though it may be at times chaotic, for your bloodline.”  Raphael leaned back in his chair and waited for Professor Zagevekt to respond.

“Wild magic?  Well, I suppose that makes the most sense for a late awakening.”  The wizard licked crumbs and fish from his fingers.

“It is a simple exchange: I will grant you the bloodline you desire in exchange for your soul.  You will receive a sorcerer’s power and abilities for your bloodline that any children you have will inherit and continue to pass on to their children.”

Raphael sent a wordless summon to Korrilla to drop her surveillance and come to him with the contract and an important elixir.

“I agree to the terms.”  The professor grinned ravenously.  

“I have sent an associate of mine to come with our formal agreement for you to sign.”  Raphael took another sip of his tea.  “She should arrive shortly.  Perhaps we should celebrate with the Wyvern whiskey you offered to secure our partnership,” Raphael suggested coolly.

The professor snapped again and asked for two tumblers of his expensive whiskey while they waited for Korrilla’s delivery of the contract document.  It wasn’t long before there was a sharp knock at the professor’s front door.

“Milord, there is a Dwarf here upon request of Master Raphael,” a maid introduced.

“Send her in,” the fool agreed, sitting back in his chair with a smug look on his face, knowing soon he would receive everything that he wanted.

Korrilla entered the parlor and handed a scroll to Raphael with a deep bow.  Raphael took the scroll and unfurled it in front of the professor.  He primed a quill and handed it over.

“This is where you sign.”  Raphael pointed to the signature line below the runes dictating that he would grant the professor a sorcerer bloodline for him and all his descendants.  Professor Bren Zagevekt signed the contract, sealing his eternal fate to Raphael’s whimsy.

Immediately upon signing, Raphael watched the foolish professor test his arcane powers.  He grinned, testing cantrips amongst his finest furnishings and leaving scorch marks on the ornate rug as his cantrips burned the flooring.

“Gods above, I had never realized how much power she actually had before.”  Professor Zagevekt’s fingers twitched as he tested his new power.

“Do you have a courtyard at your estate?” Raphael asked with a grin.  “There is no better place to test your new power.  I cannot imagine you wish to actually light your parlor on fire when your lineage comes to the forefront, and you may prefer a more dignified unveiling.”

The untouched tumblers of whiskey were laid neatly on the table as the uncouth moron impatiently rushed from the room to test his new abilities on his landscaping, while Korrilla waited patiently in the parlor for additional instructions.  Raphael silently signaled to Korrilla to pour the elixir he requested into the unwitting professor’s tumbler.  Ten drops should do it.  As much as Raphael had wanted to cause the fool incredible pains for what he had done to his Little Mouse, he knew it was prudent to wait.  His time would come.

It wasn’t long before the wizard had used an entire day’s worth of sorcerer powers on the unwitting hydrangeas and they returned to the parlor for the celebratory whiskey.

Raphael smiled smugly as the wizard drank deep and finished his glass, requesting another.

“See what did I tell you, this is the finest whiskey in all of Toril,” the new sorcerer bragged over their celebratory libations.  It was not.  That honor was for Hellfire whiskey.

When another glass had been finished, Raphael saw himself out, Korrilla close behind him.

They returned to Raphael’s study in the House of Hope.  Raphael sat calmly at his desk and removed a soft, worn leather portfolio from a desk drawer.

“You gave ‘im a shockingly good deal without asking too much from ‘im,” Korrilla mused.  “You probably could have gotten ‘is firstborn too in exchange for sorcerer powers.”

Raphael removed a book with a list of souls that he wanted to acquire from the portfolio.  He opened up to the page with the professor’s name and made some notes.  “I could not ask that from him, Korrilla, because he will have no firstborn.”

“How can you be sure?”

Raphael set down his quill before answering her.  “That elixir, the Father’s Rest, ensures that his seed is withered.  He will never be able to provide those patriar daughters he covets with a child.  He is the first and last of the dynasty that he wanted, though I can only imagine the carnage when his desperate wife inevitably seeks a more fertile source for seed in her womb.”

Korrilla laughed to herself as Raphael dismissed her with a wave.  He had thoughts to collect and notes to take from their meeting.  Raphael snapped and a glass of Hellfire whiskey appeared for him to sip while he worked, though its serving vessel was not the one he would have preferred.

Raphael set his book of notes aside and looked through the portfolio of information about Tavara.  He had a copy of the first chapter of her thesis on the influence of Hellfire on key events in Faerunian history and its influence on spell shaping.  It was well written, even if it was obvious that it was not authored by a wizard.

A flip of a page led to a series of memos from university faculty debating rumors of Tavara’s behavior.  One wanted to expel her to preserve their reputation and another thought the rumors indicated she was more trouble than she was worth.  Raphael had their names in his book, and he would seek them out when the time was right.  The Dragonborn alchemy instructor had advocated that she remain, worried that she was collateral damage for a student with a vendetta against him for poor marks he awarded.  Raphael wouldn’t intentionally seek him out for a contract, but he wouldn’t be opposed to making a deal should the opportunity arise.

Raphael thought back to the stupid grin on that fool’s face as he shoveled oily sardines onto his plate.  “I’m not going to start those rumors against myself.”  The context that the vampire spawn had provided him for the cost of three secrets made Raphael’s blood boil.  That arrogant fool was going to pay dearly for the harm he caused Raphael’s consort.  

The sharp tines of his sardine fork were going to be put to much better use when the professor was in Raphael’s clutches.  Raphael was going to ensure he was parted from his most favored jewels each day for all of eternity for daring to hurt his Little Mouse.

[ashitakaxsan]

🎉Franky: The Unsung Hero of Spy x Family 🕵️‍♂️💥

Franky Franklin seemed like the goofy, lighthearted informant in Spy x Family, but Chapter 105 shows how much rigorous training he underwent. Besides the humor and awkward moments, Franky is a man who plays many roles—some light, some heavy, all vital to the mission and to those around him.

On a day that feels almost ordinary for Franky, we see him waking up in the morning to Japanese karakuri. Interestingly also he starts his morning ritual by enjoying listening to government-banned music. 🎉 🌟 As a well-functioning informant he listens to Fiona Chan's request for a "forged pass for the Podam School of Science. Cool that agent Nightfall(our cute, lovable Kuudere is here) has absolutely recovered after the fight against Mole Wheeler. And he's got the guts to remind her how has wants to be treated :)

and a man still holding out hope for love. His day starts with babysitting Anya, a task that, for anyone else, would be overwhelming. But for him, it’s just another part of his vigilant life. His relationship with Anya is one of the most endearing parts of his character—he’s her goofy uncle figure, someone who can make her laugh and doesn’t mind stepping up when needed. The man is a solid uncle figure, he makes it where Yuri simply fails. 🎭✨

As he takes the fee he goes to invest the money to a bet in horse races, but he's unlucky.

So he's up again to get info about any lucky route. that's when he hears the bad news from the teller. The only informant regarding access to gates 4 and above, Latchkey Lachy(whoever he is) got arrested by the always-feared force throughout Ostania, the SSS! So there's the looming menace of the Secret police.

What’s striking is his relentless optimism—even in the face of constantly changing hideouts and near-constant danger, Franky holds onto the hope that one day, he’ll find love. That's why now he's on a date with a familiar girl, Priscilla, and they'll go to watch a movie.

It’s this mix of resilience and vulnerability that makes him so relatable. He’s a man living in the shadows, often overlooked, but still working to hold onto the idea that there’s more to life than just survival.

Suddenly the news comes: Their teller is arrested "by the you-know-who": The SSS who has him, and Franky has to act quickly to save him.

The way Franky charges in and saves him is Amazing: He steps up prepared, with an effective plan as a real spy, saving the teller from the clutches of the SSS.🕵️‍♂️🛡️👧

The seeming "flower bouquet" is actually a pistole of smoke gas to make the SSS interrogators lose their focus, briefly and it works!

Watch this. How he gives them an awful time:

As they see the SSS reinforcements arriving he says: "They're welcome to try. But I'm going to show them just how hard catching rats can be!" With goggles for concealment, he fights them, using a real handgun, he presses a secret button to open a hatch, and they escape with his well big balloon:)!

This is Franky at his best—quick and profound thinking, resourceful, and willing to risk everything for the people he cares about. In this moment, we see his true heroism. He may not have the physical strength of Yor, but Franky's improved, worthy peer of Twilight. He’s a man who understands the dangers of the world he’s in, yet continues to put himself on the line.

Then he listens to Priscilla, about how she has found a boy to chaperone to the movies.🤔💔 Despite the disappointment, he calls it a good day.

Thus he and the teller go to watch a romance movie:

"How did he get so determined for the rigorous training?" you'll ask me the question.

The failings for finding love didn't get the better of him, so he made up his mind: To become someone as effective as the two people he's looking up to: Twilight and Nightfall.💪🕵️‍♂️🤔

Franky’s ability to juggle these different aspects of his life—his spy duties, his loyalty to his friends, and his optimism for happiness—makes him one of the most vital characters in Spy x Family. He reminds us that even the seemingly ordinary people in a story filled with super spies and assassins can have profound, heroic moments.

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 56

Calibani and Bob have this, you assume/hope. "Hold the line ladies," you say as you run over to the control console and begin trying to figure out how you can turn this situation to your advantage.

Luckily, the computer of this huge sea station is unusually intuitive for technology that was made specifically for a big corporation - you were worried the interface would be a lot clunkier and needlessly buggy than it is, but you guess you have to hand it to Spindle Inc. for making sure their personal tech works at the very least.

You have two main tasks you wish to accomplish: creating a portal home, and freeing Calibani's mom. As you try to figure out which to do first, you feel the weight of your compass in your pocket. Your hand touches it on instinct, and you realize it's changed. It feels... brittle, you suppose, like the plastic is degrading, and you can even feel stress fractures and cracks as your fingers run over it. It's gotten you this far, but it seems you won't have it much longer.

So you should make this count.

Warefore mentioned a Veil Needle, so you look for things pertaining to that. It doesn't take a lot of looking, thankfully - once you bring up the Veil Needle controls, you quickly spot ones about "opening transmission" with other universes, with your home reality being one of the quick-select options. It makes sense - if this station is owned by Spindle Inc, they have to have some way to communicate with home, for resupplying and whatnot.

A bit of clicking brings you to a set of options - apparently you can make some very big portals with this Veil Needle thing, and ones that last a long time, but there's a caveat. Right now the station is in crisis mode, and while it can still open a portal (escape routes would be needed in an emergency, after all), the scale and longevity of said portal is limited. You imagine they don't want the Sea's bigger residents to sneak through.

It's fine. You can open one more than big enough to let your boat through - you just have to get there within thirty minutes. Easy.

As you order the Veil Needle to open the portal, the control console fills with windows describing various functions that you don't know enough about to understand. You feel a sensation similar to that horrible feeling you got when Dr. Warefore was disintegrated, though it's a bit more subdued while also a lot larger - if Dr. Warefore's death was a horrible screech, then this is more of a big rumble of thunder, low and terrifying yet somewhat gentle by comparison.

Thirty minutes on the clock now. You have to free Calibani's mom.

Figuring out phrasing proves to be the biggest hurdle here. Unfortunately, there's no "free the big sea monster" button, so you end up using the search function and typing in the word "release." A dozen or so options are brought to you - "release docking bays," "emergency release docking bays," "release umbilical station," "emergency release umbilical station," and on and on it goes. You attempt to release the docking bays first, but get an error signal - apparently the station can't do it when in crisis mode, which it currently is in. Well, a crisis and an emergency are the same thing, right? You hit "emergency release docking bays."

Above, you hear the sound of screams as several thousand tons of water begin to pour into the space station's upper floors from all directions. That... well, you can deal with that in a minute.

You try to emergency release the "umbilical station," but are hit with another error message, although this one is different: "Umbilical station nonresponsive." That'd probably be ominous if you knew what an umbilical station was.

You press several more emergency releases until, finally, there's a hiss and a pop as the outer shell of Sycorax's cage slowly dislodges from the sea station. The massive serpent cocks her head towards the walls behind her and realizes her freedom has arrived. You watch as she gleefully uncurls her coils and slithers out into the now open sea, turning her head back to regard you, Bob, and Calibani with concern. After all, you're still trapped inside this sea station.

But that's fine! You've got thirty minutes to go back the way you came, get into your boat, and sail away! So long as there's no other surprises, it should be a breeze!

You grab your compass, ignoring how worn and fragile it feels in your hand, and figure out how to go about making this final escape.

[norosesnolife]

| Am I writing yet another safe for work sleepover story? Why, yes, yes, I am.

✬ began at 9:48 P.M. on July 3rd | word count: 4,083 ✬

Anxiety was spiraling again.

Which was normal. Being one bad thought away from a downward spiral was Anxiety’s default setting. It was a wonder Joy hadn’t become so annoyed with her that she sent her away to the Vault, or worse, the Memory Dump. Lost to wander the hills of dissolving memories until she either went insane or wound up fragmenting enough to become apart of the subconscious.

Now, nobody had quite been expecting Joy to forgive her as quickly as she had. Sadness had mumbled some explanation about Core Memories, “Bing Bong”’s, and scary clowns, but Anxiety hadn’t quite understood it all.

Sure, had she tried to rid Riley of all her core personality traits and reshape her into someone bett- no, more well-adjusted and prepared? Yes. Had she nearly destroyed all of Riley’s personal relationships out of her obsessive fear of never being enough? Also, yes.

But that didn’t mean she hadn’t tried her best to make up for her mistakes and appeal to Joy and all of Riley's older, more important emotions.

Despite being assured that all emotions made mistakes- Anger had went on a lengthy boasting session about the time Riley broke a window while playing street hockey with a group of kids- Anxiety couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t doing enough to redeem herself.

Joy needed someone to evaluate memories and take note of any faulty engineering around Headquarters? Anxiety was on it with a clipboard and toolkit.

Sadness needed a helping hand in remembering something from Manuel Two-Hundred and Seventy-Six: The Cerebellum’s Motor Movement Functions, Chapters Eight through Eleven? Anxiety had the entire cerebral encyclopedia memorized, with flash cards!!

Even whenever Disgust constantly tried to ween herself off Dream Duty, Anxiety was there with an energy drink (Joy had forcibly tried to get her off the stuff, but old habits died hard) and a pillow for her neck.

Yes, she had done it all, but it still wasn’t enough. She still felt that sinking pit in the deep of her essence whenever she suggested an idea- which was becoming fewer and fewer with each passing day.

Anxiety could feel the hesitation, the mistrust, in their eyes whenever she got a little too handsy with the Console. How Joy would scurry forward to gently pull her hands away from the buttons. How Envy and Disgust were wary to leave her alone without supervision. How could she ever be a good enough emotion for Riley when all she was capable of doing was ruining her life?

Certainly, Joy’s “special chair” was great in the heat of a moment when the stress got to be too much. The vibrations made the edges of Anxiety’s form become blurry, thousands of tiny tangerine dots rippling around her, scattered like her thoughts. And the tea was nice. But one could become so tired of tea, especially since the only flavour Disgust allowed in the cupboard was lemon and honey green tea (“all those other types of tea are toxic to our minds and bodies”).

So, while the chair was nice in a pinch, it wasn’t a cure-all to Anxiety’s never-ending spiral of obsessive thoughts. She could tell Joy tried to understand this, but it never seemed to fully stick- she still tried to “happy” away all of Anxiety's worries away.

Now, long after Riley had fallen asleep, Anxiety remained awake, having suffered through a dreamless hour and a half, pacing in front of the window, incapable of escaping the onset of, well, anxiety overwhelming her. Her lanky body scurried across the floor, feet moving at such a pace that they appeared like the frames of a cartoon.

Riley had a good day, all things considered. She had aced her Spanish test (celebraciones!), made plans for an exciting sleepover with Bree and Grace for the upcoming spring break; and managed to begin talking with a school counselor about her negative thoughts. She had gone to sleep without much fuss, after some math homework and an exhilarating game of UNO with her parents, leaving her emotions to sleep without worry.

Well, mostly without worry. Despite the day having been another great day for Riley, Anxiety had spent most of it wired about the results of the Spanish test, or fretting over Bree’s lower-case-only text messages while they planned the sleepover. It had been weighing on her all day, but all that Joy had suggested was to “think positive,” sit in her chair, and have Embarrassment hug her until the results came in for certain.

It had been nice in the moment, but, again, it still came back to bother Anxiety later on.

The orange emotion pulled at her feathery hair, tugging it down over her eyes as she moaned and groaned, trying desperately to keep it down. She did not want to wake anyone and burden them with her train of paranoia, especially not now that she was so close to being one of them. Whatever they called themselves- a family, a support system, a group of friends, coworkers- regardless, Anxiety desperately wanted to be as close as they all seemed to be without putting as much effort as she was into it.

Her teeth overlapped over her bottom lip as she chewed it anxiously, mind racing. She could have easily screwed everything up had she been close to the console while the teacher handed back their test results! What if she gave Riley another attack? What if she hadn’t prepared her enough for the potential of failure? Had Riley been breathing normally when the teacher passed by her desk? Had the other students noticed her tense body language, and, if so, what would they think of her? Was she an anxious mess in their eyes?!!

UGH!! Why didn’t Joy just banish her already?! The stress of waiting for it to happen was making Anxiety’s life miserable! It was clear that she didn’t help anything, not like the others. Even Ennui allowed Riley to remain cool under stressful situations- why couldn’t Anxiety just be like that?

She slapped her fist flat against her head in frustration, trying out the self-stimulating movements she had been reading about in Manuel Eight: Neurodiversity in the Mindscape. It certainly helped relieve a bit of the tension, although now her head was sore.

The temperature in Headquarters had risen significantly due to the speed at which Anxiety was pacing about, the papers stacked on the shelves fluttering as she continued to circle in front of the window. She now gnawed on the tips of her fingers, so deeply entrenched in her spiral that she hardly noticed the lithe figure sluggishly limping down the stairs from their sleeping quarters.

It had been too warm for Ennui to sleep, enough that she dragged herself from her loft, loathing every second she forced herself to move down the stairs at the pace of a wounded animal. Despite the effort it took to leave her bed, Ennui paused when she saw the orange creature pacing around in front of the window, little wisps of electricity trailing after her.

While Anxiety thought she was alone in her fears, the others had noticed her recent decline. Ennui and Envy had found a stray can of energy drink tucked away behind Fear’s box of stuffed animals. They had told the others, but it had been resolved not to outwardly say anything in hopes that Anxiety would feel comfortable enough to reach out- even though Joy had really wanted to take matters into her own hands.

To be honest, the two had forgotten about the meeting in the past month. Envy’s attention span was short, and Ennui had needed a nap afterwards, becoming exhausted by having done anything at all. So, perhaps this was partially their doing.

It had been clear that the new emotion struggled to articulate herself in making decisions, slipping back in to her controlling habits whenever a negative situation presented itself in Riley’s day-to-day life. Even Fear could see that she was more high-strung than himself, his admiration for her preparation skills outweighed by his concern for her well being.

They had all thought she would grow more comfortable with their dynamic and stop being so afraid to open up, now that it had been almost three months, but this did not appear to be the case.

Now, standing off to the side, dressed in an orchid sleep shirt and sweatpants, Ennui yawned, fingers itching for her telephone. She slumped down the rest of the stairs as the temperature rose with every step towards the restless emotion, who had not yet noticed her.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, voice gravelly. Anxiety did not respond, continuing to pace. Ennui resisted the urge to roll her eyes, groaning as she raised her voice.

“AHEM.”

This time, Anxiety did stop, blinking multiple times in succession to stare, mouth agape, at the purple emotion, who merely yawned in response. Her mouth opened and closed a few more times, before she spoke, voice cracking.

“E-Ennui! I did not see you there. Why, ah, why are you awake?”

She waved a hand vaguely around the Control Room, mustering just enough energy to push her bangs away from her eyes, as though this made things clear. “Too hot to sleep.”

Anxiety’s shoulders tensed and then slumped as she realized her pacing had significantly changed the temperature in Headquarters. She felt her face warm. “Sorry.”

“Pas de probleme. I don’t really care. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Gliding over next to Anxiety, Ennui scratched absentmindedly at her face, giving the shorter emotion a look from the corner of her eye. Despite her lethargic nonchalance, Ennui knew the tricks in talking Anxiety down from her obsessions in her own special way.

As expected, Anxiety’s shoulders dropped, and she fiddled with her hands, looking out the window at the labyrinth of long-term memories. Her expression was unreadable, eyebrows knitted together as she thought and thought and thought. Ennui, unlike herself, pushed a bit more.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Ah, nothing. Don’t worry about it- that’s my job, haha!” She forced a laugh, tucking her hands into her armpits with a jerky movement. Ennui raised an eyebrow.

“….”

Anxiety slumped, “Fine. I was just…reviewing the events of today. I didn’t mean to wake you up- I could try making some origami figures again, if that’s quieter- “

“Non. We should talk.” The words escaped Ennui’s mouth before she could stop them, and she inwardly sighed. All she wanted to do was lie down, and yet, here she was, emotionally bonding. Wasn’t this Joy’s job?

Although she could technically care less, a part of Ennui did genuinely want to make sure Anxiety was okay. She could be… nice, if she was bothered enough. It wasn’t like she was heartless; she just didn’t have the energy to fret about most things like everyone else.

“Talk? About what? Today was great! Riley aced her Spanish test; she can’t wait to do karaoke with Bree and Grace; and she even won at UNO! She never wins! What is there to worry about- except for the fact that Bree seemed upset with us for no apparent reason, we tripped in front of Mx. Whittman and nearly knocked over their favourite plant, that dog on the walk home could have bitten us or ruined our new jeans and Joy thinks I’m a worthless emotion and honestly I agree but I can’t say anything otherwise she’ll hate me and-“

Anxiety’s rambling was cut off by Ennui slumping forward to place a hand on her shoulder, her deep indigo eyes staring tiredly at the other. She felt her face warm again, and she stopped speaking, only the smallest squeak escaping.

“Tranquille. I think we need to wake Joy.”

“What?! No, we can’t wake her up! She already had enough of me, and I don’t want to annoy her anymore than I already have.”

But Anxiety’s protests were ignored by Ennui walking away, her form bobbing slightly with every step forward. She was given no time to prepare or protest or run away and hide herself under the couch before Joy- and the others- were entering the Control Room, all dressed in their pyjamas and looking rather sleepy- but somehow not utterly annoyed.

Joy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Her blue eyes looked at Anxiety, who practically cowered before her, with a mixture of concern and preparation. So many nights had unraveled in a similar way. Anxiety did not know the whole truth, but Joy was also struggling to manage herself, her own controlling impulses. There were days when all she wanted to do was scream and yell and push everyone else aside to have Riley all to herself. Days where someone got on her nerves and she wanted to eject them from Headquarters to save herself a headache. But these thoughts didn’t help anyone, not Riley, not the other emotions, not even Joy herself.

So, this was why she was working on being less annoyed with Anxiety. Learning to trust her more, even when it was hard. This was why she mustered a sleepy smile, not a fake smile or an attempt at pushing the negative away, just a smile that said “what do you need?”

“Hey. I heard you were having trouble sleeping?”

Anxiety rubbed her arm, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. I, uhm, making plans and lists didn’t help, and your chair was nice, but it only made me zone out and focus more on my thoughts...”

Envy, who had waddled over to stand beside Anxiety, placed a tiny hand on her leg, offering a big smile. “I'm having trouble sleeping, too! It's hard to adjust to new things, right?”

Anxiety nodded, “Yeah. It is, and I feel so... so different from you guys. I don’t know how I can help Riley when all I do is mess things up.” She looked down at the floor, shuffling her socks on the sleek tile.

What she didn’t see was Joy share a smile with Disgust, or Anger, or Fear, or Sadness. She couldn’t see how even Ennui managed a crooked smirk, or how Embarrassment beamed. Anxiety didn’t know that they had all felt similar thoughts at one point or another, that she was less alone than she thought.

“Anxiety, you don’t mess everything up,” Joy began, clasping her hands together.

“Yeah! You help her make plans and manage her time efficiently, even down to the minute. I wish I had your management skills!” Fear joined in, his teddy bear clutched close to his chest.

“Besides, if you weren’t here, who would keep us in check about all the boring stuff nobody remembers?” Anger gruffly added.

“Or help us remember to keep things around Headquarters running smoothly?” Disgust, looking at her nails, offered her own sly smile.

Sadness, who had moved to stand beside Envy, nodded and patted Anxiety on the back. “Sometimes, it is hard to feel as though you’re helping Riley… you feel small and worthless, right?” Anxiety nodded.

Joy, realizing where she was going with this, nodded and chimed in, “-But, if Riley didn’t need you, you wouldn’t be here with all of us. We love you, just like we love Riley. None of us are perfect- “Disgust raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. “- but that is why we all need to work together, to keep each other in check!”

“Yeah! Could you imagine if Anger was always in control?” Elated laughter bubbled up from Fear’s chest, nudging the red emotion with his elbow, which resulted in him being punched in the arm.

“Pssh. She’d probably kill someone if that was the case,” he shrugged, barely concealing a prideful smile.

“Exactly!” Joy pointed to emphasize her point, relieved that they could finally find something to agree on without the incessant bickering that typically followed. “The point is, Anxiety, we’re a team.”

She knelt down, placing a hand on Anxiety’s shoulder, “All we have is each other, so no more secrets, okay?” Anxiety sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Which means, no more hidden energy drinks around Headquarters, got it?” This made the orange emotion laugh, more so out of nervousness than anything else.

“Good! Glad we got that sorted!” Joy backed up, standing up straight, but she couldn’t help but smile ruefully as Anxiety yawned, her eyelids drooping. All of the energy had been sucked out to fuel her thought spiral, and now she was more exhausted than anything else.

Envy perked up, gesturing for Joy to lift her up. She whispered something excitedly, and Joy beamed. “What a wonderful idea, Envy! I’m jealous I didn’t think of that first!” This made the little turquoise girl bubbly with pride, and she hopped away to enact her plan.

While Anxiety stood still, head drooping forward as she tried to remain awake, the other emotions retreated to their sleeping quarters, retrieving pillows, blankets, nightlights, and stuffed animals to pile up in the control room. Embarrassment constructed a makeshift fort out of the pillows and blankets, while Disgust plugged a lavender-scented diffuser into the Console.

Anxiety blinked quickly, seeing the cozy structure as she snapped out of her reverie. She was confused, and hesitant, and raised a finger in protest.

“Wh-What is this? What about Dream Duty? Your beds? I don’t wanna impose-“

Anger waved an arm dismissively, adjusting his boxer shorts with the other hand, “Eh, they’ve got the night off down at Dream Productions. They’ve been doin’ this new 'one day on, one day off' schedule, which means we all gotta adjust to their stupid idea.” He narrowed his eyes and grumbled, but ultimately let it go when Joy gave him a Look.

“Besides, slumber parties are fun! Why wait until spring break when we can have our own little cozy night in right here? There are no rules to where we have to sleep!”

Sadness raised a hand up slowly, “…actually, Manuel Seventy-Six: Proper Core Emotion Maintenance and Routine states that Headquarters isn’t a sustainable space for emotions to sleep in for long periods of ti-“

Joy waved her hands, cutting Sadness off with a forced grin. Hey, nobody said she was perfect all the time. “Thank you, Sadness, but we’ll be fine for one night!!” She clapped her hands together, “Now, everyone! Grab a pillow and huddle up!”

After a few minutes of moving around, adjusting, and squeezing into the (admittedly tiny) pillow-and-blanket fort, the emotions had settled in and managed to doze off.

Embarrassment lay on the floor, on his back, arms outstretched as the others cuddled close to him, his form warm and comfortable. Having spent most of his days attempting to make himself look smaller or less noticeable, it was nice to support others with his larger size, even if it was a little cramped in the fort itself. He was all cozy in his wool onesie, already snoring softly beneath the glow of the Console.

Disgust laid on the far left, her arms flat at her side, a sleep mask pulled over her eyes, the cooling gel preventing any wrinkles and creating a refreshing nights rest. Only one strand of hair escaped from beneath the hem of her bonnet, but Joy brushed it back in place as she checked in on everyone one last time.

Sadness was curled up beside Disgust, her fists balled up, eyebrows knitted together while she whimpered softly in her sleep. Joy smiled, placing a hand on her cheek to comfort the blue emotion throughout any depressing dreams plaguing her subconscious, and nestled in beside her, their backs pressed together.

Anger was on the far right, barely laying on the edge of Embarrassment’s outstretched arms, his own arms crossed over his chest as he grumbled in his sleep. Despite his insistence that he needed his cinder block pillow to sleep, he had been one of the first to pass out once he begrudgingly laid his head on the fluffy fabric of Embarrassment’s sleeve. Joy had tried to get him something to help him stop gritting his teeth at night, but he had chucked it out the window. Oh, well.

Fear was next to Anger, on his left, sharing his beloved teddy bear with the fiery emotion as he whimpered and kicked his feet. He was having another nightmare, undoubtedly, but this one seemed less tense than the others. At least, if he woke up, he would be surrounded by those he loved most… and the ten nightlights he had plugged in across the Control Room. Joy tucked a stuffed clownfish plush into his arm, just in case.

Beside Fear was Ennui, who had miraculously fallen asleep after a lengthy period of time scrolling her telephone. Joy did not understand what was so interesting on that little device- Riley was obsessed with it, too, but Joy could not understand the appeal of pressing a bunch of little buttons repeatedly with no real-life reward. The indigo emotion was like a snake, curled up with her legs poking out of the fort’s front. Despite her lackluster attitude, Joy found it cute how Ennui was holding Envy, the tiny emotion tucked in between her arms like a little kid. It reminded her of how Mum and Dad used to hold Riley, back when things were so easy.

Before she could get wistful, Joy relaxed back into her position next to Sadness, turning to the one emotion who had brought them all together like this. Anxiety laid in the centre of them all, tucked between Joy and Ennui. Her feet were kicking quickly, not like Fear’s terrified kicking, but more of a self-stimulating activity designed to help her relax. It did not appear to be as effective as she hoped, as the orange emotion was still tense.

Joy pursed her lips and propped her head up on her hands, looking up at the ceiling, mimicking Anxiety, who was doing the same with a wide-eyed stare. They lay in silence before she finally spoke.

“I don’t understand why you forgave me. I nearly ruined Riley’s life.”

Sighing, Joy glanced at Anxiety. “It wasn’t easy. I think the reason why I pushed you away was because I felt threatened by you. You reminded me of... me. O-Of what I couldn’t be for Riley. You were right, neither of us can choose who she gets to be. We can hope for the best for her, but she needs to be her own person.”

Anxiety fiddled with her fingers. “I know. It’s all just so scary... What if we mess it up and hurt Riley? What if I mess it up?”

“Then we try again the next day, and the next, and the next. Riley will still be here tomorrow, no matter how scary today seems, and we need to be there tomorrow, for her sake.” Joy placed her hand on Anxiety’s, and the other emotion stilled entirely, cautioning a glance towards her.

“Thank you, Joy. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need to thank me. This was Envy’s idea.”

She laughed despite herself, nestling deeper into the blankets. Anxiety’s form relaxed enough so that she could comfortably rest her head on one of the many pillows, feathery hair splayed around her like the tail of a peacock.

Joy stared at her affectionately, at all the other emotions with a sense of love. Sure, they got on her nerves, and it was so very hard to be the only positive emotion in a sea of worry and negativity, but they were her family. She was protective of them in a similar way that she was protective of Riley, and it made her feel warm and fuzzy to have them all so close to her, no matter how much problems they caused.

She yawned, feeling her form sparkle around her in little glowing dots of happiness, and lied down, draping an arm over Anxiety. She then paused, wondering if that was okay, but she felt the smaller emotion relax and move closer to her, so she left it there. Sadness snored and pressed her back against Joys, making her feel surrounded by warmth and love.

Maybe, just maybe, it would all work out in the end. At least until tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

[gabessquishytum]

I don't know if you watch a lot of Japanese media but I just watched Hirokazu Koreeda's Air Doll for the first time about a plastic sex doll that comes to life and there's this one scene which was kinky enough I know would catch your interest.

So basically, I'm thinking Hob is walking home from work one day when he discovers this strange human-sized plastic doll that's been thrown out in the dumpster. It's strange because it still seems to be in very good condition and when he looks into its bold blue eyes he can't help but feel mesmerized. Now, his sex life has always been active enough that's he's never had any interest in "those" sort of toys but he decides to take it home on a whim. He doesn't think much of it until he wakes up the next morning to discover a man standing in front of his bed watching him sleep! And he recognizes Dream as the former sex doll right away(the airplug for a belly button kind of gives it away). Neither understands quite how this happens but after some long conversations they just decide to roll with it and live together as roommates. Only problem is Hob finds Dream suuuper attractive but doesn't know how to deal with his feelings considering Dream's probably gone his entire existence only being seen as a sexual object.

One day, while cleaning, Dream accidentally pokes himself on something and quickly begins to deflate. With some quick thinking, Hob tapes up the cut and starts blowing into Dream to revive him. Dream starts to inflate again but as he's blowing, Hob begins to notice ... that's not all that beginning to inflate.

I am not familiar with this particular story I have to admit, but! Speaking of people turning into objects, when the trailer for Chicken Nugget came out, I was like. What if Hob got turned into a chicken nugget and Dream had to take care of him and stop him from being eaten. BUT! I digress.

Blow up doll Dream is terrified that he's deflating, because he assumes that there's no way back. But Hob helps him, comforts him, puts his own mouth over Dream’s mouth to blow air inside him! Dream goes from scared to horny very quickly. Hob’s dedication to saving his life plus the erotic sensation of his mouth just feels incredible in every possible way. His cock starts to fill and inevitably he finds himself standing in front of Hob, incredibly hard. His body is flushed red. Hob is so apologetic, he should have blown into Dream’s proper airhole instead of his mouth, he's so sorry... meanwhile Dream is trembling and hard and he wants to be inside Hob so so much that it actually hurts. He needs to fulfil his purpose....

But he's also feeling romantic attraction for the first time ever, and that's so confusing! He wants Hob to hold him. He wants to be properly loved, not just used for temporary pleasure. Well, he's in luck! Because Hob’s sweet hands are caressing the place where he was taped up, murmuring words of comfort, even draping a bathrobe around Dream to protect his modesty post-deflation. All little acts of love.

And if he leads Dream to bedroom afterwards, and spreads his legs for Dream to use his well-prepped hole....... well, that's an act of love too. Dream feels it, as he sinks his hard, aching, (beautifully plastic) cock into Hob for the first time. He finally feels loved, and like his function is something to be rather proud of after all.

[homestuckreplay]

Average Rose Lalonde Behavior

(page 862-870)

I’m not saying I like Rose better than John, but Rose definitely has the cooler story right now, so I’m glad to be hanging out with her in this super cool lab which may or may not be part of her house. I thought she picked up Jaspers’ corpse because she wanted to prototype her sprite with him – the ‘dark twisting path to necromancy’ she mentions on p.440. But she doesn’t seem upset when she accidentally throws him onto the transportalizer. ‘Oh well. Ashes to ashes you guess.’ (p.863) is reminiscent of ‘I would describe my feelings toward the animal as lukewarm’ (p.442), but could also be more of a ‘I don’t have time to deal with this on top of the other 413 things I’m dealing with’.

But hey. Where did that cat go?? Is Jade going to go outside and there’s just a transportalizer there with a dead cat? Will there be a twist where it’s Jade who prototypes Jaspers, not Rose? The similar technology makes me suspect their locations are linked, as does the ‘UNESTABLISHED IN’ countdown timer. Jade growing up with this timer would explain how she knows today is ‘the big day’ (p.838).

Rose of course enters the lab 4:13 minutes before Skaianet Laboratory is unestablished, which could mean ‘destroyed’ (by a meteor, perhaps) or could mean ‘shut down, power turned off’ and either way, Rose doesn’t have much time. It feels soon to see this timer and could mean this is a short act, or could mean there will be a lot of cutting back and forth between characters. But either way I think Rose getting into the Medium in three minutes having not even connected with a server player yet is a tall order. She might end up just moving to increasingly strange locations while she waits.

It’s very funny that Rose ‘I think trees are elegant’ Lalonde has been using trees wrong for the entirety of her fetch modus career. ‘Root’ even being an option is like sorting price from high to low, it’s a totally unnecessary function that makes everything worse. I love on page 868 where Rose captchalogues the hub while still holding her laptop, and there’s a cable leading into her sylladex – I am contorting my understanding of 3D space to process this but it’s a cool moment, I really like the reminder that this compression of space is normal for these kids, and it’s a cool visual when the connected cards shuffle around each other.

The hub also has a very pleasing design. It’s green and square and has lights and buttons. Undeniably a piece of science technology.

PM was an absolute beast with that sword and beheaded that giant mailbox eating worm like it was NOTHING. They’re also far more adept with the bunker terminal controls than WV. From a story perspective, it works that the bunker’s countdown and >HOME command were a big deal and a story-expanding moment in act 2, but now those mechanisms are established, it’s all pushed into simpler images in an external page that indicate ‘the same thing happens’. That’s helpful if a story is going to use a lot of patterns and repetition.

Mailboxes are not cans but I think there could be a place for them in Can Town, when WV and PM presumably meet up on Jade’s island. PM’s sword could probably open a can and the two of them can share in BEETS and MAYO. PM will love WV’s trusty knife. And maybe they can look at that mysterious undelivered letter that’s visible in one of PM’s mailboxes….

> Rose: Check out John's work on the GameFAQs.