#yes he is the recreation of a dead man

[melodyofthevoid]

I'M GOING TO THROW MYSELF INTO THE SEA!!!! THIS IS SO CUTE!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!

he has no problem with that

little animatic of me and @melodyofthevoid 's blorbos

[evilminji]

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[chillian-murphy]

Experimental Treatment

SUMMARY: after numerous failed attempts to treat your anxiety, you enroll in an experimental drug trial run by Dr. Jonathan Crane (OR: how you became Dr. Crane's bimbo fuckslave)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dub con, drugging, mention of anxiety disorders, bimboification, brainwashing kinda??, breast/nipple play, oral sex (m receiving), piv, Jonathan is manipulative and possibly a nevernude

beta'd by @pawnsong

You shifted nervously as you sat in Dr. Crane’s office for the first time. You’d tried numerous treatments for your trauma-related anxiety, but nothing seemed to work. It had been about a year since you had been beaten, tied up, and left for dead in a supply closet by one of Gotham’s many aspiring criminals, and you haven’t been able to eat, sleep, or generally care for yourself since. When you heard about an experimental treatment study happening at the local university, you enrolled as quickly as you could, moving faster than you’d ever moved in your life. You knew there was no one therapy or pill that could fix everything, but at this point, you were desperate for any sort of relief that could be offered.

The man that entered was much younger than you expected; you always pictured the doctor running a drug trial to be much older, maybe even a bit weathered from the stress of working in such a nightmarish city. Instead, he was small, slender, and had an almost angelic baby face.

“Tell me about what brings you here today.” He sat down without looking up from his chart.

“It should all be there, but to summarize: about a year ago I was assaulted and have been experiencing extreme anxiety, depression, and nightmares since. I can’t eat more than a few bites of food at a time without vomiting, and can’t remember the last time I’ve had a few night’s sleep. I’ve tried talk therapy and a slew of medications, including SSRIs, SNRIs, and benzodiazepines, but nothing seems to work.”

By this point, you’ve gone over your symptoms and previous treatments so many times that you had a well rehearsed script you relied on when recounting them. You worried that listing everything off in such a matter-of-fact way would lead people to think you’re just seeking drugs for recreational reasons, but fuck, what didn’t you worry about these days?

“As I’m sure you were told when you were applying for the trial, my background is in pharmacology and I’ll be putting you on an experimental drug of my own creation. I won’t bore you with the specifics of how it works, but you’ll receive a fast-acting injection once a week, and it should calm your nerves and improve your sleep. The exact effects aren’t well documented as of yet, which is why you’re here. All of the proper consent forms should be in order, so if you like, I can start you on the injections here and now.”

“Yes, please, whatever gets me my life back the soonest.” As nervous as you were to be injected with something you knew almost nothing about, part of you was almost giddy to be given something that might finally work.

“The drug can have some sedative effects, so no driving, at least for the first 24 hours. Do you have someone to pick you up? Family, a roommate? A boyfriend, perhaps?” Dr. Crane continued to inform as he prepared a syringe.

“I took public transport. Not a lot of people in my life.” you chuckled nervously.

“All alone. What a shame.”

Before you could mentally register his comment as odd, you were startled by the coldness of an alcohol wipe rubbing against your arm and the sharpness of a needle being inserted.

“You should start feeling the effects in about 5-10 minutes. I’m sending you home with a packet detailing what you should expect, as well as my phone number if anything unusual happens. It might be difficult, but I want you to take detailed notes on everything you experience, and we’ll review them when you come in for your next dosage.”

It proved a bit difficult to make your way home as the medication’s effects set in. Your body felt heavy and sleepy, and you had trouble concentrating; even reading the familiar train schedule felt impossible. Thankfully, some sort of muscle memory kicked in and you made it home safely, letting your brain turn off and follow your usual routine out of habit alone. The mindlessness felt weirdly comforting, you barely realized that you had moved from your spot on the subway until you were at your front door, fishing around for your keys in your bag.

The rest of the night went by pretty uneventfully, following your usual routine, with the addition of writing down your response to the medications in the journal included with Dr. Crane had provided you with. For the first night in as long as you could remember, you settled into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted the full night.

*********************************************************

A week had passed since your initial meeting, and you were in Dr. Crane’s office again to go over how the medication had affected you and to receive your next dosage. You brought the journal you had taken notes in, although you were unsure how helpful it would be since you had mostly jotted down bullet points instead of writing down your experiences in-depth. It was the most you could do, since you were having trouble concentrating after you were dosed. Shit, that was another thing you should’ve written down.

The doctor entered quietly and greeted you with a tense smile, the kind of polite grimace you’d make upon accidentally making eye contact with a stranger in public. He motioned for you to hand over your journal of notes as he sat, and you passed it to him while trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. He had never done anything to make you uncomfortable aside from being a bit terse, but he still gave you an uneasy feeling. 

“Let’s look at what you’ve written down. Your notes are brief, but at least they’re organized.”

Once again, terse. It was tempting to want to interrupt and explain how hard it was to focus on writing every little thing down when you kept forgetting where you were or what you were doing, often wandering into a room only to realize you couldn’t remember why you went there, but speaking up felt like too much trouble all of a sudden. After all, wasn’t Dr. Crane being soooo nice, offering to help you with your anxiety?

You had no idea where that thought came from. Weird.

“Grogginess, that’s to be expected, the drug was designed with sedative qualities. Forgetfulness, once again, not uncommon. Sleeping through the night? Good. Breast growth? I’d like you to elaborate.”

“I started getting my appetite back and gaining weight—“

“Weight gain is typical if you’re eating more regularly than you were before,” he interjected before you could finish. God, did he think you were fucking stupid?

“But I only seemed to gain weight around my breasts and hips.”

“Are you saying you’d rather have a double chin and beer belly?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I can’t fit into any of my old bras. Bras are expensive.” It really felt like talking to a brick wall.

“Understood.” He scribbled a few quick notes before looking back up at you. “Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” Relief sank in when you realized this meant that your meeting was wrapping up.

“Then I’ll give you your next dose and let you go. Please continue to take notes, even if they are brief. Any information you can give me is immeasurably helpful.” He gave you what must’ve been his version of a reassuring smile, tight and forced, before motioning for you to roll up your sleeve and receive your next shot. A cold jab in the arm was administered, and you were on your way.

*********************************************************

The next week passed largely without note, the intense brain fog from the first dosage had lessened into a sort of ditzy forgetfulness, which was still inconvenient but easier to live with. You misplaced things, forgot what you were doing, and lost track of time regularly, but somehow it all seemed easier to just laugh off. Had it not been for a reminder on your phone, you probably would’ve forgotten all about your weekly meeting with Dr. Crane.

The usual unease you felt around him was gone; you were almost looking forward to talking to him. He was the only one you could really talk to about everything that had happened since starting the trial, and how good you’ve been feeling, how your racing thoughts have slowed, and how sometimes you didn’t seem to think at all. It was a relief you never knew existed.

You were so caught up in thinking about not thinking that you hadn’t noticed Dr. Crane entering, sitting down, or speaking to you until he cleared his throat impatiently.

“I said, do you have your notes from this week?”

“Oh, right, here.” You casually tossed over your journal, even though your notes were even more scant than the first week. You had written just three things: 

boobs keep growing

really sensitive

really horny!!

thoughts not happening

“This is the second time you’ve mentioned your breasts.” It didn’t take long for Dr. Crane to skim your brief notes. “Would you mind showing them to me?”

Despite his relaxed posture, his stare felt about a thousand times more intense as you squirmed in your seat.

“That feels inappropriate.”

“I’m a medical professional. I assure you, I’m only trying to verify what you’ve reported.”

Cautiously, you pulled the front of your top down, exposing yourself to him. To your surprise, doing this didn’t make you feel nervous or vulnerable, despite always feeling rather timid about being seen naked in the past. Showing off for the doctor felt weirdly <i>right</i>, like the best thing you could do in any situation would be to do what he says.

He scooted forward on his wheeled office chair, leaning in to examine you closer, never losing the icily neutral look on his face. It’s not that you wanted him to leer, but something, anything other than stony professionalism would’ve gone a long way, especially as he reached out to touch you.

“You’ve gone up… two, maybe three cup sizes? Have you taken any measurements?” He cupped your round, heavy breast lightly, as if to evaluate it. His hand was surprisingly warm, you always assumed that his cold personality would extend to his touch, and that being handled by him would be like being prodded by a metal instrument.

“I dunno… enough that men have started being nicer to me.” Measuring hadn’t even occurred to you. A lot of things stopped occurring to you. It was so much easier just letting yourself not think.

“And you said they’re sensitive.” Gentle cupping had turned into squeezing, firm enough to make you aware of just how strong his hands are. You wanted to moan and lean into his touch, but you didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

“Yes” you squeaked out. “Really sensitive.”

“You also wrote down that you were, in your own words, really horny. Now, I’m going to need some elaboration, is that an increase in sex drive, or more like constant arousal? I need you to be as descriptive as possible.” He rolled your nipple between his fingers before turning his attention to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

“It’s both. I’m just… always horny, and I come so much harder now. Sometimes I sneak off during work to rub myself in the bathroom. I can’t help it, it just feels so good, so much better than it did before.” You knew it was for the study, but telling him this much, especially while he touched you like this, felt… weird, like it shouldn’t be happening. But you didn’t want it to stop.

“Are you aroused right now?” If your brain wasn’t clouded by how much you were turned on, you would notice the subtle smirk on his face. Instead, you just nodded eagerly.

“Now, I’ll have to stop touching you so I can write all this down. You’ve given me some crucial information, and as a thank you, you’re welcome to grind against my shoe and get yourself off while I record everything you just told me.” He casually extended his leg as an invitation.

You dropped to your knees promptly, bare breasts bouncing with every movement, and stared up at him dumbly as you straddled his foot. He barely glanced at you while he jotted notes down, even as you rubbed yourself against the shiny black leather of his shoe. It didn’t take long at all for you to climax, and when your orgasm hit you, it hit you so hard that it was honest-to-god disorienting. It took you a moment to remember where you were as you shuddered and fell backwards to the floor.

This was enough to finally get Dr. Crane’s attention. You stared back up at him with big, doe eyes as you finally realized how bizarre and even <i>wrong</i> it was for a doctor to grope you and encourage you to masturbate in front of him.

“Good girl. Cover yourself and let me give you your next dose.”

The faint bit of praise sent shocks down your spine as you pulled your top back over your breasts and climbed back into your seat, and the way Dr. Crane touched you as he administered the injection felt gentler than usual, almost tender. As soon as the drug entered your bloodstream, any apprehension you had about what just happened quickly disappeared.

*********************************************************

“These… aren’t notes in any way, shape or form.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples in frustration as he looked at the page of doodles you handed him, mostly hearts, stars, and smiley faces.

“I couldn’t think of anything to write. I thought I would make it pretty instead.” you shrugged as you sat with your legs folded in a criss-cross on the couch in his office, not noticing or caring that the position hiked up your already short skirt in a way that revealed your lacy panties. It was true, you couldn’t remember a single thought, new effect, or even what you did from day to day over the past week.

“If you can’t record and report how the drugs are affecting you, you won’t be of any use to the trial and we’ll have to take you off the drug.” he chided, as if explaining himself to a small child. “Because right now, you’re just wasting my time.”

“But I like the drug! I feel better!” you whined, rocking back and forth and pouting for emphasis. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just tell me what to do.”

“Can you tell me anything? Anything at all?” His tone was becoming more condescending, to the point where it got through to even your druggy little brain. He stared at you, daring you to say something, but all you could do was stare back at him dumbly. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’ll have the nurses prepare the outtake forms. I wish you could have been more useful to me.” He spoke curtly as he stood and gathered his belongings, not even dignifying you with eye contact. You were nothing but a broken tool to be discarded.

“But I need this!” You desperately attempted to stand and follow him as he left, but were unable to unfold your legs and spilled on the floor, catching the leg of his pants and staring back up at him with big, pleading eyes.

You were desperate, you were pathetic, you were suddenly useful again.

“I’m surprised you’re this determined to stay in the trial. I suppose we do have one last option: since you’re unable to record your own data, I will have to watch you and take notes myself. I have a spare room in my apartment that you can move into, which should be more comfortable than being committed to the hospital and allow me more access to observe you. Is that something you would consent to?”

You nodded eagerly, although you’d agree to anything as long as it meant not going back to the anxious, overthinking mess of a person that you were before. It was so much simpler being simple.

“I’m taking a big risk on you. I need you to do something for me, to show you’re serious about wanting to continue with the trial.” He gestured towards the growing bulge in his pants, which was mere inches from your face. You stared silently, not sure he was inferring, but your mouth instinctively watered and dropped open when he nudged your head towards his clothed dick.

You pawed at his tented trousers until he got impatient and undid the zipper himself and freed his erection from his boxer briefs, and you quickly got to work bobbing your head over his length, lavishing the head with your tongue. Your eyes watered as you pushed as much of his cock down your throat as you could, making yourself gag lightly but never enough to deter you. You didn’t care that drool was dribbling down your chin, Dr. Crane’s cock was all that mattered.

He grasped a fistful of your hair, reinforcing the rhythm of your movements, and shoving you further down on his cock. No matter how visibly uncomfortable you were, you never pushed back or struggled, you just accepted your place as a living fucktoy. Mascara was running down your cheeks and your skin was flushed and glassy with sweat, almost looking like the plasticky sheen of a blow-up doll.

Dr. Crane grunted as he came in spurts down your throat, still tender from the rough treatment. You didn’t waste a single drop of what he gave you, and ran your tongue over his slit to collect any remaining seed. Once you swallowed everything, you wiped the saliva from your face and smiled up at him sweetly.

“Can we go home now?”

*********************************************************

You had lost count of how many days it had been since Dr. Crane brought you home, in fact, most of your life outside of the past few weeks had been something of a blur. It didn’t matter, though, as being his pretty little pet didn’t require you to think much. You spent most of your days lounging about, watching porn, staring out the window, or oohing and aahing over the pretty clothes he brought home for you. It took him a while to settle on a style when he replaced your wardrobe, dressing you in everything from latex minidresses to 1950s housewife apparel, but eventually found that he favored soft, feminine babydolls in light colors like pink and white.

You were admiring the ruffled hem of the slip you were wearing when you heard him unlocking the door to his apartment, and you immediately rushed over to greet him. Seeing him was the best part of your day, and you couldn’t wait to sit in his lap and talk to him about your busy day of watching yourself edge in front of the mirror.

It had become something of a routine, he would settle into his favorite recliner after coming home from work, and you’d straddle him with your breasts in his face while he felt you up and vented about whatever was bothering him. His job at the university was soooo stressful, apparently conducting experiments on unwitting students is “frowned upon,” whatever that meant. You were always happy to make him feel better.

“…and the dean can’t even appreciate the validity of my work. Opening up the skull of a live subject is the most reliable way to observe changes in the brain, regardless of whether or not the ethics board likes it.” You had no idea what he was even talking about, but you did your best to seem sympathetic, hugging his neck and pulling his head into your chest.

“My day was hard, too. My vibrator stopped working and I had to rub myself by hand.”

“Did you try changing the batteries?”

You thought about what he said for a few seconds and fell into a fit of giggles.

“Duh! Batteries go in the vibrator! You’re so smart, you always think of the best things.”

“That’s why I do all the thinking in the relationship. You just look pretty and keep your holes ready.” He frowned at you in faux concern, as if you were capable of having thoughts of your own.

“I do keep my holes ready!” You bounced excitedly in his lap. You were so, so good at having holes and keeping them ready. Dr. Crane even told you so.

“Wanna show me how nice and ready they are?" his hands skimmed over your body, from the top of your waist down to your thighs and then around back to your ass, which he squeezed firmly, making you gasp softly. You raised the hem of your slip and pulled your panties to the side, revealing your pussy, which was wet from edging all day. You were never allowed to let yourself come while he was gone, that was a special privilege that only he was allowed to give you.

“Beautiful. And your ass?”

You rose from his lap, turned around, and bent over to show him the plug you’ve had in for the past hour.

“I started with the small one and put the bigger one in when you texted me, just like you asked." The plugs always felt weird and you didn't like the bigger ones, but if Dr. Crane wanted you to wear them, then obviously there was a good reason. He’s so handsome and smart, you’d do anything he said.

“Good girl." His praise made your heart sing as he fucked the toy in and out of you. He knew anal play frustrated you, and it was so cute to watch as you tried not to squirm as the bulbous plug disappeared in your ass. Maybe he’d lock your pussy away in a chastity belt and make you masturbate anally all day instead of your usual edging.

Dr. Crane could hardly believe how much his little experiment had changed you. When he started the trial, it was mainly to indulge his curiosity about how the antidote to his fear toxin would affect people with no fear toxin exposure, and most of the other participants reacted to it the same way they would to any other common anxiolytic, save for one particularly unfortunate person who had their fear response reduced so drastically that they walked into oncoming traffic without realizing it was dangerous. But you? You turned into the perfect fuckdoll: always aroused, eager to please, and too oblivious to notice the strange hours he kept as both a professor and as Scarecrow.

Of course, there were some down sides: he had hoped to mold you into something of a stepford wife, not only taking care of his needs in the bedroom but other domestic duties as well. Yet after your third time nearly setting the kitchen on fire while trying to cook a simple meal, he had to accept that you had simply become too airheaded to trust with anything but sex.

“Can we fuck now? My pussy needs you." You whined, interrupting the train of thought that had pulled Dr. Crane’s focus away from you.

“Good girls don't whine like that, sweetheart. I could fuck you, but for that I think I’ll make you wait until after dinner.” He chided. You were so much fun to toy with when you got desperate.

"But I am a good girl! Let me show you.” You pouted and begged.

“If you’re an extra good girl, you’ll be quiet while I’m cooking dinner and then we can fuck.” His tone was equal parts syrupy and condescending, “if not, you can spend the rest of the night gagged and locked in your cage. The choice is yours.”

Not wanting to spend the night locked in a dog crate, you crossed your arms and sulked, but nevertheless obeyed as you sunk into the couch. Your needy little pussy was aching, but you had to be a good girl for Dr. Crane. Even if it was mean and bad and unfair and… Oh? There’s a plate being placed in front of you, dinner must be ready already.

As soon as Dr. Crane sat down beside you, you snuggled into his side. Physical affection wasn’t something he was used to before bringing you home, and it took him some time to come around to it, but now he was actually starting to enjoy the amount of cuddles and kisses you desired from him. Spooning on the couch while trying to eat wasn’t the most practical thing in the world, although you were determined to find a way to bury your face in his chest while also stuffing it with mashed potatoes.

“Someone’s needy tonight,” he teased as he stroked your hair.

You just hummed contentedly and nuzzled your face into his neck. He was warm and smelled nice, like everything in the apartment. The one time you tried opening the window, it smelled like rot and gasoline, and made you sad and scared as it filled your head with vague memories of your old life.

Dinner passed comfortably and quietly, even as you squirmed to find a position that let you eat and snuggle at the same time. Dr. Crane’s attention was largely on the nightly news playing on the television, nodding along with the crime report. The news was mostly boring to you, except for that one weird time that a woman who looked like you and had your name was reported missing. Dr. Crane told you not to worry about it, though, so you didn’t.

“I’d say you’ve been a very good girl this evening,” Dr. Crane shifted to face you. “Would you like to join me in the bedroom?”

“What’s in the bedroom?” You stared blankly.

“Sex, sweetheart. I’m asking you if you would like to have sex.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples. Perhaps drugging your brains out but leaving you just smart enough to talk was a mistake.

Sex! Sex was exactly what you wanted! Sex was what you dreamed about all day, edging your pussy and thinking of Dr. Crane. Your face lit up, which he took as a sign to lead you to the bedroom.

As you approached the bed, he toyed with the strap of your chemise, gliding it off your shoulder so it hung suggestively.

“I want this off.” His voice was soft, but his unblinking gazes held all the authority in the world over you.

“Yes, sir.” You made quick work of the garment, pulling it over your head and flinging it to the floor.

“Panties, too.”

Those silently slid off next, leaving you completely nude while he remained fully clothed.

Dr. Crane’s breath stilled for a moment as he took in the sight in front of him. It only took a few weeks of being dosed for your body to reshape into a bouncy hourglass, with full breasts, a slim, defined waist, and a round ass with thighs to match. A soft, trimmed patch of hair adorned your pussy, just above the lips, with everything else kept bare. Occasionally you’d have your pubic hair waxed into a heart, which he found ridiculous, but was easy enough to overlook if it kept you happy.

Once he was done drinking in the sight of your body, he gently shoved you onto the bed and guided your legs open, settling in between. His hand made its way to your eager little pussy, spreading the lips and pressing inside, making you shudder in pleasure.

“Have you been this wet for me all day, baby?” His voice now a low rasp, thick with desire.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed in affirmation, too lost in the sensation to form words.

“God, you’re good for me.” He growled as he dived on top of you, kissing your neck and fondling your breasts. You couldn’t help but moan when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging lightly. You were always responsive, but especially when he played with your tits.

He trailed soft bites down from your neck to your nipples, gently nipping at any skin he could grasp between his teeth. Once he got to your chest, he got more aggressive, sinking his teeth into you until you whimpered in pain. Your breasts were his favorite. He had never given much thought to the “tits or ass?” question before, but now that he could come home to a soft, inviting pair to play with and suck, he knew where his preference lied.

Feeling satisfied that your nipples were now swollen and pink from both arousal and abuse, Dr. Crane removed himself from on top of you to once again admire your needy body and tease your cunt. Even when he was just fucking you with his fingers, you moaned and rolled your hips as if it was the best thing you’ve ever felt. Some nights it could drag on for hours, he would stimulate you with just his hands or a toy only to withdraw before you could climax, giving pleasure and taking it away over and over to see just how desperate he could make you. It was no secret that Dr. Crane was a sadist, and watching you squirm, cry, and beg was almost as good to him as coming inside of you.

Tonight was different, though, he wanted to fuck. He pulled his fingers out of you and freed himself from his trousers and underwear, making a show of rubbing his cock with the wet essence covering his fingers as he lined himself up with your tight, eager hole. He pushed himself in slowly, savoring how hot and slick you felt around him.

Your life revolved around his cock. If you weren’t sucking on it or being filled by it, you were fantasizing about the next time you would have it inside of you. And now that you were being given exactly what you were craving, you couldn't get enough, grinding back against Dr. Crane every time his hips met yours.

No longer satisfied with the languid pace he had set earlier, Dr. Crane pulled back slightly, helping to lift your hips and push your legs towards your chest, essentially folding you in half so he could penetrate you deeper and harder. His new rhythm was merciless as his fingers dug into your thighs, pistoning his hips and fucking you like his life depended on it. Whatever frustration he felt with his job, his colleagues, and his extracurricular activities, he was now taking out on your pussy and all you could do was grip the sheets and take it. 

Between the powerless feeling reinforced by his rough treatment and the way his cock was hitting your g-spot, you couldn't help but let your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You were fulfilling your ultimate purpose as Dr. Crane’s pet: a pretty toy to play with and look at, and an inviting set of holes to fuck. You could come from the thought alone if you were allowed to orgasm without permission. You met each of his thrusts with short, staccato moans as you arched your back beneath him, sticking out your chest as your breasts bounced with every hammering movement.

Dr. Crane’s breath grew ragged as he approached his own climax, and his motions changed from a fluid rhythm to jerky, rough thrusts.

“Play with your clit. Come for me."

Finally given the permission you’ve been needing all evening, you began rubbing yourself vigorously as he continued ramming his cock into you. It didn't take much to push you over the edge, and as your orgasm hit, you moaned so loud and luridly that it would make most seasoned pornographers blush.

Dr. Crane wasn't nearly as noisy as he joined you in orgasmic bliss, panting heavily as he filled you with his seed. Once he found himself thoroughly drained, he collapsed next to you and silently attempted to catch his breath as you rolled over and snuggled up to his chest.

“Let's go again!" you excitedly chirped while reaching for his softened cock.

“Later, sweetheart, I need to rest.” He had no idea how you recovered so quickly. "Why don't you play with yourself while you're full of my come? I know you like that.”

"It's not the same,” you begged. "I need your cock.”

"How about this,” Dr. Crane's clinical doctor voice was back. "You can warm my cock in your mouth while I grade papers, and once I'm good and ready, I’ll fuck your throat while you ride one of your dildos.”

You made a happy little squeal as you smiled and hugged him tightly. He took such good care of you, keeping you so well-fucked. You had everything you could ever want: you were safe, you were loved, you were happy. And all you had to do was let your brain be turned into cotton candy.

[galedekarios]

down among the dead men

i finally finished reading sylvia feketekuty's short story in tevinter nights. sylvia feketekuty is also emmrich's writer in dragon age: the veilguard.

i wanted to compile what we learn about emmrich in sylvia's short story.

emmrich likes tea

"What happened then?" the older mage tilted a pot of tea encouragingly toward Audric.

his study is described in detail

Audric shook his head--he didn't feel like tea, particularly--while his eyes soaked in the room. He'd never been in a necromancer's study before. Ornately decorated skulls hung from hooks in the high, dark ceiling. One wall was made up of shelves with books and tiny labeled drawers. The other was fronted by tables full of bubbling flasks, scales, alembics, and tortured-looking glass. A smartly attired servant ground away with a pestle and mortar.

"Excellent question!" Emmrich swirled the tea in his mug, looking entirely too cheerful, Audric thought, for a man framed by so many racks of skulls.

the description of his study in down among the dead men is very, very reminiscent of his room in the lighthouse that bioware revealed a few days ago:

emmrich may have recreated the comforts of his study in nevarra within the lighthouse.

emmrich lets manfred mix tinctures

"Please, don't mind Manfred." The older mage refilled his own cup. "He'll finish mixing that tincture before you know it." Manfred, a clean-boned skeleton, held up a bowl. Audric read something helpful in the cant of its skull. The younger mage looked critical. "It needs half a cup more elfroot." The corpse pulled out one of the drawers on the side of the room, took out a withered root, and shook it inquiringly. "The royal elfroot, please." Manfred moaned and fumbled at more drawers.

emmrich compliments manfred's successes and is proud of him

"Yes! That's the one." The older mage beamed. "Very good indeed, Manfred!"

emmrich's appearance is described as well by audric

Audric dragged his gaze to the older Watcher across from him, with his silvered hair, tidy mustache, and long face full of concern. His expression reminded Audric of the Chantry scholars when they'd caught him reading by candlelight in the library. The good brothers and sisters had kindly tried to dissuade Audric from living in pages for so long he couldn't think straight in the morning.

i think they a phenomenal job bringing emmrich to life (no pun intended).

emmrich is quite informal, cares about putting someone else at ease, he treats audric as he would a living person, never forcing him to arrive at a conclusion or pressuring him

"Is there anything else you can recall about Lord Karn's funeral?" the mage asked gently. "No? I think... not much, sir. Another guard, she, well... Dellah even had to peel him off me, sir." The necromancer waved a hand. "Emmrich will do, please."

macabre sense of humour

"It's... sorry, it's a blur of screams, sir." "Some of it your own, I'd bet," the necromancer joked, but looked so sympathetic Audric relaxed by a degree.

he is indeed a professor/very scholarly

"Myra picked up the curved rib bone. One end was jagged from where Audric's boot had connected with Karn's rib cage. She handed it to Emmrich. "Excellent. Emmrich? This is your remit." "I'll have it ready before sunset." He sighed. "It would be faster if we'd managed to replace the librarian by now. The students have naturally left the books a mess."

this all fits so well with the blurb we were given about him not so long:

"Emmrich is as serious about his duty to protect innocents from the occult as he is about his studies and his interest in the mysteries of the fade."

don't leave the books in disorder, please.

emmrich is renowned to be good at what he does by other mourn watchers

"Myrna seemed content to leave things there, and took something out of a velvet purse. A rib bone. "Emmrich's prepared your trophy for us. His cathexis is very reliable." Audric felt the ground tilt downslope. "Madam?" "His magic." She tapped the rib bone. "This will now guide us to where Lord Karn's fled. Emmrich would join us, but he's been called to other matters."

i had to look up what cathexis means exactly and it's defined as follows:

In psychoanalysis, cathexis (or emotional investment) is defined as the process of allocation of mental or emotional energy to a person, object, or idea. [...] Cathexis comes to us by way of New Latin from the Greek word kathexis, meaning "holding."

myrna uses a skeleton to send a message to emmrich, presumably he might employ similar methods of communication if available

"Good." Myrna sent a mote of light into a nook in the wall. A moment later, a skeleton fell out, hissing and snapping. Myrna snagged it with a collar of green fire, tugged it like a leash. "Does that... hurt it?" Audric asked, more sympathetic to the shambling thing than he'd been a minute ago. "The sensations differ. With some of the dead, one must exert direct control." The skeleton subsided, making a strange whine. "A message," the Mourn Watcher told it. "Find Professor Emmrich Volkahrin. Tell him after some last business in the Winged Halls, we'll be joining him above without delay."

this description reminded me a bit of the brief glimpses we got of emmrich in the very first companion trailer:

emmrich appreciates punctuality & holding oneself to prior commitments

"You heard my message to Emmrich." She crooked a finger, gesturing to Audric. "We'll be expected. It won't be difficult to return from here. Audric looked around. "I can... I'm allowed to come back with you?" "Of course. Myrna lifted her skirts and stepped over a chunk of stone from the fight. "Emmrich will be put out if we don't show up for tea."

emmrich is incredibly kind when dealing with spirits and undead, no matter their rank or standing in life

"They were back in Emmrich's den. Audric had been astonished to see familiar tomes in a neat stack on the necromaner's desk. "Those... are those...?" "Yours, yes. From your home." Emmrich shook his head. "Forgive the liberty, guardsman. After you and Myrna left for the Necropolis, I had to search for a reason you might have returned so unexpectedly." "I believe we found it," Mysrna said, from where she was overseeing Emmrich's manservant transfer the contents of a bubbling beaker into a bowl. Emmrich handed the top book to Audric. It was a gazetteer of Nevarra City, stamped with a crowned skull surrounded by flowers. Audric flipped it open and read the blocky inscription. To our Son with Love. May you be Blessed in your Studied with the Chantry. "All this effort... for me? I'm just a guardsman, sir." Am? Was? Audric pushed doubt aside and held the gazetteer to his chest. He existed, knew what he loved, and that he had been loved, and that seemed enough in the moment. "The great leveler has no favourites." Emmrich smiled. "Neither does the Mourn Watch."

i found this reaction to myrna and audric quite interesting, and i'm not completely sure what to make of it yet:

"You are faced with a choice," Myrna said, coming over. "You have confronted your killer, and recognised your driving passion. You may rest now, guardsman." "Or?" "Or you may work under the auspices of a Watcher," Myrna said. "Under a modicum of magical control. To avoid anomie, the bond must be given freely." "To you, madam?" "If it's satisfactory." The guardsman ducked his head, and because that felt inadequate, knelt on a knee and held out a hand. Myrna, smiling slightly, took it. Emmrich coughed, looking away. "Please, let the poor fellow up. What position were you thinking?" "I thought it was obvious." Audric felt a slow excitement as he heard Myrna say: "We have a great need for someone to take charge of the library."

overall, i really liked this short story.

i loved how audric wasn't aware that he is, in fact, dead and has died a while ago. i loved how both emmrich and myrna didn't correct his assumption, but led him to the realisation. i love all the little insights we got into emmrich as a character, but also nevarra's culture, necromancy and the mourn watch.

it's definitely one of the best in the book. 🖤

[brights-place]

Hii! If it’s okay, could I please request some hcs of Leif from MID with a motherly s/o?

The reader doesn’t have to be female, I just think that he deserves a nurturing partner after all that childhood trauma

Lief X Motherly! Reader

Pairings: Leif X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Some angsty shit, mentions of Murder, Cursing A/N: Dude I can't agree more that Lief deserves someone to nurture him LIKE OMLLLLLLLLL! this man when Rhys and him had the argument and leif said "your not the only one who tells me that" I was so shocked - Leif had like a really SHITTY PAST DUDE - You were Ava's neighbor so you wanted to greet her the day after her interview - So having you be there makes him so confused how could you handle him? how could you handle his personality - Leif is a bit feisty but also very bold when it comes to things and leif can be shown to be slightly challenging and quick to assume things such as him instantly assuming Ava your BFF was dead when she was found to be unconscious. - Leif was shown to be dangerous as shown by the many threats towards Ava's life... yet you showed cared for him? you wrapped up him whenever he got hurt and would scold him - He first got pissed at you and thought you were challenging him on his healing abilities - but you were showing him kindness which most daemos find weak - You took care of Ava properly and made sure she was fine and all the daemos men called you Ava's head Lady in Waiting  - You were there in the morning helped and fixed her place as you took care of her. Ava saw you as a mother figure yes she has her own parents but having you was nice - You cared for her and showed her motherly attention and when you tried to show the other daemos that care - Violent tendencies come to him so he pulls out his sickles and would try to charge at someone so you have to restrain him the most and he gets pissy

- When Leif came across you he was immediately struck by your warm and comforting presence. - When someone gets your attention he gets defensive and would try get your attention back onto him - he has abandonment issues so he likes to be by your side but he doesn't speak up about it at all for example Ava was explaining how to put on the clothes for the others - You know how he likes poking ava with you its even worse he pokes but sometimes likes to touch diffrent parts of your bodies randomly. You could be washing dishes and he would pop up behind you touching your waist an then try to scold him but he's always far away - Even as a healer he finds it annoying how you try to patch him up - He likes to sharpen his sickles and shows it off to you as you just make sure he is alright - He likes to talk about him being a ex-assassin and flezes it as you tell him how cruel it was as he just stares at you - Believe it or not Leif respects you more than anyone in this world aka earth I mean- have you seen yourself? but he says he doesn't respect anyone - The group saw you punch a guy who tried to touch you and ava inappropriately due to being drunk the guy passed out with a singular punch - You gained their respect but when leif tried to join in on punching the male you dragged his ass away - he started to like you after awhile and would flirtatiously threaten you as you scold him like always which he enjoys - He smirks alot and I mean alot but he enjoys staring at you when you do things - You asked him about his past and he was hesitant and you apologized and told him when he was ready he told you anyway as you frowned telling him that he didn't deserve that -  you soon pointed out to him that distracting himself from his trauma by focusing all of his energy into his work killing started to become recreational for him as it was the only mechanism that could relieve emotional pain. - he became so dependent on bloodshed to keep him mentally stable almost as if it were an addiction - Leif would look away and scoff and tries to tell you off as you deadpan at him with an look 'Bro I know' - You give him ideas on how to relax himself as you give him plants for him to take care of due to noticing when you brought a plant to give to Ava he wouldn't stop staring at it - So you give him these plants to look after and explain they need light and water - He flexes it and says it was 'special' cause he tried to repeat all the facts you say about them so he seems smart - so when he watched one die after a couple of days he freaks out and rushes to ava demanding her to summon you cause you weren't there due to you being at work - You got off work and explained to Leif that it died due to not being taken care of so he makes sure to ask if he's doing stuff correctly which makes you confused how he is so calm - He has a short patience and would go off at a moment not like Asch but still has a short temper - threatens Ava for him to hangout at your apartment whenever you try to leave as Ava panics as you tell Leif to stop - You tell him that your just next door and come by whenever and he starts becoming an annoying pest - Ava would drag Leif to your place as others complain as Ava tells them to shut up as Ava knocks on your door as you open the door with a tired look wearing a face mask and your Pajamas wearing duck slippers and baggy sweatpants and a white shirt with a goose holding a knife in its mouth with bubbly words 'Peace was never the option' above it as Leif smirked at you.

- A sigh past your lips as Ava left to go to bed and leif entereed your apartment as you motioned for him to sleep on your bed as you were heading to the couch - This mother fucker decided to pull you into the bed and tell you to just sleep here as you warn him if he breaks anything your gonna tell ava - You fell asleep drooling onto bed unaware the leif clinged onto you enjoying the warmth you shared - it was weird how someone as caring and nurturing as you were caring for a blood thirsty ex-assassin - In the moments that you both have interacted with each other Leif felt something that he hadn't in a long time... Comfort

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[xblackmariahx]

quotes from me while watching hannibal to convince you to watch it

"are they fucking or fighting?" "who is this DIVA. no but seriously who the fuck is this diva." "aww yes sesbian lex" "is he sailing to europe? good luck babe" "i feel like i'm tripping" "this is so curly mouthwashing coded" "this has got to be a fetish of some sort" "D D DIVA" "hello my autistic baddie!" "put a shirt on slut" "the bitch is back and life is great again" "i am wheezing just call him a slur at this point" "*to the tune of hot to go* A-U-T-I-S-M, you have fucking autism" "pardon me while i bust" "he legitimately has more dogs than friends doesn't he" "oh hey that is literally my worst nightmare" "please step on me" "turning the brightness all the way up" "nevermind that's a dead body" "sir you are on drugs and i don't just mean aspirin" "ooh girl please don't have a traumatic breakdown in the middle of your lecture" "this show is a fucking comedy" "just give some kids weed not hands jesus fuck" "OH MY GOD?" "oh hey i got stabbed too. slash joke you guys." "i can excuse some recreational cannibalism" "HOLY SHIT! is that a motherfucking RADIOHEAD reference?" "oh hey look it's 1/2 of bananagrams" "ehehehe she's so hot. ehehehe he's so hot. ehehehe everyone is so hot." "she's a ten but the narrative will not give her a fucking break" @grilmo-bartlett: "special agent. special. me: "actually he's the agent of autism" grlm: "I'm special agent autism here to solve a murder" me: "that's me!" "NO MY HONEY SUGAR BOO ICON" "sweetie pie! sweetie pie sweetie pie sweetie pie angel" "why is this episode just called egg in french. i'm cackling." "THIS IS HOMOPHOBIA LET HER GO" "that's a lesbianism" "why are you speaking FRENCH in ITALY" "my poor baby. she killed a man." "hannibal, you gaslighting bitch (affectionate)" "'wlw hannibal' this 'butchfemme hannigram' that. motherfucker just watch killing eve." "OH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT" "babygirl can't die but babygirl can get framed for murder" "that's horrible and a little kinky" "i do love when women have guns" "doing a bunch of murders because i'm thirsting over a blond man" "NOOOOOOOOOO MY THIRD FAVORITE DILF" "you were just as horny as the rest of us" "yes baddie! commit that murder!" "my babygronk is back! you should not have survived that!" "brunette bisexuals who fucked the same dude" "HELLO my beautiful lesbian babies! you will fall in love, all in due time!" "i am no better than a man" "hey so i'm actually sobbing" "i am violently crashing out. i hate this show (lying)" "they hate to see lesbians winning" "my fictional girlfriend just died, is this my sign to start flirting with real girls?" "baby's first time kissing a lesbian! it will not be his last!" "i think that's enough hannibal for today"

[elementalwriter67]

I’m listening to Epic the Musical again (shocking I know) and maladaptive daydreaming as one does. So now it is my personal headcannon that the Apollo Cabin uses places around the camp to re-enact the musical when it is not actively in use. It’s only while they’re not in use because Chiron gave them all a lecture and dish duty and pegasus pen clean out for a month because they disrupted training one day while re-enacting the Circe Saga resulting in a few (read: multiple) injuries so now it’s either use non-active areas or don’t do it at all. And the Apollo Cabin would sooner die than not re-enact any musical much less Epic the Musical, so they do as they’re told.

They have a handful of places that are on rotation. 1st is the Mess Hall/area and they love to use this one to re-enact the ithaca saga because the pillars, torches, and tables make recreating “Hold them Down” and “Odysseus” real nice. And yes they do incorporate actual weapons. Don’t tell Chiron.

2nd-The wall is used on the occasion for the Troy Saga but it gets tiring climbing to the top so they switch it out every now and again for the amphitheater. It’s a lot easier to climb.

3rd- The Canoe Lake gets used a lot for the ocean saga and the underworld saga. Yes they do canoe across it every now and again for the authenticity. No they do not care about the concerned looks they get from other campers. Yes their spear throwing skills have improved because of the “aim for the sky” bit. They will occasionally use the lake for the Thunder Saga as well but they like to use a different place a lot more.

4th- The Amphitheater gets used a lot more for the Wisdom saga and the Circe Saga (though they do like to swap in the north woods every now and again for the Circe Saga because the Nymphs like to participate in that one every now and again.) They use the amphitheater mainly just because it feels right and that’s the best explanation you’re gonna get from them. Sometimes you just gotta go with the vibes man.

5th and final place is Cabin 1 and yes they do preform inside the cabin and yes it is used because Thalia is basically never home and well Jason’s dead so it’s free real-estate and yes they use it for the Thunder Saga and the Thunder Saga only. They’re pretty sure using it for the Thunder Saga is the only reason their cabin is still standing to be honest, Using this location did take a while for the whole cabin to warm up to because many of them were like “Zeus barely tolerates our dad he’s gonna fuckin kill us if we use his Cabin for this and he catches wind of it.” Eventually they all chilled out and started using it for it when enough of them hadn’t died for using it. Unbeknownst to them the only reason Zeus doesn’t do anything is because the damn musical does a good job representing him and damn it all if it isn’t catchy. So he lets it slide. For now.

@clea-nightingale

[littlelightfish]

We alredy know what's Chilchuck's worst nightmare. What if I told you that it was canon?

His daughters have alredy been eaten. His wife was eaten too. His family are all dead. His worst nightmare has come truth. And he for sure feels like it's partially his fault, because it's the Winged Lion doing, yes, but who helped Laios get here? Chilchuck. And who's daughters and wife are now dead because of it? Chilchuck's. The suggestion of recreating them tells us that they've alredy been eaten. The way he says it makes it feel like it's too late. They're dead. Because of him. Of his actions. Of his job. The irony of it all is actually quite cruel. He makes a union so he can prevent bad things to happen to his race, to his family, and then, and he works at the union. And now, because of his job, he got them all killed.

He doesn't even know how his daughters are until way later, I don't even know if in the manga they send letters to him during the feast, because I know they don't go to said feast. So Chilchuck doesn't know if his girls are alright until, again, way later. We know they don't die because, well, there's this comic of them going to meet Laios, the new king. But if not for that, who could tell us they didn't die on the monster appearances? I can imagine that after the feast Chil went stright to check on them. Because he loves his daughters, and he cares for his wife. He sucks at communicating it, yes, but he does.

He doesn't want to risk his family's safety. But he, unknowingly, unwillingly, indirectly, did. He got them eaten by those demons because he helped his friends achieve his goal. Because he cared about Falin and wanted her to be human again. Because he cared about Laios and didn'twanted to see him loose his sister. Because he cared about Marcille, Senshi and Itsuzumi. He cares so much about everyone and wants to help everyone (in his own way), that he doesn't think that the result would, inevitably so, be the worst outcome for him. The one in wich work and private life get mixed together. His job as a member of Laios's party ended dragging his family in, despite his best efforts. His job ended up, not only endangering the whole word with demons, but his family. His four precious girls. It ended up almost killing them (probably it killed them for some time because getting eaten by those demons works wierd).

Worst part? He didn't have the time to be mourn over what he 100% sure thought was the complete loss of his family. He was in a hurry to survive himself, so he pushed those sad feelings and tried his best to help who he had left. Later on he finds out that the demons spitted out people. And he seems shocked with some kind of surprised relief.

He looks how everyone that got eaten was alive. And he can't quite either believe it nor understand it. He is really confused. So they didn't die? Are my daughters ok? Is my wife ok? Did everybody survived? Are they alive? He dares to hope that they're all ok and pulls into a box his feelings again, saving it up for when he has the time to be overwhelmed about this all. He has a feast, trying not to worry, but worried sick. Then he goes home and checks on them.

Give this poor man a break and a beer...

[respectthepetty]

Wild Ass Theory - Who is the Second Killer?

@anotherblblog asked about the colors in Dead Friend Forever as a response to my Phi is Sus AF post where I listed the reasons I think Phi is in on the kills since they think White is sus too, but I cannot answer questions about White/colors because . . .

Who the fuck is this?!

Freeze frame: Is this Tee?!

Well, it sure isn't Non (Barcode) taking off the mask!

In the original film the boys were shooting and the one played at the party, Non was the killer who unmasked himself.

But apparently, Non wasn't the only one playing a killer.

There were two killers.

This is why we see Jin and Non running in the opening scene because they are being chased by the second killer in the film.

So who is the second killer?

Just like with the original film, the second killer isn't some magical ninth person, but someone already in the group, and in the recreated scene, there is a person missing.

Tan!

Tan and Phi didn't come into the friend group until 12th grade, and White is the baby of the group, so he was too young to hang out with the core friend group until he started dating Tee (way to already start pissing off Tee by holding his man's hand, Phi).

So Phi, Tan, and White are new to all of this and weren't part of the original incident that happened in the 11th grade, but White is now playing Non's part in the film by running away from the masked killer with Jin. Yes? Yes!

From the trailer, we got this scene. Phi, Tee, and Tan are all standing in a bloody room that has hanging signs stating "He Must Die" in Thai with a fourth person, who could either be White or Jin.

And we got the scene of Phi keeping Jin quiet in a box as the killer lurks around them.

So it seems like the final girl boy in the "He Must Die" scene is Jin and not White based on the jacket he is wearing, and

Because Jin is the target.

He is the main character.

And he is about to leave. For. Ev. Er.

Which is something Tan throws out when agreeing with Phi to reshoot the film.

And White is the final push for Tee to agree to it.

From the trailer, we know Non had feelings for Jin, and those feelings seemed mutual.

But Tee is the worst.

And somehow convinced everyone that Non was creepy and should be bullied.

So if Jin was the main character and Tee was possibly the second killer and main bully, it makes sense why they would be saved for last since Non wrote this story,

Yet Por, the first one attacked, is the one credited as writing it, so by reshooting it, the killers are going to correct the wrongs and follow the script the way Non originally wrote it.

Which is why I thought White was the other killer since he is now playing Non's part and Phi asked Tan if he brought his inhaler while he was smoking, which seems like a quick way to kill him in the future, BUT . . .

It doesn't seem like White was supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Tee brought him because he thought White "would be obedient" but he doesn't want White involved in what is happening, and it seems neither do the killers.

When all hell broke loose, Phi went with Jin to look for a saw and sent White and Tan to call for help ensuring that Jin was under his watchful eye and that White and Tan, two people who weren't involved in the original incident, were out of the woods, literally and metaphorically. But Tan seemed surprised that White got the walkie talkie working, while White was confused because all he did was charge it.

The conversation is odd in multiple ways but mostly because Tan is smiling the entire time knowing that their dear friend Por is still out in the woods with a tree limb sticking out of his stomach. But then again, Tan is closer to Phi than anyone else, which is why Jin told Phi to go have sex with Tan.

Which is why I fully believe, after one whole episode, that Tan and Phi are just friends . . .

who plot murders together.

[thisdudedoesntexist]

So I had a dream about a helluva boss and danny phantom crossover with a little dc in it so keep scrolling if you just want dpxdc or don't like spectral owl (danny Fenton x Octavia goetia). Also for some context only Loona and Octavia know about danny being phantom and the ghost king. Its also incomplete cause I can't remember the rest, so feel free to add on.

Stolas (the wiki said 30's so he's 35): red

Danny 19: green

Octavia 18: purple

Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors

Stolas had be trying for MONTHS. Two whole-MONTHS to bring his daughter back. Everyone else was trying to distract him with placateions like a funeral and time to grieve. To tare him away from what he knows he saw!!

Stolace: "Oh Octavia, only 18 and just over a year into dating that Daniel Fenton, that normal boy was one of the best things to happen to her even if it earth and hell was a rather long distance relationship. He couldn't even speak at the funeral, he was just sitting there stiff as a corps staring as the closed casket (Satan, there wasn't even a body). If that dammed, and now dead executioner hadn't gotten so careless she would have never disappeared- JUST DISAPPEARED in that flash of green light!"

But no matter! He had been researching and researching for days and nights on end (my, Blitzo's attempts to make him sleep were tempting). He had-despite the protests of some of his family found a tome, one book on summoning himself the Ghost King's castle, more like Pariah dark's current location but thats irrelevant. If legends of his exploits and one of his advisors mastery of chronomancy are to be believed he could bring his daughter back.

He has it all set up and he will be doing soon, he just needs to wait for the sacrifice to arrive (an exorbitant amount of gold coins and a sword thats taken at least 100 lives).

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

Danny has been having a great two months.

Ok so there was a bit of worry when he had to save his girlfriend from that rogue executioner angel by teleporting her to his castle (thank the ancients that Octavia and their friend situationship loona were so acceptingof that, you have no idea what being told by your parents that they were going to "Rip you apart molecule by molecule!" Does to a former fourteen year old. He still has a little panic attack when people ask him if he knows phantom.)

After explaining what happened and telling her about the "Non Ecto-material returnal laws" he's been working on with his advisors (ghost friends) he and Octavia have essentially been having an extended sleep over. Danny's been showing her around all the cool places in his castel like the garden of dangerous extinct plants, the throne room (An abrupt visit from the teen titans cause Trigon was about to appear on earth.), and the recreational center that was built after Danny discovered why pariah went mad.(That crown had been beaming him with the suffering screams of his subjects and he couldn't do anything about it). Speaking of the rec-center, he and his Moon (Octavia) had an appointment with the former tyrant where is she?

Danny: "Octavia! My moon where are you!"(He starts in a casual flight speed down the halls towards the guest room his girlfriendhad been staying in). "Via~" he says in the way he always does when he's being intentionally stupid. "Where are you my darling?" while his voice is sweet he's grinning like the experienced menace to society he is. "Its almost time to go annoy the old man!"

This earns him a blob ghost plushy to the face while Octavia "the smartest person in the world in Danny's opinion" chuckles at his mock-suffering.

Octavia: "Stop it you sound like my dad! Who would want to date such an nerdy guy?" (her, apparently) "And yes we should get going before Janice (Danny's secretary with an obsession with office management) starts eating her clipboard."

As they are walking down the hallways and corridors Octavia speaks "Don't you have that meeting with Constantine later?"

"Right, forgot about that." (The laughing magician had been checking up on him through bi-weekly attempts to "scam him into making choices that wouldn'tjust benefit ghosts.") "Should probably ask him to help set up a meeting between me and your dad so we can finally get you home next week."

"Thank Satan I can sit in my own bed again soon!"

"Huh?!" Danny says in a pretend offense that doesn't reach even his face. "Sick of me already? Have I not been a good host?" He wipes a phantom tear (get it?) from his eye. Earning a laugh from the other.

Honestly, what could go wrong today.

[arabaka]

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸ sfw. fluff + angst for the birthday boy! spoilers for chapter 236. 736 words. while i don't mind ageless/minors interacting with my sfw posts, do NOT follow if you do not have your age in bio.

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. author's note ⤸ maxine voice from russian doll: sweet birthday baby!!! i had this sitting around in my drafts and honestly been going through it so... we love-self care. also peep the httyd quote B)

He’s already seen everyone else (Suguru, Nanami, Haibara, and Yaga) but there’s still some unfinished business for the strongest, the ill-fated, Gojo Satoru.

After all, it’s a long known fact that Gojo Satoru really died when you did.

“Well,” Gojo stands, dusting off his uniform pants, “Gotta go.”

“Leaving so soon?” Geto asks with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah. Got a date, ya’ know.”

Of course, you’d reunite at an airport terminal of all places. The staple location for every cheesy rom-com movie, where the twist is that both lovers are dead.

What can you say; spending even just a few years in limbo will round out the humor in you.

But it’s also perfect, in its own way. How many rom-coms did you watch with him that had this exact scene in them? How many times had you recreated those corny, predictable scenes anytime you had to travel with sincerity because between the two of you… One couldn’t really live without the other.

Maybe there really is something to this airport effect.

You’re both running so fast, desperate to leave all the time you spent apart in the past.

Gojo sweeps you off your feet, somehow staying grounded on his despite the boom of excitement between the two of you. Your giggles make him giggle and it’s like you were never apart.

When you kiss, he remembers what it felt like when he really had someone to keep living for. 

The memories don’t stop there: a dam of his own making cracks under the pressure before splitting apart entirely. It still hurt to reminisce on those times you shared, even after all those years it never got any better. But with you back in his arms, the experiences have been returned to their original glory. Their original joy.

He can see them all so clearly. 

The look of annoyed disgust you gave him when you met as first-years at Jujutsu High: he never did let you live down your initial distaste for him and you never let him forget why you gave him that look in the first place. But it sure as hell didn’t stop you two from sneaking off to make out when you should have been practicing.

The gleam in your eyes when he told you I love you for the first time: you had cried right after and had him thinking he did something wrong but you more than made up for it when you tackled him to the ground, sobbing “I love yous” right back. 

The warmth of your arms when he’d wake up screaming the nights following the first time he’d lost Suguru: he never could thank you enough for giving him such a perservering comfort.

He’s seeing it all: graduation, birthdays, holidays…

A flash of you and him in the bed you shared, in the apartment you two called home, and the night he proposed… How you said yes before he could even finish the sentence.

And that's where it ends because you'd be gone before the two of you could even announce your engagement.

Gojo never loved after you, didn’t even try to find someone else because no one could ever come close to you.

Now here you are, in his arms again… Where you belong. He kisses you over and over again with the fervor of a man starved, Gojo desperate to reacquaint himself with the way you taste and feel.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me.” You tease, arms looped tenaciously around his neck; you aren’t letting go this time.

“Pft- You? Never, baby.” His lips skirt yours, “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Gojo makes you laugh. He always could.“I think I have an idea.” You chuckle, your eyes crinkling as you smile.

“Let me look at you.” You both say at the same time, falling in love with each other all over again. 

With an air of remorse and his pretty blues saturated with sadness, Gojo whispers, “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” His heart still aches like it's become a muscle memory. “I should’ve–”

“Hey.” Your hands firmly grasp his face, “Stop that.” You give him a good shake with that determined look in your eyes he's longed for all these years. “We're together again. I don't know for how long or what comes next but… For better or worse, right?” 

“For better or worse.” Gojo agrees and for the first time in a long time he smiles without guilt, thinking to himself:

“I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.”

[persnicketypomelo]

I read your L fic on AO3 and it was amazing!! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 or write another story with him ?

Technically part 2, but more of a prequel. part 1 yandere!L x reader word count: 1.5k obsession, kidnapping, implied drugging, stalking

Object of Admiration (pt 2.)

The first thing you notice as you wake up is that your head kills. 

The second is the heaviness in your head, limbs, everything. 

You must have been tired to feel so sluggish even after such a deep, dreamless sleep. Did you have a lot to drink the night before? Everything’s so dizzy. Your head falls back into the pillow as you struggle to anchor it back on your shoulders. 

You’re in your room. 

You wouldn’t expect to be anywhere else, but there’s something off-putting that bothers you. Maybe it’s the haze lingering over you, but your room doesn’t feel…right. And maybe if your senses and judgement could slip out of their stupor a bit faster, you could tell what exactly was wrong. 

But at the moment, a muddled sense of wrongness is all you have. 

As your sense sharpen, that cloudy dis-ease morphs into a growing sense of alarm. This is not your room, but one so similarly furbished that you could be excused for not knowing. 

You lived alone. 

Which meant that someone had violated your privacy, illicitly accessed your apartment, made the deliberate effort to recreate it, and brought you here. The more you thought about it, the more you realised how terrible wrong the whole situation was.

You felt so…out of it. Everything felt so wrong. Did you get drugged? How did you get here? Why can’t you remember anything from the night before? 

You move to stumble out of bed, but a tension cuts your movement short. 

There are cuffs and chains attached to your wrists. 

It makes a strained clattering sound as it rattle against the bed. The metal is cool to the touch, and uncomfortably snug. But whoever put you in these decided to use padded ones, as to why, you couldn’t even imagine. 

At that moment, the door opens to admit a black-haired man you have never seen in your life. You press your back against the wall. The man, slouched even in his walk, continues approaching you.

“Drink this,” he holds a glass of water to your lips, “It’s not drugged or poisoned; I can assure you.

The water is cool and smooth against your throat. A contrast to the discomforting, unblinking gaze that drinks in your vulnerability. 

“If you behave well, I might be convinced to remove the handcuffs. If you are violent or resistant in any way, I have a variety of restraints that I am prepare to use until you can manage yourself properly. I can give you a demonstration if you’d like.”

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” You ask in a voice hoarse with disuse.

“You may know me as L. This, of course, is not my real name. For both yours and my safety, you will know me only by this alias.”

He removes the empty water glass, placing it on the nightstand. He sits at the end of your bed, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his thumb on his lip. His eyes fix on you, unblinking.

“I have no intentions of harming you—quite the opposite. I’ve come to value your presence, habits, and opinions. I estimate that I’ve lost approximately 30% of my productivity without your presence. As you can imagine, this poses a serious detriment to my work. It is more efficient to keep you close. And this way I can take care for you.”

“But you don’t know anything about me. We’ve never even met before.”

The corners of his mouth turn up, “Actually, I know you quite well, and anything I don’t know can be remedied with time. You were on the right track with those cameras in your apartment, but it would be very difficult to notice them with only the naked eye.”

Your blood runs cold.

“You’ve been watching me,” it’s a statement, but he answers it nonetheless. 

“Yes, although…” he leans forward, dead eyes scrutinising every detail of your face, “I hadn’t accounted for you being 20% more attractive up close like this.”

In another situation you might have blushed, but as it is, you’re chained to the bed with no way of creating any space between you and his fish eyes. 

“I want to go home,” you beg, “Please, I don’t want to be here.”

“This will be your home for now, although I acknowledge that it will take time for you to adjust to your new surroundings…know that any attempts at resistance or leaving will not yield any results for you. Though you are welcome to try. It would be fascinating to see what progress you can make.”

You had never thought that someone could make trying to escape so creepy and unnerving.

“If you’re really L, as you say, then doesn’t doing this—“ you glance around at the diorama of your room, attempting to avoid his stare, “—isn’t all this the opposite of justice? Doesn’t kidnapping me stand against everything you work for?”

He looks up, contemplating. 

“Every person has their own idea of justice. I would argue that bringing you here is an act of justice as I can better concentrate on catching Kira with you here. Furthermore, letting you free in a world filled with so many dangers, would be more of a moral wrongdoing. However, it’s understandable that you may view this situation unfavourably for now. With time, you’ll become accustomed to living here with me. I recreated your room so that you might become more comfortable with adjusting your environment. If you wish to change the layout, I’m amenable to changing it.”

A wave of disgust roils through your stomach

“Both of us stand to gain from this arrangement. I can better improve my focus and have your company. Being here, I can better provide for your safety and wellbeing. Being associated with me brings many dangers. I will ensure none of them will harm you, and that Kira will never know your identity. You are welcome to argue your case more with me, but know I will not be swayed on my position.”

And who’s fault do you think it is that I am now associated with you? 

“I can care for myself,” you respond, unable to control the bitterness in your voice, “I’m an adult, not a child.”

“Is that so,” he peers at you as if peeling back your flesh to poke around inside, “from my observations, your sleep schedule is woefully inadequate, the average adult needs anywhere from 7 to 9 hours of sleep, a mark which your current sleep schedule drastically fails in meeting,”

It was clear he had been stalking you, he had quite plainly confirmed it for himself, but to hear him list such details drove the stake closer to home.

“Furthermore, you struggle to meet rent each month. Your relationship with your landlord is strained, and if you miss another payment—“ 

“That’s enough!” You interrupt, face burning. 

“Well,” he starts, and you can see the self-satisfied grin that forms on his face, “I believe I’ve sufficiently proved my point. Your previous situation was less than ideal. But under my care, your living needs will be up to a far higher standard to which you had subjected yourself.” 

You turn your face away to avoid seeing his smug expression. The most maddening part of everything was that he was right. By all accounts, your life was not exactly peachy. But hearing it from a creep who admitted to stalking you for God knows how long was not exactly the intervention you needed nor cared for. 

It would be best to play along for now, you decide. L, or whoever he really is, seems meticulous, and thoughtful. If you wanted a real chance at getting out of here, you would need to think through a plan. At the very least, this man didn’t pose any overt threat to you. You could take time to get on his good side. And once you had to opportunity, you wouldn’t let it slip away.

“You must be hungry.” 

You are. But to admit it would be so humiliating that silence and starvation, seems, at the moment, preferable. Thankfully, your kidnapper spares you the embarrassment.

“I have Watari preparing something for you.”

You shuffle your handcuffs, “how am I supposed to eat anything with these on?” Perhaps approaching the topic like this could be subtly persuade him to remove the restraints. 

But he leaves your question hanging in the air. For at that moment, an elderly man enters the room, carrying a bowl of soup. L, or whoever he really is, takes the bowl within his hands, scooping the broth. He tilts his head to the side smiling in a way that might’ve even been charming in a cute sort of way.

He brings the spoonful to your lips. 

No, you know better. That’s the smile of someone who utterly delights in having you chained up, incapable of anything other than being utterly helpless to his will. That’s the smile of a crazed man who would bug your room just to satisfy his own sick fantasies. That’s the smile of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap you just because he has a crush. 

“Open wide.” 

Dividers by saradika graphics

[hihomeghere]

Tesoro | Five Hargeeves / Reader

Rating : Teen Word Count : 3k Summary : While working at the commission as a field agent you are assigned a new partner, Number Five. Warnings : Gore, description of bodily harm, mentions of kidnapping (this is the start of a sort of series. I watched TUA and now I cant stop writing about Five)

Pins and needles, it was as though your very essence was being torn apart and put back together again. Atoms, Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen. Your bones snap, your skin tears apart. A scream rips its way through your throat as everything is strung back together. The pain is almost worse than when your very existence was being torn apart, it was as though you were held together with only staples and duct tape. That familiar taste of copper fills your mouth. The crackle of static came over the speakers. Your head pounded, the lights nearly blinding you. The ringing in your ears was constant. 

“Experiment #371, unsuccessful.” The cold voice says, sweat covering your body. Then the words you dreaded most left his mouth, “Begin experiment #372.” He said with a sigh.

-

You sat up with a gasp. Your hair was stuck to your forehead with sweat. You take in your surroundings, trying to take deep breaths. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Your hands gripped your wood desk, you were back in your office. Your office at the commission. You were safe, no longer trapped in that lab. Instead of white walls these are cream, with framed pictures of wooded landscapes.

“Y/n?” Herb knocked on your door, you jumped your hand coming to your chest. You shook your head chuckling slightly.

“Yes? Sorry, you spooked me.” You said, giving him a smile.

“Oh,” he chuckled as well, “I just wanted to pop by and give you your next assignment.” He shrugged, taking a breath before handing you a yellow folder. He stopped in front of you looking at your hair, he chuckled before pointing to his own head. You pulled a strand down only to find in your shocked state you must have accidentally changed. The hair you were holding was now purple instead of your normal color. You smiled sheepishly, changing it back. “Thank you Herb.” You took the file from his hands, he nodded before walking out of your office. You opened up the folder flipping through the file. 

There was the normal amount of mission jargon as always, except where your partner was introduced.

Partner? 

Number Five, written in bold ink stared back at your very confused expression.

You had never had a partner before, but if the commission requested it they obviously knew something you didn’t. 

You sighed, couldn’t put it off any longer you thought, pushing yourself up and out of your chair. The man you were going to see was of course a legend, but hey, so were you.

You were Y/n l/n, there was no other shapeshifting killing machine like you. 152 confirmed kills, 129 timeline saving missions. You were specially trained by scientists, dead set on turning you into a weapon for mass destruction. Lucky for you, escaping was easy when you could be anyone you wanted. A quick glance at someone and you could recreate their being as your own. It didn’t take long for the commission to pick you up after you escaped.

You stood up, clutching the folder to your chest. Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you passed the familiar offices. Many well manicured fingers tapping away on typewriters, your eyes falling on your old desk. You did miss the camaraderie, the shared lunches, meeting after work for a drink or two. 

Sometimes you wished you could go back to your desk job. More than anything you wished you could wash the blood off your hands. That stain would always remain, no matter how hard scrubbed. Even if you didn’t show it, you remembered every single kill. Maybe it made you soft. You’d rather be soft than a machine. 

“Excuse me?” A rather annoyed masculine voice said. You realized quickly that you were standing at the doorway of Number Five’s office. 

“Oh.” You said collecting yourself, a shy smile on your face. He was different than you’d have imagined. Instead of the rugged, scarred man you’d envisioned. He was thin, dark hair in a neat side part, his body seemed well defined but not bulging with muscles. Possibly 35?He raised an eyebrow at you, you blinked coming back to earth.“If you wouldn’t mind sweetheart, I really need to get back to this.” He said, sighing, clasping his hands as he leaned forward at his desk. Your face flushed, sweetheart?

You scoffed walking into the office and sitting across from him. He sighed leaning back in his chair and muttered something under his breath. “Is this the normal act you pull with people?” You asked, crossing your arms. It was his turn to scoff. 

“This isn’t an act, now are you going to hand me that folder or…” he trailed off, his hand stretched out expectantly.

You tilted your head, this man really had no idea who you were. You shook your head, throwing the file onto the desk . You plopped yourself down in the chair across from him, crossing your arms. He eyed you warily before opening the folder. The only noise in the office was the turning of pages, he stopped, his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Well sweetheart, looks like I’m your new partner.” You said squinting your eyes as you smiled smugly, your nose wrinkling. He set the folder down on the desk, he mirrored you, his arms crossed. 

“And why would they pair me with someone like you?” He grumbled. Was it because of your age? You scoffed looking off to the side, breaking eye contact. 

You’d play if that’s what he wanted, but you never lost. Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen. You watched as the smile slowly fell off his face, you felt your muscles tighten slightly and your hands stretch along with your legs. Soon Five was staring at a carbon copy of himself, only there was no paradox psychosis. Since after all he had just witnessed you turn into himself. You studied him for only a second before mirroring his stance, his body language was easy to pick up on. 

“How did you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“How did I what?” You asked furrowing your-his- brows. 

He eyed you warily, leaning back in his chair. You smiled before putting yourself back together again. You smoothed your hair down, running your fingers through it. Your head throbbed slightly, a side effect of your ‘power’.

“Five Hargreeves,” he said, reaching out his hand. You took it.

“Y/n L/n.”

-

That’s how it was, you and Five against the world. Sure, he was sarcastic, egotistical, a bit of a know it all. But he was your partner, it wasn't like you were faultless.  Slowly you began to peel back his layers, how he took his coffee, when he started to work at the commission, little things like that.

You were an open book anyone could flip through at any time. You wore your heart on your sleeve, which wasn’t always a great quality in your line of work. 

“Theresa!” You called waving to one of the ‘desk worms’ as Five so ‘lovingly’ called them. She was one of your first friends after joining the commission. She stopped, gripping the files she was carrying tighter ever so slightly. Something only Five seemed to pick up on.

“Y/n…” she smiled slightly, her eyes darting to any exit she could find, “How lovely it is to see you again.” 

“You too!” You said grinning, “How have you been?” You asked walking up to her, your hand touching her forearm. She winced slightly looking down at your hand. Five walked up behind you two, staring down at Theresa. She met his gaze only for a second before looking back at you.

“Fine. Just fine.” She forced a smile again, Five crossed his arms watching the interaction. She pulled away ‘readjusting’ the files in her arms. Your smile faltered.

“Oh, well I’ll catch you around! Maybe we could get lunch together? The old gang.” You nudged her arm. She looked down at where you had touched her, before she met your eyes again.

“Oh, well we had an early lunch today so… Maybe next time.” She forced a smile before all but running away from the two of you. You stood like a statue watching her run off. Your smile dropped from your face, Five clenched his jaw. 

“Well,” Five said, breaking the silence, your head whipped back to look at him, “She’s a piece of work isn’t she?” He huffed, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“Huh?” You asked furrowing your brows, “No! No, they just had an early lunch, that's all.” You said nodding to yourself, trying to make yourself believe your words.

Five looked at your face, the slight pout in your lip, your face was flushed. He internally fought with himself over his next choice of words. He would suffer through any awkward moments to see you smile again.

“How about you have lunch with me today, tesoro?” He asked, bumping his shoulder against yours. Your face broke out into a grin, a real one.

“Really?” You asked, the twinkle returning to your eyes. He nodded, the corner of his lips pulling upwards. “Absolutely!” You cheered, linking your arm through his. Normally he would have blinked away from anyone who dared touch him. But the feeling of your arm in his felt… right.

-

“So do you have any brothers or sisters?” You asked as you took a bite of your sandwich.

“Next question.” He looked back up at you. You sighed, lifting yourself up onto a desk. You swung your legs, picking up a chip and throwing it into your mouth.

“I don’t even know if I have any siblings.” You said as he picked up his own sandwich, he stopped eyeing you warily. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, setting his sandwich down and crossing his arms.

“Well from what I know my parents sold me to those so-called scientists. I only know their names from the information on my birth certificate.” You shrugged meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed as he returned his attention back to his lunch. You sat in silence for a moment. The only sound in the room was your chewing. Five cleared his throat, you perked up looking at him. He seemed lost in thought, like he was picking his next words carefully. 

“I have six siblings.” He said finally, his eyes on his desk. 

“Six? Jeez your parents must have been going at it nonstop.” You giggled, but he only shook his head.

“Adopted siblings, we were all adopted.” He said, picking up his own sandwich, “our father knew we were special somehow.” He shook his head slightly. “Much like your parents.” He added gesturing to you. You furrowed your brows.

“I wasn’t special before they tore me apart and put me back together again.” You said picking at the skin on your hands, he got up and walked over to you. You looked at his oxfords, perfectly shined, reflecting the led lights. He grabbed one of your hands. You looked up, surprised by his actions. He had touched you before, but not like this.

“Everyone is special.” He said matter of factly, “You don’t have to have powers to change the fate of the universe.” He said his expression soft, his green eyes peering into yours. “Hell, my sister Vanya doesn’t have any powers, and she’s the best of us.” He chuckled, running his thumb over your knuckles before pulling away. Your heart sped up, drumming in your ears. He returned to his desk, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. That was the moment you fell for him.

-

It was hard to pinpoint the moment he fell for you. Everything about you enticed him, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. The way you laughed, deep and hearty, throwing your head back. 

The way you took the time to truly understand him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

He could finally understand Klaus, he became addicted to you. He lived for the next hit. Nothing could touch you, alcohol didn’t come close. 

You were all encompassing.

He didn’t think he could love again after Delores. He didn’t think he wanted to. At first it felt like a betrayal as you stole his heart, like a thief in the night.

It infuriated him. You infuriated him. He tried being cold to you, but every time your smile fell he would find himself apologizing. He didn’t fall in love with you in an instant, his love took time. Like the way he started meaning it when he called you ‘tesoro’ instead of it being a tease. 

“What does that mean?” You asked one day, walking down the halls of the commission. He stopped, you walked past him turning to lean on the wall in front of him. You crossed one foot in front of the other in that certain way you always did.

“What does what mean?” He asked, feigning ignorance. 

“Tesoro, you always call me tesoro. I want to make sure you’re not calling me a bitch or something.” You giggled, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes. It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on him. He felt caught, like when his father had caught him in his study. 

“It doesn’t mean bitch.” He wrinkled his nose trying to walk past you. Get away from the conversation and hope you forgot you asked.

You stopped him, your warm hand pushing him back.

“You aren’t getting out of this that easily.” You teased, he gulped peering down the hall. You were alone.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled straightening his jacket.

“Huh?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Tesoro means sweetheart-“

“No, no I heard that.” You clarified a grin working its way onto your lips.

“Oh I hate that smile.” He loved that smile.

“You actually like me Number Five.” You grinned, that mischievous glint in your eye.

“I tolerate you, let’s put it that way.” He said stalking away from you. You had to run to catch up to him. 

“Fine, fine. Whatever you say.” You put your hands up in surrender matching his stride. That damned smile beaming up at him. 

-

The moment neither of you could deny your feelings anymore was an entirely different situation. This was months after the incident you had shared in a rather small hotel room with only one bed. Sure he had been fighting his feelings since that fateful night. Partners could fuck every once and awhile without developing feelings right? Now you were running down an alley, chasing a nasty fellow named Oliver Nicholson. This man, if you could even call him that, had been holding human fight clubs, but unfortunately for the fighters it wasn’t voluntary. Kidnapping people off the streets for these illegal rounds. If he were to continue his so-called ‘cock fights’ he could alter the timeline permanently. So here you were, running full speed ahead, briefcase in one hand and a revolver in another. Unfortunately, Oliver turned sharply down a corner, which put him in a bit of a blind spot. Five blinked after him, disappearing from your line of sight. You sighed picking up your pace, sometimes you hated your partner's power. The danger he put himself in with no means of back up drove you crazy. Just as you predicted he didn’t know that he was jumping into a fight he wasn’t prepared for. He was immediately tackled by some hired men, they punched him in the face. Hot liquid started to run from his nose, not liquid he reminded himself, it was blood. His vision was fuzzy and the ringing in his ears was all encompassing.

“Five!” You yelled he turned his head slightly to see you, the look of pure rage on your face still gives him chills to this day. You made quick work of ending those SOB’s lives. You shot the one on top of Five. The man slumped against him, his blood spattering onto his face. Five pushed him off jumping back into the fray.

Once all the men were either knocked unconscious or dead, you rushed over to him. You took his face in your hands, tsking at his bloody face.

“What happened to staying together?” You asked, pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket, wiping away any blood, “Hold this.” You ordered, he held the handkerchief to his bleeding nose. You stepped back crossing your arms, “You scared me half to death.” You huffed, biting your lip, avoiding his gaze. The damp pavement was the perfect backdrop for the lights to reflect onto your face. Your beautiful face. He tried blaming the pounding in his chest on the adrenaline running through his veins. You wiped away at a tear and his heart seized in his chest. 

It was like his body was moving without his knowledge, he stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, his hands reaching out to you. One wrapped around your waist while the other came up the back of your neck. He crashed his lips against yours, you let out a small squeak. You were frozen, your brain short circuiting. He pulled away looking at you for permission, or for any sign of rejection. You grabbed at him, pulling his face back to yours. It was messy, his blood now on both of your faces, teeth clashing, both of you taking each other in like oxygen. It was perfect. Kissing Five was like taking a hit and he was entirely too addictive. 

“Was that ok?” He pulled away out of breath, his hard exterior came crashing down around you both. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands held your waist. You smiled looking into his eyes, his expression reminded you of that fateful night in the hotel room.

“More than ok.” You giggled, your hand coming up to rest on his neck. He chuckled grinning, he studied your face. Taking in every freckle, line and blemish. You were the most amazing piece of art he had ever seen. “Come on mister, let’s get out of here.” You took his hand, opening the briefcase.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

It's A Trip! Ch. 2

summary: It started off as a joke, the proposition to road trip from the east coast to the west coast for Hongjoong and Seonghwa's wedding, but then Mingi said yes. And Jongho wasn't about to pass up that opportunity.

warnings/tags: mdni!, mxm, smut, recreational drug use, tropes, fluff, light angst, wooyoung is a little shit, jongho is whipped, au non-famous, siri play maknae on top by stray kids

pairing: top!jongho x bottom!mingi

author's note: I couldn't resist the idea of a little stoner road trip situation with unspoken feelings and Wooyoung trying to play matchmaker behind the scenes. Loosely based on the song of the same title by Joywave that got stuck in my head recently and fits the vibes, I think. Anyway. Enjoy!

word count: 21k (around 3.5k per chapter, 6 chapters total)

ao3 link: It's A Trip!

Day Two

Jongho woke up to his alarm at 5am, cold and alone. He wasn't surprised, necessarily, but couldn't help and feel a little sad. It would have been nice to wake up still embracing the man he was harboring a secret crush on. Oh well.

The other three were milling about groggily in the kitchen, Mingi looking incomprehensibly adorable with his hair still sticking up in odd places and face puffy from sleep and too much sodium the night before. 

“I saved you the last cup of coffee.” Mingi told Jongho after noticing him walk in. 

His face was unreadable for once, which was frustrating for Jongho. The fact that Mingi was typically completely incapable of hiding his emotions, his face always a dead giveaway to his thoughts, was something that Jongho admired most about him. He tended to take people very literally otherwise and often found himself confused when peoples’ expressions differed greatly from their words or actions. So the fact that he couldn't tell how Mingi felt in that very moment - their first moment together after spending the night cuddling together in the same bed - led Jongho to two possible conclusions: either Mingi remembered nothing and was being completely normal right now, or he remembered all of it and this was his plea to ignore it and return back to homeostasis. 

Either way, it didn't really matter. Jongho would go along with whatever Mingi wanted, however he wanted to handle it. He wasn't Wooyoung, he wouldn't pry. 

Speaking of the devil, Wooyoung kept casting him fiendish looks over his coffee mug from across the table, raising his eyebrows suggestively, acting as if he was implying he and Mingi had slept together last night or something. Jongho didn't give him the satisfaction of any sort of response. 

Instead, he addressed the room, “I don't mind taking first shift driving again.”

Mingi stood up to wash his now empty coffee mug, “Shotgun!”

Like anyone would ever fight him on that. Jongho didn't think he'd seen Wooyoung and San not touching in some way since they had gotten together during undergrad. 

But when the four of them had packed up and were loading the car, Wooyoung suddenly made a mad dash for the front seat. 

Mingi stared at him incredulously, “What the hell, man!” 

“Oh, did you call the front seat?” Wooyoung was putting on a show of innocence, “Sorry, must not have heard you. Maybe next time just say what you mean to say instead of speaking in code and dancing around the subject.”

Mingi was lost, “Uhhh okay. I mean it's a pretty common phrase but-”

Jongho cut him off, “Wooyoung, move. Mingi called it. If we can't all play by the very basic rules of the road, we shouldn't have gone on a road trip together.”

Wooyoung didn't move, “No. I'm already here. Mingi can sit in the back with San. Can't you Mingi?”

Jongho was getting heated now, “No he can't, he called-” 

San cut them off, “He's not going to give it up, you might as well hop in the back, Mingi.” 

Jongho might have imagined it, but he swore Mingi was pouting when he climbed into the backseat next to San, directly behind Jongho instead of beside him. 

Wooyoung looked entirely too proud of himself. Little shit. 

Wooyoung rode up front all the way from Knoxville to Nashville and Jongho swore it was the longest stent of the trip so far. After getting to be next to Mingi all day and then unexpectedly all night as well, he was annoyed that he wasn’t sitting beside him currently. Once he got a taste of proximity with him again, he wondered how he had stood going so long without it. To make things worse, Wooyoung was yapping the whole way, engaging only Jongho in the conversation to the point where Mingi and San ended up having their own conversations in the backseat. Jongho was almost at his wit’s end, about to pull over early and demand to switch, but then he saw the exit signs start mentioning Nashville and he decided he could wait it out. He had demanded that they stop at Third Man Records in Nashville while they were there. Wooyoung decided to allow it, mostly - so he claimed - because there was a brunch spot nearby that he wanted to try. 

Third Man was even better in person than the pictures Jongho had seen on Instagram. He was having trouble choosing what piece of merch he wanted to buy. Had an even harder time not taking home a whole case of vinyl. Mingi seemed to love it, too. He bounded over to Jongho excitedly, “There’s a recording booth! We can record something and print it on vinyl!”

Jongho recalled what he was talking about from his research he’d done on the place, “Oh, yeah! the Voice-o-Graph, right?”

Mingi nodded, “Yeah, come on let’s go! Sing something with me!” He grabbed Jongo’s wrist and drug him over to the booth. 

The booth wasn’t really built for two people, but they made it work anyway, Mingi practically in Jongho’s lap. 

“Any song come to mind?” Jongo asked him.

Mingi thought about it for a second, “What about… This Must Be the Place by the Talking Heads? I know you know that one. And I maybe also really like it. I kinda missed hearing it when you moved on.”

It was true. Jongho had gone through a bit of a phase with that song at one point. He still stood by it, though. He hadn’t realized Mingi also liked it so much though. The thought made his chest bloom, head feeling pleasantly fuzzy. 

Mingi started them off, Jongho joining in on the second stanza. Mingi had been avoiding Jongho’s eyes until he got to the pre-chorus:

“…And you’re standing here beside me

I love the passing of time”

Where he looked straight into the depths of his soul, it seemed. 

Jongho had forgotten just how romantic the song was, which was probably why he had been so hung up on it at one point. He realized now, singing it with Mingi, making him know he meant it when he sang,

“You’ve got a face with a view”

that he had always thought of Mingi when it came to this song. 

He had been in love with him for years. Just didn’t know it. Because he had nothing else to compare it to. He thought he had just preferred Mingi to his other friends, but now that he had tried dating, and was getting to be around Mingi again, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in love.

Fuck. 

Fuck.

They finished the song out and Mingi’s face had ended up so close to Jongho’s that it wouldn’t take very much at all to close the gap and land his lips on Mingi’s. Mingi’s eyelids fluttered for a second, his breath shallow from exertion. Probably from exertion. Not from desire. Surely. 

The booth door opened abruptly, revealing an all too pleased Wooyoung, “Bravo! You two successfully cleared out the whole building with that performance.”

They knew he was lying, all of them had gone to music school together, they were all good singers. Which meant that Wooyoung was doing it to be a nuisance. Jongho gave him a murderous look, which was met with a completely innocent expression from the other. Oh he’d be having words with him later. 

Mingi wasn’t as bothered, just moved back into his own space and said, “Jongho, you need to let me produce an album for you. You promised you’d think about it! Your voice is too good to just be teaching.”

Jongho tried to hide his smile but was unsuccessful. He was very proud of his voice and getting a compliment from Mingi meant everything to him. 

“I’ll think about it.” He told him. 

They collected their vinyl once it was finished pressing and checked out with their souvenirs. Jongho couldn’t wait to listen to their recording on his record player. He had a feeling it was about to become his very favorite. 

They shouldn’t have been surprised that Wooyoung was taking them to drag brunch, really. He had gone through a Drag Race obsession back in undergrad. It was more surprising that he had chosen something that would be this big of a time sink. 

But Jongho had to admit, it was a good time. The queens loved Mingi and San, kept choosing them out of the crowd to stand up and dance with them or to serenade them. They were embarrassed but were good sports about it. Jongho and Wooyoung took video for the group chat - the guys ate it up. 

Jongho couldn’t but feel a pang of jealousy as San sat back down beside Wooyoung and the latter was able to kiss him on the cheek, secure in him being his. Jongho couldn’t do the same with Mingi. But he wanted to. He wanted everyone there to know who he belonged to. And he truly had never thought of himself as possessive, but now that he had realized his feelings for Mingi, he was getting stronger and stronger urges to confess. Tell him how he felt. Ideally, he felt the same. But if not, at least then he could start moving forward, moving on. He was sure even if Mingi didn’t return his feelings, that they could figure out how to be friends again. Maybe not immediately, but at some point. But would their friendship ever be truly the same? That’s what worried him the most. That, and rejection was also terrifying. 

He needed more time to think on it. 

He beat Wooyoung to the front seat as Mingi hopped into the driver’s seat. Really, he probably wouldn’t have tried again, but Jongho wasn’t going to take any chances. 

Now that they were fed and caffeinated, the few hours to Memphis was full of car games that Wooyoung seemed to be making up half of on the spot. 

“Someone picks a song and we go around picking a new song where the title of the next song starts with the last word of the title of the song before it. Like if I started with Closing Time, then maybe San would choose Time to Pretend. Understand?”

Mingi had a vast music taste and kept winning because he kept picking song titles with weird esoteric words in them that no one could find a song to follow. 

Jongho won several rounds of twenty questions.

Wooyoung kept winning the alphabet game, but the others were convinced he was cheating. “I saw that sign, too, Wooyo, there’s no word that starts with ‘X’ on there!” Mingi had protested. It was no use. Wooyoung doubled down until they all gave in. 

San found a Mad Libs app on his phone and they had fun filling in the blanks with the most immature word choices they could think of.

Before they knew it, they were seeing signs for Memphis. 

“Anyone hungry yet?” Mingi asked.

“Uhh not really.” Jongho replied.

Wooyoung and San agreed. They had no room for Memphis barbeque. Maybe on the way back. 

They stopped at a gas station in not the best area of town, grabbed snacks for the road, switched drivers, (landing Mingi and Jongo in the backseat together again) and got the hell out of there. Marveled at the giant Bass Pro Shop pyramid on their way out. 

Goodbye, Tennessee.

Hello, Arkansas. 

The first half of Arkansas was boring and ugly. They stopped in Little Rock to switch drivers for the last time that night, and this time it was Jongho who cornered Wooyoung in the bathroom. 

“What the hell, man?” He asked him incredulously.

Wooyoung smiled smugly, “What the hell, what?”

“What have you been on about, Wooyoung? You knew Mingi wanted shotgun earlier!” He whisper-yelled at him.

Wooyoung shrugged, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

Jongho sighed, exasperated, “We’ve had distance! Plenty of it! For years!”

“Yeah but,” he laughed, “think about how pissed you are about it right now. I bet Mingi was feeling the same way.”

“You make no sense to me.” Jongho said flatly before pushing past him and back outside. 

After stopping for the last time of the night, as they entered northwest Arkansas, the scenery got much better. Mingi had pulled out his wired earbuds that time and offered one to Jongho so they could listen to music together. Leaning towards each other across the cup holder fold-out. Getting sleepy with the silence in the car. Jongho’s head kept slipping out of his hand. Mingi nudged him and patted his shoulder. Jongho felt butterflies stir in his stomach again as he leaned over and rested his head there on Mingi’s broad shoulder. Mingi rested his head on top of Jongho’s. Listening to Billie Holiday’s self-titled album. It was peaceful. Intimate. Jongho could spend an eternity doing exactly that. 

He awoke to the car turning off, parked behind what he assumed to be the inn Wooyoung had booked. It was a cool old light yellow house called Dickson Street Inn. 

Wooyoung had neglected to mention that it was a popular place for couples to stay on their wedding nights. All the rooms were singles. He would be sharing a bed with Mingi. Again. 

It’s not that he wasn’t excited, it’s just that it made him nervous. 

They made plans to meet back out by the car in an hour to go find a bite to eat and then hit the town.

Was it smart to go out the night before another full day of driving? Probably not. Were they going to do it anyway? Of course they were. It was the week of Halloween and they were in a college town. They intended to make the most of it.

“Is eyeliner too much?” Mingi called from the bathroom where he was getting ready for the night, door cracked open so that he and Jongho could talk from the other’s position on the bed. 

“I say no. It’s Halloweek. And I really enjoyed your emo phase.” Jongho chided him.

Mingi’s head popped around the corner, “What if I still haven’t learned how to do it, though?”

Jongho laughed, “Want some help?”

“Please?” Mingi asked, sticking his bottom lip out.

Jongho shook his head, gathered himself off the bed, and walked into the bathroom to take the eyeliner pencil out of Mingi’s hand. 

“Hop up,” he instructed, patting the bathroom counter. 

Mingi obeyed and Jongho stepped in between his legs in order to get close enough to do his eye makeup. 

“Look up,” Jongho directed. Mingi did as he was told so that Jongho could apply the eyeliner underneath his eye, gently as he could.

“Okay, eyes closed,” he ordered.

Mingi reached out and touched his waist as his eyes closed, “I like this shirt, by the way.”

Jongho tried not to jump at his touch out of surprise, not wanting to scare him off, enjoying his large hand’s presence there, “Yeah? Thanks. It’s new.”

Mingi smiled, “I thought so.”

“Don’t act like you know me.” Jongho joked.

Their faces were close enough together to be sharing one another’s breath again. Mingi’s was warm and minty on Jongho’s face. He felt Mingi’s hand grip almost imperceptibly tighter as he moved on to the other eye. Jongho hoped Mingi couldn’t hear his heart trying to beat out of his chest. He could easily close the gap between them right now if he wanted to. If he was brave. But he didn’t want to kiss Mingi unless he knew indubitably that his friend wanted that as well. And he wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. So instead, he finished the other eye, patting Mingi on the face, “Alright, take a look. Let me know if I need to fix anything. 

Jongho took a step back to let Mingi hop down, but Mingi kept his hand on his waist the whole time, using him to ensure a solid landing, before finally letting go and turning around to look in the mirror. 

“It’s perfect. Thanks, man.” Mingi smiled at him through the mirror. 

“Anytime.” Jongho replied. And he meant it. He would do anything for Mingi. 

Dinner was spent at a basement level burger joint that was famous in the city. The decor was vintage, it was loud and busy, and the food was delicious. No complaints. Wooyoung had done it again. Next on his list was a bar down the street called Maxine’s. It was also packed and they had gone all out with decorations for Halloween. The inside was completely Pirates of the Caribbean themed, the bartenders and bar backs were also dressed to theme. One of them, a pretty brunette wearing a theme-appropriate corset, hair braided with a red bandana, looked at Mingi in his outfit (which, admittedly, wasn’t not pirate-y) and eyeliner and said, “Oh, nice, you’re a pirate, too!” 

He laughed, “Um, not intentionally,” he glanced down at his outfit, “but uh yeah, I guess I am.”

“Cute. First drink is free for fellow pirates,” she winked at him, “What can I get for y’all?”

Jongho had to resist the urge to throw his hand around Mingi’s waist. The bartender hadn’t done anything wrong but he once again found himself wishing he was in a position where everyone would know who Mingi belonged to. Wishing that he had the right to claim he belonged to him at all. 

They ordered and happened to find the area towards the back of the bar to be both unoccupied and to have a dart board on the wall. 

Wooyoung looked at them, “Teams of two?”

They agreed. 

Mingi was laughably terrible at it, only getting worse the more he drank. By the second round, he was whining, “Jongho, you have to help me! I suck!”

Jongho was glad to have liquid courage in his system. He approached Mingi from behind, his hand finding the wrist attached to the hand holding the dart, “Okay, just stare down the bullseye and don’t let your eyes move off of it, no matter what. Then you’ll bring your hand back,” he guided his hand backwards, “And then follow through like this,” he demonstrated, “and try to keep your hand level. But most importantly, eye on the bullseye.” He stepped back, hating the distance immediately, “Okay, you try.”

Mingi took a deep breath and threw the dart. It wasn’t a bullseye, but it was much better than what he had been throwing. He jumped in excitement and pulled Jongho in for a bear hug, “You fixed me!” He yelled into his ear. 

Jongho laughed, letting himself be squeezed. 

They win the third round. Mingi celebrated with shots. 

Jongho and Wooyoung easily have the best tolerance of the four of them, with San being the worst of them. He was still sipping on his first drink of the night while the others were on number three or four. Which meant that Mingi was the most buzzed of them all, face almost as pink as his hair. It was cute. Jongho made him drink some water before moving on to the next bar. 

This bar was also decorated for Halloween, and had pinball and skeeball machines in the back. 

The bartender there looked at them and exclaimed, “Oh! Nice BTS costumes, guys!”

They looked between themselves. Four Korean transplants all dressed more fashion forward than had reached the states yet, and definitely not the south. Yeah, okay. Maybe if that was your only point of reference for their culture, sure. They probably looked like they were dressed up as the only k-pop group most people could name. 

They decided to just roll with it, looking at each other before Wooyoung finally looked at her and said, “Thanks!”

They laughed it off as soon as they turned away from the bar with their drinks. 

After that, the night moved on in a bit of a blur. Mingi was weirdly good at pinball. They played games and drank and laughed and had a great time. It was only on their way back that Jongho saw just how drunk Mingi had gotten. He could barely walk in a straight line and kept barking at cars that passed by for some reason. 

Jongho helped him up the stairs to their room at the inn. Upon entering, Mingi immediately darted to the bathroom, no time to close the door before he was kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting up every ounce he had put away previously. 

Jongho followed him in, found a headband in his toiletry bag and helped him put it on to keep his hair out of his face while he was sick. Mingi groaned pathetically and Jongho knelt down beside him, rubbing his back, “I know honey. You’re okay.” He cooed to the man, a little surprised at his own softness. 

Jongho stood up and went to the bedroom where he found some water glasses on top of the mini fridge, which he filled up for both of them before grabbing some Ibuprofen from his own bathroom bag.

“Here, sit up a little,” he told the other from the ground beside him, “Sip on this.”

Mingi did as he was told, but tried to chug the water. Jongho stopped him, “No, no, no, no chugging, Mingi. You’ll make yourself sick again. Take these though.” He handed him the pills. 

Mingi tossed the pills back and followed them with more water. 

“There you go. Good. That will help.” 

Mingi was swaying on the spot from his place still kneeling in front of the toilet, when he leaned sideways, wrapped his arms around Jongho’s middle and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Jongho smiled down at him, so very fond, “Okay, pukey. You’re welcome. Let’s get you clean, yeah?”

He managed to get Mingi upright to where he could get his shirt off, then had him sit on the toilet to remove his pants before starting the water in the bathtub.

Was he ready, mentally or physically, to help a fully nude Mingi bathe while he was drunk as a skunk and Jongho himself tipsy? Not at all. Was it about to happen anyway? Yeah. Sure was. 

Mingi had always had a beautiful body. A naturally muscular and lean build, someone who always found it easy to lose weight or gain muscle if he wanted to. Jongho couldn’t help but admire it. He managed to not make eye contact with Mingi’s genitalia as he pulled his underwear off and helped him rather clumsily into the bathtub.

Jongho washed the man’s body as well as he could. Mingi reached up and grabbed Jongho’s wrist as his hand was passing over his chest, staring at him a second before saying, “You’re so pretty. I like your face. Did you know that? My pretty Jongho.” He smiled deliriously up at him.

Jongho knew it was just the alcohol talking, but he couldn’t help the blush that creeped up his neck at the words. “You’re the pretty one, Mingi.” He corrected him. 

“Uh-uh. No one as pretty as you, baby.” Mingi slurred. 

Jongho’s heart did backflips at the pet name. Where did that even come from? He was too stunned to speak. 

After he had gotten Mingi to bed and himself also hydrated and ready to sleep, he climbed in beside Mingi, whom he had thought to be out cold. But as soon as he felt Jongho’s weight on the bed, he rolled over and glommed onto his back, pulling him close to his chest. Jongho let himself relax into it. It might be the only time he ever experienced it. He fell asleep with Mingi’s warm breath tickling the hairs on his neck, content as ever.

[sufferu]

Just dug into that new snippet. Great job by the way. Seems like Juli for all his good intentions is just making Subaru take a straight nose dive into his worst thoughts about himself. The man is clearly in denial that the Subaru he knew and cared for is dead and gone and is trying to recreate the same moments with this new version of him without having gone through steps one and two into building some type of rapport with in their relationship.

Speaking of which this kind of ties in to your last BTZ II snippet on Julius.

Here's one of the passages:

“Of course,” Julius said. “It‘s not like that every time. Our duel was more to settle a disagreement than it was to negotiate a deal, in the first place, and in the second place I did not feel particularly inconvenienced. I would have been happy to take responsibility for you afterwards, but there was no particular reason for me to argue for it when Lady Crusch volunteered to take you into her care instead.”

“…Volunteered…?”

“Something about making sure you stayed in close proximity to a skilled healer,” Julius teased. “It was part of the terms of her alliance with Emilia: Crusch takes responsibility for you, and Emilia lends her assistance with —“ He stopped himself just in time. “Well. Emilia lends her assistance.”

“Emilia…” Subaru said, looking slightly overwhelmed. “She…what did she agree to?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Julius brushed off. “Your only role in this is to enjoy Lady Crusch’s hospitality.”

Oddly enough, Subaru seemed to wilt at that declaration. Julius felt a pang at the look on his face.

Yeah, this man Julius sucks with his words. He basically stated that not only did Subaru embarrass Emilia at the Royal selection but in order for Crusch to take care of Subaru's injuries, Emilia had to join in on fighting a dangerous Killer Whale, which further adds to his guilt. This won't end well for anyone will it?

It is important to note that Julius’ false impression of what Subaru wants and how he is currently feeling is — at least in part — Subaru’s own fault. Because every time Julius tried to be cordial and polite, hold back so that the two of them could have a more balanced sparring match, excuse himself from his presence out of fear of stressing him out post-duel, or otherwise just be more typically nice to and considerate of him, Subaru’s insecure self took it as an insult and responded by basically letting Julius know in no uncertain terms that he did not want Julius to be nice to him. Julius’ memory of Subaru as a total masochist just served as a convenient, obvious explanation for his behavior. As far as Julius is aware, Subaru quite literally ASKED for this.

With that being said — Julius is canonically AWFUL at wording his intentions lmao. He’s so shit at it. It’s gotten him in trouble so many times. And yes, that conversation DID lead to Subaru drawing a very different conclusion than he intended! :D And you are completely correct about how this is not going to end well.

[meangreennunseen]

I have no idea how Perpetual regeneration truly works, but I kinda came to think that at least for Argus, his body recreates itself from mollecular level, moving through the warp. So if he died in point A, Argus' dead body will start to deatomise into dust and will reatomise into same body in point B anchoring the soul back inside. Now that doesn't feel very good for poor Argus, as once he wakes up he has to quickly reajust back on his senses and body movements as everything will hurt and feel alien to him at the start and to add, the time it takes for his body to rebuild varies from few hours to few days, considering how far it is from the spot he died in and his body started recreating at.

At first those were random spots, but once Vulkan started to train Argus, he learned to 'set' those spots with usage of teleporter hammer. And learning to use teleporter hammer was circus on his own: Argus was very bad at at it initially, as he has barely any psyker talents, even as Perpetual. Malcador's theory was that Necrodium on the skin somehow interferes with ability to properly connect to the warp.

To add, Argus had taken some stupid decisions over his long time and those came to bite his ass eventually. I do feel that Perpetual body, even if it can rebuilt itself will gain new mutations, especially if regeneration cannot get rid of some bodily issue, so body will absorb it as new genetic thing. This happened to Argus with his Necrodermis, pure gene-seed of Xth and with the lingering damage from Laerian blade. Now all these aspects just carry from body to body during every regeneration. Though by 40-41st millenium, Argus noticed his regenerations are way slower and takes more time and effort than before. Might be due to age, might be due to all the weird crap Argus' genetics now carry around.

Not to even mention how weird his insides are. Half mutated non functioning organs, his natural organs, either forming new weird formations or mutating themselves or straight down not here anymore. I mean if man could get Xray scans, there would be so many new discoveries.

Medicae: It seems... Wait what? You have two stomaches??

Argus: Well, yes... Laerian blade cut mine in two. I guess body rebuild them in a weird way... It happens.

Medicae: Why... Why do you have 3 lungs?! It's small and barely developed but...

Argus: Astartes gene seed's workings. Do not question.

Medicae: There are particles of what seems to be... Rust in your arm joints?

Argus: Gift from Necrodermis and age.

Medicae: Do I want to know why you have no spleen?

Argus:..

Argus: Well that's certainly new.