#i just captured it in a little science tube and now he's being forced to go through experiments

[st4rstudent]

i thought mac opsys was ur oc for a hot minute 💀

photo taken right before mac opsys's capture

#clemask #GHELP this is the 3rd time someones said something along these lines and ithink thats awesome #sorry guys i am not the opsys creator. im just sick in the head.imean normal. im normal. dont let anyone tell you otherwise #i just captured it in a little science tube and now he's being forced to go through experiments #forcing it to go through mazes for fun just to get a little piece of cheese at the end #500 dabloons and you can free it (<- lie)

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Bring Me The Hood

Master was in his dungeon, doing what he enjoyed the most; turning an ‘innocent’ young man he’d selected for transformation into one of his ‘army’ of rubber slaves.

“...and now it’s time to permanently hide your identity and individuality, as you become my latest rubber slave”.  

Max couldn’t believe this was happening. How could a night out with friends end up in this situation?

The voice continued, as resolute as it had been since the Master brought Max into the dungeon, “Bring me the hood.” 

Again, Max tried to resist what was being done to him; to get away somehow,  but he couldn’t find a way. Shouting didn’t work, in fact, it just seemed to amuse the man, who simply sniggered at Max’s protestations. When asked a question, the man firmly instructed Max to never question him ever again.

Of course, this hadn’t stopped Max but when his next question was met with a very firm smack to the face, followed by another, and then another. He realised that questioning was futile.

As the hood was brought near to him. Max shuddered. Like everything he’d already experienced, the hood was made of a thick latex. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Other than two shapes where the eyes should be, from Max’s perspective there were no discernible features.

Without further hesitation, the man fitted the hood over Max’s head. Everything immediately went black. Struggle as he might, all he could do was wiggle his head a little bit from side to side. After a moment, he felt his head being grasped, and suddenly felt the end of a tube being forced into one nostril, then into the other one. Max was about to yell out when the man quickly fitted a rubber gag into his mouth, then pushed both the gag and the nose tubes as far in as they would go.

Still trying to free himself, Max felt a tightening on the hood; it was being pulled together at the back. It kept being pulled tighter and tighter, in fact as tight as possible. By now the rubber was was sealed against his forehead, his cheeks and his chin. Just as Max thought the hood would crush his head, the pressure suddenly stopped.

“Perfect. Now all that is left is to seal him in and then we can get finished up here!” the man exclaimed, delighted with how the processing of his new capture into a rubber slave was going.

It didn’t take long for Max to realise what seal him in meant. Almost immediately, he could feel a disagreeable heat that started around his lower back. 

To an onlooker, this is where the base of the zip would normally be found on the type of rubber suite the Master had fitted Max not long after his abduction. 

The heat generated was not enough to burn him, but made him feel very uncomfortable, and he now felt the suit getting wet, primarily from his own sweat. Max noticed the sensation of heat started traveling up his back, and very soon it had reached his neck. At which point he could feel the heat suddenly dissipate.

“Greetings Rubber Slave”. 

Although Max couldn’t see anything, his hearing came to life. He realised the hood must have a build-in earphones because he could hear a voice talking to him.

The voice continued “I think it is time I explained what is being done to you.”

The shock of being referred to as ‘rubber slave’ caused Max to struggle on the gurney once again and at the same time all he could do was grunt as loudly as possible. 

The voice merely laughed. “But first, I think I should explain that rubber slaves don’t need a voice. They exist to submit, serve and obey. I am now pumping a liquid rubber into the gag that’s in your mouth. Think of it like a balloon filling with liquid latex. Once finished, it will solidify and seal, leaving only a tube for you to be fed through – you will have no more mouth.”

All Max could manage was muffled noises, and even these noises faded out as his mouth became completely filled. 

“Good!” the voice exclaimed, “Now I’ll use these heat pads to complete the sealing process.” The heat resumed, now moving around his neck and Max continued to struggle. Seeing this the man decided to explain the process in more detail. “You might think you can free yourself, but you can’t. You see, I’m melting the outer rubber seal onto the inner. Once I have melted it, the joins are gone and the layers become just a single layer: tight, seamless, and most importantly, irremovable. Once I have completed the link between the suit and the hood, I will seal the back of your hood and that will be how the rest of the world sees you ... from this day on. The rest of your life will be spent serving me as a rubber slave.”

“So, let me tell you what I’ve achieved thus far. Your body is covered in a thick rubber suit. Your dick is in a chastity cage, with a tube inside enabling you to dispose of your piss. There’s a plug in your arse, which will only be removed when your Master requires it. And, you’re permanently fitted with this hood.  And I should point out this is no ordinary hood."

Max, unable to shout, unable to move, and unable to stop what was being done, could only listen intently to the words emanating from the earphones as his future was being mapped out.

“Slave, you no longer control your own body. The hood now controls you. The hood is fitted with a built in wireless connection, and that controls what you hear. More important for you to know is the in-built electrodes in the suit which have now been melted into key areas of your body.”

Immediately, Max felt a sharp pain in his groin. The pain disappeared instantly. Then he noticed a pleasant sensation in his arse. Just as quickly there was a burst of electricity on his nipples and then suddenly he felt excruciating pain in his balls. Max was in agony! Then all the pain was gone. “That is just a taster of the control I have over you, slave. Everything you feel is controlled remotely.”

Max’s head was spinning, he was more confused than ever.

The man interrupted his thoughts, “and I need to tell you about a few other things.” Instantly, Max couldn’t breathe, just as he started to panic, the nose tubes reopened. Then, suddenly there was light. Having been in darkness for so long it took time for his eyes to adjust. 

“As you can see, your hood has vision built into it. Now, I must leave for a while now, whilst the final stage of your enslavement is completed. Just watch the pretty swirls, and listen.”

Suddenly, Max’s eyes were filled with swirling shapes. In his ears, a voice was telling him to watch and relax. He tried closing his eyes, but the voice insisted he kept them open. His nostrils were bombarded with a blast of sweet smelling gas. He couldn’t help watching the shapes, the colours were beautiful and the swirls enticing. More gas was blasted into his nostrils. His mind had been opened, and he was beginning to give in. Watching the swirling colours and absorbing the words.

As the voice told him to relax.

As the voice told him to submit.

As the voice told him to remain calm.

As the voice told him to obey.

As the voice told him to serve.

As the voice told him that he was the hood now, nothing more or less

The hood owned him, and he must obey it. The hood owned him, and he must comply with any instructions it gave. The hood was him and he obeyed the hood, comply, obey the hood, submit, obey the hood, serve, obey the hood, obey...

...and with that the personality that was Max was no more...

Master returned pleased to see his latest rubber slave now standing in position; awaiting instructions.

“What is your name?”

“I am rubber slave one-one-three.” replied the rubber slave formerly known as Max.

“Who do you serve?”

“I serve my Master.”

#rubber #slave #master #hood #mask

[writersblockedx]

All Consuming: Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Solace 

Pairing - Tenth Doctor x Fem!Reader Summary - Y/n and the Doctor separate; things don't end well. Warnings - Slight angst, mentions of blood and illness Words - 1.5K

⇦  Previous Chapter  / Next Chapter  ➪ Series Masterlist / MASTERLIST

Y/n hadn't known him long, but it was unusual the Doctor was ever this quiet. His tangent rambles were known to fill the space of silence which would settled over the atmosphere. He'd go on about some science concept Y/n didn't understand or call something brilliant just because he was proud of it. Y/n never thought she would take them ramblings for granted. But as she was seated in a lab, thousands of years from her own home, the silence was beginning to suffocate her.

The Doctor hadn't moved since he turned to look at the blood sample. His brooding back was seeming to taunt the girl. So she slipped from the surgery chair and wandered over to his side, staring down at the very boring, yet still glistening, test tubes of blood. "How long are you planning on standing still and waiting? Because personally, I find it quite boring." She spoke as she glanced over at him. He didn't glance back - not straight away.

"Just a little while longer." He answered her as he stared at the samples like they had captured all of his interest.

Y/n turned to face the door, leaning her back against the counter as she thought aloud, "Do you think this place serves food? I mean humans still have to eat in the future, right? Could be a shop somewhere maybe."

He finally looked to her, "There isn't a shop." He said with almost full certainty.

Y/n's brows knitted and she came to the realisation, "You've been here before, haven't you?" She asked.

He nodded, looked back to the blood tests and muttered, "Yeah."

She watched him for a moment, watched as a look of the loss passed his expression. That look they were both all too familiar with. In a flash, the look was gone. Y/n pushed herself from the counters, beginning to backtrack towards the door. "Well, I'm going to stretch my legs. You may be able to bare standing around and doing nothing, but I can't." She paused and her fingertips grasped the handle. Hesitation stopped her and she couldn't help but ask, "Doctor?" He hummed and turned away from the blood samples, "Are you alright?"

He nodded and forced a smile, "I will be once I figure out how to save you."

She smiled back, her's too forced but she left anyway. She wandered back the way they had entered, down the hallway, then the stairs until she reached the main entrance. Y/n liked to people-watch, especially when she was years into the future where not all the people were actually human. She spotted them half-cat, half-humans again, humans with one huge eye, animals which could talk and lizard-people. It truly was entertaining her.

The girl kept walking and slowly, she was beginning to feel her legs tire. Maybe it was the time travel, maybe it was the energy inside her, but her body was beginning to get hit with weakness in waves. With every step she was making, she felt her body wore and suddenly, things were becoming hazier. It was lucky she were in a hospital. The second she noted her vision become blurred, she aimed to reach one of the nurses. Said nurses being the half-cat, half-human species.

"Excuse me," She pushed out as she gained the attention of one of them. "I think I'm about to- About to-"

Her eyes shut. Her mind went black and suddenly she was unconscious.

The next thing she remembered was beeping. There was so much beeping. It was rhythmic and brought her out of her sleep as her eyes begun to flicker open. It was still blurry but she could work out she was still in the hospital. But now, she was in one of the proper hospital beds in one of the wards.

"And is there anything you can do?" She heard a familiar voice question from the side of her bed.

She tried to turn her head, seeing a much blurrier version of the Doctor, his back turned to her as he spoke to one of the nurses. "We've never seen anything like this." Said the nurse. "I don't think we can-"

"Doctor?" Her voice was raspy but loud enough to alert the man as he turned, his expression softening as he rushed to her side.

One hand grasped her's and the other gently pushed some stray hair out of her face. "Hey, hey, it's alright." He assured her. "You just fainted."

She could have laughed. "Just fainted?" She was travelling all of space and time for a cure because she had just fainted. She had a magnitude of energy flushing through her veins and it should be killing her.

"It could be due with anything." The Doctor tried to tell her. "Your body probably isn't used to this type of travel."

"You think that was why I was coughing up blood too?"

She knew he was trying to give her false hope. But she was no newcomer to bad news and for one thing, she certainly didn't need to be patronised. "I should get her a new IV." Said the Nurse before turning her back and walking away.

The Doctor watched as she did so, almost going to join her, to go prodding the nurse for answers that no one seemed to have. "Doctor?" Y/n called as her hand reached out weakly, just brushing her fingertips against his. But that was enough to alert him as he spun back, eyes wide and back straight, ready for whatever it was she needed. "Stay."

She grasped his hand properly and gently tugged him towards the bed. The Doctor followed as she shuffled over to one side to make room for him as one arm slung around her shoulder to keep her close. The silence came back in another crashing wave. It was just as suffocating, but this time, they were comforted by one another as if that were going to save them.

"I'm dying, aren't I, Doctor?" She uttered out of the silence.

The words made his hold on her tighter. "We have time." He assured, but even as a time lord, said time was limited.

"But we don't know how long, do we?" She knew she was deteriorating, but there was no months labelled to her illness.

"Not quite, no."

She shifted a little, sniffling the tears away which were screaming to escape her eyelids. "If I'm not coughing up blood or fainting, I'm running away from the aliens who want to hunt me down." A sentence of which she had never seen herself saying. "Tell me it'll be worth it." She glanced over at him through the gloss which engulfed her pupils.

His hand reached out once more, brushing over her hair, "Your parents wouldn't want you to give up. They would want you to show them stupid aliens how strong the human race is." He told her as a few tears fell to her cheeks which the boy wiped away as if they had never there. "Because you, Y/n Y/l/n have about ten times the amount of bravery then most of them back on Earth."

She smiled, "And much more stupidity. Not many people would team up with a guy who doesn't even tell you his real name." She giggled as their eyes soon became intertwined with one another. Suddenly, they were both leaning in as if no one could stop them. Maybe it was the threat of death, maybe the adrenaline, but their lips met. It was a sweet moment of which neither of them could explain as they gently pulled away. "Or kiss him." She added.

They both grinned as the Doctor pulled the girl closer, "You should get some sleep." He advised. "We'll move once you're awake again. Won't be long till they started tracking us again."

The girl hummed as she settled against her chest. Her eyes were just about to shut, when she realised, "What about the blood tests? Did they tell you anything?"

He tensed; the blood tests. "No, no, whole load of nothing, nada, not a single thing."

If only that had been the outcome. As Y/n lulled right back into sleep, the Doctor was left with the daunting knowledge of the results of said blood tests. He sat there, with the dying girl in his arms, knowing that he had just lied to her about rather significant information. Maybe had that question been asked five minutes prior, maybe had she asked it before their lips met, he would have answered honestly. But now, it seemed far too painful for him to watch as her heart shattered.

-

Taglist -  @starfirette @sophied667 @rhys-cosmos @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @rcsetylersz @pickle-rick-y @Kazuyatokue @somethinglikethat83 @moonnney @giuliathecat13​ ​@hiphopgirl16​ Want to join a taglist? Click here!

#tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x y/n #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor imagine #tenth doctor fanfic #tenth doctor fanfiction #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #fanfic series #x reader #fanfiction #imagine

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑷𝒕.2 (𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

Part One

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐄𝐦𝐨/𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡! 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)× 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞) × 𝐒𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢! 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟓+𝐊

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞/𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞/𝐝*𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 × 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧), 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐦!/𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @seacottons @little-precious-baby @speronyx @pirate-hongjoong @multidreams-and-desires @cloudyyeonnie

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

Scrunching her eyes from the sliver of light protruding from the curtain that was left slightly open, Y/N let out a tired groan before pulling some of the navy blue blanket over her face. Feeling his lover shift in her sleep, Hongjoong slung his inked arm and placed it around her waist. Bringing his face forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her exposed shoulder.

"Morning beautiful." He greeted her with his usual manner of complimenting her.

"No........no morning..." She uttered, her voice sounding a little raspy and hoarse.

The dark ash grey male chuckled softly at her unwillingness to get up yet even though it was well past 11 a.m. His fingers traced around the dip of her hip as he hummed out a soft tune.

"Sweetheart, as much as I'd love to stay in bed and hold you for the rest of my life, you have class today and I'm needed at the shop later on." He reminded her.

Although she realized he was right, she still refused to budge and just stayed immobile. Letting out a sigh, he sat up and began to carefully turn her over to him, to which she let out a muffled whine. When she was fully turned on her back, her eyes fluttered open, her vision being blessed by the beauty of her dark and eccentric boyfriend who was donning his signature smirk as his eyes peered down at her, always seeming to stare right into her soul.

"Well? Are you ready to get up or am I going to have to get you ready myself?" He inquired, one eyebrow slightly lifted.

The warmth and comfort of the bed made her hesitant to want to leave. Reaching out, Y/N's hand slowly began tracing the outline of Hongjoong's collarbone.

"Why can't we just stay here?.....just for today? Stay and cuddle together..."

Trailing her hand down, her fingers grazed slightly over one of the piercings on his chest.

"Or .....we could do a few other things."

He let out a soft moan when she rolled his nipple between her thumb and index finger, eyes looking up at him suggestively while she bit down on her lower lip. Her other hand pushed the blanket, which was covering her, a little lower to further entice him. He could not look away at the sight of her wearing one of his many oversized band tees, his mind knowing fully well she wasn't wearing anything else underneath it. The end of it had risen up slightly that if she shifted around more, her entire bottom half would be exposed to him. When her hand threatened to go lower, he quickly caught it with his own.

"Naughty naughty kitten, trying to seduce me into fucking her into the sheets.."

Bending over, he captured her lips in a lazy and semi-messy kiss, his wet muscle poking out to lick across her upper lip.

"As if I didn't do enough of that last night."

Letting out a giggle, she let him wrap her legs around his waist before picking her up and walking towards the adjoining bathroom so they could get washed up and ready for the upcoming events in their day.

Outside in the kitchen, a handsome boy with dark brown hair and a sculpture like face pushed up the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His eyes loomed over the formulas and equations that were plastered all over the page. More than once he looked over at the notebook beside him, comparing and analyzing similarities and differences. His pencil was often tapping against the counter, following along to the beat of the song that was blasting from his phone. Occasionally, he'd find himself humming, or even singing along softly like he was currently doing at the moment.

"Fell in love with a girl at the rock show. She said what? And I told her that I didn't know..."

He had been sitting on that spot well over 3 hours, the blueberry bagel he had heated up for breakfast only had a single bite and remained untouched on a porcelain plate in front of his study materials. He let out a whispered curse under his breath as he couldn't seem to focus, his hand reaching up to rub at the side of his neck in frustration. Letting out a puff of air, he leaned back on the chair and stared at the ceiling, thinking about many things.

Hearing the doorknob of his roommate's turn, he was not fazed at all at seeing the [insert hair color] female come out.

"Oh. Morning Yeosang." She waved at him as she made her way into the kitchen, already rummaging through the cabinets like she usually did when she stayed over.

"Morning? It's practically noon." He pointed to the clock hanging by the wall.

Y/N simply ignored him and simply poured herself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down in front of the poker faced male, she made sure not to disturb him as he concentrated on the papers in front of him. After Hongjoong and her became official, she was ultimately forced to be introduced and sometimes even cohabite to a point with him since she now spent more time at their dorm than at her own place. Not that she minded. Yeosang was a very intriguing character. He was extremely quiet at first, but soon opened up to her and became more chatty with her, even more with her than his own roommate and friend. During one of their many conversations she found out he was a natural science major, focusing specifically on chemistry, which resulted more often than not in horrible puns involving the periodic table. He had a weird yet cute obsession with chicken, often wore either beanies or snapbacks backwards and had very similar music tastes like Hongjoong, which was the main reason why they ended up becoming friends, their music. However, Yeosang wasn't as deep, dark nor tattooed like her boyfriend.

Yeosang was a skater and the biggest clue was the skateboard he left on the side of the front door, the bottom of it decked out with various stickers he placed there. God forbid if anyone that wasn't him touched his baby, all hell would break loose, as Hongjoong himself learned one time. The man himself came out of his own room after he finished placing the finishing touches on his makeup. Sliding an arm around his girlfriend, he took in the state of his friend.

"Still taking 6 hours on a chemical reaction Yeosang?" Hongjoong snorted.

"Still taking longer than your girlfriend to put on eyeliner Hongjoong?" Yeosang retaliated, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

Another thing she loved about Yeosang: he was a straight up savage who could roast people harder than an oven.

Grumbling softly, Hongjoong placed a tiny peck on Y/N's lips.

"I have to go now babygirl. Meet me at the shop after class and we'll go home together." He told her.

"Which one? Hers or ours?" Yeosang snickered.

Making his way around the counter, Hongjoong held out his hand and flicked Yeosang on the head, causing him to utter an 'ow' at his ministration.

"And please try to get some air Yeo. You've been cooped up in these 4 walls too long."

After giving him a suggestion, Hongjoong was out the door and out of sight towards his part time job.

"Dark lord has no room to talk, before you came along, he'd only go out for school, work and booze." Yeosang shook his head.

Y/N giggled and got up to make her way out as well.

"He has a point. Besides, you've been stressed out recently. Why not hop on Emmy and take her out for a little spin?"

Y/N found it odd at first that Yeosang actually named his skateboard, but she figured she shouldn't have been so surprised. Hongjoong did a similar thing with his black Mustang. Closing, his textbook, Yeosang turned off the music playing on his phone and grabbed the earbuds sitting next to them.

"You know what? You're right. It doesn't look like it'll rain either."

Picking up her own bag, she followed Yeosang out the door, each of them headed towards a different direction.

"Try not to run anyone over this time." She called out to him.

"I don't run into people, they purposefully get in my way."

After waving goodbye to her, he placed the earbuds in, music already blasting full volume as he skated down the hallway, not caring about if it was allowed or not.

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

The little twinkle of the bell chimed, letting Hongjoong know that someone had just come in. Although it was well past closing time, he knew very well who it was that just strolled through those doors. He didn't even look up from his task of wiping down and sanitizing his workplace.

"Hey handsome."

Unwillingly, he smiled softly at his girlfriend's words.

"Hey gorgeous." Finally looking up, he winked at her and caused her cheeks to heat up with a light shade of pink.

Clearing her throat, she asked if he was almost done, to which he affirmed that he was indeed.

"Just let me pack up my things and then we'll go to your place and cuddle." He began putting the tattoo needles, ink and tubes into a black case, making sure it was all neatly arranged and locked tightly.

"My place? But I bought chicken. I thought we could give some to Yeosang." She held up the plastic bag that contained their purchased dinner.

Slumping an arm around her waist, Hongjoong poked his bottom lip out.

"Sometimes I think you're more nice to Yeosang than me."

She shook her head at him and his cute and subtle jealous antics.

"Kim Hongjoong, are you jealous of Yeosang?" She teased him.

Pulling her against him, he whined softly as they made their way out of the tattoo parlor. He sighed as he locked up and punched in the security code.

"I'm not jealous of him....."

Walking over to his car, he made sure to open the door first for her as he usually did every time they went out.

"I'm just making sure you're still interested in me."

He held her hand the entire ride back to her place, even against her protests and lecture about safe driving. When she pulled her hand away so he could place it on the steering wheel, it instead rested on top of her thigh, pinching it softly at times, which resulted in Y/N's own hand smacking it for going too hard at times. Hongjoong just laughed and continued his obnoxious teasing on her, loving to annoy her and get her frustrated with him. When they pulled up to her place, she didn't even allow him to open the door for her. Instead, she sauntered off inside, closing the door behind her and locking it before he could get in.

"Haha very funny babe, now please open the door."

A minute passed but still she didn't respond. Hongjoong began pressing on the doorbell repeatedly. When that still didn't work, he called her, but he was sent directly to her voice mail.

"Aish! Seriously this girl..."

Hongjoong began pounding on the door.

"Yah L/N Y/N! Open this door right now missy! You want me to get angry with you?!"

On the other side of the door, Y/N cupped a hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter at his reaction.

"If you don't open the door, I'll- I'll..........I'll serenade you so loudly your neighbors will complain."

Taking a deep breath, he was about to start singing, but Y/N instead opened the door.

"Dear God, I get punishing me, but what did my neighbors do to get tortured so mercilessly by your banshee cries?"

She finally let him in after that scene.

"I'll have you know I'm actually a pretty decent singer." He stated in a matter of factly.

"Oh I know Hongjoong." She assured him as she began serving him a plate of food.

"You do?" He was puzzled as he tried to recall a time where he sang in front of her.

Not able to suppress a smile, Y/N confessed:

"One night after you came home late and thought I was asleep, I heard you when you began singing Rebel Love Song while playing with my hair."

As she sat down the plate in front of him and looked at him, his already fair complexion seemed to grow more pale and he suddenly looked embarrassed. He awkwardly toyed with his food.

"So......you heard the entire thing...?" He opted for focusing on eating as much as he could before he completely lost his appetite.

Y/N tried to keep a straight face as she sipped on the juice from her cup, ultimately failing when she spat it back inside, almost choking on the citrus liquid. Her boyfriend now threw the unwanted chicken wing back in his plate.

"Well I guess I'm not eating tonight. Good bye. I'm going to go crawl under the bed and die of embarrassment."

She looked at Hongjoong's slumped back as he headed into her bedroom. Wanting to let him change and wash up, knowing he'd take a while removing all that makeup that for some reason never caused a breakout on his flawless skin, she began clearing out the table and washing the dishes. Making sure to wrap the leftovers so he could take to his friend, she made her way into her room where Hongjoong was already on the bed, scrolling through his phone with a cringed look on his face.

"What is it?" She asked him as she began changing into her pj's.

"My idiot roommate. Wasn't watching where he was going and ended up stumbling on a dent on the sidewalk."

Hongjoong held up his phone to let her see a picture of Yeosang's dislocated elbow. She winced back in pain as she saw it.

"Ewww! Is he ok? Does he want us to take him to the hospital?"

Hongjoong shook his head.

"Yeosang would never EVER go to the hospital because of a skating accident. Besides, he's had so many that he somehow knows how to fix them."

Pulling up another picture, he let her see a selca of Yeosang holding up a peace sign as the caption read: "Hehet. I popped it back into place."

Y/N actually thought that was funny. Yeosang was a very funny character even when he didn't try to be. Snuggling herself up to her boyfriend, she let him move her leg so it could be wrapped around him, his thumb playing with the hem of her pink shorts. His hand then trailed up, untying the drawstring before pulling them just a little bit down to expose her powerpuff girls underwear.

"Hey!" Y/N swatted his hand away when he began bursting out at her choice of 'lingerie.'

"I'm sorry! It's just so cute." He tried explaining to her.

She wasn't amused however and turned away from him, her back facing him.

"Awww come on baby. I meant it when I said it was cute. You know I didn't mean it to be mean."

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around her waist, his lips peppering kisses on her cheek and temple.

"Yeah but I bet you'd prefer it if instead it was black lace and the skin around it had ink or jewelry."

Although she meant to only mumble that under her breath, Hongjoong heard her plain and clear.

"Ok what kind of talk is that? Why are you saying such things Y/N?"

She was going to crawl under the blanket but Hongjoong gave her no time to as he rolled her onto her back so he could look at her, not about to let her go until she explained the meaning of her words.

"I mean.......Hongjoong you're the dark, mysterious emo guy every girl thirst for at campus." She began.

"Guilty as charged." He joked.

Y/N chuckled slightly at his cute joke, but then went back to her somber expression.

"But...?" He urged her to continue.

"And I'm the complete opposite of you. You're black, I'm pink. You're leather, I'm fleece......you got your fucking dick pierced while I the only thing I have pierced are my ears."

"Ok, I see your points, but I'm still lost as to where you're trying to get with all this?" He tilted his head.

"My point is this. Wouldn't you rather be with someone who matches you better? Colorful colors on her hair? Piercings cascading down her earlobes and tattoos in places only you'll be able to see?" Her eyes looked away from him, afraid to see something she wouldn't like.

Hongjoong finally understood her insecurity. He wasn't going to lie, more than once he often felt the same way towards her. Why would a beautiful, dedicated, classy, pure and sophisticated woman settle for someone like him? But he never imagined that she'd be thinking the exact same thing. His fingers brushed away the strands of hair that were covering part of her face.

"Y/N....... if I wanted someone like that, I could have hooked up with them a long time ago. But I didn't want them. I wanted you then and I only want you now and I'll still want you later on in life."

She melted at his reassuring words, eyes and lips forming into a puppy face that always made him weak.

"You mean it?"

Bending down, he placed a loving and gentle kiss on her.

"I mean it. So don't worry about getting your body pierced or tattooed." He grinned at her.

Y/N bit down on her lip as she was about to tell him something.

"Well actually........I might need your input on something..."

He motioned for her to speak up.

"I actually wanted to get a tattoo and I was wondering......if you could do it..."

His mouth dropped at her words, brain trying to process if he just heard her right.

"Are you serious or...?"

She nodded.

"I'm serious. I want to get a tattoo and I want you to do it."

Looking at his still dumbfounded expression, it was now her turn to make fun of him.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's ok. I'll just ask San to do it. It could probably be a better idea and I could surprise you instead."

"I mean, where do you even want to get the tattoo?"

Y/N smirked as she lifted her shirt up and exposed her breasts. She trailed a line right below them and signaled exactly where she wanted to get it. Hongjoong's face flushed as he began to imagine his already sexy girlfriend with an under breast tattoo decorating her chest, causing him to feel needy in seconds.

"Fuck baby.....are you trying to kill me?" He gulped.

"So is that a yes? Can you ask San to do it and I'll show you the finished result?"

Hongjoong chuckled as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Do you really think I'm going to let anyone else see my girlfriend's chest when only I'm allowed to? Hell no. I'll gauge their eyes out first."

Y/N let out a half squeak half moan when Hongjoong bit down on her neck, tongue gliding down her exposed skin as his hands began ridding her of her clothes one by one.

"Let me remind you that you're mine and will always be mine."

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

"Hongjoong!"

Throwing a rubber ball that struck straight into his target's head, Yeosang held up a fist in the air.

"Still got my aim." He declared, flexing his arm muscle.

Hongjoong however was not amused.

"You know...there's more than one way to dislocate an elbow than tripping on a sidewalk." He threatened him.

Letting out a small 'pfft', Yeosang took out his phone.

"Do you still have that video presentation we did for Professor Yoo's class."

"Ummm.......hold on, yeah I think so?" Hongjoong began scrolling through his phone.

"Ok well if you do, send it to me, I need to go over a few things for our upcoming midterms."

Hongjoong gave him a questioning gaze.

"Yeosang...midterms aren't until 3 months from now."

Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

"Did I fucking stutter?"

Not wanting to argue with the hot headed boy, Hongjoong just went back to searching through his files and let him know he'd send it once he found it. Yeosang meanwhile went back to his room, flopping down on his bed and resumed his previous activity of watching a horror movie on his phone. Tiny snorts would occasionally come out of his mouth when a jump scare would happen or sometimes even a twisted smile would form on his face when a particularly brutal or gory scene would be displayed. Even if he was scary and dark himself, Hongjoong often judged and questioned how Yeosang could possibly sit there watching people get violently slaughtered or severed without getting fazed or even batting an eyelash. Hongjoong actually suspected Yeosang actually enjoyed it and more than once contemplated whether Yeosang or not could be a potential serial killer.......

Then he remembered the boy also had Ponytail as his ringtone to quote unquote 'Wake up in a happy and cheerful mood.'

A notification popped up. Opening his messages, he saw it was from Hongjoong himself.

'Took me a while, but here you go. Knock yourself out I guess.'

In typical Yeosang fashion, he didn't even thanked him, he simply left him on read as he usually did. Pressing play, he flipped his phone sideways so he could make it go into full screen mode. He was disoriented when he heard music playing on the black screen, knowing fully well he didn't use such kinky music like that while editing the video, in fact he didn't use any music at all.

"What the fuck?"

He squinted his eyes when a scantily clad girl came into view. A male hand, belonging to whom he presumed to be recording the video, was seen running his thumb across her luscious and red tinted lips. The hand then reached down and picked up a black leash which was attached to the black choker on her neck. It had a red heart pendant on the middle, some engraving that he couldn't make it on the center of it.

"You know what to do kitten. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work." He heard the male tell the girl in front of him.

"The fuck kind of kinky porn did he decide to send me?"

Yeosang's cringed expression soon turned to shock when the male tugged on the leash roughly, pulling the girl forward and making her full face finally show on the camera.

"Oh...my..."

He gulped as he watched none other than Y/N began to pull down, whom he assumed was Hongjoong's briefs, down his thighs. When his erect cock hit his stomach, Yeosang's eyes nearly bulged out of his eyes.

"Holy shit Joong!"

His hand covered his agaped mouth as his eyes stared intently at his roommate's most intimate part, covered in piercings that he definitely did not know about. He knew about the nipple piercings, both of them having walked around shirtless at one point in front of each other. But seeing his Hyung's dick full of jewelry started making him get hard and watching Y/N wrap her lips around it, slurping sounds coming out her mouth as she began taking him in until he hit the back of her throat was not helping his case. His hand that was resting on his thigh unconsciously moved towards the growing tent forming under his sweatpants, lightly running across his length.

He heard Hongjoong emit a low hiss when she gave him a particular hard suck.

"Fuck! You're such a hungry and desperate cockslut aren't you? How about I treat you like the whore you are and fuck your face?"

Yeosang sucked in a breath as he watched Hongjoong yanked the leash on Y/N to keep her in place as his hips began to thrust forward. Yeosang couldn't help but palm himself harder, biting down his lower lip in an effort to keep his moans down. Watching Y/N release choked moans and drool pool down her chin from how hard Hongjoong was face fucking her was honestly one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. He nearly came in his pants with the lightest of touch when he witnessed Hongjoong pull out and spurt out his cum all over her face, covering from her forehead and dripping down her cheeks and chin, her tongue darting out to swallow some of the remnants left on her lips.

Yeosang gulped as he watched the screen go black, only shuffling noises being heard for a minute or two. He debated whether he should continue watching, already feeling guilty as hell that he just watched his Hyung's girlfriend suck him off and get a facial from him. But once the screen lit up again, he nearly fell off his bed as he stared at the scene:

Y/N had her arms tied to the bedpost, crimson red ropes secured tightly on her wrists, an intricate knot placed in the center of it. Her mouth was covered by a ball gag, lace bra pulled down to expose her breasts and her panties were probably discarded somewhere on the floor. He watched Y/N anxiously shiver when Hongjoong slid his cock across her slippery folds, no doubt enjoying the feeling of his Jacob's ladder piercing grazing against her lips and aching clit. He noticed how she tried to roll her hips to feel him more, but Hongjoong's hand slammed down on her stomach and pressed her down onto the bed.

"Don't get greedy now kitten. You'll take what I give you and you'll be grateful got it?"

Hearing his dominant and commanding voice full of authority, Yeosang slipped his hand inside his pants and gripped himself at the base of his cock, unashamed by his actions and wanting to hear more of Hongjoong's domineering tone.

"Y-yes..."

Not satisfied with her answer, Hongjoong slapped her across her face before gripping her chin. It sent a terrified shiver down Yeosang's back seeing Hongjoong treat Y/N with such utter disrespect and yet......she seemed to enjoy it?

"Yes what?" Hongjoong spat out.

Y/N whimpered as she answered him.

"Yes Master."

Yeosang groaned and stopped his hand movements, not wanting to come anytime soon. Through hooded eyes, he watched the rest of the pornographic video play, from when Hongjoong pushed himself inside Y/N to when he had her trembling underneath him as he poured himself inside of her, completely and effectively fucking her dumb as she stared off somewhere completely lost. With a soft grunt and hisses, Yeosang spilled himself all over his stomach, breathing heavily after having jerked himself off to his roommate's private sex tape. Putting his phone down, he reached for the box of tissues on his dresser and began cleaning himself up....

Completely unaware of the eyes that had been watching him intently.

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

Ever since that day that Hongjoong had witnessed Yeosang touching himself to his and Y/N's secret tape, it began giving him a few ideas, ideas that weren't particularly holy at all. It most definitely was an accident and when he realized what he had sent to his roommate he was already off his bed and going over to apologize. He was expecting his somber friend to glare at him or even give him a disgusted look, but he was shocked to find him fully stroking his length, eyes glued to his phone while his mouth released some of the cutest and softest pants he'd ever heard. The sounds kept replaying in his head, especially late at night, often falling asleep to them as if they were some kind of sinful lullaby that he wanted turned into a full blown orchestral song.

And that's how his pretty girlfriend ended up dragged into his unholy desires, dressed to entice in a red two piece lingerie set that he knew would drive Yeosang insane.

"Hongjoong, do you think this is a good idea?" Her hands fidgeted with the bow attached to the middle of her panties.

When they heard the front door signal Yeosang's arrival, Hongjoong looked over at her with a smirk.

"Only one way to find out."

Adjusting the bow on her hair, Y/N watched her boyfriend walk out the room, no doubt going along with his plan of telling Yeosang he had a surprise for him. The boy was probably imagining something like stickers for his skateboard, fried chicken or some cool tshirt Hongjoong would customize for him, he really loved those gifts. Instead, he walked in to find his Hyung's girlfriend sitting on his bed, looking innocent and sexy at the same time. His eyes bulged out, cheeks reddened at the apples and he was whipping his head towards the evilly grinning male next to him, demanding an explanation.

"What? Don't you like my little surprise Sangie? I thought you'd be a little more....excited..."

Yeosang shivered lightly when Hongjoong ran his hand across his pants, gripping softly at the arousal that was forming in them.

"I don't- I don't understand....." Yeosang shyly looked to the ground, hands covering his growing arousal in embarrassment.

"Yeosang I know all about you masturbating to our sex tape."

Y/N kinda felt bad when Yeosang's expression looked guilty and ashamed of himself for even watching it in the first place. But she wasn't going to lie that it turned her on to find out the pure looking skaterboi could have his freaky side and she was more than curious to find out just how wild he could be. She heard, or more like, discerned Yeosang was apologizing to Hongjoong in a very hushed tone. Hongjoong assured him it was perfectly fine and that there was no need to be afraid, that it was after all a present to him. Seeing Yeosang conflict himself with whether this was right or not, Y/N knew it was time for her to speak up.

"Yeosangie...."

He immediately responded to her sultry call for him, ready to obey anything she said. When she patted the spot on the bed next to her, his feet quickly moved to sit next to her, although he kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look her right in the eye and much less at her body. His cute behavior stirred something inside Y/N, a more dominant side of her wanting to come out. She began stroking his hair, which made him visible stiffen and inhale sharply.

"You can look at me Yeosang. It's ok."

Brushing the hair away from his forehead, her hand went down to his cheek, caressing it as she turned his face to look at her. He visible gulped when she asked him:

"Don't you think I look pretty?"

Unable to resist himself, he finally scanned her body, eyes tracing every curve and lingering a little too much on her exposed cleavage.

"You look so fucking pretty." He had to admit.

Hongjoong watched with a proud smirk as Yeosang let Y/N kiss him softly and slowly melt into a more heated kiss. Although he was possessive by nature, something about sharing his most prized possession with his extremely handsome best friend got him riled up and he couldn't wait until they both fucked her dumb. He was just waiting for Yeosang to flip the tables on her, cause he knew that although his girlfriend was taking the lead at the moment, practically devouring the boy inside her mouth and straddling his lap, he also knew Yeosang was more dominant by nature. He just liked to play off an innocent and naive façade only to suddenly flip the switch and have whoever he's with underneath him and obeying his orders. And that's exactly what happened.

As Y/N was getting lost into their heated and sloppy makeout session, she let out a startled grunt when Yeosang's hand gripped the back of her hair, tugging it harshly as his nose brushed across her exposed neck.

"Just cause you're on top right now, doesn't mean I'm letting you take charge. Got it little kitten?" He smirked when he heard her moan out at her favorite pet name.

"Yes Yeosangie-"

She had no time to finish her sentence because Yeosang gripped her chin tightly, effectively silencing her.

"For tonight, forget about Yeosangie. You will only address me as Sir."

With no warning, he flipped her onto the bed, pinning her arms up and diving straight for her neck, making sure to suck and bite hard enough to leave purple blotches splattered across her soft almost velvet like skin. When Y/N looked back at her boyfriend, he was already almost fully undressed, leaving only his boxers on, hand palming himself as he stared at them with lustful eyes. Cupping her breasts, Yeosang squeezed them into his hands before pulling them out of the confining garment. Having always been a boobs type of guy, he of course began to hungrily suck on them, his tongue flicking against her sensitive nipples. Y/N arched her back, her mind wondering where the fuck did the shy skater went to? Was the boy who could barely say 3 words on their first meeting also the same man that was turning her into putty the lower he began kissing down her body?

When Yeosang got in between her thighs, he could not believe how drenched she already was.

"Fuck. We've barely done anything Hyung." Yeosang pressed a finger to her clothed heat.

Finally deciding it was time to join, Hongjoong moved Y/N so that her head was resting on the edge of the bed, prompting Yeosang to move as well.

"I know. She's such a dirty little slut. Gets turned on by even the smallest of things." He teased her as his hand lightly smacked her cheek.

"Don't call her that Hyung.....she's just a little princess. Can't help it if she's just a little spoiled." Yeosang cooed as he began pulling her soaked panties off.

Y/N gasped when Yeosang blew a little air onto her dripping core, eagerly anticipating him to do something. It was Hongjoong though that made her break her gaze from him when he slapped an all too familiar pierced member on her forehead.

"Hey, just cause Yeosang is willing to go soft on you and dote on you, doesn't mean you earned it from me."

Hongjoong tilted her head lower so it'd be easier for her to take him in.

"You're going to work that filthy mouth of yours and suck me dry you dirty kitten. I don't want you getting distracted by Yeosang eating you out or else I won't let you cum tonight." He warned her before shoving his dick inside her warm mouth in one go.

Yeosang only chuckled as he leaned in closer to her heat.

"I'll make sure to make it difficult for her."

Y/N moaned around Hongjoong's dick when she felt Yeosang's wet muscle side across her slick folds. Although he did not own a tongue in like her boyfriend did, he really was making it difficult for her to focus on sucking off Hongjoong. The way he swirled his tongue around her clit, or when he'd give it a particularly harsh suck that shot waves up at her. She could feel him smiling cockily too, he knew the power he held at that moment. Using his fingers to pry her lips open, he dwelved his tongue inside her dripping hole, causing her to briefly mumble out Yeosang's name while her mouth was still stuffed with Hongjoong's cock. She let out a choked yelp when the latter forced his cock deep inside her throat, the ampallang piercing touching her uvula, as his hand came down to strike her cheek.

"You're seriously calling out another man's name after I told you to focus on me you little bitch? Are you too dumb to even do a simple order?"

Gripping the sides of her jaw, he began to fuck her face, causing Y/N to choke around his length but eventually hollowing out her cheeks to welcome his intrusion. Although Yeosang looked up just to witness the sick and twisted scene, he did not deter in his task of eating Y/N out. He was determined to have her cum all over his face. By the way her hips began rolling onto his face and her thighs were closing around his head, he knew she was definitely close. Noticing her body movements as well, Hongjoong firmly looked at Yeosang.

"Don't you dare let her cum Yeosang."

Yeosang snickered amusedly, finding it funny how Hongjoong tried to order him around. Instead, the brat in him decided to completely ignore him, burying his face deeper in her, his mouth working hard to get her to reach that release she desperately wanted to achieve. When she began squirming under him, his hand held her hips down, tongue lapping up all the sweet juices she was pouring out. Yeosang was disappointed that her pleasured moans were currently being muffled by Hongjoong's cock, the latter tensing up when he felt the vibrations all around him.

"Fucking hell!"

Pulling out of her mouth with a loud popping sound, he finished himself off as he came all over her chin and neck, face red and eyes glaring down at Yeosang, who shot him a smug smile as he wiped the remainder of her juices off his chin and nose and licked his hand when he was done.

"You're such a fucking brat." Hongjoong growled at him.

"And what are you going to do? Spank me daddy?" He scoffed at the older male.

Setting Y/N upright, Hongjoong picked her up and set her down on the chair by the computer.

"You're not allowed to move, speak or touch yourself. You'll sit there like a good little bitch and watch what happens when you test me or disobey."

Y/N quickly nodded at Hongjoong's words, watching with fear and anticipation as turned his attention back to a still defiant Yeosang. After stripping off his clothes as Hongjoong told him to, Yeosang obligingly layed on his stomach, wiggling his ass when his Hyung came up behind him. Hongjoong had a suspiciously calm smile as his hand traced the curve of his Donsaeng's back before gently kneading at the flesh on his cheeks. When Y/N saw him reach under the bed for the black velvet bag he had hid just in case, she knew exactly what he was up to and wanted to warn Yeosang, but remembered the strict command she was given.

"Gave up already Hyung? I knew you're just all talk when you said you were a Dom-"

Yeosang groaned when Hongjoong took hold of his arms and swiftly tied them behind his back. Yeosang tested the ropes binding his hands and effectively discovered that they were very tight. He inhaled deeply when he felt something like leather stroke his ass cheeks. Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle as he brought the object close to Yeosang's face so he could take a look at what it was. The brown haired male paled slightly as he looked straight at the top of a black riding crop. Hongjoong used the tip to slightly turn Yeosang's head so he could see the sadistic smile across his face.

"I'm going to show you little brat how us Doms train you into submission."

After patting that stubborn head of his friend, Hongjoong held the riding crop over his head, momentarily keeping it there to keep a suspenseful atmosphere. Y/N looked over at Yeosang with a worried look, meeting her eyes briefly, he sent a wink her way, silently assuring her that he was completely fine with it.

Swish

"Ahh!"

Yeosang let out an almost pained howl when the first strike came down on his ass.

"One." Hongjoong began.

One stroke soon turned to 5, and then 10, Yeosang's milky white skin started as a bright pink but was now a deep red. He kept his face buried in the mattress underneath him which drowned out his screams and whimpers. All throughout his ordeal, Y/N rubbed her legs together, pressing her thighs against each other, quickly becoming aroused once more and feeling needy once more. Yeosang's whining was not helping her case either, if anything his behavior was making her want to disobey her boyfriend as well, her hand creeping dangerously close to her knee.

"Are you going to apologize for being a brat now or should I keep going? The longer you drag this on, the longer it'll take for both you and Y/N to cum. I mean look at her..."

Grabbing a hold of Yeosang's hair, Hongjoong lifted his face so he could look over at the squirming girl on his chair.

"She's practically aching for you to be inside her."

Although Yeosang wanted to continue his defiance, not only was he craving his own release, but seeing Y/N made him rethink his choice.

"Yeosang, I'll tell you what. Give up now....and I'll let you take her ass."

Y/N couldn't believe her ears. Hongjoong wasn't serious was he? Yeosang sucking in a breath answered that for her, and more so when he immediately did as he was asked.

"I'm sorry f-for being a brat Hyung. I p-promise it won't happen again."

Flipping him on his back, Hongjoong gripped Yeosang's red and painfully erect cock in his hand, making the younger boy hiss in pleasure and pain.

"Tell me what you want Yeosang." Hongjoong ushered him to speak up, his thumb running across the other's slit.

"Wanna make our girl feel good. Wanna be buried inside her and fuck her like a queen."

As he spoke those words, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, hips bucking up as Hongjoong began stroking him gently, soft moans and grunts coming out from Yeosang's mouth, the very same ones Hongjoong wanted to hear from the beginning.

"And you will baby boy, but can you both be patient for a little bit?"

Hongjoong turned when Y/N let out a frustrated whine, bottom lip poking out.

"I'll get to you soon kitten ok? But let me help Yeosang for a little bit. He hasn't gotten a chance to come even once and he's throbbing in my hand right now."

Having been frustrated for too long, Yeosang melted into Hongjoong's touch when he picked up the pace and began to stroke him harder. He tried biting his lip in an effort to hold back his noises but Hongjoong halted his movements.

"Open your mouth and let those filthy moans come out your throat or else I'll put a cock ring on you."

As if on cue, Yeosang's began releasing the most unholy series of whimpers and whines as Hongjoong pumped him into a dazy haze that would soon be broken and explode all over his Hyung's hand. He just needed an extra push and he'd come collapsing from his already high state. Hongjoong felt when Yeosang began twitching, a sign he was going to come.

"Hyung-Hyung!-"

Hongjoong immediately dropped to his knees and opened his mouth wide to catch some of the cum that spurted out of Yeosang, leaving Y/N speechless. She knew her boyfriend was rather kinky and had interesting tastes, but this just made her let out a big 'oof' at his actions. And what followed just made her practically drip. Taking advantage of Yeosang's sensitive state, Hongjoong licked up his softening dick and made sure to press his tongue piercing into his slit, making Yeosang push him off, unable to take anymore.

"Ok baby boy, guess you're not ready for overstimulation yet." Hongjoong ruffled his hair before cupping the red faced boy's cheeks and kissing him softly, drilling his tongue in his mouth, letting him not only taste himself but allowing him to play around with his tongue piercing that always made him curious.

They were only broken from their amorous trance when they heard a frustrated squeak coming from the poor girl sitting on the chair in front of them.

"I think we've neglected our princess for too long Hyung." Yeosang was the one who got up and went over to fetch Y/N, who eagerly accepted his embrace and let him carry her over to the bed.

Hongjoong was already getting out the lube to help with the process that was about to come.

"I don't know....I'm tempted to make her wait a little more."

Y/N shook her head furiously to which Yeosang giggled.

"Don't worry princess. I'll make sure you're more than satisfied."

Turning her so her back was to his chest, Yeosang took the lube from Hongjoong's hand and poured some onto his fingers. Hongjoong in turn tilted Y/N's chin, and made her look at him.

"You're lucky Yeosang is nice kitten. If it were up to me, I'd make you wait around and beg like the whiny bitch you are."

Y/N poked her bottom lip out, making puppy eyes at Hongjoong so he wouldn't follow through on it. Wanting to assure her, Yeosang pressed kisses on her shoulder.

"Don't listen to him princess."

Yeosang slipped two of his lubed fingers into her tight hole, reading her body signals and slowly prepping her. Sensing her apprehension, Yeosang looked over at Hongjoong.

"Should we maybe try something else?"

But Y/N didn't want to deter them.

"No! Please! Fuck both my holes."

Yeosang instantly got hard once again at her words. When Y/N pressed herself back onto his length, he got the hint that she wanted them to stop stalling. As Yeosang finished lubing her up, Hongjoong lined himself up at her entrance, not needing to prep her pussy hole as she was practically soaked to the core, making it easy for him to slide inside her. Even after all the times he had entered her in the past months, she could still not get over the feeling of his pierced dick stretching out her walls. Before she could fully get adjusted to him, Yeosang was already sliding into her other tight hole, causing a pained shiver to run down her spine. Hongjoong rapidly kissed her to distract her from the uncomfortable feeling. Yeosang as well slid his hands up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples softly as he fully inserted his length inside her, fighting the urge to move until she adjusted to his size.

After a few minutes, she pulled away from Hongjoong's kiss and nodded at him.

"You good?" He asked one last time.

"I'm good." Turning her head back so she could look at Yeosang, she added: "Go ahead."

Giving each other an enthusiastic look, both men began moving inside of her. Y/N had never felt so full, each time one of them slipped out of her, the other was already slipping back in, never allowing her to get a moment's rest from the overwhelming feeling they were giving her.

"You're enjoying this aren't you kitten? I can feel you clenching all around me and I bet that other hole of yours is squeezing Yeosang as well."

With no warning, Hongjoong slipped his hand back and struck her ass twice, causing her to yelp.

"Aren't you, you whore?"

As soon as he finished his words, Yeosang stepped in to caress her slapped skin.

"It's ok princess, it's just means we're fucking you right like you're supposed to be."

Y/N loved the polar opposites both of them were giving her. Hongjoong's degradation being softened by Yeosang's praise and care was something she didn't know she needed until she felt a familiar coil build up in her lower stomach.

"She's close..... can you tell Yeosang? With the way she's struggling to breathe and her walls tightening, she's about to burst all over." Hongjoong noted.

Reaching over to fumble with her clit, Yeosang whispered in a raspy voice:

"Cum for us baby girl. Just let it out."

Feeling the coil snap inside, she cried out their names as they slowed down their movements, letting her come down from her high and become relaxed. She was completely unaware of the slick smiles and hints they exchanged between themselves. Taking advantage of her unfocused state, Hongjoong gripped her hips while Yeosang wrapped his hand around her neck, both jolting they began pounding into her at an even fiercer speed than before, loud squealching sounds echoing through the room as incoherent babbling came from Y/N's mouth, tears dripping down her cheeks from their overstimulation.

"Joong...Sang..-"

Hongjoong slapped her ass once again.

"Wrong name stupid, stupid kitten."

Any word she even thought of spitting out was choked out by Yeosang's grip tightened around her throat.

"It's Master and Sir to you little pet."

"S-sorry......m-master...s-sir-"

With tremendous effort, she managed to get out those 3 words in between her whimpered screams that were probably being heard by the neighbors, not to mention the creaking of the bed underneath them. Being overstimulated past her limit, it didn't take long for Y/N to become undone once more, this time even more violently than the previous one. If the boys hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed onto the bed. But their strong arms, both tha tattooed ones and the non-tattooed held her up as both boys chased their own release. Through gritted teeth, they let out choked moans, making sure to fill her up to the brim as they coated her walls with their sticky cum. Once they garnered enough strength and their headspace, they pulled out of her, a trail of slick cascading down her thighs. Y/N winced at the sudden void that action left in her, her eyes focused on the ceiling as her mind just stayed blank from all the events that just happened. Yeosang was the first one to get up.

"I'll go run a bath."

Understanding what he was doing, Hongjoong leaned down and brushed some of the hair sticking to his girlfriend's forehead off her face. Kissing the spot gently, his tone turned more soft and warm than what it had been minutes ago.

"It's ok, you did so well my love. We'll run you a nice bath and then tuck you into bed so you can rest ok?"

Her mind barely processed what he said, she simply nodded and allowed herself to be carried by Hongjoong into the bathroom. Yeosang was in the process of making sure the water temperature was perfect and had already added scented bubble bath mix in there to help her relax more.

"You certainly do go the extra mile." Hongjoong pointed out.

Yeosang shrugged.

"Just cause she's not mine doesn't mean I'm not going to take care of her after I practically helped you fuck her brains out."

Both Y/N and Yeosang thought they were too worn out and dumb to fully comprehend the next words Hongjoong spoke.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's also yours after tonight."

Y/N craned her neck to look at Yeosang's reaction, who sat there incredulous.

"I mean, if you don't want to I understand..."

Hongjoong looked over at his lover, knowing fully well she would not mind adding their savage yet charismatic accomplice into their relationship. After Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, Yeosang stood up and took her away from Hongjoong's embrace.

"Guess you're mine now too princess."

━━━━━ • ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • ━━━━━

#ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez yeosang #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez college au #ateez hongjoong fanfic #ateez hongjoong fluff #ateez hongjoong scenarios #ateez hongjoong smut #emo!hongjoong #ateez yeosang fluff #ateez yeosang imagines #ateez yeosang scenarios #ateez yeosang smut #ateez hongjoong imagines #skaterboi! yeosang #kim hongjoong #kang yeosang #kim hongjoong fanfic #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang smut #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong scenarios #kang yeosang scenarios #kim hongjoong fluff

[moonah-rose]

Defrosting Grumpy Three (a Season 8 meta)

I keep thinking about how Season 8 of Classic Who is almost like the first one the show has to a ‘season long arc’ that I don’t feel gets talked about enough. Obviously everyone knows it as “the one where the Master is in every story” but I feel like there is a subtle character arc for the Doctor in this season as well which is tied to the two main characters introduced in the first episode; the Master and Jo Grant.

I’m not the first one to point out that out of Three’s five seasons; this is the one where he’s at his most grumpy and short-tempered. I know a lot of people point to this season as reasons for why they don’t like Three and I totally get that, he’s a real git sometimes, in particular the first and last stories. There are moments where he’s asking for a slap and, no, I’m not talking about him claiming to be buddies with Chairman Mao and a Tory MP. Because I would’ve thought it was obvious that he drops those names purely to gain trust of these people who don’t trust him (at least that’s my headcanon because it doesn’t fit with the anti-capitalist, anti-pollution, anti-imperialist writing). Just him being constantly ungrateful to the Brigadier, snapping at Jo, or just being childish in the most ‘kid throwing a tantrum’ way possible.

But it’s easy to get why. By Season 8 he’s been trapped on Earth for we can assume at least a year. New Who fans who’ve seen the Power of Three and saw how crazy Eleven went when he tried to stay on Earth to study the cubes just for a few days/weeks know the Doctor can’t stand staying still, especially in one time and place. In his first season he could be short-tempered but slightly less so. In Spearhead he’s quite polite and motivated, though that could be the most pleasant form of Post Regeneration Trauma he’s been through. Plus he had Liz, who you can see he immediately clicked with. A fellow genius who finds herself out of place or treated a little unfairly as a female scientist surrounded by men, both of them willing to sass the Brigadier when he deserves it. He also still keeps trying to fix the TARDIS, as if convinced this won’t be as permanent as the Time Lords intended.

But by Season 8 (or you could say even before that, in Inferno) his attempts clearly haven’t succeeded past slipping into a terrifying parallel universe, and now cabin fever is setting in. And Liz, his science bud, has gone off and left. And while it’s sad we didn’t get a goodbye between the two of them, her passing remark towards the Brigadier about the Doctor just needing someone to pass him test tubes and fill his praise kink maybe implies that, at least from Liz’ POV, they weren’t as equals as Three thought, or she didn’t feel that fulfilled working with him, even if she did appreciate him as a friend. 

So enter Jo to replace Liz, who is everything Liz wasn’t. Liz had to study and work her way to her position; Jo is a spoiled girl who got to play spy by sheer nepotism. She failed A level science and doesn’t have the same sharp-wit he and Liz shared. Three is mean to her even before she introduces herself as his assistant when she only tries to help, and doesn’t hide his disappointment when she tells him. Perhaps it might also be that she reminds him of his companions before Liz; she’s cute and perky like Zoe and also loyal and determined like Jamie, even though she lacks Jamie’s physical strength and Zoe’s genius. Still, she’s young and he might not want to put her in danger the same way he nearly lost his previous young companions many times in the War Games.

When Three goes to the Brigadier to try to get rid of Jo, the Brig is far more smug than in the previous season, as he seems to have worked the Doctor out by this point. Their little moment at the end of Inferno where Three insults him and tries to escape only to then come back with his tail between his legs acting all buddy has shown him who Three really is; that this whole grumpy shtick of this is just a defence mechanism while he’s so out of his depth. I like to think the Brig hoped Jo would soften him up, to bring out the compassion that was more overt in his previous incarnation, as well as just pass him test tubes and keep tabs on him. His knowing smile when he watches Three try and fail miserably to fire her seems to prove his point.

In the same story we also have the Master showing up for the very first time. He was created to be the ‘Moriarty to the Doctor’s Holmes’. These kind of ‘foil enemies’ that pop up in so many stories, where you have a villain who is supposed to be a perfect match in intelligence or skill to the hero, are more often than not presented as ‘what the hero could have been’ if they chose to be evil rather than good; the Master is no different. And even though it’s not established until the next season that the Doctor and Master used to be friends, there’s clearly an underlining fondness in their banter which hints at past feelings as well as mutual respect. It says quite a lot that Three is more relaxed and friendly during his conversations with the Master half the time they talk than he is with the humans he’s meant to be saving, or even his own close friends. Because, for all their moral disagreements, the Master is his own kind and his only link - other than his broken TARDIS - to the rest of the Universe. 

In almost every story of S8, after the Master has revealed his evil scheme only for the Doctor to point out how it will backfire on him, they have to work together or form some kind of alliance of convenience. In Claws of Axos, the Doctor outright pretends to betray his friends and elope join forces with the Master to escape, only for it to be a trick in order to defeat the Axons. But considering Three’s attitude in this season, it’s a very convincing act as much to the audience as to the humans. And then in Colony in Space, the Master offers the Doctor half-ownership of the Universe....and the Doctor clearly hesitates! Yes, the Master tempts him with the persuasion of ruling ‘in the name of good’ but Three has to take a moment to remember what a slippery slope that line of thinking is. He’s so tired of being trapped, sick of being leashed by the Time Lords, that the Master comes along as a devil on his shoulder at his most vulnerable point. Considering the last story involves the Master summoning the actual Devil (or close enough) and is also where Three’s temper seems to be at its peak seems all too fitting.

It’s also interesting that the Master’s greatest fear that appears in the Mind of Evil is an image of the Doctor laughing maniacally over him. It’s the closest we get to an image of Dark!Three in the show. To contrast; the Doctor’s greatest fear isn’t the Master, it’s the eruption from Inferno. Seeing the Earth swallowed by flame - not because of an outside force like the Daleks or Cybermen, but by humans themselves. It’s easy to imagine him wondering why he even bothers with them when they’re their own worst enemy.

(Side note; apparently the Evil Overlord in the Inferno parallel world IS the Third Doctor, according to the Expanded Universe, though I haven’t read up on this. We were robbed of seeing Pertwee play an evil Doctor.)

So while this is going on and the Master is playing his games with the Doctor while also tempting him, intentionally or not, to the ‘dark side’, we also have Jo at his side. And Jo takes all of the Doctor’s snapping and mood swings like a pro, and is very quickly overwhelmed with a lot of the stuff she’s faced which that she didn’t know she was signing up for - being hypnotised, captured by aliens, taken to alien worlds in the far future etc. She screams as most companions did at that time, but because it is what you would expect from a girl fresh out of school and throwing herself into something she clearly didn’t properly prepare for. The Doctor has to save her a lot, more than often because she tried to help only to get herself captured. As much as he does warm to her - because he’s not immune to how adorable she is - it serves to prove his point. Even when he finally gets to leave Earth for a day, she’s too frightened to want to leave the TARDIS. What good is she to him?

Now she continues to prove she has her uses. She has her escapology skills which get them out of a few tight spots. Depending on the writer, she can turn into an Emma Peel-esque agent capable of self-defence and subterfuge. And she’s always patient with the Doctor, no matter what mood he’s in, and extremely loyal. She’s also kind and compassionate with every side character she comes across. There seems to have been a backlash to these kinds of qualities in female characters in the past twenty years or so, what I like to call the Cinderella critique, where if a woman is kind and generous more so than smart, sassy and sword-wielding she’s seen as ‘weak’. Jo is always there at the Doctor’s side when he’s managed to get hurt or knocked out (Three took a lot of naps, anyone else notice this?). Even after he does whisk her away to another planet and nearly don’t make it back, she could easily throw her job away if it was too much, but she sticks with it because you can see that she wants more than anything to be useful and do good for her world - it would be another two season until she found what her own passion was with being an environmental activist but this is where she wants to start.

But it’s not until the end of S8 that we see Jo’s greatest strength and how it saves Three when every other defence he had was gone. He’s spent most of that story chastising her for believing in magic and superstition, as well as anything else he can find to snap at her for like criticising the Brigadier even though he does the same thing all the damn time (this could be seen as a ‘I can insult my bro but you can’t’ moment but it’s still not pleasant). But when he learns the Master is preparing to sacrifice her, he runs in to save her despite knowing it’s a suicide mission. He also gives a cold exchange to the Master when told he’s a ‘doomed man’. 

Oh I’m a dead man! I knew that as soon as I walked through those doors so you better watch out! I have nothing to lose, do I?

It’s a telling line that, behind all his patronising and abruptness, he’s reached a point he doesn’t feel he has anything left to keep going. He’s lost his freedom and his knowledge of time travel; but he’ll die before letting Jo die or letting the Earth burn again. When Azal claims the daemons gave humans knowledge, Three responds: Finally he’s turning his anger on the one who deserves it to save the one who has been his friend, even at his lowest points, for the past several months, while still showing his disappointment in what he’s seen of humans living amongst them:

You gave them knowledge to blow up the world and they most certainly will. They can poison the water and the very air they breathe. 

When Azal appears, he nearly makes the Master’s greatest fear come true by offering his power to the Doctor instead. And the Doctor looks horrified, immediately doing a Jon Snow and refusing it. Unlike when the Master offered him power before, he doesn’t hesitate for a moment, even though Azal’s powers could probably get his TARDIS working again in a snap. He looks almost scared at the thought of possessing something like that. Perhaps his dark persona in that other world became that way because he did take such an offer?

Azal prepares to kill the Doctor for refusing his offer, which is where Jo saves the day by offering her life for his. A lot of people dislike this ending for the idea of the villain being destroyed ‘by the power of love’ more or less, but this was a lot less common a deus ex machina as it is in New Who. The Doctor explains how it works when they’re free as:

Azal could not accept a fact as irrational and illogical as Jo being prepared to give up her life for me.

Three says it as he’s just as baffled, if also amused, by it as Azal was. Why would Jo give up her life for him? Compare that with when Ten has to give up his incarnation to save Wilf, how he rants that Wilf isn’t important but he has ‘so much more’ to give. Even the Doctor wrestles when it comes to sacrificing himself for others sometimes but Jo did it without a seconds thought, made even more illogical given Three’s often harsh treatment of her. But one thing that is obvious is that Three’s grumpy face is gone; he’s smiling for the rest of the episode, looking at Jo with quiet heart eyes, and letting her drag him into the maypole dance, conceding that she was right and there is ‘magic’ in the world. 

Much like Rose was the companion Nine needed after the Time War to enjoy seeing the Universe again and appreciating life, Jo serves a similar purpose in S8 in that she gradually reminds the Doctor through her actions of the strengths in being brave, kind and selfless. She and the rest of the UNIT family are there to remind him of the goodness in humanity and that we’re always learning and trying to improve; as Three says to Azal that ‘they need a chance to grow up’. Jo is the angel on his shoulder to contrast the Master as his personal devil; right down to having her dressed in the sacrificial ‘virgin’ garb opposite the Satanic Master to cap the season off.

Three still has his sour moments after this but he’s far less cantankerous going forward and sweeter towards Jo especially, praising her bravery and learning in future, just as Jo also grows more confident in her abilities and enjoys her adventures with him. He seems far more relaxed on Earth and less desperate to get away because of the people he has around him that make it worth staying around for. Three’s morals and loyalty to humanity might not have been so firm had Jo not been there to ground him, especially with the Master constantly there almost holding out a hand to him offering freedom and excitement. Like all good companions, she saves the Doctor as much as he has to save her, in more ways than one, which she doesn’t get nearly enough credit for. And it’s what adds to the heartbreak of her eventual exit because of the effect she had on his life.

It’s just one of my favorite tropes when a character gets better and softens or becomes kinder not because they had to ‘change for someone else’ but because they were inspired by them, especially if it’s the person they underestimated the most.

#it's about found family yo #classic who meta #doctor who #third doctor #jo grant #three x jo #the master #unit era

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 17: 3x07 Day of the Dove

I am incredibly discombobulated today—usual weekend nocturnal shenanigans I guess! Anyway it’s somehow midnight. Gonna try to write up these note on the Classic episode The Day of the Dove in as efficient a manner as possible.

Hmm, a planet with wavy pink Fraggle plants. I like it already.

But where is Spock? Very suspicious.

I really appreciate Kirk giving a little speech to set up the overall question/issue for us. (I know he does this all the time with the Captain’s logs but this is out loud and so… more obviously expository.)

Oh no, it’s our old friends…the Klingons.

I will admit that this ONE TIME, the Klingon is being reasonable. Like, it is reasonable to think that Kirk and the Enterprise attacked his ship, given that his hip WAS attacked, and who else would it be?

Three years of peace between the Klingons and the Federation? That is inclusive of the show so all this tension must technically be “peace” and also implies there was something more like a direct war going on, like, right before Kirk got the captaincy.

Zoolander voice: What is this, a colony of the INVISIBLE?

“We have no devil. But we understand the habits of yours.”

No takers? No takers on the torture? No volunteers to be mercilessly tortured by the Klingons?

Star Trek Beyond could have had Kirk and Chekov bond over being brothers! I mean, to other people.

They’ll kill 100 hostages at the first sign of treachery. He does know there are only 400-some people on the ship right? Maybe you should pace yourself, Kang.

Kirk’s so badass he needs MULTIPLE guns trained on him just to use the phone.

Oh-ho secret message to Spock. Which version of the iPhone will be capable of doing THAT?

The Klingons are “suspended in transit” is an awfully nice way of saying they’re just dematerialized atoms in space. Philosophy major and/or Bones nightmare fuel.

How did Kang not see this coming, by the way? Like, he just says “I’m taking your ship now, me and my 6 men versus your 400-some men, and I’ll do this by simply declaring it to be so. Now let’s beam up to your ship, where I’ll be greatly outnumbered, and there are armed security guards all around me.” Guess he’s been reading The Secret!

WIFE AND SCIENCE OFFICER

Aka the most important part of this whole episode.

Kirk’s face is very ?????? You can have both????

It’s legitimately not even important for her to be the science officer tbqh. Like that is so gratuitous. That’s just in there to drive me insane.

"We're prisoners, somehow, after I demanded to come on the ship, assuming they'd just give it to me without any kind of fight. How DID this happen?”

Federation death camps lol—someone’s been watching Fox News.

I do kind of wonder… is this an actual rumor that goes around the Klingon homeworld or is it something that the alien entity put in her head specifically to make her angrier right now? I mean it really could be either.

I also appreciate this episode for being pretty much the only one to actually attempt to give the Klingons a reason for being as they are. The Romulans… maybe aren’t well-described, but they do have a sort of regalness to them, appropriate for being related to Vulcans, and you can kind of imagine that they are the way they are because they’re Vulcans without the intense self-control. Plus they’re literally only in 2 TOS eps and in the second, the Federation are the aggressors. But the Klingons show up a half-dozen times only to be depicted each time as just like Cartoonishly Bad, aggressive, violent, and selfish for basically no reason. And I mean, some people really are!! But TOS has so much nuance in other places, that it always seemed a little disappointing to me that the Klingons are really just like ‘well we’re just bad and we hate everyone and we really like killing I guess.” At least in this ep there’s a little more added to that: that there is poverty on their world, that they feel aggrieved, that they feel unprotected, that taking and conquering is how they look after themselves…

I think that’s later in the episode though.

He’s detaining them in the LOUNGE lol. With their favorite dishes available to them to eat. Absolutely barbarous conditions.

I can’t believe Chekov is hanging in the elevator with the cool kids. Like, one of these things really isn’t like the others.

Kang is officially sure of himself for someone currently imprisoned in the lounge, that most fearsome of Federation death camps.

Hmm, could the glittery light alien have taken over??

You know what, that's a lot of tasks for Johnson to do all by himself: search the whole ship, fix the engines, and free 400 people.

Sulu would love this: everyone gets a sword!!

“Bridge. I gotta show this to Sulu immediately.”

Klingons have maintained a dueling tradition. That’s interesting. Finally some characterization going on.

Spock is really living up to his logical nature today. Everyone else has gone off the emotional deep end and he’s like “have you considered this completely rational explanation that accounts for the actual, observed facts??”

Whoops Chekov is actually an only child. Scratch that previous Beyond headcanon. (Interesting that his dead brother does really resemble Sam though—killed on a research colony??)

Love that Sulu knows that about him though.

Oh, that’s a pretty schematic picture of the Enterprise. I want that on a t-shirt.

Lol the pan out to the armory, now filled with… swords!!

Do ALL of these men have a fetish for swords? Sulu and fencing, Spock displaying swords in his quarters, and Kirk in his San Francisco apartment, and Scotty salivating over this Scottish blade.

“Klingon units.”

Finally Sulu gets his sword! It’s what he deserves.

Love that the shiny light alien also has a fetish for swords.

Oh no, it’s our old adversary, an alien life force.

What is the alien’s purpose? Um, I’m pretty sure its purpose is to start shit.

“An appropriate choice of terms, Captain.” I don’t even remember what this is referring to but I think it’s pretty clear that Spock is enjoying himself during a crisis again.

Bones, being so dramatic. Were there atrocities? He’s talking about the Klingons as if they were literally hacking off limbs—it’s a few stab wounds here and there, chill.

Oooh, time to behave like military men—strong words. (But I thought it wasn’t the military?? @ S**** P****) (This might not even be my best argument, given the context of this episode, but I’m sticking with it.)

This is like a giant game of capture the flag.

AU that’s just about the Enterprise crew playing capture the flag with the Klingons.

Sulu in the background standing guard with his sword

Damn, turning on Spock with the slurs now!!

Spock was absolutely ready to kill him. Like he would 100% have taken him out with a blow to the head. And he’d been doing such a good job of not feeling the alien’s effects so far! Admittedly, that was a strong provocation though.

Honestly, I really like this scene. It’s uncomfortable and tense and you can really see how the alien is bringing out the worst possible influences of their respective races. And I liked how Spock was definitely full on pre-Reform Vulcan for a minute there. It was a more effective portrayal of what that might have looked like than All Our Yesterdays tbqh.

A result of… stress?

Kirk got himself out of it first. He’s so strong. He knows himself so well, he cannot be outsmarted by any alien.

“We’ve been taught to think in terms other than war.”

“The alien brings out the worst of us—patriotic drumbeating…even race hatred.”

He’s so sad; he can’t imagine thinking like that about Spock :(

Sulu in a Jeffries tube! A man of many talents. It’s okay bb, take credit for turning on the lights.

The alien must have been getting bored. The Klingons must have been doing too well, and the playing field needs to be leveled for maximum shit-stirring.

“Let’s find that alien.” That’s how I ALWAYS feel.

Oh, Kang, you’re so close—“What power supports our battle but thwarts our victory.” So, so close to getting it.

ALIEN DETECTED.

Spock takes his sword, of course.

“Jim.” Obligatory Jim moments hit differently when they’re not so obligatory.

“Jim—stop hitting my protégé. And put that sword down.”

Kirk looks so sad, picking Chekov up to carry him bridal style.

Also in addition to ‘race hatred’ I think we need to add ‘rape-y tendances’ to the bad stuff that the alien is inspiring here.

“A brief surge of racial bigotry. Most distasteful.” Spock winning for understatement of the year.

They're assuming the alien is trying to test out their relative powers but I think it just wants entertainment. I mean, doesn’t it look like a naughty little thing?

Mara’s outfit is… little shorts? Interesting. Usually not my style but she makes it work.

Spock doesn’t even look at Johnson as he falls lol. Another one bites the dust.

“It exists on the hate of others.”

What does this remind me of? Oh, the Vast of Night and the whole “aliens made us do every bad thing ever” conspiracy theory. At least this one makes more sense, in part because it is not quite so overwhelmingly broad!

All hostile attitudes must be eliminated, he says, and there's Mara right behind Kirk giving him a death stare lol.

Kang is so obviously posing. Google Earth, always taking pictures.

Only a few minutes before drifting forever in space becomes inevitable? Good thing Kirk works well under pressure.

“Well… do whatever you can, Scotty. You know the drill.” Doesn’t even bother giving real directions anymore. We’ve been in this scenario before.

“So we drift in space, with only hatred and bloodshed aboard.”

And the 392 people below just get to…live in Enterprise prison, I guess.

Star date: Armageddon. So dramatic!

I’m not even making that up; that’s an actual quote. Can you imagine being an Admiral listening to this?

“Stop the war now.” An actual line, really aired on television.

Spock wants to threaten the wife lol. That's the old pre-Reform Vulcan seeping through. Surak who?

Damn, Kang is cold. “Eh, she gets the concept of being killed in battle.” They’re gonna need marriage counseling after this.

“There is another way. Mutual trust and help.” Yes that’s my hero!!

“No one can guarantee the actions of another.” Can’t remember the context of this entirely anymore, but great line.

The entity is loving this—multi-person choreographed sword fight!!

"Those who hate and fight must stop themselves. otherwise it is not stopped.” Another baller line. Spock has a lot of deep thoughts today. And so does Kirk. And Kang.

Kirk tries to reason with the alien. Nice try.

“Shoo. Shoo, alien. Off the ship, go away.”

Omg that last moment—Kang slapping Kirk’s back way too hard, Spock’s completely ridiculous wide-eyed expression when he does, like some sort of combo of amusement and confusion, and then Sulu just passing on by in the background….

Then the alien just yeets itself into space. And that’s the end!

Always feels weird when there’s no wrap up on the bridge.

Also, what are they going to do with the Klingons? They have no ship. They really did come out of this a lot worse than Kirk and co. No ship, huge casualties—and no one to blame even, but the alien.

I feel like the alien messed up a little in killing so many Klingons. Like, it could have accomplished its purpose, angering the Klingons and turning them on Kirk, by attacking the ship a little less violently—you know they’d react to 5 deaths pretty much the same as 400, and then there would be many more people to fight forever and produce that sweet sweet anger!

Maybe the alien’s powers aren’t strong enough to influence 800 people though. Also it wants equal forces and 800 people wouldn’t fit on the Enterprise, one assumes. So it still makes sense.

That was, of course, an excellent episode. 100% agree with is classic status, even though the main things I remembered going in were the wife + science officer bit, and everyone laughing at the end in a really forced, fake way, in order to make the alien go away.

I thought the Klingons were a lot better/more interesting today than usual. First, I think Kang is a better character, or a better actor maybe, than the others; he has a certain way about him that is… more watchable, more sympathetic. And he’s always saying these really dramatic things that make it seem likely he writes patriotic Klingon war poetry in his off time. Also, including his wife made them seem more… not human obviously, but normal. Not just cardboard cut-out villains. And of course the actual lightly specific motivations I earlier mentioned helped too.

Also, the plotting was very good: it built up slowly but surely over time, so at first the alien’s influence wasn’t that obvious, and then it became more so, and then it became horrifically obvious and extreme. And then you had to re-evaluate earlier moments: was that the alien changing facts in their heads, or a real part of the animosity between humans and Klingons? And it wasn’t always clear, which I appreciated. The tension when the people were at their worst wasn’t overdone, like in that moment with Scotty, Spock, and Kirk—or even in Chekov’s assault on Mara, tbh. The various strategies of the different sides were very entertaining too; there was never a dull moment, and they fit in a lot of straight-up actions and twists into 50 minutes.

The possible threat was truly terrifying, also: stuck in a space ship, forever, unable to die, feeling the worst possible emotions all the time, besieged, angered, despairing, fighting a war that can’t be won, being injured and suffering only to recover and fight again, and it never stops… A perfect nightmare mixture of insanity and violence and pain. And the alien, in encouraging hatred and anger, doesn’t discriminate between sides: they turn on each other just as much as on the Klingons, breeding paranoia and infighting. For eternity.

The episode also felt much more strongly anti-war than I remember tbh. Like it was not subtle. Kirk literally says “stop the war” in so many words. He has a part in his speech where he talks about the possibility of other aliens out there, encouraging other wars. And while I do think “maybe the aliens are making us do it” is a cop out explanation, or would be if it were real, the scenario gave the show a lot of room to say, like, pretty ballsy things: to include “patriotic drum beating” along with “race hatred” in a list of corrupting feelings they were experiencing; to show how the same instincts that lead to warring also lead to sexual assault and the aforementioned ‘race hatred;” to reveal the true horror of an endless war by making the participants unkillable and sticking them in a singular space ship in the middle of nowhere; to imply that the combatants of war gain nothing from it, but outside or third-party entities will pull strings of their own design to profit from the conflict as long as possible; even to make an impassioned plea to camera to stop the endlessness of the conflict. Like I can’t even totally unpack this but it is a lot!

Finally, it was also a great Kirk episode, which of course is my most important factor. He’s smart; he’s strong; he’s so sure of himself and his values that he cannot be manipulated to mindless hatred, he represents the values of the Federation, and the show itself; he treats even his enemies with basic respect and humanity; and ultimately, he saves the day.

Okay I was not efficient in writing this up at all! It is very late!!

#the year 2021 #2021: star trek #2021: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

[aion-rsa]

Val Kilmer Documentary Punctures the Actor’s Bad Boy Myth

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Leo Scott and Ting Poo’s new documentary feature, Val, is not a mortality play. It is a rehearsal for an upcoming act. During a tour of his one-man stage show, Citizen Twain, Val Kilmer was diagnosed with throat cancer. The actor underwent two tracheostomies, and now can only speak while covering a tube. The narration of the new film is thus done by his son Jack Kilmer, allowing the pair to share a non-verbal connection throughout the journey, and through time and expression itself. While there are flourishes of humor, the documentary is a serious study of an artist who has always struggled to be understood, told through the selective memory of Kilmer’s POV.

“I’ve wanted to tell a story about acting for a very long time,” Kilmer says toward the beginning of the documentary. “And now that it’s difficult to speak, I want to tell my story more than ever.” Kilmer is an artist, one who takes his vocation very seriously and introspectively. An actor’s voice is more than a tool, it is their primary source of communication. Non-verbal exchanges are important, but dialogue is the primary idea delivery system in staged and filmed works. Surgical procedures have split his throat, shredding the scope of his instrument. In the film, Kilmer is forced to project his story on the empty space between the notes.

Among Kilmer’s many defining roles, the one which appears to ring truest is his encapsulation of Jim Morrison, the poet and lead vocalist of the Doors in Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, The Doors. The young Kilmer is shown onstage in a small club, lost in the music, awaiting his cue to become one with the mic. Moments in Kilmer’s personal history, like how the actor was tagged with a “difficult” label, are consigned to rests. The most overt reference to Kilmer’s “bad boy” reputation comes from Robert Downey Jr., who smashes the notoriety to bits in a moment of impromptu dismissal.

There is no gossip here. There is no discussion of A-list-bad behavior. Kilmer sees it all as artistic license.  He was searching for honesty, he remembers. Choices like lying on top of a mattress filled with ice in order to feel a real pain during his last scene with Kurt Russell in Tombstone come across as perfectly valid. Kilmer is still bitter over spending four months learning to play guitar for Top Secret!, and his first note informs him the director thinks he looks funnier faking it. There is little evidence of unprofessionalism, only growing pains.

The bulk of Val comes from clips of 8mm home video footage Kilmer has been shooting most of his life. “I’ve kept everything, and it’s been sitting in boxes for years,” Kilmer informs us. The archive was intended to tell a story about “where you end and the acting begins.” We are gifted with moon shots of both Kevin Bacon and Sean Penn, which have nothing to do with the films Apollo 13 or The First.

Early self-directed screen tests provoke a series of what-ifs. A tortuous encapsulation of a Juilliard acting class is a lesson in what-nots. Val’s hand-held approach to The Island of Dr. Moreau is a highlight. The actor respectfully rocks his co-star and idol, Marlon Brando, on a hammock they both wish was strung to John Frankenheimer. Please turn off the camera, the film’s replacement director demands. But Kilmer only hits pause when it’s time to rehearse.

The behind-the-scenes camcorder footage from sets of Top Gun, Tombstone, and The Doors are treasure troves in themselves, and possibly underused. Most of the audience will be very interested in the candid youth and truth recorded over his career. Val uses the archival clips and unearthed b-roll to establish a chronology.

Many videos were made at home in Los Angeles with Kilmer’s younger brother Wesley, who had an epileptic seizure and drowned at age 15. His death casts a mournful pall following the news that Val was the youngest applicant ever accepted as a drama student at Juilliard. Kilmer calls his brother “an artistic genius,” and one of the most revealing things to come out of the documentary is how often Kilmer used this brother’s art to augment the backgrounds of the sets he is living through on film.

Seeing how Stone speaks about Kilmer now makes me wonder if Val would have been able to put in the same performances in his movies if he knew it at the time. In his audition tapes for Full Metal Jacket and Goodfellas, we see an actor who needs to be taken seriously. He flies 6,000 miles to hand deliver his tape to Stanley Kubrick in London.

While he makes no comment, footage reveals Kilmer’s favorite Batman was played by Adam West. “Every boy wants to be Batman,” we hear, and see the Caped Crusader in every era of Kilmer’s life. A short, animated film he and his brother made with what looks like crayon is a Batman spoof. He still glories in the moment he got deposited behind the classic TV series’ iconic wheels as a youngster visiting the lot. It appears Kilmer still can’t pass a grocery store Batmobile without feeding it quarters. He wears the classic blue Halloween ensemble expecting tricks and treats as a kid, and as a daddy with his kids.

Don’t expect to see Kilmer wearing his cinematic puffed rubber suit at home, and it’s not because he left it at the dry cleaners. Footage old and new, homemade or professionally recorded, presents the Batsuit as an albatross. Heavy rests the cowl. He has to be lifted from chairs, deposited on marks, and his only identifying feature on the set of Batman Forever is a chin and bottom lip. Anyone could have been behind the mask, and the human superhero envied the subhuman villains. Kilmer comes across as quite happy Jim Carrey and Tommy Lee Jones are able to create fully formed performance art in their portrayals. But he wanted to play with those toys.

“Batman Forever,” Kilmer laments, “whatever boyish excitement I had going in was crushed by the reality of the Batsuit. I realized it was just my job to show up and stand where they told me.” As the captured past footage is juxtaposed with modern sequences, we get an unfiltered glimpse of how little this has changed. The sequence of Kilmer at the Comic-Con autograph booth is wrenching. He initially didn’t want to take the part of Iceman in Top Gun because he felt it glorified the military. So many fans ask him to sign “You can be my wingman” on their souvenirs. It turns his stomach. He throws up in a garbage can and wheeled through hallways with a blanket over his head. Trouper that he is, he returns to the booth to finish out the signatures.

Kilmer blurred himself into the role of Mark Twain. There is a beautiful sequence where the actor walks through town to the beach, in full stage makeup, dressed in the signature white suit and long mustache of his character. It is extremely telling when Kilmer tells the camera it’s hard enough writing a good screenplay, much less a great one, which itself doesn’t even match what he feels he needs to bring to a script of a film version of Citizen Twain. Kilmer sold his ranch in New Mexico to finance the project. The documentary only captures some of the frustrations.

Most of the anecdotes are guarded, and all the admissions are part of a subjective narrative. Kilmer’s arc has rough edges, these tales are too smooth, and leave little room for impressionistic interpretation. Kilmer met his former wife, Joanne Whalley, when she was starring in a West End play directed by Danny Boyle, but he didn’t approach her.

“She was brilliant, and I was in town making fluff,” Kilmer concedes. It’s all about the art, even appearances. The documentary hints that Kilmer’s dedication to character did the most damage to their relationship. Wearing the same pair of leather pants for nine months could almost be on the books as probable cause for divorce in Hollywood.

Similarly, Kilmer’s Christian Science upbringing is brought up, and dropped. There is a loving but ambiguous undertone to Kilmer’s relationship with his once-rich-and-powerful father, who put his son in debt after trying to become a southern California land tycoon. But a sequence on his Swedish mother which juxtaposes a car ride he took with her when he was a child with one of being driven to her funeral speaks volumes without words.

Val is about the next step. “What’s past is prologue” William Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest. Kilmer pondered the “too, too solid flesh” while rehearsing Hamlet, and the documentary opens after the actor faced his own mortality. Kilmer swears he feels better than he sounds and, while he finds little to regret in his memories, he expects less in the ones he has yet to create.

Val can be seen on Amazon Prime Video.

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The post Val Kilmer Documentary Punctures the Actor’s Bad Boy Myth appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2VvZ2lA

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[forestfanders]

Inhumane

Getting his captive vampire to drink is proving harder than Logan expected, Virgil spouting nonsense about bagged blood having ‘no soul’ and will ‘make him sick.’ But Logan knows best, and the vampire must be fed.

My first fic for sanders sides, so please let me know what you think, and I want to continue it. 

Its just me hurting vamp!Virgil and super logical logan <3

Trigger warnings!

Vomiting blood, force feeding, dehumanisation, medical horror, unethical medicine, drugged, panic attack

Ao3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812977

Virgil, you are injured, and you need to eat to regain your health,” Logan kept his voice calm, holding out the bag of blood. 

The injured vampire strapped to the bed in front of him wriggled in frustration.

With the discovery of a new race, or rather an old race that had been hidden among the human population for generations, the care and upkeep of the single lucid vampire ever to be captured was of vital importance. And Virgil had thus far been fairly cooperative, giving tidbits of information to Logan and accepting medical care for the injuries he had gained prior to his capture. But between his injuries and lack of sustenance, the vampire was wasting away, the already short questioning sessions Logan was able to conduct becoming even shorter. 

“I will eat, if you let me bite someone. But I won’t drink half-dead blood out of a bag” his voice was barely a rasp, “I’ll be careful, I promise. Please.” 

“We cannot allow you to drink from a human. There is no way for us to tell what the effects of your venom may be on a human.” Logan reasoned, “This blood is perfectly fresh.”

“Is not...fresh enough. The soul falls out too quickly. Need to bite.”

“I can assure you there is absolutely no difference between the contents of this bag and the blood you would drink directly." Logan stayed firm but unthreatening. 

“Maybe not to science. But magic differences.” Virgil’s unfocused gaze burrowed into Logan’s neck, “Soul falls out." Virgil repeated his nonsensical argument, "No glow, no energy, no use.” He gave a slight wriggle again, wincing in pain as his injuries flared in protest. “It’s no use. It will make me puke. Hate puking blood.”  

 Virgil's sentences were short, his grammar becoming increasingly poor. Logan wished he had more insight into why Virgil was so unwilling to feed. The vampire was clearly starving. Logan felt a strange pang of sadness for the creature so bound up in fear that he could not even accept sustenance without second guessing.

“Can you just try a little? We drew it especially for you. It’s still warm.” Logan butted the bag gently against the vampire’s bound arm, and Virgil stiffened at the touch. Probably no luck making the gruesome meal seem more appetising to the starving supernatural creature. 

“No. No bag.” he tucked his chin into his collarbone, a nervous tic of his. Logan changed tactics. Virgil had shown signs of being a particularly nervous individual in the past, and perhaps it was a performance anxiety that was preventing him from feeding now. 

“There is nothing to be anxious about. And it's ok to make a bit of a mess.” Logan soothed, “We understand it is different from what you are used to, but once you try you will see it is ok.”

That argument seemed to exhaust the last of the vampire’s patience

“Please. Let me bite someone, or let me di-sleep in peace.” Virgil screwed his eyes shut.

“Take a couple of sips, and I will let you sleep.”

“I can’t.” the vampire’s eyes were desperate, “Listen to me.”

 Though Logan had no wish to sour the relationship with the creature, Virgil had to feed. He had left Logan only one option.

“I promised you that we would take care of you, and you need to eat. If you will not drink it willingly, we can tube feed you while you are unconscious.” Logan spoke softly.

“That’s not possible.” Virgil murmured fearfully. 

“It is, it’s a very common procedure. We would prefer not to resort to medical interventions, but we want you to be healthy.” He held out the bag one last time, “Please. Try it.”

The vampire shook his head fitfully. The heart monitor above his head suggested the start of a panic attack. Logan decided against explaining the procedure in more detail.

“Very well.” Logan gave a solom smile as the vampire’s eyes flicked to the nurse now standing by his shoulder, “Nurse Picani is going to give you something to put you to sleep, and we will have fed you by the time you wake up next.”

The last of Virgil’s adrenaline appeared to lock his body into a frozen stillness and his eyes followed the needle's movements as a sedative was injected into his IV line. The mounting fear slid from the vampire’s body as the drug eased him into peace. Nurse Picani took the bag of blood from his hand with a sad smile.

“We’ll take care of him.”

The blood would help. Logan looked one last time at the sleeping vampire, and left the room.

--- 

The sharp tang of blood was in Virgil’s nose as he awoke.

Oh god he was covered in human blood, the brownish red liquid spattered across his blanket, and still oozing down his chest. 

“hhhhow?”

He couldn’t remember having bitten anyone, and the blood was energyless, soulless enough to make him sick. No. No… Logan had said something about tubes and feeding while unconscious. 

God, he felt so awful. Not just sick, but heavy, as though his blood was lead. He struggled against the bonds, against the sluggishness of his bones. The leather held him place, only allowing his head to flop forwards. His eyes fluttered shut, too tired to keep them open. He was in pain, but that was a constant of this place. This was different. He felt…untethered… like the whole world was smeared across his heart and he could do nothing to control his emotions. Nothing to fight the vampire instincts, writhing and confused, but neither stay in the moment long enough to feel anger as the human.  

He howled in fear of the cloying heaviness of his body, of the wrongness he felt, the sound echoing in the concrete room.

There came pneumatic hiss of the door opening behind him, and the click of footsteps.

“You're ok Virgil, you have just been sick.” A voice swam above him.

“I didn’t…I didn’t…” He slurred out,“hurt anyone”

“I know Virgil. We tried to feed you while you were asleep.” A hand softly guided his head back to lean against the pillow and he let it, unresisting aside from a quiet growl caught in his throat, as light played over his closed eyelids. “Can you open your eyes for me Virgil?” 

A request. Open eyes. See what is going on. He opened his eyes to slits before giving up. Fingers gently pulled at his eyelids. He let out a noise between a growl and a whimper as a bright light flashed, left eye then right eye.   

“Pupils are lagging. He is only barely conscious.” The voice took on a brisk tone. Clearly no longer talking to Virgil. He decided to not worry about what was being said, and instead focused his concentration on the feeling of poking his tongue out from between his teeth. “He is quite cooperative. We can clean him up, then do an ultrasound to see how much he managed to keep down.”

“How are you feeling Virgil?” The hand gently brushed his hair out of his face. It felt nice.

“Bad.”

“We gave you something to help you sleep, it often makes people feel groggy for a while. Do you think you are going to be sick again?”

“No” he breathed out.

“Good.” There was a softness in the voice that was foreign to the situation, “We are just going to clean you up a bit now Virgil. Can you take a sip of water?” 

The rim of a cup was pressed to his lips, and he took a gulp of water, swirling it around his mouth before letting the red-laced liquid spill from his lips and down his already blood-wet chest.

His face was wiped with a warm flannel, finally cleaning the reek from his face, a hand in his hair holding him fast. The oxygen tubes in his nose were removed for a moment to wash his face, and he did not fight their return. Virgil let his head loll sideways as the hand was removed, letting out a soft whimper of thanks. 

There was muffled speech, quiet but purposeful. Then hands were touching him, removing the bloodstained sheet. He shivered. Then there was a damp towel on his chest, softly scrubbing. He could not fight against the gentle movements.

The smell of blood had faded now somewhat, and he was tired, his whole body heavy, even as people swarmed around him.

A stray thought weaved into his addled mind.

They could do anything to him, and he couldn’t even open his eyes

As the vampire slid back into unconsciousness, tears flowed down his cheeks. They too were wiped away by pseudo-compassionate hands.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #vampire virgil #sanders whump #whump #medical horror #sander sides fic #anxiety sanders

[thescispot]

I had difficulty recognizing C when she arrived.

We had agreed to meet at the on-campus burger joint and I was early. Sitting in a booth in the corner, I finished up some statistics homework as well as the last of my coffee, and although I expected C at any moment, I was nevertheless startled when she peered over my shoulder, an enthusiastic grin painted on her face.

“Hi!” she chirped cheerfully, wrapping an arm around me. I returned the hug hesitantly, partly because I was in the awkward position of sitting while she was standing, but also because it had not yet registered to me that this was, in fact, C - the very person I had been waiting for.

She slid into the seat across from me and we launched immediately into comfortable conversation, exchanging pleasant greetings, and speaking to one another with a familiar ease I had not expected. We might as well have been meeting up after two weeks, when in actuality, it was nearly two years since we last spoke.

She was wearing a sunny yellow top and had her hair tied up sloppily on top of her head, revealing a pale face with large, doe eyes and a friendly disposition. I entertained the idea that her lack of makeup was what caught me off guard and explained my difficulty in immediately recognizing her but I quickly dismissed this theory as absurd; we had once been living together, after all, so her bare face could not feasibly be considered an unfamiliar sight for me.

She apologized profusely for her inability to meet up with me for the interview on two previous occasions and I assured her it was not a problem. We lamented the difficulties of school life, such as busy schedules, relentless deadlines, and the general fatigue that accompanies the Sisyphean struggle of adulthood. She complained about how much time her job took out of her day. I complained about how the lack of a job left too much time in mine. We both agreed that we could not decide if we were grateful for the looming shadow of graduation on the horizon or not; did it promise much-needed reprieve or threaten even greater distress?

I remembered when C and I had first met, moving into our dorm in late September four years ago. After a few lazy and unsuccessful attempts at unpacking, the two of us decided to seek out cold drinks at the neighboring dormitory building, Lothian, in a desperate attempt for relief from the encroaching heat. To our chagrin, we were hopelessly lost within a matter of minutes and were left wandering in circles around the campus, the sun attacking us the whole while as if driven by a personal vendetta. The two of us trudging across the fields, full of regret, must have been a funny sight, only exacerbated by the fact that we looked to be complete opposites of one another; she pale and I tan, she short and I tall, her hair a sleek curtain that brushed her shoulders, mine waist-length and frizzy. I was average-sized but she was very, very thin.

“When did it start?”

I finally worked up the courage to begin the interview. I felt I was being invasive despite her insistence that she was perfectly happy helping me with my assignment. We had spoken about this subject many times before, but something about the academic lens I was peering through felt disrespectful somehow. Almost alienating.

“In hindsight,” she said thoughtfully, “it started when I was fifteen years old. I . . . stopped finishing my dinner.”

C claimed she had always had a large appetite growing up, that she always cleaned her plate. But as her sophomore year of highschool approached, she had fallen into an insidious routine - she made sure to always leave a little bit of food behind, to never completely finish a meal. An innocent enough habit, or so she thought at the time.

“It spiralled out of control from there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

C nodded. She related her actions from that time in her life the way one might analyze the motives and psyche of a fictional character, like she was discussing the mental health of someone else. She had a great deal to say, but her voice and manner did not betray even the slightest hint of anguish at being reminded of her troubled past.

“The eating disorder takes control of everything it can,” she said wisely.

Anorexia, in C’s experience, was not something she felt she was “suffering” from as she underwent its horrors. She was not punishing herself by not eating, it was quite the opposite. Not eating made her feel better. Invincible, even.

“I felt superhuman,” she explained. “I felt like I was honing a skill and it made me feel good about myself, that I could go to school and handle all these things in my life without needing food. It was an accomplishment.” She paused for a moment. “Really says a lot about how our culture conditions teenage girls, huh?”

We both sighed with tacit understanding.

“What if you ate more than you intended?” I asked. I tried to hide my discomfort about the whole conversation. I felt like I was trying to play the part of a therapist and it would be painfully obvious to any third party that I was woefully unprepared to do so.

“Then it was a bad day,” she said. “I felt like I failed.”

I suddenly recalled something she had mentioned often back when we lived together. She never went into great detail, and had a way of minimizing the despair this subject caused her. But it was clear to me, and probably our other hallmates as well, that her illness was not a result of merely deciding to eat less one day. It was obvious since that night she watched a music video entitled “Till it Happens to You”, drank copious amounts of vodka, and promptly had an emotional meltdown that something more significant triggered her eating disorder.

“What about your boyfriend?” I asked. “Would you say he was the cause of all this?”

“He was definitely a factor,” C replied hesitantly. “ He was older than me and the relationship was kind of, like, secret, you know? My parents didn’t approve. He would always tell me ‘fat girls are so ugly.’ And I wanted to be pretty for him, you know?”

We were both silent for a while, trying to process how something as simple as the desire to impress a boy could derail one’s adolescence so disastrously.

“One time I called myself fat and he said ‘No, babe, you’re so pretty - I could eat cereal out of your collar bones.’” C seemed embarrassed by how much pride she had once taken out of this disturbing remark.

“He wasn’t the source,” she chose her words carefully. “But he was definitely . . . the spark.” She fell quiet and I decided this avenue of conversation had extinguished itself.

“So when did people notice?”

“We were moving,” she explained, “and my parents noticed the self-harm scars I had running up my legs. They put me in therapy for a while. Eventually, I told the therapist I was, you know, done. Just done. I told her I was going to swallow a bottle of pills that night. I thanked her for trying to help but I was just over it. I was resigned about the whole thing, didn’t have any strong feelings about it one way or the other. ”

C was immediately taken to the emergency room following this therapy session. At this point in her life, she described herself as having skeletal shoulders and no stomach. She had taken to loose, baggy clothes and was especially partial to sweatshirts, even in the summertime. She only weighed eighty seven pounds.

“And the therapist didn't notice?” I asked dubiously.

“She had her suspicions, I’m sure,” C said. “But she admitted to me later that she felt unqualified to handle the severity of my condition.”

I balked at the idea that no one would see their own daughter, sister, friend, disappear steadily in front of their eyes.

“There was one person,” C remembered suddenly. When she was fifteen years old, a classmate she never spoke to slipped a book onto her desk, a book about eating disorders. Inside the book was a note, encouraging her to seek help.

“I was offended at the time. I didn’t think anything was wrong with me.”

“You were in denial.”

C reached into her bag and fished around inside for her wallet. She slipped out a piece of paper but did not offer it to me. My gaze only captured the name “Lauren” scrawled at the bottom in feminine script.

“I keep the note with me everywhere I go now,” she said soberly.

C was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and major depression, as well as obsessive compulsive tendencies in regards to her weight. She was in the hospital for a miserable two months, which she described as being like “solitary confinement.”

She believes attending “Program” saved her life.

“It finally started to make sense to me that I was sick,” C said, sounding more upbeat. “The eating disorder, it distorts a person’s thinking. I was finally educated on my condition and realized it wasn’t my fault.” Learning the science behind “ it”changed her perspective.

She happily relayed to me the structure of Program, and how she felt it helped her the most during her recovery. It was an outpatient program and she was given a meal plan as well as access to therapy for her and the people in her life. “Family night was on Tuesday,” she noted. I didn’t have to ask her to elaborate.

“My mother could be . . . unforgiving of imperfection,” she looked at me searchingly, trying to make sure she had used the right words.

“Did you feel ashamed of your condition?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” she said. “I felt like I was a burden for my family.”

C recalled how she began forcing herself to eat in an effort to gain weight as soon as possible; the hospital and subsequent program, she decided, were costing her family too much money and now that she knew what was wrong with her, why not just, you know, stop?

She threw up many times as her body was not yet adjusted, not yet ready to let go of its trauma. There were two separate occasions where her nasogastric tube was displaced as a result, an experience she implied was excruciating. An especially compassionate nurse was the one to hold and comfort her during the ensuing mental breakdowns.

“The disease pulled my family together,” C claimed. Her relationship with her mother improved significantly. Guilt was something they all had to confront.

“It was hard, but it was worth it,” C said with a smile.

According to C, stigma against mental illness was a huge factor in the initial conflict with her parents. Their words likely echo in the minds of every mentally unhealthy child of color who has made the mistake of displaying such a vulnerability:

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

C insists now that both she and her parents understand that it was the eating disorder that did this to her.

Program was run by a man named Dr. Marr, a leading researcher in eating disorders and mental health among youth, and it  took place in Rancho Cucamonga. I noted how strange it was to realize that while I was learning precalculus and writing essays on Shakespeare, a girl I would one day live with was recovering practically next door, missing out on such a formative part of her life.

C and I both reached the conclusion that while the hospital helped her physically get her weight back up, all the emotional work was done in Program.

“I grew up a lot,” she said and then added, uncertainly, “I feel indebted to it, you know? It let me see parts of myself I didn’t before. I’m stronger now and I can endure so much more. Like if I could make it through this, I could make it through an algebra test.”

“And what about your identity? Did your mental illness impact your conception of yourself?”

She thought about this for a great deal of time. “Who I was and who I was meant to be...are intact. I’m sensitive, blunt, empathetic, loud, funny, I’m so many things. The eating disorder tried but it could not warp the core of who I am.”

Recovery, C believes, is all about accepting yourself.

“This is something that’s always going to be at the back of my mind,” she explained. “It’s chronic; but I’m getting better. It’s going to get better. I know it is.”

The conversation drifted. We discussed school life, working, friends, etc. She told me about her boyfriend, Ian, and how happy he makes her. I reminded her how the two of them fell asleep while video-chatting with one another one day during freshman year. She told me about an infuriating roommate she had had to deal with the previous winter. I told her about a fight I’d had with my former best friend. She told me about her cat and I told her about my dog. She told me about the time a customer pulled a gun out at her job. I told her why I quit mine. A meetup I expected to take no more than thirty minutes managed to eat up five hours.

Finally, I thanked her for her help and willingness to share with me for my assignment.

“No problem,” she shrugged. “I’m spreading awareness, you know? I’m kind of like, the best case scenario.” She laughed and I agreed. We said our goodbyes.

I was halfway home when it finally occurred to me why I couldn’t recognize her earlier. It wasn’t a haircut, or a new wardrobe, or the lack of makeup that changed C’s appearance in the last two years.

It was the fact that she had, to my utter delight, put on quite a bit of weight since we last met.

#science writing #science #mental health #mental health stigma #anorexia #Anorexia nervosa #eating disoder recovery #eating disorder #Interview #journalism #science journalism #depression #Psychology #neuroscience

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Clouds Across the Moonlit Skies

(have an unedited look at the first official one-shot I’m doing for Clouds and Moonlit Skies verse!!! It’s from Cor’s POV. Angst and Drama inbound. Also warning for reference to ... very immoral science things. Nothing really gory but ... yeah. Edit: Tagging @a-world-in-grey for Vengeance. I have something far angstier planned in another verse to yeet at you for vengeance over the Hanahaki thing but FOR NOW-. XP)

...

     Cor swiped the keycard and muttered thanks as the door slid open with a hiss. He slipped inside, let the door lock behind him despite his screeching instincts as he inspected his new surroundings. It smelled strongly of disinfectant and that odd reeking scent all MT units had that made his hair prickle. There were tanks of the purple sludge MT units ran on lining the walls, a filing cabinet with papers stacked on top from the overflow, and even an operating table and surgical tools. He paused at that observation. This was a specialized lab then, possibly for organic subjects? But the MT sludge was right there…

     Titus had said they used people in their experiments a lot more than they let on. And considering the Glauca armor he had … this could be one of the labs for that kind of project. This could be exactly what he was looking for.

     He narrowed his eyes in suspicion even as he pulled out his phone and approached the filing cabinet. He was never this lucky without there being some kind of nasty consequence. Never. With one ear trained on the door for the cavalry to arrive, Cor rapidly pulled out papers and snapped pictures of them, barely taking time to skim them himself as he took two pictures of each page for Regis and the intel analysts to go over later. Still, he was able to skim the gist of it.

     Subject N-iP01357-05953234, apparently meant for a different project, showed odd reactions to a compound that had far too many numbers and hyphens for Cor to bother memorizing. It had been removed from the rest of the subject pool for further testing and had continued to show odd reactions, absorbing the compound without any of the usual symptoms or side-effects, and blood tests showing no alteration, as if the compound was being destroyed as soon as it entered the subject’s system. None of the other subjects in its “batch” had possessed this anomalous reaction and testing had proceeded to determine the source of the anomaly. 

     Subject had been isolated in this lab and submitted to multiple tests including more injections, reaction tests, and even-. Cor paused, double checked that he’d read that right in his skimming. Live dissection. Disgusting. There were no pictures in this batch of reports —thank the Astrals—, but Cor suspected the photos were somewhere in the filing cabinet —he’d hunt them down in a minute. Maybe—. The dissection had never been complete, and the Subject had been put to sleep during the process and then put back together rather than killed each of the five times, which somehow made it worse just to think about.

     Cor tried to ignore the sickness in his stomach when he read the notation of how three of the five operations had been complicated by the subject waking up earlier than anticipated and needing to be restrained and sedated again until they figured out the proper dosage to keep it under.

     Subject had also shown unusual swings in awareness, sometimes only minimally aware as was expected of a subject that age, other times displaying potential signs of increased awareness and energy, often vocalizing or thrashing during those periods until it became aware of the scientists’ presences before falling unusually still and silent for a Subject of that age.

     Other reports detailed increased muscle control and advanced intelligence, able to distinguish … letters…

     No.

     No.

     He was not reading that right. He couldn’t. Titus had been twenty-three when he was captured and experimented on. Surely they didn’t-, they hadn’t-, they couldn’t-. Cor took a deep breath, set the papers down and pressed his hand against his mouth, felt acid in his throat.

     This was Niflheim. What was stopping them?

     With a feeling of intense dread, Cor abandoned the papers and reexamined the lab. The … Subject was being stored in here, so there should be … something. He felt all the hair on his neck stand up, felt Regis’s magic tingle dangerously in his hands as he spotted the container he had missed the first inspection. He had taken it to be just another part of the machinery in the room, but now that he was looking … it was properly shaped to hold a small Subject. Roughly the size of a house cat, or a small dog.

     Or a-.

     A-.

     With dread and anger increasing each step he took, Cor forced himself to approach the container. It had a myriad of tubes attached to it, and he thought he heard the hiss of an air pump cycling oxygen into the container. The container was at the average waist height, presumably so scientists could easily look down into the container through the thick glass lid, but the walls were high enough that he couldn’t get a good look into the thing until he was directly over it.

     Vivid blue eyes peered up at him and a pale, pale face scrunched up in confusion as little limbs kicked and wiggled, thumping against the too thin padding that was clearly only there to ensure the being inside didn’t bruise or cut itself while wiggling around. The human baby in what was basically a glorified shoebox stilled when it registered Cor’s attention. He saw the tiny chest hitch and jerk in a whimper he could barely hear through the glass and saw tiny fingers reach tentatively for him, fear and hope in those eyes that was so clear Cor could almost hear the plea for help.

     Astrals curse them. Astrals curse every last scientist in this place and every last Nif that knew this pit existed.

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Clouds and Moonlit Skies verse #ffxv #ffvii #cloud as prompto #ye

[this-is-my-toenail-collection]

Zadr week phase 2: dumbass in distress

And a short story I wrote for it :)

It had been 1 week since the truce.

One week since Dib had foolishly thought to give the smelly alien a chance. For one week Dib had put the fate of humanity into the hands of an outsider, and in one week Zim had proven himself trustworthy.

There was no denying that Zim had changed, or maybe its Dib who saw him differently. Knew him better. But for a while Zim had been the only one to listen, to sympathize. The earth was not Zim's motivation, rather, he and Zim shared a driving force.

As much as Dib hated to admit it, it was approval.

Dib still didn’t fully trust the space bug but he had been so yearning for companionship that the desire to fight dwindled on its own. Zim was just a kid…like him. Even though he deserved to be suspended in the glass tube that imprisoned him now, Dib could not help but feel as if the fear and embarassment on the Irkens face was his own.

However, none of this is the reason for the twisting of his gut. The heat rising in his face and the bile in his throat at the sheer disgusting nature of what he was witnessing.

His Father stood in front of the tube gesturing wildly and announcing things to the camera people who crowded his lab.

“Yes as you can see here I have discovered genuine alien life living amongst us.” He boomed to the press. “Until now extraterrestrial entities have been entirely theoretical, but with this discovery I have proved not just the existence but—”

Dib backs away quickly, tuning out his fathers words.

He almost vomits for the 4th time today, his mind reels at the injustice of it all. His father, the man who never believed him for a moment about Zim being an alien, standing in front of the entire world declaring his discovery.

It had happened so fast. Zim had stayed at his house every day since the truce. 'for research, Research I say!' he had proclaimed from on top of the dining room table. Dib had not snickered at the antics. Not even slightly. When Zim had asked to stay over the next day and the next Dib had started to suspect Zim's “base” was a bit more lonely than he let on. It wasn’t a big deal, his dad had never noticed any of the other paranormal happenings that were right under his nose, why would Zim be any different?

All it had taken was one night. Zim had snuck into the kitchen to raid the twice already raided snacks cabinet. Dib didn’t blame him, it must be boring not sleeping every night. Zim had traversed the house without Dibs knowledge, and without knowing about Professor Membranes non-existent sleep schedule.

Zim had not worn his disguise.

Now he was witnessing a nightmare. Dib had thought the worst thing that could happen was Zim's success at taking over the human race. Now he knew at least then no one could say he didn’t try. But now everything he had worked for was uprooted and dismissed. Overshadowed by the prestigious individual who called himself Dibs father.

Dib walks to the living room expecting to find Gaz not caring on the couch. To his surprise she’s not there. He considers going to his room to brood but he doesn’t think he can stand to be among his alien tracking gear right now. He resigns to brood in the living room and hope the press keeps the noise down.

He sits on the couch and assumes the brooding position. Knees tucked to his chest with his elbows resting on them. His fingers steeped in front of his face as he stares intently at the ground. It isnt a very comfortable position but that isnt the point.

He knows he should be happy. Zim is caught, the earth is safe and he’ll finally get to know how Erkins work. His pride has taken a massive hit but that isnt too out of the ordinary in his life, he honestly should have expected this is how things would work out. But he couldn’t shake the thought that it was supposed to be him. He should be the only one to cut Zim open and learn how he worked.

He had chased Zim all over the solar system. Hed matched the Erkin in cunning and technological prowess from day one. Now that Zim was finally defeated and it was time to reap the rewards Dib felt he was the only one who should be congratulated.

He earned this dammit!

As for Zim? He was growing to tolerate him but in the end he still wanted him dead. Zim was a horrible space cockroach who deserved to be cut up and studied for science. But Dib still felt that letting anyone other than Zims designated rival do it…in a way it stripped Zim of a dignified defeat. It was just wrong.

Dib found his mind wandering to Zim, suspended in that tube surrounded and critiqued like an art project. His face held such fear, there were wires and tubes coming out if his pack. His arms had cords pumping a strange liquid into his bloodstream.

Dib's knees started to ache from holding his very productive brooding position, he stretched them out to get the blood flowing back to his toes and found he was no longer brooding.

And his face was wet.

He took a quick survey of the room to find the source of the water. Then the realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He was crying.

Why?! That was so unlike him! He had dealt with disappointment like this for years without shedding any tears. He wipes his eyes on his coat aggressively and prays Gaz doesn’t pick this moment to return her usual spot on the couch.

He hears footsteps approaching the living room because of course he does, but they aren’t Gaz. The news crew follow Professor membrane into the living room. Trailing so close they don’t notice the young membrane slip into the lab to avoid them.

Without the extra people the lab is eerie. The only light coming from the suspension tank that holds Zim. It casts a green sheen on to the ominous tools and inventions cluttering the lab.

Zim's eyes are closed, his posture is almost relaxed, perhaps he was sleeping? But Irkins don't sleep...

Without thinking Dib steps closer to the tube, placing his hand on the smooth cold glass. He holds it there for a moment watching zim, so still and peaceful, as if he’s already dead.

Zims eyes fly open.

Large compound red spheres suddenly upon him standing out in stark contrast from the green skin of the alien as well as the murky teal liquid hes suspended in.

Dib nearly jumps out of his very mysterious trench coat in his surprise, but he doesn’t look away.

He doesn’t know exactly what he expected Zims expression to be. Maybe one of fear or hatred…betrayal. None of these emotions show in the Erkins large eyes. There is only one message Zims gaze pierces Dib with. A challenge.

'You're going to let that dirt monkey do this?'

Dib stares entranced by that challenging gaze. It holds years of fighting and malice and begrudging mutual respect.

These eyes have haunted Dibs nightmares and thrilled his waking days. It occurs to him the biggest problem he has with Zims capture, perhaps even the reason for his crying.

The thought of never seeing those eyes again.

That horrible gaze turns questioning, wondering why Dibs just standing there. Dibs stomach drops into his shoes at the thought of waking up every day and not thinking about what Zim is doing, how Zim will challenge him, how he can stop Zim. He thinks of coming home every day and doing nothing, going to the taco place and not having to be prepare for casualties. He thinks of life without Zim in it. And its empty.

Dib doesn’t feel his feet move as he backs away from the tank. He doesn’t feel his hand rap around the heavy rubber drumstick sitting conveniently on one of the work tables. Hes watching Zims eyes, his face. It shifts from confusion to fear as Dib swings the drumstick at the cylinder.

He doesn’t hear it when it shatters.

His senses are dulled as he watches Zim collapse to the floor. People stir outside the lab. One second, two seconds go by and Zim doesn’t get up. Dib barely registers the footsteps coming toward the lab. Four seconds and Zim slowly rises to his feet. He tugs weakly at the cords in his arms, unable to break free. Dib just watches the small green creature struggle, unable to decide what to do.

“Oh its just my son, poor insane child—”

His fathers voice brings Dib crashing back to reality. He broke Zim out of the suspension tube. Hes standing in his dads office with a rubber drumstick in his hand and live cameras on him.

His dad starts walking to where Zim is still struggling with the cords. Dib pushes past him ignoring his insulting comments. He pulls the cords out of Zim a little too roughly and grabs him by the hand.

“when I say, we run” his voice doesn’t shake or crack. Uncertainty often plagues his decisions but not now. This isn’t a decision, there are no other choices. Zim is dazed but offers no argument.

“Now”

Dib rushes the reporters hoping bitterly that his stunt makes the news if only to embarrass his father. Zim drags behind on shaky legs but Dib doesn’t slow down. They had to get out of there. He nearly knocks Gaz over in the kitchen on his way out the door.

“Dib!” she growls. He doesn’t have time to explain so he shoots back

“imfinallytakingcontrolofmylifegottagocallyoulaterbyeeee!!”

He nearly takes the door off its hinges as he bursts into the evening air. He looks behind briefly to check on Zim.

Zim is deathly pale and has his free arm rapped tightly around his midsection, but his eyes are fire as he glares ahead determined to keep up with Dibs sprint.

Dib doesn’t know where they're running but he knows its not that god damn house.

His lungs burn but he doesn't stop. His heart is pounding and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. They’ll go to Zims base, he decides.

Dib let Zim stay over, the least he can do is return the favor.

#Zadr week 2 #zadr #long post #invader zim #this is my first time posting original content please be nice #I'm just happy to be here #dumbasses in destress

[zach-the-fox]

Furiends Episode 6: Research and Capture

The two girls and fox boy regroup with the rabbits as they stand on the outside of the chain-link fence surrounding a large, two-story building situated in the forest. Streaks of cracks line the concrete structure. Plants grow through the broken pavement around the uninhabited facility.  

Hatboy glances at the property and scans around the area. “Look at this place! What a total dump! Probably a home for rats.”

“I don’t find it bad,” says Brook. “I actually quite like it. And I adore rats. They are just so cute!”

Hatboy turns to the warthog. “Why did you tell us to come here? What’s going on?”

“Zach saw an article in the paper that there was some strange figure residing here,” Emmy answers. “And we suspect it’s the demon we summoned.”

“What?!” Brook runs up to her. “You found our child?! Is it here?!”

“Maybe. We won’t know unless we go in and check it out.”

“You want to go inside and explore an abandoned laboratory?!” Carly exclaims. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Her expression relaxes. “Then again, with Team Rescuers sniffing around for ideas to make us look bad, I don’t want to get in trouble… My mother would kill me…”

“If we’re going to find this demon, we need to be quick,” suggests Zach. “There’s a chance Team Rescuers might show up and search this area, given all of the cries for help from Heroto.”

“Right, let’s not waste any more time,” Emmy utters. “Let’s get in there and find that demon. Now, how will we get over this fence?”

“Over here,” Hatboy spurts, standing by a slight tear in the metal fence, which forms a little hole for those to sneak inside. “We can just crawl in through there.”

“Good thinking!” Emmy walks down to the opening with the others. One-by-one, they get on their paws and knees to crawl passed the metal chains-links. The gang then make their way toward the two, shattered glass doors of the concrete structure.

Carly steps up and attempts to open them by pulling, then pushing. “They don’t budge… Guess we can’t go in…”

Brook grabs a metal pipe laying nearby and swings it at the glass, breaking it into pieces and clearing the way. “You were saying?” The friends then climb through the open spaces in the doors, entering inside. “Okay, we’re in. What’s next?”

“I say we split up,” Emmy orders. “We’ll cover more ground that way.” The others hesitate, then they agree before splitting into groups. Emmy goes with Hatboy and Zach as they head up the stairs while Carly stays with Brook on the ground level.

“I don’t feel very comfy about this place,” Carly comments, paws huddled together as she stays close with her friends.

“Come on, Carls.” Brook puts her arm around the cat, smiling. “It’s not so bad. I’ve been watching urban exploration videos Snootube and it’s pretty fascinating to see old structures hollowed out. The vide is quite nice.”

“Maybe for you. But me, not so much.” Carly narrows one eye and puts her paw on her chin. “Though, it wouldn’t be bad to maybe draw some of my characters in the same situation.”

“Oh! We could have a collaboration! You, me, and our friends searching for our baby demon in old ruins. Hm, I am pretty clueless on what the demon looks like… You have any idea what it would look like?”

“I don’t know,” Carly goes. “It was a fireball when we summoned it. I didn’t get a good look at it.” She gasps. “Wait. Zach looked at the article in the paper, and he said it’s a giant, furry, black creature. So, look for something furry and big, I guess.”

“Oh! Perhaps it has glowing eyes. Demons usually have glowing eyes that pierce through the dark.” Carly gulps, wearing the face of fear with wide eyes.

Upstairs, the boys and warthog enter a big room littered with barrels and tables of broken beakers and equipment.

“Interesting place,” Hatboy utters, passing the large machines to get closer to Emmy. “Why would people abandon a laboratory and leave some of their things behind?”

“Obviously, something must’ve happened to force the scientists to leave,” Emmy answers. “What that might’ve been, I don’t really know.”

“I know, though…” Zach places his paw on the wall and leans on it. “Ten years ago, when I was eight, we went on a class field trip to this place… We were to learn about the wonders of science and technology for our outing… The whole group and I were in one room when something knocked glass beakers and test tubes over and spilled on the table, causing it to react with the other chemicals; my tail. The entire facility was in chaos… We had to evacuate and exit the building when a giant explosion ripped a hole in the place. The government deemed the laboratory unsafe and shut it down. Our trip only had begun that day, too, but it ended quickly. My classmates all hated me for that and refused to talk to me.” He puts his paws on his head. “It’s all coming back to me… All the kids calling me “flawed fox” and how awful I just am…”

Emmy walks up to the fox. “Hey… It was only an accident. You didn’t mean to knock over all of that stuff and destroy the whole place. Mistakes happen… We can’t erase them…”

“Funny you say that, Emmy… Considering you’re talking to one…”

“You’re not a mistake, Zach. So, what if Team Rescuers and Heroto doesn’t like you? Their opinion doesn’t matter, anyway. Ours does! And we all like you.”

As the warthog comforts the fox, the red rabbit motions toward the pile of barrels situated in the corner. “Weird how scientists would abandon a lab and not take their chemicals with them.” He leans down and squints his eyes to read the label on one of them. “Danger. Handle with care. Avoid contact with skin and fur.” Hatboy tilts his head. “I wonder what’s so dangerous that they don’t want people touching.” He grabs the lid of one barrel and pulls it off the top. Looking inside, his eyes glisten and his mouth forms a small ‘o’ when staring at the colorful liquid settling in the container. “Whoa! Look at this stuff! It’s so colorful!”

Emmy takes her hoof back from the fox’s stomach, and turns around. “All right, let’s get back to- Hatboy, what are you doing over there?”

  “Check it out!” Hatboy shouts, holding the rim of the barrel and lifting it up. “Look at this rainbow liquid stuff! It looks so weird!”

“We shouldn’t be messing around with any of these strange chemicals. They could be dangerous.”

“This doesn’t seem too dangerous.” He looks into the barrel. “Looks pretty-” The container slowly slides in the red rabbit’s paws. “Whoa!” Hatboy struggles to maintain a tight grip on it. He lunges to grab it, but ends up knocking into the stack of metal barrels. “Uh oh…” The containers tip over and fall to the ground, dumping their colorful contents out all over the rabbit before flowing toward the warthog and fox. The three friends are knocked off their feet and swept away by the wave of rainbow fluids.

Back downstairs, the other two girls stop in place as they hear the sloshing sounds above, as well as rushing liquid and their friends screaming.

“What’s going on up there?!” Carly spurts. “What’s happening?”

“It’s probably the demon!” utters Brook. “It probably has our friends! We should help them!” She leads the cat toward the staircase, only to stop after a few steps. They freeze to see rainbow liquid rushing down the stairs, carrying their three friends in it as it surges toward them. “Oh, that’s not good…”

“Yipe!” Carly turns and runs down the other way. Brook is quick to follow, but the chemical flow swoops both of them off their feet and carries them into the room at the very end, piling the gang into a corner before settling. The friends remain sitting/lying in the puddles for a little bit, soaked by the rainbow water, then they each stand up, one-by-one, shaking off the remnants of the fluids.

“What was all the hubbub?!” Brook exclaims, looking at the warthog, red rabbit, and fox. “Did you find the demon? What is all of this? I feel like I’m glowing.”

“Some sort of rainbow water,” explains Hatboy. “I don’t see why it’s dangerous, though.”

“Aw man!” Carly shakes off her paws. “Now I’m going to need a shower! Thanks a lot, Hatboy…” Hatboy frowns as he looks at her.

Zach, on the other hand, forms a smile on his face while he remains seated in the chemical. “For once, I’m actually quite happy it wasn’t me this time.” He then sees Hatboy, as he removes his shirt to ring it out. The fox stares at his bare body with his cheeks transitioning to red. “Oh…”

Carly starts to take notice. “Like what you see, don’t you?” She teases, causing the fox to turn his head away with his blush. “Didn’t take you to be the gay type, Zach. I always thought you were mostly into girls.”

“Bisexual,” he corrects her after he turns to her. “I’m bisexual. I am into anyone regardless of gender.”

“Well, after being completely soaked in rainbow, I still don’t see where the demon is,” Emmy utters.

“We’ve just got to keep looking,” Brooks insists. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“I don’t even think it’s here, Brook. We should call it a day.” Everyone’s ears twitch upon hearing the sound of muffled voices outside and branches breaking. “What was that?”

“Someone’s here!” mutters Hatboy. “Perhaps Team Rescuers and the authorities!”

“Let’s get out of here, then,” Emmy states. The gang all bolt for the door where they came in, but soon halt in place to see shadows appear by the entrance. “Uh oh… Not good.”

“I know another way out,” Zach expresses. “There’s an opening in the wall we passed to get in the chemical room. We can go out that way!” He and the others scramble up the stairs and down the hallway to the giant, gaping hole in the wall. Hatboy slides down the side. Zach does the same thing, helping Emmy by carrying her on his back.

“You’ve got to be joking!” yells Carly. “I’m not jumping down from here!”

“You’re a cat!” Brook tells her. “You’ll land on your feet perfectly!”

The cat turns to her. “What?!” The purple rabbit shoves her off before jumping herself and hovers lightly down, using her ears as propellers. Carly lands in the bushes nearby, which have cushioned her fall. Brook goes over and helps her up. “Never do that again!” The friends then scurry off, vacating the area and then disappearing into the brushes as a shadow looms over their route.

 ***

 The five animals make their way through the forest and back into town, dripping wet with the rainbow liquid still soaking their bodies.

“Ugh, that went horribly,” Carly comments. “Not only were we walking around a creepy laboratory, but we also got soaked in some chemical…”

“I’ll need about ten baths a day just to get it out,” Hatboy adds. “It smells so bad!”

“I’m kind of used to it,” Zach butts in. “I’ve been covered in way worse.” Brook asks him what he means. “Oh, mud, ketchup, tar, sewage water, coal dust… Yeah, the list keeps on going…”

“Well, the whole “search and capture” mission was all but a fail,” Emmy implies.

“Aw man…” Brook frowns with drooped ears. “I was hoping we’d find that demon… Where could it be?”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to head home immediately,” says Hatboy. “A little shower and freshening up is what I need.” The others agree before parting. “Coming, Zach?”

“Just a minute,” Zach tells them. “I’ll meet you at the house.” As the two rabbits head off, the fox steps toward the warthog, who remains still and lets out a sigh. “You okay, Emmy?”

Emmy pivots to him. “Huh? Oh, I’m fine… I’m just disappointed… I was actually really hoping we’d find that demon… Not just to stop Team Rescuers from finding it, but I also wanted it what we summoned so I could be very close to it. Would’ve been cool.”

“W-what? Why would you want a demon anyway? Were you hoping to use it against your stepdad?”

“Yes… Zach, I despise him and I’m so sick of him telling me what to do and what to think and what to feel… Now I know how you feel with all of the abuse…”

Zach places a paw on her back. “Hey… I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned for you. If you ask me, I’d say he’s very jealous of you. You’re not a bad person; you’re a sweet, talented young lady who’s different, like me. If anything, I’d say you’re someone I’m glad I’m close with. When you have the courage to be on your own, you’ll be better.”

Emmy shifts her head back at him, tears streaming from her eyes with a smile. “You know what. It doesn’t matter… I’m just glad I get to hang out with you, Carly, Brook, and Hatboy.” She throws herself forward to hug the fox. Zach smiles as he squeezes her in his arms. When they part, she looks up at him. “Thank you, Zach… Um, I should get back home before my mom and jerk of a stepdad get worried, and wash these chemicals off. Don’t want them getting concerned.”

“Can I walk with you?” Emmy asks him why. “Can’t friends walk together and enjoy each other’s company?”

Emmy chuckles slightly. “I guess it’s okay.” She walks down the sidewalk with the fox alongside her as they head into further in town. “When we get to my house, you may want to leave quickly. My stepdad can be very violent at times…” From afar, a pair of glowing eyes pierce through the foliage and watch the friends as they amble away.

@carlycmarathecat @emmy-the-absolute-goof​ @bendy-bear-15​

#Furiends #Friends #Cat #Warthog #Rabbit #Fox #Furry #Fursona #OCs

[zippdementia]

Part 67 Alignment May Vary: Welcome to Hell

The players awaken and everything is messed up.

You all wake up to the sound of a repetitive blaring horn. Each of you is in a tube whose purpose is not immediately clear. Behind you is soft padding and in front of you is a see through cover made of some kind of hard glass. The world beyond this cover is darkness punctuated by frequent bursts of light that seem to come in time with the blaring horns. The light illuminates a large room.

It takes a moment for them to remember where they are. Once they do, they realize a very long time has passed and the spaceship is in trouble, about to crash land on a mysterious red planet and currently being bombarded by asteroids in an asteroid belt a computer tells them is “The River Styx.” Bob and Fiona are broken and rusted, and there’s no time to figure out what went wrong here. The players flee to the ship’s escape pods, only to have the hull of the ship breached and Aldric almost sucked out when he fails his saving throw. He makes it, but Blackrazor is ripped from his back and spins into space, lost.

All of you are tossed back and forth against the walls of the escape pod as it tumbles and twists and turns, spinning incessantly until you think your body will be crushed from the force of it. You can hear a roar and outside of the pod’s single window you can see heat and flame building up around the outside of your small circular craft. Then there is a mighty, sickening jolt and you are thrown one more time against the wall as everything finally goes still. The door to the pod slides open and a mechanical voice brokenly states “Thank you and have a safe journey” before an explosion of static cuts it short.

You emerge from the broken pod and clamber out onto red rock. The pod has come to rest on a high shelf overlooking a vast red landscape, a maze of dry canyons and valleys that stretches to the horizon. And on that horizon is a massive city scape, so large you cannot see where it ends. It literally encompasses the entire line of the horizon from left to right and though it is very far away, you can already see it is constructed of massive towering structures, like no city you’ve ever come across in your life or heard tell of before. A wind blasts across the landscape, stirring up red dust clouds and pulling at the fabric of your clothes.

At this point in the campaign, we are off book and running my own material. I’ve always wanted to do a planar adventure in Dungeons and Dragons. The possibilities such a campaign offers are exciting, though I have not found many official (or even unofficial) adventures set in the planes. And the ones I have always feel a little... I don’t know... standard. Like they just took the same kind of adventure you’d see in a normal campaign and themed it with different creatures.

For my planar campaign (which I am working on releasing on DMs Guild), I wanted something far more outside the box. Just as the characters are having the boundaries of their worlds stretched, I think the players need to have the boundaries of what they think of as a DND game stretched, too.

So the first thing I’ve changed is that these planes are literally planets, not planes. That lets me throw in a touch of sci fi for a nice spelljammer element. And the first of those planets to be explored is Planet Hell.

Encounter: The Hell’s Angels

The first big encounter here is against four biker devils, a Bone Devil (named Bones), a Bearded Devil (named Beards), a Barbed Devil (named... Cisco, which was supposed to be funny, but now I wish I’d just kept it Barbs, so let’s call him Barbs), and an Imp (Larry). These guys are straight out of Easy Rider, leather jackets and all, and they ride hovering jet bikes. The set up here is that they will attack the players and this will result in a jet bike chase through a maze like canyon full of dangers and driving challenges. While all this is going on, a meteor storm that hits Hell every day is about to start and the players will literally have to outrace the storm to make it to the safety of the world city of the Nine Circles (which is protected by a magic/science shield. Helping them in this endeavor is Alyss, a young blonde punk rocker looking chick who rides in on her own jetbike and warns the players that the biker gang is coming to investigate their crash site.

This encounter ends up being so much fun in so many ways.

First of all, the players don’t want to meet the biker’s head on. So Imoaza decides to use disguise self to look like a devil herself and pretend like she’s captured Carrick, who will then launch a surprise attack. She rolls a high success on her disguise and ends up looking like a classic red satan devil you’d get at a costume store, goatee and all. She also speaks Fiendish, as it happens, so she is able to really complete the disguise. It works and she doesn’t discard the disguise for the whole encounter. This ends up being absolutely ridiculous. Read on.

Beards tries to insult Carrick by peeing on him with a devil’s penis that looks like a living lobster and pisses acid and this is when Carrick launches his surprise attack, the other players joining him shortly.

Early on in the fight, Barbs and Bones escape, Bones dragging Imoaza’s red devil face along the ground until she is too dazed to fight him. He then blasts into the canyon, closely pursued by Alyss on her own personalized jet bike with Aldric riding shotgun and wielding a grenade launcher Alyss tosses him. Imoaza steals Larry’s tiny bike and rides after them, but for the life of her, she cannot roll well enough to figure out how to use the bike well. And while all this is going on, a meteor storm has begun to crash down around them. So what you end up getting is this ridiculous red satan devil (who is really Imoaza) cruising backwards on a hoverbike, screaming in terror as she races into the canyon just barely outrunning a meteor storm.

We honestly think this is the end of Imoaza. I’ve set up challenges the players must face to navigate the canyon and hers ends up being a leap over a wide chasm. With the way she’s been rolling... but then, against all odds, she rolls a critical success on this jump, and it looks a little like this...

The silence surrounding the chasm is broken suddenly by a shrill cry, like a plea for help, and rocketing into view comes a tiny hoverbike, clinged to by a tall red devil with a jet black goatee hanging beneath a mouth open in a wide scream. The Devil is ridiculously large a top the miniscule bike and Every part of his body that can grip something is gripping the bike: knees, buttucks, hands clenched on the seat of the motorcycle, his tall shape crouched low and terrified... and backwards... over the bike as it speeds its way without stopping towards the chasm. This is the end for the devil for sure. Except just before the bike takes its fatal dive, it hits a rock and is tilted upwards and suddenly the screaming devil man is flying, not falling, as the bike soars like an angel across the huge chasm, spinning around in the process, knocking the devil free from his perch, whereupon in his mad scrabbling he gets himself turned the right way around, grabs the handlebars and successfully lands on solid safe ground.

Then there’s Larry. Oh my god, Larry. I initially threw him in just so there would be an easily accessible bike for the players to use during the jet bike chase. But the minute I start voicing him and he keeps hilariously failing to injure Carrick while the Paladin (have I ever mentioned Carrick is a Paladin before?) fights Beards, using his fiery whip to smack away Beard’s attacks, Larry becomes a crowd favorite. Carrick especially loves him, finding the imp’s futile attempts to harm him more cute than anything else, to the degree that once Carrick defeats Beards, Larry takes a liking to him, calling him “Chuck” and determining they are going to be a new gang. He grabs Beard’s bike, tells Chuck to get on, and he rides him away from the Meteor Swarm, saying how cool it is that they’ve met and how they are going to be friends forever.

Well, by the time this happens, Aldric’s launching of grenades in the canyon has caused landslides and certain passages have been blocked off by piles of rock. Larry gets to one of these just in time to see Aldric and Alyss soaring over it in a marvelous display of driving skill and defying gravity, intent on continuing their chase of Bones and Barbs.

Larry looks at the rock wall and takes a deep breath. “Do you believe, Chuck?” He says in his small, hopeful, tremulous voice. Carrick slaps him on the shoulder. “I believe in you, buddy.” Larry then guns the bike, heading for the rock wall, about to perform the same stunt as Alyss. His eyes closed, his legs flailing out behind him (he’s too small for even his own bike), he drives a top speed for the wall.

And rolls a critical failure.

Carrick sees what is about to happen and does what any true friend would. He bails off the back of the bike, misty stepping off to witness Larry drive into the cliff wall, the bike upending itself to smash him into pulp against the rocks before exploding in a ball of fire.

And that’s the end of Larry, short lived favorite familiar.

The rest of the chase has too many crazy moments to list: Aldric finally catches up with Bones, jumping off his bike and impaling the devil, then stealing his leather jacket. Aldric and Alyss outrun a horrible cave monster a little bit like a gaping dragon from Dark Souls. Imoaza has to outrun the meteor storm on the way to the shielded city, and almost doesn’t make it. And Carrick finds Blackrazor in the desert.

This last moment is a defining one. Carrick initially is hesitant to retrieve the blade, knowing it is evil. But he also knows it may not be his call to make: this is Aldric’s burden to bear. The player is so torn, he literally has to toss a coin to figure out the answer. It tells him what to do... he picks up the sword, and Blackrazor is less than grateful, berating him for having let Aldric drop him in the first place. He does finally thank him and tells him that Carrick will play a nice role in his final plans, then makes a joke about eating the souls of children. This last one is too much for Carrick. Not sure whether Blackrazor is being crass or honest leads Carrick to realize he cannot trust the sword’s actual intentions. And in a moment of decision, he drops the sword back in the desert and rides away (he traded his exploded jet bike for a summoned horse... which here in Hell turns out to be a Nightmare). Blackrazor screams profanities at him as he goes, promising that one day he’ll cut off his head and drink his insides.

Eventually the party synch back up on the edge of the city, which this close up they see is actually just a ruined sprawl of ghettos. This is in fact an illusion, created by Alyss to protect them, but they won’t find that out for a while. For now, they wander the dead city with Alyss, who tells them to abandon the bikes except her own, which she hits a button on to cause it to shrink down to pocket size, and which she drops in her back pack. She explains a little about their situation while they walk.

Hell, it turns out, used to be involved in an eternal war with the Demons of the Abyss, in a conflict dubbed the Blood War that mostly took place in the River Styx, the asteroid field right outside of Hell. Some centuries ago, Asmodeus traveled to the Abyss himself at the head of a huge army to finally bring the fight back to the Demons. His plan was successful and he used a magic so powerful that the Abyss was sealed away into between reality, unable to manifest and interact with the real world. But Asmodeus himself did not survive the magic and Hell was left for the first time in its history without a leader.

With the war against the demons over, the devils turned on themselves, waging a war that began as a physical conflict but slowly became more political. Out of this war emerged the Nine Cities, a sprawling conglomerate of nine separate cities, all ruled by different Arch Devils. Hell also became a tense democracy, with the leader of Hell voted into office to serve a fifty year term. The current president is Mammon, devil of greed and pride, who rules from his vast casino-ridden city of Messmiter, the Golden City.

While different presidents have pushed different agendas and together have turned Hell into a technological leader in the universe, one thing they all agree on: Hell’s borders should remain closed, its warships destroyed and grounded. No one comes into Hell except in death. No one leaves Hell. Ever.

Alyss tells them that there are crystals here on Hell which call souls to them when those souls pass around the universe. It’s uncertain why a soul may be called by a crystal to end up reborn on Hell, but it is known that Devils used to be able to make this happen as a contract. Now with Devils forced to stay in Hell forever, the influx of new souls has slowed, leading to a lot of anger and unrest. Devils desire souls, they need them to grow in power. Without them, they feel starved and restless.

Also restless are the few unfortunates who end up being called to Hell. Not only are their souls almost always drained for a devil’s personal gain, but Hell used to operate on one basic principal: Hope. There was hope that with enough penance, one could leave for a better place. This actually used to be true. But no longer, not with the borders closed. So Alyss has joined a group known as the Hell’s Rebels, led by who she says is an incredible leader of men, a visionary. Their goal is to escape Hell.

This gives many reasons as to why the player’s presence is so disruptive and yet so important. One, they’ve broken the closed border rule, albeit unintentionally. Two, somewhere on Hell their working spaceship has landed, which could be the rebel’s ticket out of here. And three, they have fresh, living, souls. That makes them a target. And because Barbs escaped them in the canyon, she is sure word has reached Hell that they are here.

And with this set up, we enter my next planned scenario in Hell, hideout.

Rooftop Showdown

I want this part of the adventure to feel a little like Blade Runner, or Dark City. I am aiming for mystery and a touch of uncertainty and I want to create a daring escape.

So the set up becomes that Alyss brings them to a decrepit hotel room and leaves them, telling them she’ll be back in a few hours but under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are they to leave or open the door. They aren’t even to speak if someone calls to them. Alyss has her own way of getting back in. Don’t speak to anyone, she warns them again, before leaving. The players settle down for a much needed long rest, but when they finish it, Alyss hasn’t returned.

Three days pass. The players stay alive by Carrick casting “Create Food and Drink” and summoning a bunch of random Fiendish foods. They eat them all (except for a summoned plate of fried Bearded Devil Penis, which they leave in a corner of the room, where it begins to acquire a greasy acrid odor). Imoaza passes the time by reading various tomes she’s collected over the course of their adventures, especially the journals of her people taken from the Yuan Ti temple. Aldric digs through Alyss’ left behind backpack, eventually finding the shrunken motorcycle and blithely pocketing it for later study. He also finds an energy capsule which they use to recharge Carrick’s rifle. And he detoxes, not from drugs but from Blackrazor’s influence, slowly wresting his mind free from the blade’s evil influence, which he can still feel reaching for him and calling to him. Carrick finds a cellphone (of course, they don’t know this is what it is) and is able to pull out of his distant other-life memories that this is a communication device. He leaves it alone.

On the fourth day, a knock comes at the door. The players ignore it, and then Alyss’ voice calls to them, saying she lost the key and is being chased and needs to get inside. The group is nervous and anxious, not sure whether this is really her or not. As they hesitate, she becomes more desperate, saying that she will die if they don’t help her. They stay silent. Some time later, her voice returns, only this time she says she’s been caught and will be executed if they do not open the door immediately. She tells them that she will work something out with the Devils to keep them all safe, but they need to open the door now. Again, the players do nothing, and Alyss sobs and cries before there is a horrible crunching sound and her voice goes silent. Completely unnerved, Carrick uses a detection spell to try to sense anything outside the door. He senses a presence so large and evil that it almost makes him sick and he whispers to the others that he hopes they did the right thing by doing nothing.

It is not long after that the cellphone rings, jarring them all. Carrick picks it up and a male voice tells them he’s coming to get them, they have to trust him, that Alyss’ illusion is wearing off (it was never meant to last this long), that something has happened to her, and that they need to go. They decide to trust this voice and it (naming itself as “Jacobs”) instructs them to climb out of the window of the hotel and up to the roof.

Here is where things get crazy. Opening the window shatters Alyss’ illusion and for the first time, the players get a true look at the city they are in. It is not decrepit at all, but rather a bustling metropolis filled with flying vehicles, loud noises, and bright lights. It is night time right now but the city is brighter than day with all of its neon and LEDs. The players climb out of the window and Imoaza casts fly so that they can avoid a difficult climb. Just in the nick of time, too: behind them, the door to the apartment shatters and a Pit Fiend forces its bulk inside the room. But the players are already gone.

I think the sign that this section was a success was the players later asking whether that was really Alyss on the other side of the door. It wasn’t. In fact, it was the devils trying to break through her illusion and find them, but the fact that the question was left in their minds is exactly what I was trying to achieve, that uncomfortable feeling of “maybe we did the wrong thing.”

They end up having to wait on a rooftop while Jacobs makes his way to them. While they wait, they are accosted by a group of 12 Spined Devils and an Erinyes. Imoaza and Carrick face off against the devil’s in ranged combat from the roof, while Aldric flies up to meet the Erinyes, who taunts his bravery as base male bravado while ripping into him with her whip, spear, and arrows. The battle is intense, with spines falling all over the roof while Carrick and Imoaza use their eldritch blasts to fire back at the Spined Devils. Maybe the most intense moment comes when the Erinyes restrains Aldric with her whip and then throws him down into the river of traffic below them.

Damn that Larry, thought Harry as he steered his shiny new hovercraft down Risen Street, taking time to shake his fist at an old van as it puttered along in the lane he wanted to be in. If Larry would just start acting like an adult and less like a child then Harry’s life would be a lot simpler. Larry was supposed to have been back in town after the weekend to watch Harry’s kids (inexplicably, the little Implings loved their uncle Larry) but instead he was nowhere to be found. Harry wasn’t concerned, he knew Larry was most likely off with his gangster buddies and thinking of himself as much cooler than he in fact was. How many times did Harry have to tell his brother to get a real job before it was too late and no company would have him? How many times had Harry had to bail out Larry from some misadventure or another? Despite his anger, Harry couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a small smile as he thought of those misadventures. That was Larry’s one gift: no matter how much frustration Harry felt at him, his damnable brother was just so happy-go-lucky he couldn’t stay mad for long. As the frustration left him, Harry felt a sudden tinge of worry. Where was his brother? It wasn’t like him to just disappear without a trace. To be halfway around the world asking for help, yes, and inconveniencing his dutiful and responsible older brother, sure, but just disappearing was odd.

Harry didn’t have much time to consider the thought. There was a sudden jolt as a man fell from the sky and smashed against his windshield with the force of a dropped boulder. The shiny new hovercraft that Harry had spent nine years saving up for (it could fit all three of his kids and his wife besides) spun madly out of control, being ping ponged around by the other speeding traffic. Harry meanwhile, was flailing against the sudden release of the air bags, unable to see anything past their white bulk. He desperately tried to steer the car into safety, but only succeeded in pointing its nose directly at that old van that he had shook a fist at earlier. The two cars collided and Harry’s shiny new car was chucked aside into a building, Imp and vehicle alike exploding against its side in a fireball not unlike the one that had claimed his brother Larry only a few days earlier.

Eventually this battle comes to a halt. It is on a timer, with me rolling a die each round with an increasingly easy to hit goal number. When I roll that number, Jacobs arrives. There is one last mad dash as the players try to figure out what side of the roof Jacobs has pulled up to, failing all of their perception rolls, and leaping off of three different sides (all of them wrong). This results in Carrick being knocked unconscious and almost killed by traffic, Imoaza having to dodge madly through cars to save him, and Aldric (who got a haste spell from Carrick during the fight) whipping around in traffic like a car himself, madly looking for them.

They eventually all are pulled inside Jacobs’ vehicle and he flies them off to meet the leader of the Hell’s Rebels. Their hideout is a moving target, a giant airship that looks like a cross between a mighty galleon and a blimp, with a huge air bag suspended over the main deck and keeping the whole ship aloft, and giant jet engine pipes coming off the back of the ship to propel it forward.

They are taken on board the massive vessel and brought to see the commander. He stands in a long throne room, decked in an impressive robe and commander’s outfit. He turns as they arrive and eyes them all with a scrutinizing eye.

“Jacobs!” he shouts at last in a quick voice a little bit like a speeding racecar. “If I have tried to teach you one thing while being on board my ship, it is... well, it is my name. And you’ve actually done a great job of learning that. But if there was a second thing, it would be manners! And by all the devils in the nine hells, we do not leave people to bleed on our carpet. It’s not civilized! Did you even offer them something to drink? Get them a bath and a bed and whatever else they desire. Maybe a bowl of my famous cereal. That would perk them right up! Greetings, this is my ship the Jolly Roger Mark II and I’m Captain Krisp, Captain Roger Krisp, at your service. No, I won’t shake. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

And we stop there, with all of us laughing at the return of a favorite character. It’s a huge moment, actually, one I’ve been wanting to get to for a long time. Captain Krisp was one of those NPCs who became so quickly memorable that I’ve long wanted to bring him back into the campaign in a role that felt worthy of him. Being the captain of Hell’s Rebels is perfect. It also keeps alive the feeling of world-spanning that I’ve so valued in this long long long campaign. The fact that an entirely new group of adventurers is dealing with characters and plots left over from other groups of adventurers just makes the whole story feel epic. And of course, the players are the glue tying it all together.

By the way, for anyone ever wondering what Captain Krisp sounds like or how he thinks, I have taken massive inspiration from Varrick from Legend of Kora. Which is a wonderful show for many reasons, but maybe most memorably for Varrick.

Next time, we’ll get deeper into Hell and more crazy scenarios for the players to work through.

#Nine Hells #DNd 5e #Dungeons and Dragons #Campaign Journal #Spelljammer #Planar Campaign

[gwydionmisha]

TNG: Season 6 Rewatch:

- 6.18 Starship Mine: They are evacuating the Ship.  That never goes well.  Data is learning small talk.  I do like the race to get Picard to excuse people from doing social.  Is Hutch flirting with Riker?  Oh Gods! Data's imitation of Hutch.  Picard spots a chance to flee social to grab his saddle in hopes of a ride.  Inevitably, he spots something wrong.  Is that Tuvac playing a pirate?  Pirates inevitably slow him down, so of course he is trapped aboard with them.  Picard must take on the pirates single handed.  Data imitating Hutch and Hutch talking at each other is magic.  I have to ask why they suggested imitating Hutch since they all hate him. Anyway, they are all rescued from doing social until Geordi spots something odd about the table with his visor and the hosts attack, injuring Geordi and taking them hostage. They make a plan to turn Geordi's visor into a sonic weapon.  Meanwhile, Picard is captured and pretends to be a barber to lull his captors who are "draining the trilithium," which sounds like a euphemism, but isn't.  They are short a set of hands as Pirate Tuvac is still missing, Picard having hidden him while he was unconscious.  Picard now being inefficiently guarded does a little sabotage, which causes a distraction allowing him to escape.  The blast doors come down, so now he's being chased by the guard while the others dealing with the leak in engineering.  Picard runs into a dead end in the tube he's fleeing through, as the beam sweep is coming that way.  He leaves the tube put hears the pirate screaming.  The leader insists they drag the incredibly volatile fuel through the ship.  Picard is listening in and tries to talk them out of doing the incredibly dangerous thing.  They found his communicator, so know he's not a barber, but an officer, though why she'd guess Lieutenant, given his age I don't know.  The pirates find the rungs cut on the tube they were climbing.  Riker gets them to beat him up as a distraction; Picard gets one with an arrow, but they capture him again.  The leader shoots an accomplice.  Crusher uses the visor to knock out everyone but Data.  Picard makes his move, stealing a thingie, but she beams out.  Picard calls for them to deactivate the sweep, which Data does at the last moment, a deus ex machina.  The ship blows up because he took the thingie.  He tried so hard not to kill anyone, but he killed everyone on the ship and his acting sells how much he wishes she'd just listened and stopped instead of forcing his hand.  The resin could be used for terrorism and she was going to sell it to the highest bidder.

- 6.19: Lessons.  Communications, Replicator, and Library systems are offline for an Experiment in Stellar Cartography.  Picard goes to check as he's bored with all his plans disrupted.  He ruins four hours of work.  Cartographer knows her teas, apparently.  I like her; Picard likes her so much he is babbling about her to Beverly of all people.  Data is having a concert in which the Stellar Sciences head is playing and he clearly was listening carefully.  She stops by and they play a duet.  She talks to Beverly of all people about their duets (still not a euphemism).  She takes Picard on a date to the most acoustically perfect spot on the ship: a Jefferies tube intersection.  People can hear them in Engineering.  Doh!  Then there is kissing, but in front of a crew woman in the elevator, he is all professional understandably distressing her.  He goes to Deanna for advice.  How is there "no protocol" around captains dating within their chain of command?  O.o  Deanna give him the thumbs up.  He explains about that probe from the long dead planet and the music being from there and the sharing of sometyhing so private is taken as the gift it is.  Meanwhile stallar Lady tries to poach one of Riker's department without asking him first.  He must go to Picard because he's uncomfortable for obvious reasons whether he says yes or no, which is why dating people in your chain of command is usually forbidden RL.  Picard brings it up with Stellar sciences Lady their next date.  They need to rescue an outpost in an extreme heat environment.  The heat shield is stellar Lady's idea and she is of course on the away team to set things up and she nearly dies.  They saved all the colonists, but 8 crew died.  She watched one die.  They have a good talk.  She worried he'd blame himself; he can't bring himself to order her into danger again.  She applies for a transfer.  I like that that at least they didn't fridge her as I was expecting and as they always did in ToS, that instead they had an adult conversation rather like the ones I've had in real life at mutual parting.  

- 6.20: The Chase. Picard's archaeology professor turns up, and presents him with an ancient highly symbolic figurine, then tries to lure him onto an expedition.  He hints at mysteries but won't say exactly what he's up to unless Picard joins.  Old man gets nasty when he says no.  he leaves in a huff and his shuttle is attacked by Irrillians.  The old man lives just long enough to say, "I was too harsh."  He left mysterious data blocks.  Picard diverts the ship to figure out WTF, sipping a peace conference.  I guess orders in Starfleet are just suggestions.  Kirk did this for Spock's panfar; Picard does it in memory of a dead father figure.  They work out that DNA is a for billion year old code.  Someone is destroying whole planets to hide the program.  They find the Cardassians already there.  The Klingons arrive.  Picard tries to reason; threats are exchanged.  Reason wins out.  Mostly.  The Klingon tries to start a fight with Data, who is unimpressed.  The Klingon tries to bribe Data, who is unimpressed.  The Cardassian is treacherous as usual.  The Klingon stays with he Feds.  They all race to the next planet, where the Romulans turn up for more exchange of threats.  Meanwhile, Beverly solves the puzzle and runs the program, which is a message from the civilization that did the seeding because they were sad about being alone and wanted to make descendants.  Hence the whole illogical cross breeding, which honestly still makes no sense.  There is a moving message of hope, which everyone but the feds reject.  Of course.  Sigh.

#TNG #Star Trek

[trashcan-to-end-all-trashcans]

Flower

finafuckingly here it is, i am so damn sorry this took so long. ive had 5 ideas for this and ive rewritten it 6 times. this idea mostly came from @dirajunara who was a total sweetheart and has written the first 20? something lines for me to start. now that being said i hope this will make a long day a little better for you dearie

wordcount:1518 words

@pelycosauria​ asked: Okay, Don’t know if I send you a Scotty prompt yet or not, so here it is:"I could kill you any second, you know that?"

"It was supposed to be a simple away mission!" Jim defended himself, "I needed her to collect samples, that's not dangerous!" "Everything is dangerous when you do it," Bones answered as they stepped through yet another door, coming face to face with Scotty. "Why is she like tha’?" He asked, no, demanded to know, "It was supposed ta be a simple away mission! What did ye do ta her?" He pointed at Jim and then pointed at the brig, at you behind the thick glass wall, trying to claw your way through. “scotty, I know what youre thinking right now” Jim tried to get his attention away from you “Y/N is gonna be alright ok? Bones and spock will do everything they can to help her” he put his hands on scotty’s shoulder and urged him to look at Jim. With a sigh scotty resigned and looked up to his captain “all we need you to do, is to keep performing as good as always. I promise you Y/N will be alright” scotty took one look back to you and then replied “aye cap’n, I’ll try” 4 hours earlier a simple away mission, that’s all it was supposed to be. The captain wanted you, a science officer that excelled in collecting samples, along with a few botanists and security officers to beam down to a planet newly discovered by the federation. That’s where it all went wrong. When you were down on the planet, some flower’s spores entered your body and thus your bloodway, causing you to go berserk. But you were not the only one affected, every single member of the away team had inhaled the spores. When another security team beamed down to the service in hazmat suits, ready to take the berserks back to the ship with force if necessary. All they found was you, standing in a pool of blood surrounded by the dead bodies of your away team. Ready to kill whoever tried to stop you. Present time Scotty had gone back down to engineering, trying to get his mind off of you. “I should’ve stopped her, it hadn’t felt right when she announced that she was on the away team.” And now he had lost you, had lost the most important person to him. The wrench he was holding fell out of his hands down the Jefferies tube, this wasn’t working, he needed to help to get you back again. Full of determination he walked out of engineering to the turbo lift. Everyone knew what was going on and all of the working crew stopped to see him walk by, his head hung low in defeat and fists clenched at his side of anger. Anger because he might’ve lost you forever. The doors to the lab opened and scotty stepped in “Mr. Scott,” Spock began, scotty looked to him “might I inquire as to what you are doing up here” “well, i-I” scotty began to stutter. At that same time bones came walking in with a box in his hands. “Scotty, I’m glad you’re here” “ye are?” scotty looked at him with a baffled face. “yes” Bones replied, he put the box down and turned to face him “you see, we might’ve found an antidote for Y/N” scotty didn’t even dare to hope this might work. Just the tone in bones’ voice didn’t even have the tiniest spark of happiness in it “however, we will need to get into her holding cell and bring it into her system” at that Spock turned his head to the good doctor “doctor, we cannot ask this of mr. Scott. It simply is to dangerous for him to go in” “but he’s our best shot spock, don’t you see? Y/N might not hurt him. Something changes in her eyes everytime we mention him or when she saw him, didn’t you notice?” Bones voice changed “she remembers him, its our only chance to save her” Spock was trying to formulate a response to him when scotty piped up “hold ye horses lads, don’ I ge’ a say in this?” both men stared at him “don’t ya see? This is what I signed up for when I became ‘er boyfriend” he started to get worked up “an’ I will do this, wether you like it or no’.” his voice became softer “because she is more than me girlfriend doctor. She’s also me friend, and I’d do anythin’ for me friends”   both men stared silently at scotty for a few moments before bones finally replied “alright then, you’re going in” Scotty took a deep breath and said “aye well, let’s go then”

“LET ME OUT YOU BLOODY IDIOT” was the first thing the trio heard when they stepped through the door into the brig. You were still screaming and trying to claw your way through the glass. Hissing you said “I swear, if you don’t let me out now I WILL KILL YOU” kicking the glass to give your words some more emphasation. “that is higly illogical miss Y/N, since you are still behind that glass you cannot kill him” spock said drawing your attention to the three of him “Spock..” bones sighed and rubbed his hand over his faced. Scotty however, was still staring at you. the woman that meant the most to him in the world was captured behind glass, all because of some stupid flower. “please don’t hurt our monty”  that had been your last thought before you had gone berserk,  and here he was standing before you monty. You put your hands flat on the glass and snarled “well well well, if that isn’t our favorite monty my good side can’t stop talking about. To what do I owe this pleasure?” you watched him carefully as he came trough the door into your holding cell and moved carefully towards you. at first he was afraid you might attack him, or draw yourself backwards into a corner. But you remained still as he moved towards you, he came face to face with you and he moved his hands to gently push your head to the side so he could give you the hypo with the antidote. In one single move, so fast he couldn’t pull away, your hands came up around his neck. Squeezing ever so slightly. “I could kill you any second, you know that?” you hissed between your teeth. “then why don’t ya?” Scotty managed to choke out. He looked at you with horror in his eyes, afraid of what your bloodlust might do to him. Like it had done to your away team. “I promised that bitch one thing,” you snarled “that I wouldn’t hurt our ‘monty’” you mockingly said. You let him go and silently resigned to him admistering the hypo, releasing the antidote into your bloodstream. He stepped away from you and watched you, checking if anything happened to you. As mere ten seconds after he gave you the hypo, you collapsed. Bones and Spock came rushing in and after that, everything was a blur for scotty. 3 days later You had been released from medical after countless tests making sure every single trace of the spores was out of your body. You remembered everything, from the moment you changed into IT, to the moment you woke up into medbay. Shivering you turned on the shower, it might not be real and you’d never wash the blood of your crewmates off of your hands, but it helped somehow. To collect your thoughts. you had been lucky that the captain didn’t want to press charges, but nobody looked at you the same way. Even Monty had changed, it felt as if he treated you like you were made of glass and you hated it. You had been influenced by a fucking flower for crying out loud, you were still alive. Although with the blood on your hands you sometimes wished you weren’t Faintly you heard the door to the bathroom swish open and clothing that fell on the floor. scotty sighed, he came up behind you in the shower and put his arms around your waist. "I thought I lost ya, don’ ya eve’ do anythin’ like this again." You turned around in his arms "please" he pleaded. you finally gathered the courage to look up into his eyes, they looked at you full of adoration, love and a hint of sadness. You almost died today, not to mention the people that had died all at your hands. “i-i-I killed them monty.” You said and laid your head on his chest letting the tears take over “I killed my own damn crewmates” His hands came up to cradle your head and he forced you to look up at him “it wasnae yar fault lass, ye couldnae do anythin’ aboot it” he whispered “please le’ me help ye wi’ this” And in that moment, you knew that with monty at your side, you could overcome this.

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[megacircuit9universe]

X-Tech: Never Possible Until it is

THU JAN 02 2020

I just watched the latest video by YouTuber, Isaac Arthur, who I’ve been following for years, and greatly respect, addressing time travel, but while he tried to cover every version of time travel that comes up in science fiction, and in legit scientific discourse... he did not cover the version I talk about in this blog.

I was a bit surprised, but then again, mine (explained in the entry entitled, Time Travel Basics, and fleshed out in some follow ups shortly after it) is basically the John Titor version of time travel.

And over the 13 or so years since I first read the Titor stuff online, I’ve noticed that nobody, either in fiction, or legit discourse, ever does venture anywhere near the Titor model... which is kinda strange, given that so many other, clearly unworkable models pop up all the time.

It’s not as though the Titor model is just so ridiculous that it’s not even worth considering... because, well... plenty of very ridiculous models for time travel are given very serious consideration, in our movies and science fiction novels, if not elsewhere.

Still, the original message boards where Titor appeared, to talk about how he was a time traveler, and explain what he knew about how his military issue time distortion unit worked, were forums for physics students and physics enthusiasts.

And what always struck me reading the back and forth on those forums was that nobody ever challenged his technical explanations.  Everybody seemed to agree that the physics part of his story held up.

But that part was way over my head at the time, so I was very curious to understand why the physics seemed to hold up so well.

It took me most of those 13 years, watching recorded lectures and other videos on YouTube, and listening to several audio books on my commutes, dealing with different aspects of both quantum physics and string theory... before it finally clicked in my head, and I could see that Titor’s explanation not only squared with physics, but so did the schematics he’d provided.

Again, go back and read, Time Travel Basics, but, in a nutshell, it’s this idea of using two micro black holes... controlled by manifolds that inject electrons either into them, to increase their spin, or at angles across their event horizons, to slow the spin... to create two nested bubbles of frame-dragged spacetime, the inner one with positive time, and the outer one with negative time.

I won’t get further into it than that here, except to say that the one thing Titor talked about that always stumped me were the gravity sensors.  

Inside his two nested bubbles of spacetime, he was essentially in his own tiny universe, outside the main universe, but was able to maintain a lock on the Earth’s movements backward through time (rotating backward and revolving around the sun backward as the whole solar system revolved backward around the center of the galaxy) thanks to gravity sensors that would give feedback to the manifolds, telling them how to maneuver the two micro-singularities to stay with the GPS coordinates on Earth’s surface, from which he had departed.

I finally got my answer one morning in the car on the way to work, listening to an audio book on string theory, when the author explained how, unlike light, gravity could be felt between branes (or membranes) of space time.

It’s one possible explanation for why gravity is such a weak force on our own brane, compared to much stronger forces like electromagnetism... because gravity leaks out into the greater, “bulk,” of the multiverse.

He didn’t know it, but he’d told me that Titor’s gravity sensors could work... which was the final piece of the puzzle.

Everything else, from creating micro-singularities in particle accelerators, and capturing them magnetically, for industrial use... to manipulating their spin, mass, and attitude with a manifold of cathode rays (such manifolds were how old color tube TV sets worked)... to the nuclear powering of the device... to the many worlds theory... all passed, for being physically plausible.  So when the gravity sensors checked out too... well, that’s when I knew Titor was probably telling the truth.

So why am I so alone in this belief, in 2020... and why has the whole Titor model pretty much vanished from the conversation?

Well... this is what you might expect to happen when a person with a working model of something tries to explain it to people from the past who just aren’t there yet.

Imagine going back to the year 2000, and explaining on a serious tech forum how a typical smart phone from 2010 works... it’s a got a touch screen, and a bunch of gyros and sensors packed inside, and a lithium battery and... bla bla bla... 

Even though they are all well versed on the subject of tech, and are only about seven years away from the first smart phone... it’s likely that nobody will take your strange new idea seriously.  

Some will point out how certain features are just too far away... and the internet infrastructure couldn’t support such a thing... and the level of miniaturization isn’t realistic... and the batteries would be volatile and prone to explosions.

Others will argue that even if such a device could be Frankensteined together, nobody would want one device to do everything.  Nobody wants to watch TV shows on their alarm clock, that is also their flashlight! 

Why would they be like that?  Well... you know how people are.. when they consider themselves the experts and the vanguards of a given field.

Who are you anyway?  You’re just some rando who claims to own one of these so-called, “smart phones,” and you don’t even know how it works.  

You’re just a fanciful futurist describing some fanciful vision for a thing that would be nearly impossible to make, and totally impractical, probably, and that nobody asked for.  Get out of here!

My other example would be explaining how a modern airplane works, to scientists in... say... 1875.  Even if you were spot on with your description of a typical 737... with its wings, aelerons, flaps, jets, etc... its hydraulic control tubes and its aluminum body... fueled by a petroleum based liquid stored in its wings...

They would counter by explaining to you why none of that would actually work, and even if it could... nobody would ever convince a hundred regular civilians to climb into such a death trap and “fly” from New York to Los Angeles... in “hours.”

Get the fuck out of here!

My argument here, about experts and vanguards rejecting working ideas from the future... is kind of borne out by how far off the mark they always are, when asked to envision future tech.

Such visions are always hilariously wrong, because they are always clearly based on exactly what they know in the moment... plus what little they know about a few experimental things going on.  

But they never think about the unforeseen breakthroughs, both large and small, that can help make seemingly ridiculous things like the Boeing 737, or the IPhone 4, possible, practical, and marketable.

The above two analogies are not perfect though, because in John Titor’s case, he was in the military, using a military issue time machine.  It wasn’t a tech civilians even knew about, necessarily... and also, as I said earlier, there really wasn’t any push back from the nerds on his forums about the physics.  

They agreed it was theoretically sound enough not to bother attacking, and instead focused on his descriptions of the future... his past... all the world events to come later in the 2000s, 20-teens, and beyond.

And, while he answered honestly, he also explained that his appearance in 2000 meant they were all now on a different world line, that would not play out the same way.

His recollections were framed as predictions... and when the predictions didn’t come to pass... Titor was considered by most, debunked.

Some argued for a while... correctly, that they were never predictions, because he explained that we were on a different world line than his.  But... others countered, by pointing out how this argument makes his predictions unfalsifiable... which, in logical terms, means they’re garbage.

The whole discussion ended there... without ever really touching the mainstream consciousness.  John Titor was considered, by those who knew about him, to be just a fun hoax... and, like any other meme... fell out of fashion and was forgotten.

But my point is... he had schematics!  He had sound explanations for how the tech worked!  Screw the predictions... or arguments that the predictions are unfalsifiable!  The tech holds up!  Look at that!  Talk about that!

Look at the rather flawless descriptions of how it came to be invented, what it was being used for, and what it was like to operate a time distortion unit, from the perspective of the guy in the driver’s seat.  

It really irks me that everybody has both ignored and forgotten about that very tangible, testable part of Titor’s story... and then come back today with those same tired old arguments like, “If time travel were possible, we would have heard from one of them by now!”

Oh, really?

“If it were possible, we would have time tourists all over the place, and always would have, since Ancient Rome.”

Really?  Cuz... what if it was just a military tech not available to the public and what if it only had a small practical range of a few decades... as explained both by Titor, and by my Time Travel Basics entry?  Huh?

Huh???

Well... I guess I’m just gonna have to be content with being a crackpot, with no audience. :(

Be that as it may, my  model predicts that WW2 is the great historical barrier for time travel... with only a few rogue time travelers daring to go even as far back as the late 1940s... where they could still hope to refill their oxygen tanks, and get some kind of crude repairs done to their time distortion units.

Most only go as far back as the mid 1970s, with a few outliers hitting the 60s or 50s, and probably never finding their way back to anything like the home worldline they came from, after straying that far afield with no way to establish their, “divergence” to any useful degree.

But the twenty-teens were (are, will be) a good pit stop... the Denver, or Phoenix of Time Travel... if it were a coast to coast drive across the U.S... because things were (are, will be) just advanced enough to stop and get your bearings, or resupply, or get repairs done... but far enough away from the home time (which is the late 2030s) to bother stopping.

It’s possible that the 2020s will be the same kind of Denver for time travelers of, say, the 2050s... and that the 2030s themselves will be a Denver for time travelers of the 2080s... but if so... these more sophisticated time travelers from further in the future will probably be a lot more careful about the cybernetic impact of their pit stops in these future decades.

In other words, they’ll be more careful not to turn the internet, and therefore the world around them, into a total circus of unreality, in which all the locals question their sanity every day on a regular basis.

Things should calm down for us, in the 2020s, is what I’m saying... at least in the socio-political sphere.  The climate’s gonna be something different, but...

...whereas in the twenty-teens you were saying, “I can’t believe so and so is the leader of my country and so many assholes are coming out of the woodwork, and the rest of us feel unmoored from reality, as if we’ve been sucked into a parallel universe!”

In the 2020s you’re more likely to be saying, “I can’t believe we had a thunder snowphoon in July, and that Lake Eerie is on fire, but thank God the world’s leaders are on top of this, and have the support of pretty much everybody, except for the oldest, shittiest cranks who we all ignore.”

And maybe you’ll also be saying, “Thank God, also for [X-tech] without which everybody would be so fucked right now!”

Man, that was a long ramble!

Sorry.

I’m going to bed.