#dizzy's bumbling

[dizzy-hat]

playing with my fuckimg toys

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

The Cornley Catastrophe

A co-ed team, the Catastrophe is a team where the fact there are women on the team changes the dynamics on-ice with the opposing team. Their coach knows this and takes full advantage of the fact. Every shift change ensures that, aside from Twillsy in goal, there is always one woman on the ice. They play at the Charged Arena.

Known as the Cats professionally and the Mistakes colloquially, this hockey team is interesting to watch, even though their wins are few. (And when they do win, it's a surprise to even the players.) They are a more physical team, and often have at least three two-minute minor penalties per period. Somehow, even Twillsy was once in the Sin Bin™, leaving the Cats on the penalty kill with an empty net. The incredible leadership of Netty (RW), along with his lineys—Willser (D), Baby Bean (C), Grover (D), and Hazzard (LW)—kept the other team from scoring on the net.

(It was an unbelievable game, and the Cornley Mirror ran three different articles on it, and had two op-eds after. All five are hung in the locker room, framed.)

Their mascot is a brown horse with a black mane and tail and a white strip down his face. He wears a bowler hat that has a few very visible patches on it, and a suit coat that used to be black but is now a very dusty and faded black. The shoulders have clearly been repaired more than once, and the hems of the sleeves are worn. He has a snazzy red tie with the Team's logo printed at the bottom.

His name is Dizzy, and the kids of Cornley love him very much. The Cornley Athletic Society Trust (CAST) are working on pitching a second mascot to introduce to the community who would work with Dizzy. The current favourite is Bumble the Badger. She carries around a hockey stick and has a dress on with hockey pads overtop it. The current runner-up is Chaos the Crow. He wears the same jersey the players do, and has a plaster across his beak. The CAST is divided on who to choose.

[beepmon]

get yourself a me that feels Not Good ™️

[watcher-bones]

Nothing this, biscoff cookie/cracker thingamajigs are bloody amazing.

Feeling a little sick, nibble on these sucker's. Cuase even if it comes back up it doesn't taste horrid and gets rid of the nasty medicine taste.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Stumble

James is drunk and you are easily flustered. James Potter x kinda shy!reader

cw: mentions of drinking, being drunk, swearing, slight mention of smut

806 words

You would’ve been scared of the sudden sound of your front door opening if you hadn’t heard your boyfriend's erratic giggles echoing from behind the entrance, along with someone fervently shushing him. 

“Fuck Prongs, are you trying to wake up the whole bleedin’ city?” You heard Sirius’ irritated voice. 

You rushed to the front door to see all the commotion, you knew that James had gone out with Remus and Sirius tonight, but you didn’t expect them to be home so early. 

“Oh thank fuck you’re awake.” Sirius sighed in relief, nudging your bumbling boyfriend towards you. 

“Angel! Oh Merlin, I missed you.” He flung himself towards you, nearly sending you both tumbling to the carpeted floor. You giggled despite yourself. 

“Someone had fun tonight.” You stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the light amount of sweat coating the tendrils. 

“Oh believe me, he did." Sirius said, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "He got slightly drunk within thirty minutes and started sharing way too much information about the two of you.” Your face heated and scrunched at that, thankful Sirius chose not to share specifics. “Then he tried to order a lemonade to slow down, but the bartender thought he meant a vodka lemonade. Dumbass didn’t notice until his fourth.” Sirius cracked up, clearly finding humor at his friend's expense. 

“Oh baby,” You laughed in pity. “Thanks for getting him home, Siri.” You waved at your friend before he left, while he muttered something about can’t take him anywhere as he shut the door. 

“Y/N…” James slurred, still not letting you go. “My girl, my sweet baby girl, I missed you so much.” 

“You saw me not three hours ago, Jamie.” You said gently, trying to urge him towards your shared bedroom. He finally relented, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and side-hugging you as you both walked down the hall (you walked at least, he stumbled). 

“I know! A whole three hours without seeing this pretty face.” He tried to boop your nose but ended up just pawing at your face. “How am I supposed to thrive under these conditions? I felt myself dying, I was being drained. You’re too cute to be kept from me.” You thanked your lucky stars he was probably too wasted to notice how his words affected you. 

You were always easily flustered by James, anytime he was his usual sickly sweet self your whole body heated and you couldn’t look him in the eye. He made you feel all too exposed and all too small at the same time. Thankfully, he was a kind boyfriend and rarely used his powers to torment you (despite how much he wanted to declare his love for you every second of every day). But apparently, in his impaired state he either didn’t remember how he made you suffer or didn’t care. 

You walked through the bedroom (having to tug James away from the bed, which was very difficult considering he was both strong and dead weight), into the ensuite. 

“You’ve gotta brush your teeth, Jamie.” He whined but complied, grabbing his toothbrush and jumping onto the counter like a little kid. "Thank you." You said, being extra gentle with him in this state.

“How am I supposed to disobey when you sound so cute bossing me around?” You rolled your eyes, trying to keep from getting dizzy with affection. You put some paste onto his brush and he got to cleaning his teeth, keeping his doe-eyes on you the whole time. He brushed for about 20 seconds before jumping from the counter, spitting and rinsing his mouth. He didn’t waste any time grabbing for you. 

“Jamie, c’mon, let’s get you changed.”

“Yeah? You gonna strip me down, baby?” You stifled a pained laugh, turning to ash on the spot. “If you wanted me naked you just had to say so, you didn’t have to pretend there was another reason. Sneaky girl.” He grabbed your face in his hands and squished your cheeks, kissing your pushed-out lips. You shook him off and he quickly started undressing down to his boxers. Once he was done with that he grabbed you again. 

“Let’s get to bed.” You tried to gently lead him over but he flung you both onto the mattress. You every so gently pulled his glasses form his face, folding them and setting them on the nightstand.

“Never stop touching me, I can’t handle it.” He whined, looking deep into your eyes with enough love to make your chest burn. “You’re too pretty to let go. Way too pretty. You’re like, glowing. You always are. It’s no fair, Angel.” He grabbed your face in his hands and started kissing all over your face. 

You had a feeling the night was nowhere close to being over. 

[chelseeebe]

build me up, buttercup

chapter 2 - chrysanthemum

prev — next

18+ mdni. eventual smut. r has a creepy exboyfriend, eddie is an ass kinda sorta. mechanic!eddie x florist!reader. no use of y/n!

hey!!! happy easter guys! i feel like this chapter is also quite short but then chapters aren’t supposed to be full fics so maybe it’s fine?? either way i have over shot myself because i have not started the next part and i know that will come to haunt me

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

—eddie’s pov—

jesus christ. 

jesus. h. christ. 

eddie had found himself on the couch, again. sun blaring through the wide-open curtains, detailing that he had stumbled in and collapsed, the same way he had done the night before last. 

something had to give. 

he was too fucking old for this shit, his body unable to bounce back the way it once had.

a clammy hand swipes his forehead, groan echoing the trailer as he rolls from the couch. he had stripped off somewhere between the door and the cluttered coffee table, clothes in a heap leading to his resting place. 

coffee and a cigarette would fix this. or at least he fucking hoped so. 

there’s no time for breakfast, as if there ever was. 

scurrying off to change his underwear and socks at least. eddie’s grateful that wayne found love and left him to his own devices more often than not. 

there’s no saying how his uncle would’ve reacted to the scene this morning. in fact, he’s pretty much certain that wayne would’ve tossed a cold bucket of water over his sleeping body. 

eddie doesn’t negate the fact that he’d have deserved it though. 

he pulls on the same raggedy shirt he wore yesterday, his pants had no visible stains meaning they were fine. not much work went on nowadays anyway, it’d dried up since autoshack had opened up by the damned mall. 

his heart twists, despising the fact that you were right. 

ugh god. 

something had to be done before he was back bussing tables at benny’s. lord knows he was far too old to pass off the bumbling teen act now, benny would wring his neck. 

the thought of tying a tiny apron around his waist to flirt with little old ladies for a twenty five cent tip sends shivers down his spine. 

of course he flirted now, with middle aged moms whose husbands were too inept to change their own oil or the elderly ladies that could no longer change a tyre.

but he flirted with you mostly. only because it made your nostrils flair and your jaw clench. he enjoyed seeing you squirm, pretending that his pet names don’t make your cheeks flame. 

the thought has him snickering away to himself, lazily brushing his teeth, uncaring of how late he now was. 

it didn’t matter when he got there, the garage could open five hours late and the books would be the same as they were yesterday. 

empty. 

-

the fresh hawkins breeze serves as the perfect remedy to his pounding head, slipping through the cracks of his helmet just right. 

eddie notices your car isn’t there in it’s usual spot only to then immediately pretend that he hadn’t. 

some days you got in late, never this late though. 

it’s not as if he cared, he was just curious. your almighty fight to keep the strip open had fizzled out pretty quickly it seems. 

he shuffles into the workshop, hoping to push your dizzying bouquets and scarily cheerful demeanour out of his mind and focus on making it through this hangover alive. 

he’s just about ready for his second cigarette of the day when he notices the spindly man peering through your window, stepping back outside with a fresh cup of coffee to watch him. 

the man isn’t subtle about it, using his hand to shield his eyes from the low sun. 

eddie can’t quite place what’s wrong with him. too eager for a bunch of flowers, and surely he wasn’t longing for your company. 

his eyes lock into eddie’s, waving quickly before hollering across the parking lot, “hey man! d’you know when it’ll be open?” the mans eyes shift back, staring intently at your little shop. he can see now just how disheveled he really was, his hair a mess and his jacket hanging loose around his shoulders. something was inherently off about him, his posture alone had eddie questioning him. 

eddie shrugs, resting his mug on the stone wall, “i dunno.. soon probably,” trying desperately to ignore the off putting nature this guy exuded. 

“it’s just, she’s normally open by eighty thirty but it’s-,” checking his wrist for the time, “well it’s nearly nine and she’s still not here,” genuine concern rippling through his voice, as if that wasn’t extremely concerning for any normal human being. 

his brow furrows, what the fuck was this guys deal? a flower fetish of sorts maybe. or, he was a creepy stalker, waiting to murder you. 

with this guy, either was possible. 

eddie thinks on his feet for once, clicking his fingers together, “you know what, i forgot but i think they’re closed today,” nodding along convincingly.

you didn’t see eye to eye but even eddie could tell that this guy wasn’t to be trusted, whatever it was that he had in mind. 

“oh no, okay.. well, thank you for telling me,” he snivels, his disappointment evident as he shuffles on back to his car. 

“want me to tell her you stopped by?” eddie yells after him, eyes narrowed. 

the man stops, shaking his head frantically, “nonono, that’s okay! thank you though!” practically tripping over his own feet to get into his car and away from eddie’s judging eyes. 

he can’t tear himself away from the peculiar sight, following intently as his tyres spin against the gravel, speeding out of the parking lot without giving eddie another glance. 

strange. 

really strange. 

he can’t shake the unsettled feeling the man had brought with him, something wasn’t right, he just couldn’t figure out what yet. 

-

eddie can’t help but wait for you to arrive, watching the parking lot like an eager puppy dog, ready to tell you all about your stalker. 

in hindsight, he looked just as creepy with his eyes fixated on your usual parking spot. you’d run a mike when you realised he’d been waiting specifically for you.

he’s practically ecstatic when the clunky old ford pulls in and he can divulge everything he’d bore witness to. 

“hey hey, wait up,” eddie calls out, breaking into a light jog to meet you at your car. 

he ignores the roll of your eyes and the scowl accompanying, and resists from making a snarky comment about your tardiness. 

as much as it pained him to even think about it, he was worried about you. or your safety. whichever it was. 

“where were you this morning?” asking inquisitively, easing into the conversation. 

you huff, slightly concealed by the slam of your car door, “i had a meeting with mayor kline, i did tell you about it but i guess you weren’t listening,” throwing your bag over your shoulder, obviously desperate to get away. 

he’s vaguely reminiscent of your conversation a few days back, he remembers now how you’d mentioned kline and the meeting and had asked him to come to fight your corner. 

“oh yeah, how’d that go?” sincerely interested.

your sigh answers his question outright, “it’s a work in progress, he was.. not so helpful,” letting your disappointment slip through. 

eddie hums, regrettably noting his lack of help for the cause. 

yeah yeah. 

next time he was there. 

maybe. 

“someone was looking for you.. red hair, about this tall,” placing his hand somewhere by his shoulder, “he was pretty weird, i don’t know if he’s a friend or..” trailing off into silence. 

your features slip, worry overtaking your annoyance, “what car was he driving?” 

he thinks back, pondering just to meet your perturbed eyes, “blue chevrolet.. pretty dinged up, i think.”

“shit.”

his brow furrows, falling behind as you attempt to step inside, “you know him?” utterly puzzled by your reaction.

you pause, understandably hesitant to share your personal life so bluntly with eddie, but now he’s asked and you’d dug the hole, there was really no choice. 

“jake. my uh—my ex,” sighing softly, “he’s not.. right, he’s creepy and he’s weird and he won’t leave me alone,” letting everything tumble out all at once. 

he can see your expression, the worry that had settled in the lines on your face. exhaustion maybe, or fear. 

“oh.. shit,” rubbing his stubble, “i told him you weren’t opening so you should be safe for today but— i mean, does he do this often?” 

this strange urge to protect washing over him, a little territorial though he’d never admit to it out loud. 

that’d be a terrible, terrible idea with connotations he didn’t even want to ponder. 

“yeah.. he comes by a couple times a week,” shaking your head, the wind blowing your usually perfect hair around, “he never comes in though, he just sits—as if he’s waiting for something.”

eddie shudders at the thought, unsure of how he hadn’t spotted him before, “jeez, i didn’t know. i can uhm—,” anticipating the regret for his next words, “i could speak to him? y’know, scare him off?”

your features soften, a little of that worry slipping off, “no, no it’d just make it worse,” not quite a smile but you’re almost there, “i appreciate it though, thank you eddie.”

he can’t stand when you say his name any other time, but now you’re so soft, genuinely appreciative of him and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore.

eddie nods, holding up his hand while you creep towards your door, “well, you let me know if that changes, alright?”

you just about manage a smile, a tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile that tells him more about you than you’d ever let on in your entire time of being here.

dragging his feet back across the asphalt to the garage, a burning sensation that he’s not eager to address lodged itself in his throat.

allergies.

it must be allergies.

-

“you’re distracted,” mark announces, staring daggers into eddie’s uninterested soul. 

he’s too busy watching your door to comprehend what the man had just said. 

“hmm?” finally breaking his gaze away to brush mark off instead. 

“you’re distracted,” his friend repeats, tossing a cigarette onto the desk in front of him, “what’s wrong with you today?” starting the walk outside. 

eddie sighs, getting up to join him with a groan. he wasn’t distracted, he was focused on figuring you out. you’d revealed more to him this morning than you ever had in the past two years of doing business beside him. did that mean something? 

probably not. 

you were, rightfully, scared. confiding in him as a means of protection or something. 

he places the cigarette between his lips, flickering the lighter with his eyes still on your storefront. 

“i’m not distracted, i’m just— thinking,” the lights flicker off one by one, now bracing for your figure to slip out of the door.

sometimes he’d holler over, make some sniping remark about your plans or lack thereof, but he can’t bring himself to do it tonight. 

you slam the door shut, locking up without even glancing over at him. but he’s patient, waiting for the slight upturn of your head to wave his own hand. 

embarrassingly eager for someone that clearly hated you. 

your fingers waggle in a half-assed wave, probably bracing for his sharp tongue only to be met with unexpected gestures instead. 

scurrying to get in your car and no doubt away from eddie the freak munson. 

marks elbow meets his ribcage, oof—, pulling him back into the real world. “thinking, huh?” refusing to conceal his smirk, “didn’t think she was your type?”

“that’s not— fuck off,” elbowing him right back, “i’m just looking out for her, okay? nothing more to it,” shrugging softly, pretending to not follow your car down the tiny bit of road he could see from his perch. 

mark just laughs, a dirty, rich laugh that gave away just how many cigarettes they smoked every day. 

“look man, whatever gets you off,” holding his hands up in innocence, “all i’m interested in is you wanna shut this shit up so we can drink.” 

eddie turns, no longer avoiding the judging eye of his supposed friend, “now you’re speakin’ my language,” erupting into a grin. 

he can feel your worrisome eyes slip away, lodging somewhere in the background of his busy brain, undeniably solidified to haunt him at a later, more inconvenient date. 

[websitestargirl]

i might just be crazy but i really like to give ghost weird fetishes (totally not a projection). he strikes me as the type, who’d find the unsettling intimacy of certain things to be somehow more erotic than sex, unlike soap gaz and price. like ya he likes bondage just like everybody else does, but it makes him lightheaded when he takes you to a mirror maze. watching you bumble around confused and disoriented while he can see himself slowly trailing behind you like he’s gonna start chasing you. he uses a lot of self restraint not to act on it.

or like, i honestly think hed get off on pure servitude. i think he needs to be used as an object quite literally and look. idgaf if ur sub or dom but a man like that putting that much trust and vulnerability into you is a beautiful thing. please use him as furniture or a drone or a souvenir. a stuffed animal you’d hump in bed. giving him an opportunity to slip into mind numbing obedience and let the days slip away gives him the quiet and peace he needs. hes a very well behaved sub but he needs the positive reinforcement or else he’ll implode. make him clean your bathroom.

if he could put you in a hamster wheel he would. watching you eat large portions of food makes him dizzy. he likes the look on your face when he lets himself get caught stalking you (he’s bored). prodding at you is the only way he keeps himself entertained while on leave.

idk. you think hes turned on because youre wearing a low cut top but he’s actually turned on because hes imagining you dry humping your bike.

[knoepfl]

The Captain’s Heart

Characters:

Captain Hook (Disney Version)

Female Pirate (Reader)

Smee (Mentioned)

Trigger Warnings:

Illness (fever, coughing, physical weakness)

Brief mentions of pain and discomfort

Masterlist

Words: 900

---

The crew of the Jolly Roger knew their captain as a man of grandeur and ruthless ambition. They feared him, respected him, but they never truly knew him. Not like she did.

She was the only female pirate on board, an anomaly in the world of seafaring men, and a mystery to all but one. Captain Hook, with his sweeping red coat, sharp hook, and dramatic flair, was every bit the fearsome leader they thought him to be. Yet, when night fell and the crew was asleep, he was hers—and hers alone.

Tonight, the ship was quieter than usual, save for the occasional snore from Smee and the others who shared the lower cabins. But up in Hook’s grand cabin, things were different. The Captain was ill, and no amount of his usual grand gestures could hide the fact that he was suffering.

Hook lay in bed, pale, his once-crisp red coat discarded, and his skin damp with sweat. His breathing was labored, each exhale rough and rattling. He wiped his brow with a trembling hand, then quickly stifled a cough that tore at his throat. He hated to admit weakness, but the fever had him firmly in its grasp.

The door creaked open, and his tired eyes, bloodshot and heavy-lidded, snapped to the entrance. He half-expected Smee to come bumbling in again, bringing more useless tonics that only made Hook feel worse. But instead, it was her—the one person who truly soothed his restless mind.

“Still playing the brave captain?” she whispered, her lips curving in a soft smile as she stepped inside, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the crew was none the wiser.

Hook attempted to sit up, but the motion sent a dizzying wave through him, making his vision blur. “Ah, my dear… I… I am perfectly—” A coughing fit cut him off mid-sentence, and he clutched his chest as the sharp pain wracked his body. His face flushed, embarrassed at his own weakness. “Blasted cough… Smee! That bumbling fool nearly drowned me in tea, yet the fever rages on!”

She crossed the room swiftly, her heart aching at the sight of him, usually so grand and composed, now reduced to a pale, sweaty mess. “You’re overworking yourself,” she chided gently, easing him back down onto the bed. “Let me help.”

Hook tried to muster a look of defiance, but he was too weak to protest. “I—cannot… allow you to see me like this,” he muttered between ragged breaths, his voice scratchy from coughing. “If the crew ever—ah!” His hand flew to his chest as another sharp pain struck, and he winced.

“Shh,” she whispered soothingly, grabbing a cloth from a basin of water she had brought with her. The cool cloth was pressed to his fevered forehead, and he groaned, his muscles finally relaxing. “You’re not as invincible as you like to think. Now, rest.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the cool cloth offering some relief, but the fever still burned hot beneath his skin. His face was flushed, and sweat dripped down his neck, dampening his hair. Every time he moved, a painful ache shot through his bones, and his head throbbed with a relentless headache. His voice, usually so commanding, had turned into a hoarse rasp.

“The blasted fever…” he muttered. “I feel as though I’m being boiled alive, yet I shiver as if the depths of winter have fallen upon me.”

She ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, smiling softly at his dramatic way of describing the simplest symptoms. “You’ll feel better soon, once you rest.”

“I cannot rest with Smee fussing over me like a nanny!” Hook flung his hand out, a small, exaggerated gesture despite his fatigue. “He’s more of a hindrance than the fever itself!”

She chuckled softly, wiping his brow again, her touch gentle and calming. “Which is why I’m here,” she whispered, her voice soothing him more than the cloth could. “You’ll get no rest with Smee pestering you.”

Hook gave a deep, rattling sigh, his dramatic mask slipping away as his fever-worn body could no longer maintain the pretense of strength. His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “I must appear… pathetic,” he murmured, his breathing shallow. “But I feel—better…when you’re here.”

She smiled, leaning closer, her fingers tracing his jawline tenderly. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You know that.”

He shifted slightly, his movements slow and stiff as if every joint ached. “The crew… they cannot know. They mustn’t see… the great Captain Hook brought low by a mere cold…” He let out another weak cough, covering his mouth with his hand as his body shuddered with the effort.

“No one will know,” she whispered, climbing onto the bed beside him. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. He melted into her embrace, his head resting against her chest, a sigh escaping his lips as he finally allowed himself to relax.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “My strength… and my weakness…”

She pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “And I’ll always take care of you, Captain.”

Hook gave one last sigh, his feverish body finally succumbing to sleep, his breathing slowing as he settled into her arms. For now, Captain Hook, terror of the seas, was just a man who needed her.

---

Author’s Note: I wanted to bring out the softer side of Captain Hook that only his secret lover knows, while staying true to his dramatic, over-the-top personality from the Disney films. The fever gives him a rare vulnerability, but even in his weakest moments, he maintains that flair we know and love! Hope you enjoyed this, and feel free to share any thoughts or ideas for more!

[eldritchpotato]

Bovine Mixup

Working on a farm has never been easy, doubly so with the recent disappearances of a few cows. When you attempt to get to the bottom of this mystery it’s you who ends up taken next. You’re not a cow but such things can be fixed.

Part 1, Part 2.

Content Warning: alien abduction & experimentation, hucow transformation, GN reader, brainwashing, lactation & milking, pregnancy, and intelligence reduction.

It was so bright, that was the first thing you realized as consciousness swirled back to do. You felt utterly disoriented and confused. The last thing you remembered was angrily marching out to the barn to investigate the ruckus the cows were making in the middle of the night and then… that light…

You tried to move but couldn't. You weren't even on a surface either. Squinting through the bright light you realized you were touching nothing… you were floating. What the fuck.

The light swiveled away and you blinked rapidly to try to adjust. The room was… and… the… it was a little overwhelming. You found yourself floating in some kind of beam of light, suspended in the air. The room was somehow mechanical and organic, strange greys and fresh tones. You didn't even know what you were looking at.

But what really drew your attention was the figure in a lab coat bumbling about with various machinery. It was… well it was a fucking alien. 

The purplish floating tentacled thing had a glowing angler lure dangling out from the neck hole. It wasn't even humanoid enough to wear a lab coat, somehow having just draped the garment over itself. It let out a wet trilling sound, its flaps wobbling as it used coiled tendrils emerging from the arm holes of the lab coat to press a few buttons in the wall.

“Greetings bos taurus, your fluids are required. Do not be alarmed, Dr. Homan is the best human bovine doctor, there will be no probing.”

The mechanical voice continued but you were distracted by “Dr. Homan” floating over to investigate you. A large crooked claw poked you in the chest and its folds vibrated. It floated away to twist more dials. It was clearly machinery but how it worked you had no idea.

You were a little more focused on the whole getting kidnapped by aliens thing. Though…

“This is clearly a misunderstanding,” you croaked. You were a human, not a cow. Dr. Homan hardly seemed to care.

“Specimen does not match. Identifying species… human.”

Dr. Homan let out a warbling humm and busily interacted with the machinery.

That was good right, they realized their mistake. Surly they would just send you back to earth.

“Synthesizing mutagen. Probes will be required, prepare yourself subject”

Oh that didn't sound good. But try as you might there was nothing to strain against, you remained suspended mid air and could barely move a muscle.

A panel in the wall squelched open like the opening of a sphincter and Dr. Homan retrieved some kind of device. It looked similar to a needle that you started to squirm. The liquid that sloshed about was an utterly impossible shade of green that was reserved solely for cartoon radiation.

Dr. Homan floated closer and raised up the syringe. You couldn't turn away but you could wince back slightly. Dr. Homan paused and clicked a few more buttons.

“Calculating resistance reduction methods.”

That also sounded extremely bad. You could wiggle your fingers ever so slightly, and you were pretty sure you were getting closer and closer to the edge of this weird anti gravity beam thing. Just a little longer and maybe you could get free.

“Optimized method identified. Executing.”

Fuck. Lights lip up your vision again as whatever strange projector lit back up. This time however it wasn’t just a bring light. A koledscoping pattern flashed across your vision disorienting you. You felt like you were falling into it, dizzy and confused.

The more you blinked to combat this onslaught the more your eyes were drawn to shapes and colours. The movements were hypnotic, overwhelming. So distracted were you that you hardly felt Dr. Homan slid the needles into your neck and injected you with the liquid.  

You kept spiraling down further and further, deeper and deeper. Whatever resistance you had could not be mounted whole your brain was occupied trying to keep up with the onslaught.

Your neck stung, but then the shapes dropped again and you only had the capacity to focus on one or the other. The serum coursing through your blood went forgotten.

Passively you noticed your clothes had been removed at some point. You weren’t even floating anymore. Wasn’t there something you were supposed to be doing.

Oh right, the colours. You kept watching the colours.

You didn’t put up any resistance as metal segmented tentacles wrapped around you. Obediently you opened your mouth to let one slip inside. Since you had already let one in you might as well let them all in. 

At some point you found all your holes filled, the arousal surprising you as your body pulsed with heat. The tentacles probed deeper, and you greedily welcomed them even if you were too busy watching the spirals to encourage them any further.

You could figure that out later. For now, you just had to see where this spiral was going.

[rush-the-stars]

nai x reader

gothic vampire au

cw: insinuation that reader is maybe kept against her will. or kinda likes it if she is. yandere.

***

for weeks, the good doctor draws blood from you as gently and carefully as possible.

“drink, my girl.” doctor conrad encourages after taking another pint of blood from you. “i’ll not have you pass out on my watch—lord nai would be displeased.”

you let go of a puff of breath, a little irritated.

“lord nai would only care if i dropped dead, since i wouldn’t be able to provide him with fresh blood.” you remark, sinking into the settee with a sour little pout.

“oh, nonsense.” conrad says, moving the cup of tea closer to you. “look where he keeps you—at the food brought to you and the garments made for you.”

at that, you spare a little glance around your quarters.

it is lovely—rich in color and texture, deep blues and violets. a plush, lace-trimmed bed and velvet curtains over beautiful, arched windows. a little balcony for fresh air. a large basin for warm, milky soft baths.

you’re adorned in a silk dressing gown, buttery against your skin.

your closet is full of them.

“he only keeps me around because he has to—he abhors humans. he won’t even look at me.” you reply.

“if he abhorred you, he wouldn’t keep you safe here, away from other humans.” conrad replies. “or he’d keep you in chains, in a cage somewhere, barely alive.”

“a gilded cage is still a cage.” you sing.

“i always liked birds. i had some as a child.”

lord nai’s voice makes you jump.

you stand, surprised, which makes the blood rush from your head, “lord nai—“

his gaze only flicks to you for a moment before he says, “out, doctor.”

and conrad hurriedly packs up his equipment, bustling and bumbling in the silence that grows heavier with each passing moment. he scuttles out shortly after, leaving you alone with nai.

dizziness sweeps in.

you both look at each other.

you waver.

then nai picks up the cup of tea and offers it to you.

“sit,” he says simply, “and drink.”

you sink back down into the settee as if compelled and nai hands you the cup of tea carefully. your hands are shaking somewhat and you try to keep the tremor out as he hands it to you.

the tea is still warm.

“i’ll have food brought up to you.” nai says then, “you’re weak, it seems.”

“i’m fine,” you say back.

“and here you were, just complaining.” he sighs, turning away from you and towards the window—the birds outside flutter and chirp, wings beating, song high on the wind. nai glances back at you, “drink.” he says again

you obey this time, bringing the rim to your lips. it’s mellow and earthy. a tang of lemon, maybe.

“is your gilded cage not to your liking?” nai asks, returning to watch the birds outside, they flash in dashes of brown and taupe, a sudden red. a burst of blue or streak of yellow.

“no, it’s—“ you swallow, peering down at the tea wobbling in your cup, “my accommodations are lovely.”

“then what do you lack?” nai asks, finally turning away from the window to face you again, “what have i not given you?”

there is an undercurrent of frustration in his voice; it genuinely displeases him in some way. but you’re not sure how. perhaps unhappy blood is bitter. perhaps he prefers the taste of you when you’re relaxed—

“i don’t—“ you try to get out, but he suddenly crosses to to you, so fast it’s almost startling. you fluster as he appears beside you, sitting on the settee with you now.

“then why do you pout?” he hisses, “why do you whine?” he glances at the cup in your hands, the way they tremble, making the glass clink against its saucer. “keep drinking.” he then commands.

you take another sip, deeper than before, and swallow it down slowly. he waits for you, tense and poised beside you.

when you place the cup back into the saucer with another soft clink, you finally say, “companionship.”

“companionship?” he parrots.

“is the only thing you haven’t given me.”

he sits with this for a moment, straightening his back, jaw ticking.

“i’m lonely—“ you add, “kept here, with no one else. i hardly see you.”

the admission is small, soft. a little trembly and you think it’s because of the blood that had been recently drawn. you take another sip to swallow this down, to try and clear your throat.

nai looks you over, gaze slow and raking.

“humans are so needy,” he sneers, standing again, and moving away from you in a flash of pale color. he returns to the window, refusing to face you. you can see he’s tense all over, sharp and tight, holding his posture with rigidness.

you speak carefully;

“it’s all i want for now—you’ve taken care of everything else.”

the knot in his shoulders loosens. he hums at that. silence stretches, except for the faint, muffled sound of the birdsong outside.

“i’ll return later to bring you to the garden.” he finally says.

you startle—

two visits in one day is unheard of.

“why?” you ask, little heart thumping. are you in trouble?

nai turns back to you, calmer than before. his eyes, pale like the morning sky, slide back to you. over you. you wonder if he can hear the fluttering of your heart, like a bird’s wings that beat and jump.

you shudder a little. and when he smiles faintly, coldly, you see a flash of his fang the way the birds flash behind him—there and gone, quick and brilliant;

“because i take care of what’s mine.”

[dizzy-hat]

is it just me or am i right for feeling a little uncomfortable with the IHNMAIMS fandom rn??

Like I'm not the type of person to go "oh new fans ruin everything!!!!" but since the game blew up on TikTok I have been seeing more people indulge in creating ai voices of AM just so they can make a chatbot be freaky. Like maybe I'm being a piss baby about this, but I feel like I can't enjoy ihnmaims anymore because either people completely water down the characters or just lust after AM (who made Ellen relive her sexual assault mind you, among other things)

I don't feel like opening the whole can of worms that is how character ai. can be just as bad as generative art (they both harm the planet), but it's just something I noticed

ihnmaims fans pls don't take this harshly, I just wanted to write this down to get it out of my head

[thechillsquid]

Giant Arthropods

Silverfish, Endermite, Bees, and more!

Shown above are some of the most well known and studied of the giant arthropods;

The Dungeon Silverfish (often just called a ‘silverfish’ despite the fact it is neither a true silverfish or a silver fish): A large predatory insect notable for their elongated bodies, habit to dwell in underground End dungeon locations, and their recorded habit of attacking in swarms. These insects are actually a kind of beetle, though living underground and growing to such massive sizes has reduced the need for wings and they’re secondarily wingless. While a single silverfish often will prey on smaller insects or mammals like rodents, they will attempt to hunt larger prey and in swarms can overwhelm a player.

The Endermite (also sometimes called an End Mite or Enderman Mite): While this species of massive mite (a type of arachnid related to scorpions, spiders, and ticks) is much rarer to actually encounter, as they are native to the End rather than the Overworld or Nether, they occasionally manage to fall through dimensional tears crated by enderpearl usage into the Overworld. While they are not venomous or known to swarm, they are highly aggressive and will attack if they feel their space is being threatened. They are more so scavengers/opportunistic feeders.

The Titan Bee (the largest species of bee that can currently be found in the Overworld): A generally peaceful species of massive bee similar in appearance to the more common and smaller carpenter bee. This species can often be found in large, open habitats, traveling from flower to flower as they collect food for their hives, which often are settled within oak or birch trees growing along the edge of forests. They are very fuzzy and will aggressively defend their hives from perceived threats, their massive size and subsquentially large venom sacs can cause nausea, dizziness, and sometimes fatal allergic reactions. In massive swarms they can kill even kill a player, though because of their massive size, they thankfully aren’t the fastest flyers and usually can be avoided. This being said, they are a high interest to those that enjoy honey and bee-keeping, and with the proper methods in place, keeping them is not difficult.

The Giant Bee (the second largest bee species in the overworld, much less common than their larger relative): Having a body plan similar to that of a bumble bee, this large species is commonly mistaken for young workers of the Titan Bee, however, unlike its larger relative, this species is almost exclusive found in forested biomes. Their smaller size helps them better maneuver in such areas but while much smaller, these bees are more prone to an aggressive response to disturbance of their hive. They often cause painful stings that can cause burning/itchy sensations or possibly more life threatening allergic reactions. Despite this, they are likewise prized for their honey and the fact that they are a lot easier for beginner or novice bee-keepers to manage than the larger Titan Bee, which can be more picky or selective in the hives they will accept.

While much more rarely talked about, there are a lot more giant species of arthropod, these are some of the more commonly discussed or encountered. Note this covers only a small proportion of the expansive types of arthropods one may find out in the world.

The Titan-Killer (this parasitoid wasp preys on the larva of the Titan bee, thus the name): This wasp will sneak into the hives of the Titan bee, piercing either cocooned bees and/or larva with its elongated ovipositor, laying its eggs on the unlucky individual. When the wasp’s eggs hatch, they will eat the developing bee/bee larva alive, pupating in the hive cell its host was inside, and emerge as new adults after a period of development. They share a striped pattern with the bees and will even mimic the bees scent pheromones to deceive any workers that do come across them while inside the hive. They can be an issue for developing hives but otherwise are of no threat to players or most other mobs.

The Giant-Killer (this related parasitoid wasp specializes in preying upon the Giant Bee rather than the Titan Bee): With a similar lifestyle to the Titan-Killer, this wasp is much smaller and mostly relies on avoiding the adult bees and sneaking into the hive in order to similar inject vulnerable developing bees/bee larva with its eggs. The eggs hatch, consume the bee, pupate in the cell, and leave the hive. They can be a bit more tricky to deal with due to their more skittish nature though they are likewise harmless to players and other mobs.

The Goliath Firefly (a very rarely seen species, they once were rumored to be found in the swamps and mangrove forests, but their numbers have been greatly reduced to near mythical status): These fireflies are massive beetles with very distinct sexual dimorphism, the females being nearly twice the size of the smaller males with underdeveloped wings incapable of flight. The females elytra (the hardened forewings of beetles) are visible in adulthood but completely vestigial. The males can be spotted in flight looking for the light signals produced by the ground dwelling female, their smaller size and functional wings giving them better mobility than the usually stationary female.

The Enderian Firefly (A species from the End, one of the few large arthropods found there besides the Endermite, a couple ground beetles, and several large crickets): These fireflies act behaviorally very familiarly to their Overworld cousin, however rather than spending their time in leaf litter, they live along the chorus fruit forests. The females, which are notable for their armored appearance and complete lack of wings (vestigial or functional) are adapt climbers that will work their way up the chorus fruit trees to better signal to the smaller, flying males. The males of this species are notable for having a design like that of an eye of ender along their elytra, though whether this may indicate selective breeding for this feature by the ancient ender societies that used to exist within the End pre-societal collapse, or is merely coincidental, this is not well known. These fireflies, while more populous than their Overworld relative are still very rarely encountered.

The Harvest Termite (there are several more castes not shown in the image, however the solider and worker are the mostly commonly seen of this species and thus the selected representatives for the species): A semi-arid dwelling termite species notable for their large size and curious ‘moon’ like head coloration along the head. They act and behave much like their smaller cousins, though their size can make them a pesky species to deal with, particularly when they bite. While their bites are generally more irritating and painful than deadly, a group of them can cause significant injury.

The Shear-Jawed Ant (Similarly to the Harvest Termite, this ant species has several castes but the main ones showcased here are of the solider and worker castes): One of several massive ant species, this desert species is notable for the mandibles found on the solider caste as well as the spines ridge along the back of its exoskeleton. The jaws in particular appear similar to shears with a more hooked and serrated edge, made for cutting off flesh from carcasses or unfortunate prey, they can also cause severe bites. These ants are mainly nocturnal and can come in conflict with players when unknowingly setting up camp near one of their nests, the workers and soldiers travel long distances for food and resources. It is thought that many of those lost in the desert and never seen again were dealt with by a hungry swarm of these ants. Though recorded deaths caused by these ants have yet to be confirmed.

The Eyed Roach (one of several large roaches, they are one of the most recognizable for the pattern on their pronotum, the shield-like structure that often hides the head from overview): A peridomestic species often found near or in villages along the Savannah plains or semi-arid habitat, they feed on anything and everything though are mostly harmless save for the possibility of mechanical transmission of disease. Elsewise they very rarely will be out during the day and are incredibly skittish and quick despite their wingless nature and size.

The above image showcases the largest known arthropods in both the overworld and nether dimension, those of the massive spiders and centipedes.

The Common Wolf-Eater Spider (also known simply as ‘spiders’ by most players due to their reputation): These massive spiders are known ravenous predators that have been recorded catching and killing anything from wolves, sheep, cattle, players, etc. They can be found almost anywhere above ground across differing climates and habitat types, though thankfully, they are restricted to the Overworld. They are nonvenomous, but their massive fangs can still cause great damage. They are best dealt with in well-lit areas or during the day as they almost become ‘docile’ in well lighted conditions, most likely because their prey can better sense and spot them and thus its easier to save their energy for when they have a greater advantage. They are thankfully mostly solitary though if a group senses blood or an injured entity, they will gather together to tackle the possible prey.

The Cave-Dwelling Wolf-Eater Spider (also known simply as ‘cave spiders’ by players due to their reputation): These large spiders are nearly two times smaller than their larger above ground relative, though this does not make them less dangerous. Infact, these vigorous spiders are known to active live in massive groups/colonies and hunt coordinately. They also are notable for having massive fangs that inject a venom that causes illness, vertigo, drop in blood pressure, etc. Some players have even been shown to go into cardiac arrest or organ failure if struck by a large enough group. While they are rarer to encounter, they can be highly deadly and persistent, particularly considering the fact that with their somewhat smaller size, places and holes that might keep one safe from a ‘common spider’ will not keep you save from this species.

The Birch Spider (also known as the Forested Spider or the ‘knuckle-head spider’ due to the habit of them accidentally dropping on player’s heads from above): Exclusively found in the birch forests in the Overworld, this spider is the much smaller and less deadly relative of the ‘cave’ and ‘common’ spiders. They also, unlike the fore-mentioned two, are web-builders rather than pursuit predators. They often prey upon large and small flying insects that get stuck in their webs along with small rodents and reptiles. Their venom can cause irritation but rarely triggers much else than a sore spot where bitten.

The ‘Cave-Crawler’ (aka Hell’s Centipede, one of the very rare, yet highly adapted, giant Nether arthopods): This massive ambush predators mostly feeds on unfortunate striders, lone pigmen, and young hoglins that come across their hidden burrows carved into netherrack walls. They usually keep themselves hidden away in these burrows until they sense approaching entities and struck, inflicting a venomous bite before retreating into their burrow. The bite will often start to feel itchy and irritated before growing numb as a paralysis agent works through the body, eventually leading to organ failure, coma, and eventually death. These giant centipedes will then follow the scent trail of their injured prey and drag the body back to feed on in their burrows. They have a heavy armor that is nearly impossible to pierce with even the toughest of swords though their softer underbellies are more vulnerable. They can however be scared off with bright lights and strong scents like mint or citrus as the strong smells disorientate them. They are rarely encountered or rarely discussed because of the dangers in study them. The Oakworm (aka the Overworld Mega-Centipede due to its unusual size): This centipede species is larger a scavenger and opportunistic hunter, wandering about and eating what it comes across. They, unlike the Hell’s Centipede, a distant relative, will not attack organism larger than themselves, preferring to stay hidden under moist, cool logs in dense forests during the day and emerging at night to feed. They were originally mistaken for a massive species of worm, thus their odd name in reference.

The Hero’s Stickbug (aka the walking sword): A highly camouflaged, elusive herbivore from the Overworld, this species while massive, often stays out of sight as much as possible. They usually live in dense forest canopies, feeding on fresh growth.

And there we have some of our many Giant Arthopods! Due to the high oxygen levels in the atmospheres of the differing dimensions, the restriction of size caused by capability to carry oxygen throughout the body is little concern. However, this wasn’t always the case as it can be noted via recent research that many of these massive arthropods are technically much younger species than their smaller counterparts.

Infact, I think the rise of these massive arthropods is linked with the post End-exodus event (also called the post-End disaster event) whereas some unknown event caused the near complete destruction of Enderman society, the vanishing of the great unknown ancient society responsible for crafting the Warden and Exodus portals these entities guard, and possibly the rise of The Infections (the main terrible diseases of the pigmen plague, the death-curse illness, and The Corruption).

I think that when one of the ancient civilizations attempted to escape from some horror (be it war, famine, or sickness) after failing to find salvation in first the Nether and then the End, they returned to the Overworld and created the Exodus portals found in the Deep Dark, punching their way through to a currently unknown, theoretical fourth dimension. This dimension’s introduction to the known three caused shifts in magical systems, the atmosphere, etc. and either assisted in or caused the massive extinction event that occurred some millennia ago.

It was as the surviving organisms of this incident managed to adapt and thrive that diversification was able to take hold. There is still much to piece together and figure out, particarly when trying to craft a timeline or estimation of species origin can be so difficult and time consuming.

Either way, I thank you for viewing my admittedly limited showcasing of some of the many impressive Giant Arthopods of the known three dimensions.

[beepmon]

get yourself a girl who can’t sleep bc she slept all day yesterday bc she was sick but she really needs to sleep tonight bc she got class in a few hours and she’s definitely gonna feel way too sleepy by then but it’s already 6am so maybe she just accept she didn’t get any sleep last nigh

[butterpuffed]

Queen bee powerup !!

( or king, in Pacs case. )

I love bugs so here I am making a bee powerup

Further lore V

The berry itself:

- The berry grows differently from the rest, it remains in a seedling stage until the spring-summer seasons, where the warmth helps it grow and eventually blossom.

- Once blossomed, it becomes a very vulnerable and fragile plant, if the berry inside isn’t harvested within a certain amount of time, the flower along with the berry will both rot and wither away.

- However, if it is plucked, the plant will produce pollen, which embeds itself into the tree of life to further reproduce, repeating the process.

The powerup:

- When this berry is taken, it grants the user the appearance of a queen bee, along with a colony of drones/workers that will follow and obey the users every command. The wings grant the user extra speed and agility flight-wise but also makes them a bit heavier.

- This powerup also possesses the ability to turn ghosts into allies, making them temporarily apart of the users colony and following the same behavior as the bees that are summoned.

- Although this powerup grants the user a stinger, it only acts as a last resort defense mechanism, best used if there are no other ways to defend oneself. Stinging the attacker, the powerberry immediately wears off and leaves the user sick and empty. ( as bees die after losing the stinger. )

- As an addition, this powerup runs on honey/pollen and functions as an energy source. If the user goes without either of these things, they’ll feel weaker and sluggish, along with the powerberry eventually running out.

- The colony and the user share energy, if the user becomes weak, so will they. They’ll also feel the same pain if the user were to be hurt.

Extras:

- The powerberry, similar to the pac-Kong powerup, affects the users behavior, giving them a royal and fairly bossy persona, ordering others around.

- Nectar, although becoming sweet ( and frankly addictive ), makes the user act drunken, silly and dizzy.

- If there isn’t an invasion going around, the bee-instincts kick in and the user will want to go to the nearest flower field. Considering the fact this powerup gives the user bumble-bee like traits, there’s a large chance the user will accidentally fall asleep mid-pollinating :)

- did I mention I love bugs

[co-reborn]

[PPV] BG SEX PERFECT PINK HAIR KOREAN COLLEGE GIRL RIDES AND GETS CREAMPIED - Full Ver ($30).mp4

Jiheon x Male Reader

view in AFF

3,013 Words

A/N: Huge thanks to @worldsover for allowing me to write a sequel to his fic BarelyLegalGirls and editing this fic as well. Go check out the original fic, it's my favourite fic of his.

Day in, day out, the job of being the penis for the camera drained you—no, not like that. Well, yes, like that. But also, it is repetitive. Being a porn star isn't that different from your last job, carrying heavy boxes to and fro: blinding fluorescent lights, annoying noises, people bossing you around. Worthless exhaustion, and you're probably going to be replaced by a robot. Everyone was boring or vapid or aggravating, so few people at your job stood out.

You get a DM from one of the few.

"hii, it's ur favorite ice cream model"

The unexpected message comes with a selfie, and you look at it with disbelief.

The pink hair. The blinding smile. Memories all come flowing back into your head—memories of her sweet voice, memories of her curves, memories of her tight pussy. A woman so uniquely gorgeous yet filthy, you never thought you'd see her again.

"come over… i need some help pls??" 

The message followed by an address.

You're staring at her picture in disbelief, but eventually you reply.

"hey, it's you. what do you need?"

"just come! i'll tell you when ur here"

~~~~~~

Though your feet carry you down the corridor of this apartment building, you still have your doubts. Solicitations from strangers you've fucked once, these sorts of messages are nothing new at all with your line of work—what's new is that you've followed through, finding yourself in front of a door. You give it a few knocks. Listen closely, the sounds of furniture being dragged around. For all you know, she just wanted your help moving a sofa. That would've been fine with you.

Instead, when the door swings open, you don't even have time to react as a pair of arms wraps around your neck, and a pair of lips lays on yours, tasting so sweet.

Instincts kick in, with your hands finding their natural place on the girl’s waist. Her tongue wraps around yours and the kiss deepens, lips mashing and her hips grinding into yours. She hasn't even closed the door yet, and already, she's endeavouring to deprive you of oxygen. A dizzying haze consumes you as her fingers curl on your back. You hear rattling behind you—the elevator, footsteps—and you snap out of your lustful trance. Grab the girl’s shoulders, push her away, and close the door. 

In awe, you stare at Baek Jiheon, then clear your throat. "Not even a hello?"

She cheekily smiles at you before pulling you into the cramped space of her home. Jiheon kisses you on the cheek. "Hi, Oppa. Make yourself comfy."

You look around the room, with the bed next to the couch next to the kitchenette. Getting comfy is a bit of a tricky task. Next to the bed is a cheap tripod to hold her iPhone, a ring light to illuminate the corner, and a microphone neatly hidden out of view.

So she took your advice to heart, and in a way, your doubts are all but confirmed. However, when you ask “So what, you need a cameraman?”, it's more flirtatious than apprehensive. Only one person could convince you to switch career prospects on the spot.

Jiheon moves you behind the tiny desk. “And a partner too.”

Exactly what you expected, and not at all simultaneously. Your heart skips a beat; the throbbing is in your pants instead. There's no script for you to follow, so you find yourself silent and still.

“A dildo can’t fill me with cum. Besides, they say you never forget your first love, right?” Jiheon tiptoes and whispers into your ear. “And I love your dick too much to ever forget it, Daddy.”

The urge skyrockets, to slam her against the wall and take her there and then. You’re powerless when her fingers dance on your chest before she pushes you to sit on the couch. She hands you the phone, and you're bumbling with it; you even drop it once like you're a damn amateur. But you're willing to surrender whatever degree it took to make you a professional sexpert if it means another round with Jiheon.

While Jiheon shuffles to find the perfect position on her bed, you play around with the phone’s camera. She finally settles on kneeling, then she gives you a thumbs up. You click the record button.

Her playful demeanour instantly disappears, her mouth curling into a devilish smirk. Hands roam across the curves of her chest and her head tilts back as she’s completely absorbed in the moment. How is she so good at this? You, the porn star, are the last person to feel the urge to search porn, but you looked for Jiheon, many many times, and never found anything other than that single scene you shot with her. You've never met anyone so naturally gifted at the art of seduction.

Digging her knees into the soft mattress and looking at the camera—or is she looking at you?—Jiheon toys with the hem of the black shirt. Lifting it just enough to give a peek of her toned tummy, she covers it mere seconds later. You don’t even notice the build up of saliva in your mouth until now. Jiheon continues teasing the audience a few more times, toying with her shorts, gyrating her hips, before she finally pulls her shirt all the way up and over her. The top is put aside while she hastily reaches behind her back to undo her bra. 

With that out of the way, she pushes her tits together, pouting like some cute innocent girl.  You want to reach out, interrupt the scene, and get those pink nipples between your fingers or your lips. Your eyes roam her figure as you recollect the softness of her perky little breasts.

However, the view doesn’t last long. Jiheon unbuttons her shorts and turns away from the camera, then she bends over and pulls the shorts down to her knees. Temptation grows at the hint of her curves. Your mouth waters more. The bright pink panties are next to go, as she wiggles her butt while pulling the underwear agonisingly slowly, until finally revealing her perfectly photogenic and perky ass. It's a pretty painting, her bare back, her ass squished against her calves as she kneels, the soles of her feet and her wiggling toes. Most of important of all, she looks back at you, pure lust in her eyes, impossible for anyone breathing to deny.

She points to the tripod, then gives you a come-hither gesture of her fingers. 

You set the phone in its place, hurriedly strip yourself naked, and then you damn near leap at the bed. Jiheon giggles as she pushes you down onto the mattress. Her hands grip your shoulders as she positions herself hovering over you, her knees at the sides of your waist. You would be content with drowning in her fiery gaze but she looks over her shoulder instead. From the side of her face, you see her smile into the camera before slowly lowering into your lap.

Not hesitating to mask your enjoyment, you groan when Jiheon’s ass presses down and grinds on your cock. Her pussy's not hiding anything either, making your shaft slick. Her hips move back and forth, and already Jiheon's lips are contorting in need. Wanting more, she leans over to make out with you, her tongue always so enthusiastic to toy with yours.

Your hands are all over her back, gripping at her sides. As your fingers dig in, she grinds hard on you, like she's trying her best to get her dick inside her now. In failing, she just gets you all covered in juices—there might even be a pool of it on her bed now. You’re rock hard and trapped, physically by Jiheon’s curvaceous body and the bed, mentally by your ever-growing need of indulging in her. You're trapped, but you have no intention to escape. What has this young woman done to you? Perhaps you haven’t fully recovered from the first time you met her, judging by the repeated private viewings of her debut film.

When your mouths eventually disconnect, she whispers, “I need you in me now, Daddy.”

Reacting immediately, you lift Jiheon off your lap, aim your cock at her pussy, and sink her back down. Even at your own impetus, you gasp at the sudden rush of pleasure, the exhilaration; Jiheon is much less quiet, throwing her head back to let out a loud moan. She’s so fucking wet, maybe even wetter than the previous time. There’s no director and crew around to distract her and dictate her every action. Her focus is completely on you and your cock. You made her this wet. 

You love every detail, the shake of her legs, the writhing of her waist, the little whimpers as your cock fills her and she takes a second to adjust to the pleasure. She then begins to ride you, making a wet mess on your crotch, and now you're sure about the pool with the stain on her sheets. You gently hold her, a hand on her slim waist and another on her thick thigh, while she sets into a comfortable rhythm. Not long after, the room is filled with faint sounds of wet flesh slapping against each other as well as your moans, growing from soft and reserved, to all-out declarations of bliss. 

Deciding to give into your urges, your hand on her waist reaches to her immaculate butt to cop a feel, squeezing to appreciate its softness while enjoying her breasts meshing against your chest.

Her pussy wraps your cock so lovingly, so needy, that you already feel a heady rush. With this small confined space and the stationary camera, you don’t have the luxury to change positions often, a common tactic to last long. You try to find ways to distract yourself. You think about what to eat afterwards, but nothing comes to mind except for Jiheon, a meal you want to completely devour. As she continues her passionate cowgirl bouncing, she brushes back her hair and holds it in a ponytail, and you find an opportunity. Sit up. Your lips lightly mark her neck, leaving both sides a little pinkish, before you move further down. You kiss her breasts several times and then take her nipple into your mouth. Sucking on them like your life depends on it, Jiheon hugs your head closer to her chest and cries even louder.

Whines and mewls intersperse her words as she says,“You like me, don’t you? You didn’t hesitate to come over when I texted you. Fuck, you wanted to fuck me again so bad, right?”

You don’t answer, instead choosing to bury your face deeper into her chest, while burying your cock deeper into her pussy. You and Jiheon both know the unspoken truth. 

“Well, I’m yours today." She's breathing heavily, nearly gasping for air, with her mouth open and her tongue out. "I’m your fucking toy. Use me however you want.”

Quickly making up your mind, you give her ass a loud, forceful smack, and she yelps. “I want to fuck you from behind, Jiheon," you say. "Need to watch that ass.”

Jiheon dismounts from your lap, though the temporary loss of her pussy around your cock earns a grunt from you. You step to the side of the bed while she gets on all fours, wiggling her ass for the camera, fixing her bangs, no doubt smirking. You need to show some semblance of control, to show that your mind hasn’t fully yet, so you press your tip against her wet slit and tease her by sliding up and down. For added measure, you reach down and rub at her clit.

Your stratagem works. Too well. She pushes her ass back instinctually, and once her snug walls tightening around your cock once again, you lose it all. You thrust forward, slamming into her, and you're already grabbing her hair as she rocks her body in tandem with yours. Every motion perfectly compliments you as you find yourself buried hilt deep in her. Knowing little else about Jiheon, you're sure that she does nothing halfway.

Even while drowning in her lustful desires, Jiheon still holds some awareness for her surroundings. She turns her head to the side, her half lid eyes staring into the camera as the stream of moans does not show any sign of stopping. You, on the other hand, are absorbed in the moment, hyper focused on Jiheon’s body. Her ass and thighs tremble at your relentless pounding, her back beads with sweat, and above all else, the plush walls of her cunt embrace your shaft so totally that you forget you're filming.

Utterly in the moment, you fuck her harder and faster. You're pulling her hair back now, making her look up and at you, and you're squeezing her ass—god, you’re never going to have your fill watching that ass. Slap it, make it ripple even more. Jiheon’s cries grow louder, and her pussy becomes wetter. She is getting exactly what she wants—to be used like a fucktoy—and she absolutely loves it. Her position on all fours falters, her arms losing strength, so she ends up with her face down into the mattress. Even with the average quality of the phone camera, you know this stunning silhouette of Jiheon bent over would make a perfect thumbnail.

While you maintain your grip on her waist, your other hand pulls her right arm and lifts her head off the bed. You catch sight of her cock-addled expression—her cheeks are flushed, her tongue is sticking out, her eyes almost fully rolled back. With this pace of pumping your cock into her young and tight body, her adorable breasts bounce up and down. 

Minutes or hours go by as you continue relishing in Jiheon’s body. Yet, all good things must come to an end. The streak of moans stops and Jiheon tries to form coherent words. “C-cum. Need to, I need to…”

Immediately, you withdraw from her pussy and flip her onto her back. You then fold her body into half, her legs pressed tightly against her chest. Staring intensely into her eyes, you resume fucking Jiheon with the intent of finishing her orgasm. Right now, it’s just you and her. Forget about the camera. Forget about recording a good clip for her. Your cock is wholly impaling her, and you sense the clenches of her cunt.

“I’m, I’m cumming. Fuck!”

Jiheon tosses her head back, her mouth left hanging open as she basks in the pleasure of her orgasm and your still pistoning cock. She shudders and squirms, her cunt making a creamy mess of your shaft. The sheer tightness and wetness of her pussy turns your brain haywire, every other bodily function shutting off, and the heat at your crotch is at a high as you inch closer towards your peak.

Moments after her own orgasm, Jiheon breaks through her haze and regains some sobriety, starting to slowly fuck herself into your length again. By the way her face contorts, you can tell she's still sensitive, but she works through it. Like a siren, Jiheon lures you closer and closer to the edge, her sweet voice beckoning for you to give in.

“F-fuck, you’re going to cum soon, right? Fucking cum inside me. That’s what you wanted since you came over, since you saw me strip earlier, right? Well, do it.” She wraps her hands around your neck and pulls you closer. She whispers straight into your ear, the microphone unable to pick up her dirty words. “As I said, I’m all yours, Daddy.”

Her words trigger a reaction from you once more. She’s the one under you, yet she’s had you under her spell this whole time, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. You place your hands on the mattress for leverage, fucking her raw in this mating press position. You had no chance of lasting much longer, since with a few erratic pumps later, you’re filling her full of your cum. Throughout your orgasm, even after it's ended, you’re still thrusting into Jiheon, prolonging this session as much as possible. 

When your cock eventually softens and slips out of her body, your creamy load immediately follows after. You lack the energy to hold yourself together and fall to Jiheon’s side. Jiheon turns her body towards the camera and you follow suit, spooning her from behind. Your shaft slips between her thighs, and it hardens once again as it slowly rubs against her messy pussy lips. Jiheon’s hand then slips downwards, and her fingers toys with your sensitive cock before they plunge back into her cunt, eliciting a soft moan. She scoops out your creampie, and some of the cum that's dripped out of her too, and then she slowly licks her hands clean for the camera.

Tilting her head back, she sighs, “You taste so good.”

~~~~~~

“So, how do you think it came out?” Jiheon asks. She's in your lap as you sit on the couch.

You take a second to process the words, with Jiheon interrupting the review of the footage. All that’s in your brain is the delightful sight of her deep in pleasure while you fucked her from behind, as well as the delightful feel of her thighs squishing under your fingers right now—you love the way your touch can make her giggle.

“I think it’s a good start," you say. "Once you get a better set up, I think it’ll be even better.”

In your mind, it’ll only be better when your cock is buried in her again, not just nested between her ass cheeks as they are now. 

Things unfortunately don’t get better as Jiheon leaves the warmth of your embrace. Turns out your judgement was flawed, however, when she ties her hair into a messy ponytail and gets on her knees between your spread legs.

She looks up and smiles. “Now for your payment, Daddy.”

You grab the phone.

Maybe this one should be on camera.

[pnfc]

here is some unresolved(?) perryshmirtz whumpfic(?), rated T. i call it “doofenshmirtz talks on the phone a lot”. idk if i’ll put it on ao3, it depends on if i continue.

disclaimer: in this fic the owca agents are brain-modded, for purposes of juiciness. typically i prefer that pnf is just a goofy cartoon world with smart animals.

EDIT: i'll leave this post up but i finished this, on ao3 here

---

“It’s actually a net good for society if you climb the trees, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz is telling Perry as they stroll the orchard path. He’s sagging a little under the weight of a basket they’ve mostly filled.

“See I know there’s that rule, ‘no climbing’. But that’s for the 8 year olds who fall and crack their heads open -- the emotionally unbalanced teens out to break an arm. Not for you, Perry the Platypus. Treehopping is a cakewalk for you. You’re like a ninja up there.”

Perry flips his wool scarf and surveys the lowhanging branches, pointedly ignoring Heinz. He vaults up to snag a Golden Delicious, dunks it square into the basket from over his shoulder, not looking. Heinz whistles, even as the impact buckles his knees. “That’s what I mean.”

He catches up to Perry -- “What about the apples at the top of the trees, Perry the Platypus, do you think of them? Nobody can pick them, so they rot on the tree or rot on the ground. No one comes to an orchard to pick apples off the ground.”

Perry signs: Two-year olds.

“Besides them,” Heinz insists. “That’s like a third of all the apples just going to waste, so nobody can enjoy them.”

Birds and bugs, signs Perry. Can enjoy them.

Heinz ponders this. “Maybe. But I can tell you they’d enjoy my fresh-baked strudel a lot more.”

Perry makes a “yeah, yeah” wave to brush off Heinz’s winning point. Heinz can see the smile curving up his bill from behind, as he walks ahead. “Hold up, Perry the Platypus,” he says. “I think we have enough.”

Heinz sets the basket down, intensely grateful to rest his arms, and Perry skips back over to survey their haul. An even mix of Jonathan, Smeralda, and Goldens. “The best for baking out of the October set, in my experience,” Heinz explains to Perry. “These Goldens look a little young, but I think they’ll cook up okay. Could also use them for a syrup, I’ve been meaning to try that.”

The walk back to the exit is when it hits.

Perry reaches out a paw and pushes it against Heinz’s leg, tentative. Then he wrenches the fabric into both fists, hard, and chirps, frantic. This makes Heinz stop.

“Perry the Platypus? What’s up?”

It’s like a hypnic jerk, the sensation -- a dizziness cresting over him like an ocean wave, a loudening roar of foam. Perry looks up at Heinz, finds his blue-ringed eyes wide with alarm, like his own. And he holds Heinz’s leg like it’s the last stable thing, as the wave swallows him up in a gulp, then silence.

Perry thinks I’m having a stroke, before he can’t think it.

“...Perry? You okay?” Heinz has dropped the basket and is crouching down to Perry’s level. “What’s wrong, did I forget something? We have enough apples,” he says, knowing that’s not the problem. “If you want more, you’re carrying and paying.”

Perry’s still linking his gaze with Heinz’s, clutching his knee like he needs it for balance. He chitters out an anxious exhalation. Heinz taps him on the bill. “Hey. You gonna clue me in here?”

Perry shakes off the touch and backs away from Heinz, pinwheeling his arms and toppling onto the ground. The scarf gets trapped under his forepaw, pulls taut around his neck -- then he’s racing forward in a panic, growling at a high pitch, through the red leaf litter, scarf trailing after and under him.

“Perry!” Heinz exclaims, craning around to follow Perry’s tracks -- he bumbles into the basket, shooting apples out like poolballs. “Settle down -- tell me what’s wrong, okay? You’re scaring me.” He pushes himself up. “And that’s not how you treat that scarf. That’s Merino, Perry, it took me weeks to knit. You’re grinding dirt into it.”

Perry halts, at the tail of Heinz’s upbraiding, and looks at him with saucer eyes. Heinz approaches him slowly, like he’s an animal he might startle away. But Perry doesn’t run, when Heinz leans over him -- actually seems to settle, as Heinz clasps his hands around his shoulders.

“Perry the Platypus.” His brown eyes blink. “What is going on with you?”

Heinz picks him up. “You’re going to have to say something,” he says. “Or I’m going to assume this is an emergency. Are your arms malfunctioning? One blink yes, two blinks no.”

This gets no blinks.

Heinz drops Perry into the basket and runs out to the parking lot -- dropping a 20 on the checkout stall as he does, to cover the apples still in the bottom of the basket. They need to get home.

The OWCA watch beeps while Heinz is driving, Perry basket-bound in the passenger seat. Perry jolts and lifts his paw, looks at the glowing screen -- in the side of his vision Heinz sees Perry press his beak into the watchface. “God, not now, Francis...” he mutters.

Heinz parks right next to the elevators in the apartment garage. His phone buzzes right as he shuts the car door. “Perry the Platypus, we’re going upstairs, okay?” he says. “You want to stay in the basket?”

Perry’s just staring into him as he’s addressed, no reaction to the question. So Heinz exhales and walks to the elevator, basket steady in his arm, and checks his phone. It’s from Carl: Dr. D, this is urgent: is Perry okay?

He freezes in the elevator lobby, and dials.

“Carl, are you there?”

“Yes, Doofenshmirtz, hi. Listen, I need to --”

“Do you KNOW about this? What’s going on with him?”

“I -- oh dear,” says Carl, sounding sad. “I guess it worked. How is he? Can you describe his behavior?”

Heinz balks at that, staring at his phone -- Carl just confessed to screwing Perry up somehow and now he’s asking after him like a caring orderly, shameless.

“Are you kidding me? His behavior? He’s not himself, Carl,” Heinz shoots back. The metallic echo of the boxy room amplifies his voice, so he tries not to yell too loud -- Perry is out of the basket on the floor of the room, staring nervously up at him from a few paces away. “He doesn’t seem to get what I’m saying, he had a major panic attack out of the blue -- and he won’t talk to me. Like, no signs, no nods. He’s walking on all fours, Carl. What did you do?!”

“It wasn’t me,” Carl squeaks defensively. “I mean -- it’s this audit, Heinz, the agent program investigation. They didn’t even notify us they were sending people over today. It’s FBI people, they” -- his voice tightens to a whisper -- “they busted into every office, they found some of our server rooms and -- look, I can’t get into this right now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Just ... just keep Perry safe, take him home. And for the love of god don’t let him escape.”

Carl hangs up in a hurry, before Heinz can yell a reply. He scowls at the red call-end sign.

“What the hell is wrong with that kid,” Heinz asks the room. “Maybe Francis knows. I have to give him a call. I hate when it comes to that, Perry the Platypus.”

Perry is doubling back to the apple basket, slinking close to the floor with visible nerves. He clambers back inside. Heinz pushes the elevator button.

Upstairs, Heinz drops the basket on the kitchen island and budges Perry’s hat aside to place a hand on his head. “First things first, Perry the Platypus. We’re going to give you a checkup. Okay?”

Perry still doesn’t react, but Heinz will keep treating this like a two-way conversation. It’s an old habit that he hasn’t slipped into in a long time. He didn’t miss it.

Heinz leads him to the bathroom -- Perry mostly sticks by his feet, but stops in place once or twice, swiveling his gaze around the spacious penthouse canopy, either like it’s new to him, or like he’s remembering it. He snaps back whenever Heinz calls his name -- there’s that, at least. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Phineas’s housewarming gift, one of them, had been a platypus first-aid kit. He’d presented it to Heinz back when Perry had just told his family about them and Heinz was hosting a “win Perry the Platypus’s family over” lunch (unofficial title that Perry had deleted off the invitation cards). Heinz had read a kind of parental judgment into the gift choice, at the time, like the kid wasn’t trusting him to take adequate care of Perry on his own, without being handheld. Maybe Heinz’s reading was unfair -- he has a chip on his shoulder, when it comes to mom behavior.

He unsnaps it. The case is overstuffed -- it pops open with decollapsing trays of portable disinfectant and numbing wipes, surgical sewing kits, cut-closing gel and fur-safe teal bandages to cover it in all sizes, claw trimmers and medicated toothpastes and endoscopes. An impressive degree of overkill -- he really likes that kid, past misgivings aside.

“I’m just checking a few basic things,” Heinz tells Perry as he rummages through and pulls out a stethoscope. “Fever, stress, blood oxygen. You never know what can affect the brain -- a lot of things, really. Including Carl. Well we already know it’s Carl,” he grumbles. Perry’s irises contract at the flashlight shine, and he blinks and squirms in Heinz’s hold. “I’ll just have to squeeze him for answers later. Knowing the brain geniuses at OWCA they activated some stolen villain tech without back-engineering it first -- a mind-control beam, some harebrained monotreme-dumbdowninizer. Are they still using my memory eraser?” He huffs -- pulse and blood pressure readings are normal. “Why’d I ever make that thing. I can never recall.

“Everything looks fine so far, Perry the Platypus. That’s... that’s good,” he says, not feeling it. Perry is poking his bill inquisitively into the trays of the first-aid kit. Heinz will need to break out the MRInator. Been a while, so he’ll need to tune it first, which could take hours. Better get started on it right away. He needs to be working right now, because if he stops he thinks he will gelatinize into a ball of terror. That wouldn’t help Perry.

He’s 15 minutes into his work, checking that the gradient coils are aligned, when the phone rings. His screwdriver hits the ground as he lunges for it, ready to yell the full story out of Carl. But it’s Peter calling. He stares at the profile photo, which is many years out of date.

“...Hello? Peter the Panda, since when do you call? What’s up?”

“Hi, hi -- Doofenshmirtz?” comes a voice on the other line. It’s pitchy, so he has trouble placing it at first.

“Mystery? Is that you?”

This is weird. Heinz never talks to this guy. He isn’t even up on whether Professor Mystery’s still practicing evil -- just gets the impression from Peter that they’re doing alright together, whenever the two of them cross paths.

“I’m calling because something’s wrong with Peter,” he says, a quaver in his voice that Heinz can hear he is trying to suppress. “And I wanted to ask if you know anything. Did you do something to him, Doofenshmirtz? Or, if you didn’t. Can... can you come over here? Can you help me talk to him? I thought maybe he’d respond if he saw a familiar face, or maybe you’d have one of your... weird machines that could help him.”

“Verdammt noch mal,” Heinz hisses through the hand raking down his face. “That agency. It’s all of them?”

“...What?”

“It’s OWCA, Mystery, they did something to all of the agents. Apparently, if it hit Peter. Perry’s the same way.”

“...Oh,” responds Mystery. He sounds lost. “So can you come up here? I’ll -- I’ll cover your tickets. Both of them.”

Like he’d fly there commercial. “Mystery, I’m getting details out of the OWCA guys right now. I need more information before I can make any plans. Sorry.”

And Mystery couldn’t pay him enough to take Perry out of the city right now. Perry’s been hopping between the sofa and the carpet, then walking over to Heinz and bumping into his side as he works, before cycling back to the sofa, a knot of agitation. Right now he’s digging his forepaws into a couch cushion, like he’s trying to find something that isn’t there.

On the end of the line Mystery sniffles -- oh, no. “What happened to him, Doofenshmirtz?” he says, voice cracking. “My parents were trying to figure it out, they were asking me how old he is -- but it was so sudden, like something hit all at once. My dad asked if I let him go near any black holes recently.”

“Did you?” Heinz asks, genuine. Mystery got up to some hardcore science in the old days.

There’s an ursine growl on the other end, angrier than Peter sounds. “No. That’s their baggage. But I was worried,” Mystery says, “about the age thing. Because. Well.”

Heinz knows Peter’s well into his 20s, by now.

“There’s only so many more years, for him,” Mystery says, faltering. “And so -- what if this is -- if this is how he is now,” he wavers, “then that means I didn’t even... have the time, have the time I thought.”

This precedes a total breakdown of his speech into wracking sobs, that don’t transmit prettily over the phone audio. Heinz pulls the phone away from his ear, frowning at it with no little sympathy. Mystery’s age, like so much about him, has never been clear to Heinz -- but he can tell the guy’s young, comparatively. Whatever their relationship passes for there’s a strained mentorship quality to it -- Mystery has turned to Heinz for answers, in the past, and has repaid him with petulant resentment every time. It’s very bratty. Like when Vanessa would ask him for help with science projects. Heinz can’t resist another opportunity to help each time he’s asked, even knowing the outcome.

But consoling this man wasn’t on Heinz’s docket for today. “Mystery,” he says, “You’ll get that time. You cannot have so little faith in Peter the Panda, so soon after something happens to him. You’re a scientist -- you’re a master of mystery. Give it a few days, before you have a breakdown, alright? That’s what Peter would want.”

Heinz thought that was pretty good, but Mystery just cries harder on the line. He feels shaken -- he doesn’t want to be hearing this right now. That’s selfish, he knows -- but Mystery has family. Mystery can handle himself, and he can handle Peter. Heinz cares deeply for Peter’s wellbeing, still, but part of caring has meant learning to trust his choice of partner, just like Peter trusts his.

“Look, Mystery, I have to go,” he says -- he looks up, and doesn’t see Perry. Suddenly he meant what he said, with an urgency. “Get your parents to help, and tell them all morbid speculation is banned. Give them a furbrush, tell them go to town on him. They’ll love it, he’ll love it. Bye.”

He snaps off the call and rushes through the house, looking for Perry. The kitchen, the balcony ledge, the pool. This place is too big, when he doesn’t want it to be.

He finds a puddle in the bathroom. Perry knew enough to go in there, apparently, but not how to use the toilet.

Perry is back in the sitting room hiding under the glass coffee table, tail curled under like he’s ashamed. “Oh, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz sighs, kneeling at the table and reaching under to stroke Perry’s head. “What are we going to do with you.”

Mr. Fluffypants’ old litterbox is in the storage room that used to belong to Norm. He sets it up next to the toilet. Their bathroom has ample room. He exits, knowing he has to keep the inertia rolling, has to work, can’t process that he just set out a litterbox for Perry. How is he supposed to process that.

Right across from the door, in the hallway, there’s an elongated picture frame with photos from a family beach trip, when Heinz had more color in his hair. The left side highlights Vanessa, who’d brought along a friend -- she’s laughing in some of them, more unrestrained happiness than she showed in her gradeschool years. There’s the massive sandcastle they’d constructed, Norm using his vacant head to scoop, Vanessa lifting Perry up to decorate the upper echelons with fine detail, the two of them focused on this process for a long time while they’d chatted. And then photos of Perry, the surf breaking over his feet as he poses with a notch-tailed surfboard, cool confidence in the line of his smile. Heinz loves that picture: he looks so handsome, his white beach shirt open and playing in the wind.

He finds himself staring at it. This was Perry an hour ago.

He calls out: “Do you know Vanessa, Perry the Platypus? Va-ne-ssa?”

No response, obviously -- Heinz is convinced he could jostle some kind of reaction out of Perry if Vanessa stopped by in person, like Mystery had been aiming at with him. But he has no intention of letting her see him in this state. Perry would hate that.

Heinz collapses into his folded arms on the kitchen island, amid the newly-purchased bags of flour and sugar, for the apple pie they will not be making tonight. He doesn’t want to eat.

But Perry should, he realizes after a minute, lifting his head. Perry seems less agitated now, has been wandering the floor. Right now he’s peering out at the balcony sky, seated. Heinz walks over to him. “You’re not going to try and run off of that, right?” Perry looks up. “Carl made it sound like you were gonna bolt if I so much as left a door open.” But Perry’s been keeping near to him, following him from room to room. The real Perry isn’t this clingy. “I don’t trust you to operate a parachute right now, Perry the Platypus. And don’t let me see you going in the jetpack closet.”

More empty eye contact. “Let’s get you dinner.”

It’s reheated lasagna they’d made a few nights ago, beef and zucchini. Heinz stares hopefully at Perry as he eats it off the plate, thinking the taste might stir a memory. He noses the fork off the table, jumps a little at its clatter, then starts nibbling bites off the edge of the lasagna block. Heinz is over there cutting it up with a butter knife when Carl’s return call finally buzzes in his pocket -- he puts it on the tabletop set to speaker mode. “Carl. I hope you’re ready to talk.”

“Yes Doofenshmirtz, hi,” returns the tinny nasal voice. “I had to get home -- Monogram’s getting grilled over there, and he wouldn’t stop yelling back at them, at the FBI agents, who were jumping at the bit to arrest him. I managed to broker a peace,” Carl ends, proudly.

“That’s fantastic, Carl,” says Heinz. “How about explaining what you did to Perry the Platypus’s brain? It hit Peter too, by the way, I know this is a bigger problem than you want me to think.”

“I don’t want you to think anything!” says Carl. “This wasn’t my choice, Heinz, or Monogram’s for that matter. They turned off the agent control switch. I kept telling them they didn’t need to do that, they should just leave the agents alone -- it’s more safe that way, honestly, we didn’t even know what would happen if they used it. But they just said if it’s part of the animal program, it needs to go.”

Heinz’s stomach sinks lower than he thought it could. “Agent control switch? You’re controlling them?”

“No!” says Carl. “It’s not a -- clear term. Nobody’s controlling the animals, Heinz. It’s like a remote control hub, with a binary state, on and off. They shut it off.’

“So that’s good,” Heinz falters, trying not to let the ominous weight of whatever this implies overwhelm his thought. “You can just switch it back on. It sounds like you can literally fix this with a button press, Carl, so do it.”

“Well, yes and no,” Carl dithers. “They shut it off. Then they confiscated all our equipment. They said ‘classified’, when I asked where it was going. so my guess is it’ll end up in some storage basement or the FBI dumpster, based on how badly they mishandled it. They split open the casing just getting it out of the room, it was hard to watch.”

That sounds about right for OWCA, 70s-era supercomputers filling up rooms they were never intended to leave. “So the switch controls something in Perry’s head?” Heinz asks, steadily. He’s thinking of the giant magnet he was about to put Perry inside. “Like a metal chip?”

“It’s a bioelectric material, I’m pretty sure,” Carl says. “Part of what makes it so hard to access, once it’s inside. The investigators were going to make us lobotomize all the agents, if I hadn’t told them about the switch, it was the only choice. They’re serious about stamping out this program, Heinz, like they’re trying to erase it from the public consciousness. Because if people see a dog in a hat they’ll mob up and burn the government down, apparently.”

Heinz feels on board with that plan at the moment. “Carl. Professor Mystery’s having a breakdown, I had to talk him off the cliff this afternoon. Neither of us knew about this. You didn’t tell any of us,” the heat is rising in his voice, “that Peter and Perry had something in them that you controlled, that this could happen at any minute. Did they know about this?”

Carl is quiet a second. “... I’m not sure,” he says. “I thought Perry knew. It’s not a major secret, it’s just what we do, to promising recruits. It’s had a less pronounced effect in the newer ones, since we stopped putting them in babies. But Perry’s always had it. That’s why he’s so intelligent. But he might not have known about the control switch -- it’s really a relic, we haven’t run power through it in decades, since we’ve had no reason to deactivate the agents.”

Perry’s nosing around the table, his lasagna half-eaten -- he makes a small noise of complaint. “Oh -- I didn’t give you water,” Heinz realizes. A cup seems too optimistic, so he fills up a bowl.

“Is that Perry?” asks Carl from the phone speaker -- Heinz rolls his eyes. “How is he? I’m really sorry, by the way, Heinz -- there’s a lot on our plates over here, I’m just trying to keep us afloat and Monogram on a leash. You know I care about him, too.”

“Then fix him,” says Heinz. Carl goes quiet, while Perry drinks from his bowl.

“...We’ll figure it out. Good night, Doofenshmirtz.”

Heinz looks out at the silent space of his apartment -- the living room lamp is taking on the brunt of lighting it, now the early autumn dark has fallen. With the phonecall battles over and done for the night, it seems quieter than usual.

This space is normally filled by just him and Perry, now that Norm and Vanessa are out on their own. Perry doesn’t talk, and employs his platypus noises judiciously, only making sound when he really wants Heinz’s attention, or is in a temper. But his presence fills the space, in a way that’s hard to explain, easy to feel.

Normal nights, Heinz gabs his way into the late hours with Perry as his receptive listener, and responder, accompanying Heinz on their end-of-day tidying chores, toweling dishes off for him to stack on high shelves, shooting him dry looks and signing quick sentences that make Heinz scoff. Perry believes Heinz is worth listening to, which makes Heinz want to keep chatting with him, more and more, a self-feeding loop that would overload the casual conversational partner. But Perry is no casual.

Normal afternoons, they work on parallel projects to the sound of old radio serials, to audiobooks of bestselling mystery novels, to the Landmarks in Evil podcast. Perry will grab Heinz’s attention to sign some withering remark on the spotlighted villain of the week, and Heinz will snort into his construction tools. Perry’s presence grants him undesired OWCA updates around the house, that they both groan at simultaneously. Perry grants him gift-laden drop-ins from Ferb and Phineas -- literal balcony visits, often, since those kids and their friends fly around the city in more novel contraptions than Perry once did. Perry gives him looks that say everything.

Now, Perry has hopped off the kitchen chair and is padding around Heinz into the living room space. He turns to look at Heinz, like he keeps on doing, but his face expresses only a primal distress. He chirps a high, querulous note, cry-like, foreign on Perry’s tongue. Heinz could step on Perry’s tail ten times -- he has -- and not hear a noise that heartrending.

“I know, Perry the Platypus.” Such a thing you say to pets. But he shares Perry’s sentiment.

A flash of guilt twinges his stomach, and he pulls out his phone to text Peter’s number: Got the intel - I’m fixing it. Take care of Peter the Panda tonight.

A quick reply: I AM. Heinz’s lip quirks.

Heinz raps on the shell of the MRInator -- its completion feels less urgent, now that he has a better concept of the problem. He’ll finish it after a night of sleep, so he doesn’t risk frying Perry’s neurons. He doesn’t want to sleep, knows it won’t be easy, with this mountainous weight hanging over him. But dire times call for proper rest, he’s learned to accept, after 50-some odd years. He downs a plastic cup of Nyquil.

“I’ll have to fix you tomorrow, Perry the Platypus,” he tells him. “Or else I’ll start owing everyone an explanation. Really don’t wanna give the ‘Carl Scrambled Perry’s Brain’ apology tour to your family. I don’t think they’d talk to me again, even though everything is Carl’s fault. As established by the name of the tour.”

Perry wails again, a haunting trill sent into the darkness of the penthouse.

“But don’t worry,” Heinz adds, hurrying over to Perry -- he bends to pet his head. “I will fix this for you. And for Peter the Panda too, and all the other agents. I promise.

Perry whines again, more quietly, in Heinz’s hold, looking up at him with sad brown eyes. Heinz rubs his old hands through the fur of his head -- Perry looks so different right now, hunched in a dog’s sitting posture. Whatever they did to him, whatever pathways are now shut off in his mind, must have enabled or encouraged more human postures, better standing balance -- who knows.

Heinz isn’t sure what to make of Perry now, this animal shell of him. He wonders if Perry feels the same about him -- what is he to Perry now? His partner, his mere protector? Is he less than he used to be?

Heinz takes his left paw, gently, lifting it in his hand. He thumbs the metal ring on his finger.

“For the MRI tomorrow,” he tells Perry. “In case I forget.” He removes it.

Perry pads after Heinz as he gets a glass of water from the sink, as he walks to the bedroom. He feels odd dressing down to his boxers, in front of him now. Perry doesn’t pay him any mind, though -- as soon as he walks in he jumps his way up to the bedspread, scrabbling at the blankets on the edge to barely avoid falling.

“Not letting you in any apple trees,” Heinz muses emptily.

He slumps back into the pillows, feeling the doxylamine fog roll in. “But I’ll need you back soon,” he says, “so we can do the Haunted Haymaze with the kids.”

Perry trods up to him on the blanket. He makes a quiet noise -- not scared or confused, but a regular krrr, like he used to make. A gentle declaration of presence, a little care-package growl. Heinz lifts his arm, and Perry crawls under it, pushing his head into his neck. This movement isn’t forgotten, to him.

Heinz hugs his other arm around Perry’s body, and he falls asleep.

---