#flug slys corporation

[flugslysco]

shed some light on the situation

[black-hat-organization-forever]

So what’s the plan to get the doctor back? Or is that the plan

[thefurriestofchows]

GUYS IM DEAD

IVE PHYSICALLY DIED

LIKE I AM DEAD

GOODBYE

[zatyrlucy]

Have a list of facts of the latest stream. Sorry for doing this late, but better late than never!

1.       At the end of Flug’s birthday party (after coming back from the cardiologist lol) Black Hat appeared and that’s when this happened. 

Alan said that congratulating Flug for being able to survive another year in the Org. was the closest to a “Happy birthday” Black Hat could ever say.  BH: “I hope you make it until the next year, you better do!”  

2.       Black Hat’s teeth can go through anything except himself

3.       Alan confirmed that Flug turned 26 years old

4.       Flug likes bad jokes, especially the ones related to planes

5.       Flug likes pasta

6.       Since the creation of Flug it was intended for him to always have an object on his head but it was a bit later that Alan got the idea of the paperbag  

7.       Flug’s head being covered is a tribute to those villains that do not show their faces, like Deathstroke, Bane or Darth Vader. But instead of something cool to hide Flug’s face, like a metal mask, Alan decided to use the paper bag as a parody.  

8.       Alan and the crew love all the AUs fans create but one that they talked a lot was the dragons AU by SHABiest because they liked the design of the characters (and Stephan loves dragons). They also noticed and did a sketch of Flug’s Slys Corporation AU by Chowy  

9.       Black Hat can drink arsenic and battery acid to “refresh” his mouth

10.   Demencia has taken Flug’s bag on different occasions, especially when he is asleep (so she knows how his face looks like? ._. )

11.   Someone asked “What would you change of the characters?” and it was difficult for Alan to answer because he and Stephan agreed that Villainous’ protagonists are already perfect the way they are, but after a while, Alan accepted that he would change Black Hat appearance, but he didn’t specify how exactly.              

12.   Flug doesn’t dance. Even when he was at the school he didn’t like it so his mother had to force him. Despite this, he would dance a lot if Black Hat asks him to do it.

13.   The hypothetical Black Hat’s birthday would be the day of the apocalypse and the purgatory the after party

14.   Flug appreciates 5.0.5 a lot because “5.0.5 is the only one who has ever shown love towards Flug”. The other creations make him feel pain or are too cold to show love or appreciation at all.  

15.   The hatbots “can feel” (I suppose this means they have feelings despite being robots) but they see Flug more like a boss than a father figure.  

16.   Demencia knows Flug’s name. She even teases him by calling him Ken, which is something Flug hates because Ken sounds like the name of the barbie doll

17.   Flugs goes by that name because nobody has been able to pronounce his entire last name Flugslys so he is like “ugh just call me Flug ok?”

18.   Flug doesn’t like cakes much …but he is polite and still would eat them

19.   Flug has Icelandic ascendance

20.   Alan will try to get Jose Antonio Macias (Flug’s Voice Actor) for one of the streams someday

21.   If the cast were to play Smash. Flug would play as ROB, Demencia Bowser, 5.0.5 Kirby, and Black Hat wouldn’t play at all, he would just send one his minions to literally fight in the game. BH: “And you better win, you heard me?!”  

22.   AI Animations is always hiring and you can do your social service there too. Alan wishes to give the chance to any artist around the world, but he says he has to figure out first how it would be the legal process to hire someone from another country.

23.   The narrator hates Flug because he finds annoying how much the doctor talks about himself.    

24.   There will be news about the series in the future streams.

[loverboypercy]

Kismet - Part 2

soulmate au part 2 babey!!

part 1 here

theres gonna be a third part as well bcs,,, i cant help myself

@void-lovely @shelikescartoons

“This fucking sucks. This is awful. I hate it.” Crow grumbled.

The hall was a dimly lit ballroom - a ginormous window up top held up by several large pillars with an overly extravagant chandelier hanging down. The place was packed with people, all mingling amongst eachother.

Becky rolled her eyes, dragging her boss towards the snack table, “We’ve been here for five minutes, Crow.”

“Doctor Hydra, they invited Doctor Hydra!” Crow exclaimed, not even bothering to keep his voice down - which attracted the attention of several random villains, “Nobody likes Doctor Hydra! Doctor Hydra doesn’t like Doctor Hydra!”

Becky grabbed something that looked vaguely like tuna on bread and shoved it down her boss’s throat, shutting him up temporarily. Crow glared but didn’t say anything, chewing whatever Becky had given him.

“Boss.” Becky said, “Just think of this as a purely business night. We need to bolster your Empire’s image, especially since no one has seen you since…” Becky flinched, “The incident.”

“You mean you betraying me and almost murdering me?” Crow replied casually, when Becky looked ashamed he spoke up again, “I’ve already told you, Becks, it’s no big deal.”

Becky seemed mollified by the response, at least for now, and left with a “Try to be less of a dick than usual, Crow.”

Crow shrugged, grabbing something else off the snack table, “No promises.”

“Black Hat!” A strange voice cooed, “It’s been so long.”

Black Hat turned to face the woman, his family watching intently. Black Hat smiled, a little bit of a snarl making it past his pleasant facade, “Malice. It’s been a while.”

Standing not far away from Black Hat was a woman with long white hair. She wasn’t human, what with her blue skin and black scleras. Her dress was poofy and black, with a gold decorating the upper half. Her mask almost resembled a harlequin - with the long protrusions but Sharp soon realised they were supposed to be horns.

Malice walked up, taking Black Hat’s hand, “Far too long, have you met my darling sweetheart?”

She gestured to a woman standing behind her. Sharp was surprised they hadn’t noticed her before as she was the only person wearing pink. Her dress was poofy like Malice’s but much shorter, ending at her knees. A flowery pattern covered the top of the dress, with white flowers hanging off the off the shoulder sleeves. Her mask was pink, gold and red with a heart right in the center of it. The woman smiled awkwardly, offering a wave.

Black Hat nodded in her direction before turning back to Malice, “The princess of the Human Kingdom, Cherry Mayapple, if I’m not mistaken?”

Malice just shrugged, “Fate is… just like that sometimes,” She took Mayapple’s hand, “We’re making it work.”

“Good for you,” Black Hat replied, “Is there something you’d like to discuss?”

“Yes, actually,” She looked over to Black Hat’s family, who all froze under her gaze, “Privately of course.”

“Of course.” Black Hat turned to his family, “Well, you heard the woman. Scatter.”

The three ran in different directions. Demencia headed straight for the closest column - intent to find a way to climb onto the shiny chandelier. Flug moved to the closest corner, pressing his back against it so no one could sneak up on him without his family’s protection. Sharp, startled, just ran in the opposite direction to both Flug and Demencia. Until they ran straight into someone.

“Oh! You really should be more careful…” He paused, “Uh, who are you?”

Sharp looked up, the person they’d bumped into was a well-dressed, red skinned man. He was wearing a mask with a flame pattern on one side, that was otherwise pretty simple.

“Um, sorry.” Sharp muttered, “I’m Sharp Slys, from the Black Hat Corporation.”

The stranger smiled, offering a hand, “Prince Malachite, Lord of Fire -” Sharp shaked his hand nervously. He winked, “A lover, not a fighter.”

“Uhhhhh.”

“It’s always nice to have out of towners!” Malachite said, quickly changing the subject, “Or, in your case, out of dimensioners. I’ve never seen Black Hat be represent at these kinds of… parties before.”

“Yeah. We’re pretty busy, don’t get out much.” Sharp replied.

“What a pity…” Malachite said, the prince gently took Sharp’s hand again and began walking, “Whilst you’re here you must try some Tsukemono Quartzes,” He explained, “I bought them from home, and they’re wonderful. Also surprisingly healthy!”

Sharp didn’t argue - they promised their father they’d be on their best behavior, and besides, they were pretty hungry.

“He was terrifying, Crow.” Mayapple whispered, oblivious to Crow ignoring her, “I’ve never seen someone with such…” She glanced at Crow, “...You’re not listening, are you?”

“Not at all.”

Mayapple punched him in the shoulder. Crow winced - she was getting stronger.

“That Black Hat guy might actually be serious competition to you, Crow-”

“Look, Mayapple.” Crow said, “I didn’t even want to come tonight - I don’t care about Gray Fedora or whoever the fuck, I’m just going to eat as much as possible, be sick, and then force Becky to let us go home early.”

Mayapple huffed, “This isn’t even that bad of a party.”

“All parties are bad parties.”

“You’re just being a grump.”

Crow didn’t reply, instead he grabbed a handful of shrimp and chewed aggressively whilst maintaining eye contact with Mayapple.

The princess couldn’t hold back her giggle, “You’re disgusting!”

“You’re saying that as if you’re surprised, Mayapple.” Malachite said, the pair of them jolted at the prince’s sudden appearance. Mayapple stared at the person following him a few steps behind. Wasn’t that one of Black Hat’s employees?

They weren’t being aggressive or even conversational, just standing behind Malachite whilst he explained how the two had bumped into one another and he wanted them to at least taste the food of this dimension before they left. Mayapple nodded along, a smile eventually slipping onto their face.

“Cherry Mayapple, meet Sharp Slys.” He said, stepping out of the way.

“Charmed.” Mayapple said, shaking their hand. Sharp just nodded, honestly they seemed a little out of it. Mayapple didn’t blame them.

Malachite tutted, “Crow Beans, that’s no way to act in front of a new friend.” The prince remarked, causing Crow to stop eating for a moment as he glared.

“Call me that one more time and I’ll rip you into pieces.”

Malachite was mildly bemused by the reaction, but Crow wasn’t watching him. His eyes landed on his friend (Edge or whatever) looking at him wide-eyed like a deer caught in death laser beam. He quirked a brow, their expression changed from confusion, to disbelief.

“I cant…” They began, their face morphing from disbelief to happiness, Crow’s expression dropped.

No, no, no, no. They couldn’t-!

“I can’t believe you’re real.”

Crow’s world just skidded to a halt. They were looking at him so hopeful, so happy. It was making his stomach turn in knots and his anxiety made him feel like he was going to-

Crow’s hand flew up to his mouth, he was actually going to be sick.

He ran. He ignored Mayapple crying out his name, but he couldn’t ignore the way their face fell - he watched them reach out a hand only for it to fall down limply. Crow gagged, and closed his eyes. His back felt like it was on fire.

He couldn’t do this.

“What on Earth was that about?”

“Those… those words… on his back…”

“I didn’t think the food was that bad...”

“He was marked, this entire time.”

“You must ignore him, he’s terrible with timing.”

“He had a soulmate this whole time.”

Sharp blinked, barely able to process what was being said to them. They felt a hand on their shoulder - like Flug loved to do when he was proud of them - it made them feel warm and a little grounded. Then reality came crashing down on them.

That was their soulmate. Their soulmate.

Had just ran away - vomiting - at the sight of them.

They turned away and wandered - almost like a zombie before dropping to all fours and moving to a fully-fledged sprint. They heard Malachite call out behind them - pretty sure it was their name - but they didn’t care. They wanted Black Hat. They wanted to lay across the eldritch monstrosities lap and be pet. They wanted Flug to hold them. They wanted Demencia to let them run their fingers through her hair. They wanted 5.0.5 and Lil Jack and all the Manor’s various monstrosities and creatures.

They wanted to go home.

They spotted Flug - still in his corner but managing conversation with some other villain. Sharp didn’t slow down, ramming into him at full speed and wrapping their arms around him tightly.

“Oof- Sharp! Why on Earth would you-” He stopped, glancing down at Sharp’s shaking form. It almost looked like… “Sharp?”

Sharp didn’t look up, they just nuzzled his chest, “I wanna go home, dad.”

Flug wrapped his arms around them immediately, almost hiding them from view. He signaled to Demencia to find Black Hat and tell him they needed to leave now, whilst he ushered his shaking child to the front of the room.

Black Hat materialized in front of them in seconds, one hand with a firm grip on Demencia. He looked pissed, like he was about to demand an explanation when Flug pulled his lab coat back slightly. His expression moved to mildly annoyed - which, honestly was the best you could ask for with Black Hat - as he ripped open a portal and pushed Demencia through. Flug and Sharp followed quickly after, until finally Black Hat stepped through and the portal closed.

No one asked them what had happened, none of them demanded answers. Black Hat headed for his study, Demencia peeled back Flug’s coat to look at Sharp. They didn’t respond verbally, but did try hiding their face. Demencia held them both tightly against her. They heard 5.0.5 warble something - perhaps welcoming them back - before joining in on the hug.

Sharp sighed. Home felt good.

[whisker-biscuit]

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 4

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Note: All Black Hat POVs are in first person

Chapter 4: Naming Conventions

Before we continue, I suppose I should make a few matters quite clear.

First, I am not, as you humans say, beyond this world. My body is very much physical, for all of its horrific capabilities. I require sustenance as any other, although the frequency and form of it differs greatly from most current life on this miserable mass we call a planet. I also have the potential, hypothetically, to experience pain in its most basic, physical manner.

I have yet to encounter something able to do so.

Secondly, I have a biological drive, so to speak, in the same way all living creatures do. But unlike the pathetic urges felt by these creatures to survive and reproduce and further the existence of their species, mine is the unconditional opposite. I live to destroy, to halt the process of life and its advancement. These inclinations are most strongly felt during the potential removal of a soul – a being, if you will – from the corporeal world, but that does not mean I am unfulfilled in the more subtle eradications of the every day. Far from it; I relish the inconsequential inconveniences, the negligible nuisances, the eventual ends of equanimity that develop only from the consistent and repetitive breakdown of the emotional and mental states. One does not have to lose their head to, well, lose their head.

Third and last of all, I am not above admitting my faults. I will not deny to being prideful, or confident, or even arrogant. The accusations of those concepts mean nothing to me. But to be unwilling to recognize a mistake, or refuse to believe one can be made, is a dangerous and frankly foolish mindset. How does one expect to prove themselves the best, if they cannot seize their moments of weakness, however few, and use them as stepping stones to an even higher level of awareness and efficiency towards their claim? The thought baffles me.

That is not to say I allow my enemies or allies to recognize them, or admit to them there are indeed mistakes that I can make. Quite the contrary – one must always display a certain poise in the presence of others that does not betray any hint of fault, as failing to do so often leads to insubordination, mutiny, and challenge on all sides. A lapse in judgement is fine, so long as it is known to only yourself.

And so, of course, we reach my current predicament. I had one rare moment of weakness, and it was such an unfortunate occurrence as to happen in a situation where many significant details were at stake – the disruption of human lives, the destruction of human lives, and myself. Needless to say, my error cost me dearly, and I soon found myself captive at the hands of the detestable Inspector Marcus Daniels and his deplorable team from that blundering group known as Interpol. It was not my first time in incarceration, but it was the first instance in which I was actually treated as a more viable threat than most convicted individuals. Imagine my surprise and disbelief when I was finally released from my, transport, to find I had been dropped rather unceremoniously at a criminal mental hospital, of all things.

To say I was insulted would be an understatement.

Even more humiliating was the presence of who was supposedly my psychiatrist. A thin, clumsy, stuttering excuse of a human who hid his face under a paper bag and was so woefully unprepared for the task appointed to him. His boldness surprised me, near the end of our first meeting, but that was quelled easily with the threat of bodily harm. Humans are so breakable, really. I should have snapped his neck and been done with it.

But in the high brought on by my inclination, I forgot myself and my situation and erred yet again. I attempted to change the shape of my jaw, for easier access to wrap around the beautiful, beating veins of the throat and tear it open in the most visceral, painful way. But I was thwarted as soon as I tried.

That damned collar.

So here I was, confined in a high security room reserved for the most mentally unstable and unable to do anything about it. You could imagine my frustration, perhaps, in those first few hours after I was wrestled away from the pitiful doctor and left alone to do nothing but dwell on my newfound situation.

Of course, one does not create a means of escape without first knowing every variable, so I spent much of that isolation observing every inch of my outfit, my cell, and the door. I counted every buckle keeping me restrained – six – as well as every bolt covering the only way in and out – forty-five. No windows, no manipulated patchwork in the floor or wall or ceiling, and no immediately obvious form of liberation. Everything was a lovely shade of light blue, intended for its calming effects I’m sure. Even the blasted toilet seat was the same color. It too would be unhelpful to my predicament – nothing more than a basic hole in the ground with a foot pedal for flushing.

My mortification turned to fury rather quickly.

Unfortunately, the bloody padding was thick and smooth enough that my teeth – currently my only way of expressing my ability – could not puncture in any place I attempted. Ironically, it was not my physical strength but my…release of emotion that garnered attention.

I had admittedly overlooked the possibility of the presence of other inmates.

A few responded immediately to my outburst of anger, loud in their screaming and thumping. Whether they were declaring their presence, asserting their own dominance, or were simply emboldened by my actions I cannot say. Regardless, it was enough to startle me out of my emotions and instead pay attention to the direction and distance these sounds occurred in relation to my quarters. At least three voices, maybe more, all coming beyond the right side of the wall when I faced my cell door. Whereas I had stopped my actions quite suddenly, it took nearly five minutes for most of the others to calm themselves.

Fascinating.

Moderately satisfied with my conclusions – or as much as I could be in the present situation – I settled down on the raised cushioning that no doubt was meant to resemble a mattress. One side was raised in the imitation of a pillow, but no blanket or detachable items were available. It struck me as odd until I remembered a personal assassination of a high-ranking nobody in which I tied him with his own comforter and proceeded to suffocate him with his pillow.

Unlike the fools at Interpol or that idiot doctor, there was a semblance of competence here, at least.

My surprise the next morning was apparent even to the densest of people when I was visited by the same psychiatrist who had pressed my patience just the previous afternoon. He was not alone this time, obviously having learned his lesson; another man in a white coat arrived at his side, along with one of the guards who had so rudely assaulted my person. They stood shoulder to shoulder like a meager mimicry of force, and I could not help the expression of amusement from outweighing my irritation.

“Back again already, are we? I didn’t take you to be that imbecilic.” I took the time to incline myself against the far wall in the perception of laziness. Nonchalance is often greatly underestimated.

“Ah, I, I did say we have to w-work out a schedule while y-you’re here,” Dr. Slys resembled a skittish antelope, rather remarkably well. “Since yesterday, uh, since we d-didn’t get to finish our, your orientation, I thought it would b-be best to try again as soon as possible. I’ve, brought another psychiatrist if, if you’d be more comfortable with someone else.”

This particular individual puffed his chest up most pathetically at the declaration of his presence. “That’s right, Doctor, and I’m here to let you know that we won’t tolerate any breach of protocol or improper behavior from our patients.” He was reckless enough to glare at me. Fool.

In response to the feeble display at superiority I allowed myself a chuckle. “So it would seem. And what shall I call you?” He was considerably larger than Dr. Slys; at least six feet if I had accurately estimated the height of the security guard, to whom he rivalled in elevation. Nothing outstanding about his features, except perhaps the dainty silver watch along his wrist.

“I am Dr. Bautista, but you can address me as either sir or doctor.” The newest intrusion held up a clipboard in a parody of importance and clicked his pen most unprofessionally. “According to our records, you have no known history of substance abuse. Is that correct?”

His words had long stopped holding my attention, and I deemed the watch to be more significant. Not knowing the time and date can be so cumbersome. My gaze stayed fixed on the polished silver metal, waiting for the angle in which I could read it properly. The watch’s owner did not have the intelligence to realize this, as he cleared his throat in obvious frustration.

“I asked you a question, Patient 513.”

“So you did,” was my soft reply. Patient 513. How interesting, that they had already assigned me a number. No doubt an attempt to disassociate me from my former life. At yet another sound of aggravation, I flicked in the direction of the nuisance’s face. He had stepped closer, just past the human line of defense.

“Yes I did, and I expect you to answer it.” I studied the movements of his hands, waiting for the clock face to be visible. “And I also expect you to make eye contact in a conversation. Honestly, can you believe this?” The miscreant turned to his colleague, no doubt trying for sympathy.

He got none. Instead of catering to the ego of his fellow, Dr. Slys surprised the psychiatrist, and myself, when he looked directly at me and said very sincerely, “It’s 9:47 am, on a Wednesday.”

I had already written off Dr. Bautista as useless and of no interest to me. Yesterday, I thought I had come to the same conclusion about Dr. Slys. But now he tiptoed closer, and despite the limp I saw in his gate – my doing I was certain – he did not appear bothered by the decrease in our distance. He offered his gloved hands to me, palms up.

“That’s what y-you were wondering, wasn’t it? That’s why you were, um. You wanted t-to know the time.”

To see a human again who I had attacked less than a day before was unusual. To see him willing to visit me in my own territory, backup or no, was abnormal. For him to be observant enough to recognize what I wanted, and to give it to me without negotiation in his favor, well. It was rare to the point that I found I could not ignore it.

“If I say yes, Dr. Slys, what would that matter?” I could feel the edges of my mouth part fractionally, poised to expose my only current weapon. Regardless of subject, it was dangerous for anyone to feel they had power over me. Dangerous for me, of course, but even more so for them.

“Ah, well, I j-just thought, you might want to know, since you…” His goggles fluttered briefly in the direction of his colleague’s watch, but he did not reveal me. Smart creature. “Well, I know I like kn-knowing the date, and the t-time. It’s…easier. Everyday.”

“Is that so.” I could find no lie in his expression, despite the headwear. This was the second time he had been so earnestly truthful, and the second time it had caught my attention, for what reasons I could not say. I would have to be careful with this one.

At his eager nod, a good-natured smile stretched along my visage. “Well, Doctor, I suppose I should thank you. You may ask five questions, and I will answer them.” Both psychiatrists were visibly astonished by my change in attitude, and my smile spread further. Two could play this game of catching the other unawares.

Of course, the idiot Dr. Bautista attempted to open his mouth, but I stopped that behavior short with a hiss. “Dr. Slys may ask me five questions, and I will answer them.” He looked affronted, but had enough self-preservation to let his colleague take his place.

“Okay, um, okay.” He fretted with the serrated edges of his paper bag; a bizarre motion I had witnessed before. “I g-guess, we’ll start with what we asked earlier. Do you have any history of substance abuse, or currently using? Our records have no indications of anything.”

“No, I do not. Nasty, uncontrollable things.” I was not lying. Drugs of all forms – except alcohol, perhaps – were useful tools of destruction but entirely unpredictable in combination with my biology. One methamphetamine mixture could have no effect beyond an itch along my feet while another could leave me in the closest I’d ever experience to a seizure. There was no way of knowing which black market substances were pleasurable, painful, or nullified without personal experimentation, and I did not have enough interest in the subject to waste my time.

“Well that’s g-good,” Dr. Slys scribbled along with his fellow psychiatrist and looked me in the eye. “Next q-question. Are there any allergies we should be aware of? Food, medical, latex, etc.?”

“I have no such weaknesses, Doctor.” To even insinuate that human issue was insulting.

“Okay, um. Third question. Are there any actions you feel would be detrimental to your psyche? Some patients have a history of physical, emotional, or sexual abuse that can accidently be brought to memory in a, situation, such as restraining involving human contact or the sound of raised voices. We cannot comply with all requests, but if there is anything you think is noteworthy, we will take it in consideration. If you have a preference for the gender of your psychiatrist or physician, we can do that.”

“I do believe you offend me, Dr. Slys, to assume I am so easily triggered by petty things like those.” I had noticed that as my supposed doctor continued his query, he appeared more relaxed and confident in his posture. The stuttering had also vanished. Fascinating. “But to fully answer your question, I do not have many, requests. However, I must ask that your security keeps their hands to themselves. It was rather irritating yesterday.”

“Well, we can try our best to accommodate you, but I’m afraid that would depend on your behavior around others.” Dr. Slys moved on the weight of his heels and winced, clearly still injured. I offered him a cruel twist of lips. “Okay, so that’s about it for the preliminary. Now about your schedule, I was – we were thinking that the best option would be to start with a bi-weekly counseling session in your room, with me and possibly Dr. Bautista depending on…conduct. I would also suggest a three-hour period of recreational activity every day, and we can work out the activities at the beginning of each day. Perhaps after a full evaluation of mental and physical stability, we can include group therapy and/or outdoor privileges as well. Would you agree with this tentative schedule plan? Your first counseling session would be with me tomorrow at 11 am.”

I pretended to consider it, to assume as they did that I would be actually be imprisoned any longer than a week. “Yes, I suppose that is a plausible arrangement. How long would you estimate my sessions with you to last?” I tilted my head, amusement broadcasted freely.

“Roughly about an hour and a half, give or take.” To my surprise and admitted delight, he looked at me with narrow, calculating eyes and continued, “And I expect we’ll be having them for a long time, Mr. Black Hat. You shouldn’t underestimate our facility.”

I should have been incensed by his calling out of the real meaning of my question, but frankly I found it interesting. Here was a human who understood at least the basic rules of how I played. That he had willingly defied my orders the day before and was now matching my serve with a fair enough return was not as bothersome as I had earlier considered.

“Very well, Doctor. You may ask your final question.” I crossed my legs on the imitation mattress, nearly finished with our conversation, lovely as it was. But what he asked next caught me off guard.

“In your case file, it mentioned you had named flying as your favorite mode of transportation. Why is that?”

I could not help the bemused twitch of my eyebrows nor the brief, startled blink that passed my face. Dr. Slys waited patiently for me to recover, and the colleague at his side appeared just as rightly confused.

There was no gain or loss to be had by answering this, so I settled with a shrug and laid back, studying the unusual human. “Flying is statistically the safest method of travel.” He looked at me, and I looked at him. My mouth parted. “At least until it hits the ground.”

His gloved hands tightened on his clipboard in what I assumed was anxiety. Imagine my surprise when he let out a solitary laugh, not much more than a breach of air past his lips. It stopped just as suddenly as it started, and the doctor seemed shocked at his own action.

“Is something funny, Dr. Slys? I didn’t know humans could find a plane crash humorous.”

My psychiatrist was nervous now, and fretted yet again with that silly headwear, but still he responded despite the abrupt suspicion placed on his shoulders.

“I j-just thought it was a coincidence, a-a bit of a funny connection.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Unfortunately, my doctor has already shown to be more observant than he looks, because he shut his mouth promptly – I could even hear the click of teeth – and returned to his notes in an attempt to protect himself. His colleague was not so perceptive, however, and gave up the doctor’s secret.

“Hey, doesn’t your name mean a plane wreck? Like in German or something?”

Dr. Slys squeaked most unbecomingly, but it was too late. As someone who prides myself on my knowledge of social etiquette and culture, I knew most languages thoroughly, and those of Indo-European roots were no exception.

“A flugzeugabsturz?” I gave my psychiatrist a lengthy once-over, considering him. “No, your last name is Slys. But you pronounced it as the English adoption. So how…?” As I calculated, Dr. Slys’ body language grew more nervous, apprehensive even. “Perhaps not German, then.” The answer came to me just as my doctor appeared ready to flee, and I smiled.

“Icelandic, I do believe.” My delight heightened at the stiffness setting in his legs. “Plane crash. Flugslys. Dr. Flug Slys.” I practically purred the word. “Do tell me, since you pronounce your last name so hideously, does your first name follow its Icelandic rule, or is it more barbaric? Floooog.” My psychiatrist shuffled backwards to the door. “Fl-ugh.”

That was it. That was how he introduced himself. I watched, twitching grin wrapping my face as Dr. Flug Slys grabbed his oblivious colleague and the forgotten guard and hauled them out. There is a lot of power in names, you see, and he seemed to know it as much as I did. The two doctors stood just outside my cell and whispered hushed nothings while I laughed longer and louder than I had since my capture.

“It truly is a pleasure, Flug Slys!” I raised my voice, standing and gliding to the center of the room. I could see the top half of brown paper through my window. “I look forward, to our first real session tomorrow. You are a fun one indeed, Dr. Flug.”

Every use of his name sent my psychiatrist into a flinch until he disappeared from my sight and I heard his retreating, feathery footsteps leave the hall. The mirth from the encounter left me in a much better mood than I had expected while confined here. Perhaps I would not be so short of entertainment.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, in my honest and humble opinion.

[writtenbywhitley]

Muse: DR. FLUG

The mysterious engineer of the Black Hat Corporation.

Full Name: Slys Avi Flug Nicknames/Titles: Dr. Flug, Doctor, Avi Gender: Male Alignment: Evil Age: 27 Race/Homeland: Mexican-Hispanic (Father’s side) and Ashkenazi German (Mother’s Side,) born in Mexico Class: Working Character Appearance: Hair: Dark brown, Curly, Often unbrushed Skin: Medium-Light complexion, Several scars and burns. Eyes: Brown irises. Right eye is a prosthetic, not always worn. Height: 5'7" Weight: 140lbs Markings (Scars, Tattoo’s etc): Large burn scar over face, caused by acid exposure. Several small scars covering body. Has braces on molars only.

Positive Personality Traits: Creative, Insightful, Intelligent, Honest, Loyal, Polite, Strong-willed, Versatile,

Negative Personality Traits: Cowardly, Curious to a fault, Neurotic, Picky, Temperamental, Timid

Although at first the scientist was forced into working for the corporation against his will, with Black Hat’s guidance, he soon developed a genuine loyalty to the side of evil. Slys was originally one of Black Hat’s students, however he deserted the school once he was offered his dream job- the opportunity to be a top mechanic for the Air Force. His skills were so great and well known that the army wanted him to be on their side, instead of a Villain. But, Black hat remembered him and one day, his plane was hijacked by his minions. He was knocked unconscious during this, and has little memory of the incident. He woke up confined to the mansion.

He was told he was now to work for his former headmaster. This new job opportunity had soon brought out a new side to the mechanic. He seemed to have a strange fascination with the way his employer would rip into victims, torturing them in all sorts of ways. After a while, Dr. Flug was even volunteering to be the one holding the scalpel when the time came.

Of course, he did still recognize Black Hat as his captor. He still had a genuine fear for the Eldritch, and yet- he was attached, his newfound cruelty drawing him to the power his employer posessed.

Flug suffers from extreme paranoia and body dysmorphic disorder, leading him to cover nearly his entire body at all times with gloves and the signature bag mask he wears over his face. His scars and burns are many in number, yet moderate or even minor. However, he believes that he is far more damaged than he truly is, and cannot be convinced otherwise.

Flug is fully obedient to Black Hat due to the evil energy that his boss radiates corrupting him, driving him further into insanity. Deep down, though, his will is unbreakable. He will never lose his dreams and true sense of self, even if it’s buried deep in his subconscious while he seems to have no will left at all.

During his time in Mexico’s Air Force, Slys served as a corporal. He was not specifically trained for combat- instead, he was both an engineer and medic, and given the official title of Cpl. Dr. Slys Avi Flug. Black Hat Org. refuses to recognize his military ranking, and thus he is only addressed as Dr.

During his first few weeks at the Black Hat Corporation, he secretly created 505 as both practice in his new field of genetic engineering and in his desire for a companion. Though Flug has started to slowly slip away into his evil desires, 505 serves as a reminder of his former purity. 505 has the power to bring him out of this state of madness.

[flugslysco]

happy easter from the bunny herself! -mod chow))

[black-hat-organization-forever]

I know you’re out there doctor...I don’t know where you are, but I’m hot on your trail. You’ve gotten a bit careless, haven’t you? You’ve played your game thinking you were winning, but you forgot didn’t you? I always win.

I’m coming for you. I’ll see you soon~

[flugslysco]

Hey Bonnie, have you met Demencia during one of your missions?

“But please, don’t tell Flug…”

tea is hot tonight -mod chow))

[flugslysco]

“Have to vent anger somehow...”

[flugslysco]

Tough talk from a man who still wears a bag when he's no longer obligated to

[flugslysco]

A Message From Chow!))

“Hi everyone! Author and artist Chow here! It’s been awhile since we’ve heard from the Corporation, due to REDACTED! While we wait, I just wanted to let you all know I’m going to be cleaning out the inbox, some of the asks are a little outdated. Sorry if we didn’t answer your question, it’s my fault mostly. I overestimated by how much I could handle. This next batch of asks, I’ll make sure they don’t pile up. Finally, I just want to say THANK YOU!!! Really, I never ever expected for Flug Slys Co to be this loved. All the fanart, animatics, tags, reblogs, likes, and more really mean so much to me! I promise, I have a big thank you project in the works!”

-Chow!))

PS: I’ll still be picking some questions from this current batch to answer as they still hold relevance to the story! I’ll let you all know when the inbox is open again for the next round of questions!))

[flugslysco]

“I DON’T....UH....”

Please stand by, we are experiencing technical difficulties  @thecatspit))

[flugslysco]

Do you miss not having to be your own boss? What I mean is, do you miss not worrying about anything other than working on projects and staying on your boss's good side?

“But I mean, I guess the best thing about my old job was Black Hat being so kind enough not to kill me.”

[flugslysco]