#neuter third

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

Feminamoric Neutrois Pride Flag

Feminamoric: a diamoric term for non-binary, genderqueer, and binaryn't people exclusively or primarily attracted to women.

Neutrois: a neutral or null gender identity; a non-binary gender that is neither male or female; an abinary trinary gender; or a leptrois that is balancing all genders, midway between the entire gender spectrum.

[the-one-who-lambs]

gift @bamsara

still png because i don't know why the gif is so crunchy

[hypokeimena]

if you think you know how latin nouns work and want to show off how much you know how latin nouns work but you don't know the specific latin noun you're showing off with backwards and forwards i truly recommend double checking wiktionary before showing off incorrectly, in a way that makes you look smugly ignorant. post brought to you by seeing someone write out the word "stigmatae"

[dailygondi]

Daily posts so far | Pinned post | View/download the book | All grammar posts | All word posts | All phrase posts | Gondi language on Wikipedia | Three Gondi alphabets on Endangered Alphabets

[rosesradio]

oh y’all are so lucky i didn’t have this blog at 16 i would’ve been insufferable about the descendants movies

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I promised you some lions! Let's talk about manes, males, and management.

This is Tandie, the current male lion at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Notice anything odd about him? He's got one of those hilarious awkward teenager manes. Except... this cat is nine years old.

I was, of course, immediately curious.

Manes serve a lot of purposes for male lions, including being an indicator of health and fitness - it's actually a sexually selected trait and a social signal. Mane texture / hair quality / length is dependent on nutrition and the body having energy to grow (and carry around!) that much hair! The color is also a signal: males with darker manes have been found to have higher testosterone levels.

In one research report, wild males were much more likely to avoid a lion decoy when it had a longer or darker mane - but the girls really loved a dark mane. It's thought this is because a long, dark mane is an indicator of mate quality. Males with longer, darker manes have higher testosterone and were pretty healthy: meaning they had more energy for fighting, had a better chance of recovering if they got injured, and generally had a higher rate of offspring survival. Manes matter!

So, back to Tandie. He was actually born at the Woodland Park Zoo in 2014 alongside two brothers, to dad Xerxes and mother Adia.

This was Xerxes (rip).

Obviously, a very large, dark, lush mane on Xerxes here. So where did these blond muttonchops come from on his son?

I asked the zoo docents and got an answer that didn't make a lot of sense. They told me that after the three cubs grew into adolescents, they were moved to the Oakland Zoo together. But living together suppressed his testosterone, and he never grew a mane.

Hmmmm.

Here's a photo from 2016, when the brothers debuted at Oakland. They're a year and a half old in this photo.

(Photo Credit: Oakland Zoo)

And here's from an announcement for their third birthday.

(Photo credit: Oakland Zoo)

Okay, so these dudes obviously all were growing manes as of 2017. I think Tandie is the one on the left in the first photo, and laying down in the middle on the second. What happened?

I was just in the Bay Area for a zoo road trip, of course I went to Oakland and tracked down a docent to ask some questions.

It turns out that shortly after the brothers turned three, they started acting like adult male lions: they started scuffling regularly. It's a normal social thing for male lions to live in groups, called coalitions, but according to my lion experts there's generally a baseline level of some social jostling within them. It wasn't quite clear from what the docent said if they couldn't manage the boys together, or if they just wanted to avoid the scratches and small wounds that result from normal lion behavior. Regardless, they put all three of the boys on testosterone blockers in order to be able to keep them together as a social group.

Now, I don't know a lot about the use of hormone alteration as a form of captive animal management, except in the case of birth control. I don't think it's something that's unethical - there was just a webinar on it that I saw go by - but I don't think it's commonly done with big cats. Lions have kind of complicated reproductive cycles, and for instance, we've been learning that female lions can take much longer to come into estrus again than expected after coming off hormonal birth control.

In males, testosterone blockers (or being neutered) means they lose their manes. This is why a lot of rescues will do a vasectomy on their males instead of a neuter - it allows them to keep their mane and the social signals that accompany it.

Tandie returned home to Woodland Park Zoo after Xerxes passed in early 2022, and the docent told me all of the lions had been off their blockers "for while." I'd guess those things happened around the same time, since bringing the trio down to a duo at Oakland would reduce some of the social tensions.

Hormones are such interesting things, though. One of Tandie's brothers has a full mane again, and the other is still totally mane-less.

As for Tandie, his mane is growing back in, and it looks like he might rival his dad for length and coloration.

He started here, in February:

Yesterday:

What a difference four months (and maybe proximity to a girl) makes!

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Hung The Stars - Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Summary: 680ish words. The third Abbot child is earthside. Companion piece to Off-Duty.

Warnings: pregnancy and birth. References to prior delivery complications (kind of). Family fluff!!!

a/n: The Abbot family, back by popular demand. Divider credit 💕

Cassiopeia’s birth was uneventful.

Well. As uneventful as a birth could be.

Save for the fact that you threatened to give Jack a vasectomy yourself, it was just peachy.

In all honesty, compared to the twins’ birth, it was a walk through the park. On shards of glass.

This time around, you made sure to tell your husband when your contractions started. With Jacob and Ellie, you severely underestimated how quickly you would advance to 10 centimeters dilation and 100% effacement. Almost four years ago, at 34 weeks pregnant, you had convinced yourself that they were just Braxton Hicks contractions. It was way too early for the twins to come, you thought.

Wrong.

Robby ended up delivering your babies in PTMC’s ambulance bay. Which, believe it or not, was not part of your birth plan. They stayed in the NICU for a couple of weeks to gain weight and monitor lung development, but were otherwise healthy babies. Jack had somehow pulled some strings with administration for the two of you to have a reserved on-call room on the same floor as the NICU for the duration of Ellie and Jacob’s stay. You spent as much time as possible with your babies, except for when Dana practically forced you and your husband to go home for some actual rest while she promised to stay with the babies.

Cassiopeia chose to hang around for a bit longer. At 40 weeks and 5 days, you demanded an induction.

“Jack Abbot, I swear to all that is Holy, I’m gonna neuter you myself.” You yelled during a particularly harsh contraction. Jack had to muster up his entire career of military training and medical poker face to keep from laughing. If he laughed right now, he was positive he’d be six feet under by the end of shift change.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you,” he pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead and was met with a glare. He knew you didn’t mean any of the aggression, at least not entirely. He would probably also be hostile if he was pushing a watermelon-sized being out of a lemon-size hole.

Your daughter came out kicking and screaming, fierce as all get-out.

Jack’s warm, salty tears mixed with yours as he pressed his forehead against yours, cradling his girls once your daughter was placed on your chest.

“I love you both so much.”

Ellie was so excited to meet her younger sister.

“I can paint her nails too!” She skipped around the delivery room.

“Eventually, yes baby,” You promised as you hugged your first born. Jack cradled the baby against his bare chest. He looked at her like she hung the stars, so much love and adoration in his glassy eyes.

Jacob was not as pleased. You and your husband had to have the difficult Having a new baby doesn’t mean we love you any less conversation. Reasoning with the toddler was not very successful.

“Do you want to help decorate her nursery?” Jack bargained. Jacob pondered the offer before his tiny little face scrunched with determination.

“Only if there can be dinosaurs!”

“Yeah, buddy. We can get some dinosaurs in the nursery,” Jack chuckled and you agreed, eyes fluttering shut as you finally drifted off to sleep.

Jack Abbot was protective of his family. If you said you didn’t want visitors for the first 24 hours, he would set up a blockade outside the door to keep anyone from entering. 

Robby, Heather, and Dana were respectful of your wishes. Baby Cassie was born at 14:06 on a Tuesday. The following Wednesday, at 14:07, a knock sounded at the door.

In rolled the Pitt staff with more flowers and balloons than the room could accommodate.

Most importantly, Robby had your favorite order from McDonald’s grasped in his hand. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Cassie had just finished feeding and was down for a nap. Nobody dared to disturb the infant, but they all cooed at the swaddled baby in her bassinet.

One thing was for certain—the Abbot children would always know love.

a/n: I'm so glad ppl love the Abbot family as much as I do :) Please let me know what you think! Reblogs & comments keep me motivated <3

master list | post notifications @thesewordsxupdates

[cuntyji]

ib by @bogactivity's artwork, cross-posted on ao3

dumbass boyfriend! sukuna who takes time out of his day to groom his nails (clip, file and paint) after you expressed your discomfort of the sound of his nails scratching on every surface including his ipad screen (ouch). he thinks of it as your way of neutering him, because really, a king clipping his claws? it feels like an insult. regardless, he does it.

he does not expect to enjoy it so much.

he knows you don't have the luxury of time or money to get your nails done everyday, so he makes good use of his ipad's screen time and searches up ways to paint one's nails in different manners. he sticks to his regular black of course, but sometimes if you focus hard enough you'll see a matte finish on his nails.

it's a comical sight to come back to your boyfriend soon to be husband sprawled on a couch that seems miniscule under his weight as he uses one right hand to cut and file his left hand's nails, and vice versa to paint his third and fourth hands (following a youtube tutorial titled how to get gel nails at home in just seven steps! - simple & affordable for beginners).

dumbass boyfriend! sukuna who finally looks up from his ipad screen and notes your arrival, asking you what took you so long - there are nails to be painted, more specifically, your nails.

dumbass boyfriend! sukuna who is gifted a nail-care set for your next anniversary, and the two of you get matching - yes, matching - nails done for the special day.

dumbass boyfriend! sukuna who becomes a regular at your favorite nail salon alongside you, and on listening to everybody's gossip, offers to blow up any and all offenders heads (including the cheating boyfriend of his usual nail artist and the shitty mother in law of your nail artist).

dumbass boyfriend! sukuna who becomes a trending pin on pinterest and every artist's favorite reference picture the minute you upload a picture of you and sukuna's matching manicure. the difference in your hand sizes is enough to make people gush and scream "me and who?" much to sukuna's confusion.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀 (Anon)

Daddy: Did you know a fetus can taste what the mother eats?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: Did you know the placenta produces more estrogen in a day than a non-pregnant person in three years?

Father Time: Why are you like this?

Daddy: Because she’s glowing. 😏

Father Time: What are you implying?

Daddy: [Attachment: blurry pic of you asleep, hand on bump]

Father Time: Delete that.

Daddy: I refuse to be censored. Did you know pregnancy can cause increased vaginal lubrication?

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: If someone were to—apply that information correctly—

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: It’s for science. 😏

Father Time: You're why science gets a bad name.

---

Daddy: Also, clitoral enlargement during pregnancy is a thing.

Father Time: No.

Daddy: Bet you're thinking about it now.

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: But what if—

Father Time: You’re on thin ice.

Daddy: …I could feel it through the sheets.

Father Time: Neutering you is back on the table.

Daddy: 😳

Father Time: Pregnancy increases cervix sensitivity by 200%.

Daddy: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS.

Father Time: You started it.

Daddy: I was flirting. You’re citing sources.

---

Daddy: I think she got bigger.

Father Time: That’s generally how pregnancy works.

Daddy: No, like... I had a religious experience.

Father Time: You need a therapist.

Daddy: We already have one. She thinks you need a therapist.

Father Time: She's not wrong.

---

Father Time: She made that face again.

Daddy: The “I’m going to ruin you” face?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Father Time: You’re sick.

Daddy: You’re attracted.

Father Time: I didn’t say that.

Daddy: You didn’t deny it.

---

Father Time: She sighed in her sleep.

Daddy: Was it a sexy sigh?

Father Time: Why does that matter?

Daddy: Because I heard it through the wall and I haven't recovered.

Father Time: Get a grip.

Daddy: I have a grip. On nothing. Because I’m being respectful.

---

Daddy: I walked in. She was doing yoga.

Father Time: …and?

Daddy: Downward dog.

Father Time: You're pathetic.

Daddy: You weren’t even in the room and you’re sweating.

Father Time: [Seen 11:24 PM]

---

Daddy: She came out in your shirt.

Father Time: …Which shirt.

Daddy: The white one. No bra. Wet from the shower. It’s transparent when wet.

Father Time: Do not elaborate.

Daddy: I saw heaven and hell simultaneously.

---

Daddy: She said my name in her sleep.

Father Time: She said mine yesterday.

Daddy: …Do you think she has a favorite?

Father Time: If you ask her, you’ll die.

---

Father Time: Did you know the cervix produces natural anesthesia during labor?

Daddy: …Like numbing cream?

Father Time: Endorphins. It can override the pain entirely.

Daddy: So it’s like… euphoric pain?

Father Time: In rare cases, it leads to orgasm during childbirth.

Daddy: I’m calling the Vatican.

---

Father Time: Blood flow to the pelvis increases 30%.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Heightened arousal. Pressure. Release.

Daddy: KENTO.

Father Time: I'm just explaining the biology.

Daddy: You're explaining my kink.

---

Father Time: Vaginal elasticity increases.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Meaning the body is more capable of accommodating

Daddy: DO NOT FINISH THAT.

Father Time: You’re the one who started this.

Daddy: You're the one talking about accommodation like a hotel brochure.

---

Daddy: Status?

Father Time: Sleeping. [Attachment: peaceful pic of you curled on your side]

Daddy: She looks like she’s dreaming of stabbing us.

Father Time: Possibly. Still beautiful.

---

Daddy: She ate five burgers.

Father Time: Good. She needs the calories.

Daddy: She made eye contact during the last bite. It felt threatening.

Father Time: Sounds accurate.

---

Father Time: Her back hurts.

Daddy: So does mine.

Father Time: Not the same.

Daddy: Emotionally, it is.

Father Time: You're a clown.

---

Daddy: Her boobs.

Father Time: Don’t.

Daddy: They exist, Nanami. And they are not playing fair.

Father Time: I’m blocking you.

Daddy: She was cutting watermelon. Sweating. Arms flexing.

Father Time: I'm regretting everything.

---

Father Time: Her feet are swelling.

Daddy: And her thighs are looking—

Father Time: Don’t say it.

Daddy: Juicy.

Father Time: You’re a menace.

Daddy: Takes one to text one.

---

Daddy: She wore the sundress.

Father Time: Mm.

Daddy: With the slit.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: It moved, Nanami.

Father Time: We're in public.

Daddy: You looked.

Father Time: I never said I didn’t.

---

Father Time: She cried over melted ice cream.

Daddy: And you still went back for more.

Father Time: Obviously.

Daddy: You’re going soft.

Father Time: You’ve always been soft.

Daddy: I’m crying right now.

Father Time: Me too.

---

Daddy: She looks huge now.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: We’re almost there.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: I’m scared.

Father Time: Same.

Daddy: But I think we’ll be okay.

Father Time: We will.

---

A/N:

Comment something, I like reading comments.

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Next Chapter likely tomorrow.

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[jame7t]

Hi timblr. Rare #Serious ask from me: how would you introduce a third cat to an existing pair of cats?

My existing cats, keyes and Misty, don’t really get along, but they’re not trying to kill each other or anything. They’re mostly just annoyed by each others presence. They play chase sometimes and scream meow, but for the most part that’s just because Misty starts shit she can’t finish.

(Keyes on the left, Misty on the right- keyes is a snuggler.)

Unfortunately for me, the other night I discovered a very cute and friendly kitty named Pickup Truuuck

This little beastie is very cute and soft and soft. Incredibly friendly too. Potential snuggler, not sure yet. However he is now safely contained at the vet, having been dropped off. Tuesday, if he has no owners, we can call back and adopt him.

SO: my plan, is to keep Pickup in my room downstairs, closed off from the rest of the house: and slowly associate each cat’s smell with positive experiences with each other. Giving them treats when showing them toys the other player with, working up to having them eat outside the door to each others room.

Eventually, after a week or two, I’d introduce them with supervision (and a cage between them I think) giving them both treats when they hang out politely. I feel like this is the safest and best way to introduce a new lil beastie?

The additional bonus is that my cats usually aren’t allowed in my rooms anyway- it won’t really register as an intruder on their territory at first, im hoping. I mainly need to convince them all they’re buddies and nobody is a threat to anyone, and I think pickup and keyes might really get along. All cats are neutered so there should be no pee pee boy incidents.

Any additional tips ?

[latinare]

is there a way to turn words gender-neutral in latin rather than masc or fem?

Latin does have a third grammatical gender, neuter. It feels very weird to use it for a person because it's just never done; in English there's strong precedent for "they" as a singular pronoun when you don't know the subject's gender, but in Latin if you don't know you typically default to the masculine. Which probably says a lot about the Ancient Roman worldview...

That's not to say we can't change things! I think I'll probably go with neuter when I know someone uses "they", and keep using masculine or feminine when I don't know, because that makes sense in my weird little brain. I'd love to know how others approach this, though.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 9

The reveal pt 2

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

~

The next morning, before dawn, Chan gently shook me awake.  “Good morning, lovie.”

Groaning, I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head, not ready to be awake.  I’m warm and comfortable, no way is Chan going to get me out of this bed.  Sadistic bastard!

“Up, up, up!  We have a couple hours before the live.  We need to agree on a track list and get practicing.”

“Fuck you and your fucking track list.”  I snapped.

Someone cackled.  “You made her shit list, Hyung.”  I.N said amused.

“Yeah, yeah.  I can be on any list you want, as long as you get up and get ready.”  Chan dismissed shoving at my hip again so I couldn’t fall back asleep.

With a frustrated sigh I uncovered my head.  “I will find a way to get you back for this.”  I promised darkly.

“You can’t do that if you’re still in bed!”  Chan’s voice faded as he left the room.

Rolling onto my back I took a minute to rub the sleep from my face and attempt to wake my sluggish brain up.  A task that currently felt like an uphill battle I was losing.

“I’d say you get used to it, but you really, really don’t.”  I.N said.

“Mm.  Where is everyone else?”

“Getting dressed, eating breakfast.”

Slowly I sat up and opened my eyes.  Only to immediately squeeze them shut again.  The room was bright.  Too bright.  It stung my sensitive eyes and only added to my misery.  The first full day of being Stray Kids Alpha was already proving difficult and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

“I need a gallon of coffee.”  I declared.

There was a shuffle and I.N kissed my hairline.  “We can stop somewhere on the way.”

As soon as I could open my eyes I freshened up and put on the first clothes my fingers touched.  Zero brainpower to plan an outfit and look cute.  Not happening today.

When I met up with the others, Lee Know handed me a granola bar and Felix twisted my hair up into a baseball cap.  Changbin helped me put on an oversized hoodie and black face mask.  Still half asleep I just moved where they wanted me without complaint.  In the back of my mind I registered that they were helping me hide my identity and scent until the live later.  Something it hasn’t occurred to my sleepy brain to do when I got dressed.

“Care you even awake?”  Changbin asked when I rocked off balance.

I looked at him through one open eye.  “Coffee.  Please.”  I breathed through the face mask hiding my identity from the world.

“We can manage that.  Let’s go, cars ready.”  Chan informed picking up the bags sitting at his feet and heading to the door.  I stumbled after him almost blindly, eyes unwilling to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time.

After I bumped into the third wall, I felt Hyunjin place his warm hands on my upper arms and start steering me.  Keeping me from bumping into any more obstacles.

Once in the car I leaned on the nearest shoulder and immediately dozed off.  Since it was still so early the Omegas were pretty quiet.  Only talking lowly amongst themselves.  The murmur was a pleasant lullaby.

Gentle finders brushed hair from my temple and stroked over the exposed apple of my left cheek.  “Wake me up one more time, Chan, and I will neuter you.”  I growled.

A puff of air hit me as Hyunjin laughed.  “It’s me.  Sorry, we need your coffee order.”

This roused me and I opened my eyes.  Hyunjin was crouched in front of me with a soft fond look on his face.  “Coffee?”

He smiled brightly at me.  “Yes.  Coffee.  What would you like?”

As soon as there was a hot coffee in my hands, I started to feel like a human again.  The smell and hot steam helped me keep my eyes open while I waited for the drink to cool off enough to drink.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”  Changbin teased.

I shook my head, testing my coffee.  Still too hot.  “Not yet.”  I answered roughly.

It was only a couple more minutes before the car stopped at a sheltered back entrance of JYPE.

“Wait!  Mask, Y/n.”  Chan reminded when I slid toward the door.

“Oh, right.  Thanks.”  I replied pulling the mask back into place.

Apparently, conference rooms are pretty much the same no matter what country you are in.  Long table with chairs all around, large white board covering one wall, huge TV on another, A conference phone smack dab in the middle of the table.  As well as the group company photo squeezed into a random patch of wall, everyone wearing matching shirts.

There were several people already in the room when we arrived.  I stopped in the doorway and looked to Chan wide eyes.  I hadn’t thought about anyone else being here and my first instinct was to leave before they saw or smelled me.

Chan smiled and reached for me.  “It’s okay, Y/n.  This is our manager, the set manager, and sound master.  They won’t bite.

I nodded and waved at the 3 Betas holding my coffee cup in front of me like a caffeine shield.  They nodded back, politely uninterested in my presence.  I sighed silently, relieved.

I wheeled one of the chairs into a corner out of the way and curled up into it, cradling my coffee as I sipped at it.  I watched as everyone settled in, more animated and loud now that they were more awake.

Everyone looked soft and cozy.  Hair product free and floofy, comfortable clothing, no makeup.  I kind of liked them like this.  Just people and not idols.  These were my Omegas in their ‘true’ form so to speak.

I had no idea what to expect in a meeting like this.  I was insanely curious about this part of the process.  What went into the songs they picked to perform.  How the set theme was decided.  How they came up with the absolutely amazing sets and performances.  As a fan you never really got a complete explanation for any of this.

That being said, it wasn’t long before they started speaking in terms I didn’t understand.  I got bored pretty quickly after that.

So instead, I pulled out my phone and caught up on all the Stray Kids stuff I avoided when I was gone.  And started the process of officially moving.  Canceling my mail, getting my appointments canceled, changing accounts to my new Korea address.  I needed to make lists, I know I am forgetting things.

Most importantly I need a Korean phone plan, because the overseas charges on my current plan were absolutely outrageous!  I don’t know the first thing about Korean phone plans or companies.  Does Verizon exist here?  It had too.  Verizon exists everywhere, right?

Felix must have gotten bored because he pulled my chair close to his and started to watch what I was doing over my shoulder.  I glanced up, pretty sure he is supposed to be paying attention, but Chris seemed to pretty much be handling everything.  The others interjecting occasionally.

“We can just put you on our plan.”  Felix whispered to me in his Australian accented English.

“Youre all on the same plan?”  I never thought about their phone plan.

“Yeah, the company pays for it and has all the information in case we get hacked or something.”

Oh, the company.  “No, I’ll just get my own plan.”

“Why?”

“I’m not with the company.  Im with you guys.  I don’t feel comfortable having the company pay my bills.”

“Its not like you haven’t earned it.  Besides, they will need the information for you too in case you get hacked or lose your phone.”

Saying I ‘earned it’ felt too much like I was being paid to be their Alpha, and that felt gross.  I made a face, but didn’t respond to him.  This wasn’t the time or place for this conversation.

However, it did remind me that I needed to find some way to make money.  No way in hell would I be depending on the boys financially like that.  They aren’t my sugar daddies and im not a gold digger.

I only needed a short-term solution.  Just until I am forced to sign a contract with the company and they ‘strongly suggest’ becoming a brand ambassador or to do a commercial or something like that.  I need something to hold me over until I ultimately end up working for JYPE.  It was only a matter of time.

The meeting blissfully wrapped up quickly after our short conversation.  And with a track list decided, it was time to start refreshing themselves on the lyrics and dances.  So, we moved to a practice studio in another part of the building.

I.N handed me a familiar black bag as I made myself comfortable in the back corner of the room.  I looked at him with wide eyes.  “My camera?  You brought it for me?”  It was amazingly nice of him.  My camera is a part of me and I usually don’t go anywhere without it, but I was too tired this morning to think of grabbing it.

He shrugged, trying to play it off.  “Figured you would be less bored if you could take photos.”

I pulled him down into a hug, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him tight.  Cuteness aggression is a very real thing.

“Alright, alright!  Enough!”  He complained pulling away, cheeks dusted a light pink and avoiding my eyes.

I giggled and dug into my bag.  Everything I could need is here.  I was unbelievably excited to get some shots of the Omegas.  And having something to do will pass the time quicker.

Standing up I took a few test pictures to adjust for lighting and quality.

As they did their thing I snapped action shots of each of them, doing my best to stay out of the way.

Stray Kids, being the gremlins they were, started to make overexaggerated silly faces.  There was even some rude gestures thrown in here and there.  I smiled at their antics, not deterred in the slightest.

As everyone rested and got some water, Chan approached me.  “Since this is an official live with announcements, they are going to want to do hair, makeup, and outfits.”  He warned.

I wrinkled my nose, but already suspected as much.  “Okay.  I look like shit today anyways, so that’s probably a good thing.”

He flicked my ear lightly.  “Stop.  You look lovely.”

I rolled my eyes and swatted at the offending hand.  “Whatever you say.  When is this makeover?”

“We will head over when everyone has had a chance to rest.”

“Ill pack up then.”  I nodded to the camera in my hands.

Hair, makeup, and wardrobe was an overwhelming experience.  At any given moment I had 2-3 people surrounding me.  Poking, pulling, and prodding all over.  My face was plastered, my hair yanked and gooped.  And at one point I swear I saw the metallic flash of a pair of scissors.

The room itself is loud and chaotic.  People yelled and rushed around everywhere.  All the overstimulation was starting to get to me.  I felt my patience growing short and my muscles get tense.  The lights started to give me a headache and the voices made my ears ring and all blended together.  I scratched my arms to try and relieve the symptoms.  To have one strong thing to focus on so the others were less intense.  It was something I have done since I was a baby, and I have never been able to break the need when the overstimulation gets too bad.  During college I had to wear thick hoodies during mid terms and finals because if I didn’t, I would scratch so much I would bleed.

Gentle hands stilled my own and I refocused.  Hand soothed my burning arms by rubbing them softly.  They were bright red now.  “Its okay.”  He whispered understandingly but still concerned.

I sighed heavily, thankful for the reprieve.  He must have shooed everyone off when he noticed my distress.  “I’m sorry.  I’m – it’s a lot”

He nodded and fished into his pocket.  He fitted a pair of earbuds in my ears.  “This may help.”  He said as he scrolled through his phone for a few seconds before Gods Menu started to play.  Something nondestructive for my mind to focus on.  I nodded and smiled my thanks.

Han left and the people for styling converged again.  Guess they only stepped away long enough for Han to help me before continuing their work.  It was much easier to deal with now as Gods Menu ended and Side Effects started.

When everything was complete and I looked acceptable enough to be seen as Stray Kids’ Alpha I stood and looked at myself in the mirror.  The sight made me sigh in defeat.  I didn’t look like me.

The clothes were expensive looking and not my usual comfy style.  My hair, usually just left alone or pulled into a messy bun was curled and styled perfectly in place.  It was a couple inches shorter now too.  And ive never been one for makeup.  Never had a knack for applying it and didn’t like how I looked in it.  Now, though natural looking, makeup was applied in such a way that it changed the shapes of my face.  Nose shaded to look more angular and petite.  Eyes made to look bigger and rounder.  Cheeks and chin sharper.  I was a different person.

“You don’t look very happy.”  Chan observed.

I sighed and removed the earbuds.  “They did a great job.”  Its true, the work was exquisite.  Flawless even.

“But?”  He prompted.

My lips twisted and I looked back at the mirror.  “I don’t look like me anymore.”  I closed my eyes against a heavy sense of loss.  I shouldn’t complain.  “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

I knew this was coming.  That I would lose who I was.  That they would change me.  I just…I guess I just wasn’t as prepared for it as I thought.  I expected it to take longer.  That it would be slower, piece by piece over time.  This felt like all at once.  I lifted my hand to mess with my hair, but caught myself and lowered it again with a hum.

Chan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close, rubbing my upper arm.  “We will have them dial it back next time.”  He promised.

“And we can teach you makeup at home too, so we can find a happy medium.”  Seungmin added joining us at the mirror.

“Don’t worry.  Ill be fine.  I was expecting this.”  I straighten and pull myself together.  This was fine.  I looked beautiful.  Flawless.  Worthy to stand next to Stray Kids proudly.

“Y/n, we don’t want to change who you are.  You’re perfectly fine as you are.”  Chan said.

“I’m not though, am I?”  It was a rhetorical question.  We all knew I wasn’t even close to good looking enough on my own to be seen with gods such as them.

We were summoned away before either male could reply.

My nerves about the live and subsequently the reveal, previously forgotten when I became overstimulated, then saw myself in the mirror, returned full force.  Millions of people are about to watch me on live and find out im an Alpha.  They will know my face.  I'll be plastered all over the internet.

What if I made a fool of myself?  Or said the wrong thing?  What if I embarrassed the boys?  Ruined their reputation?  Or worse yet, turned STAY against them?  So much could go wrong.

The live setting was familiar.  A living room set up that they had used before on past lives and videos.

“You look ready to vomit.”  JYP said from behind me.

I spun around, excited.  I didn’t expect J to show up today.  “J!  what are you doing here?”  I threw my arms around him.

“Its your reveal day, I didn’t want to miss it.”  He replied patting my back.

I smiled at him, thankful for his comforting fatherly presence.  Someone who had secretly been watching over me my whole life.  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me now.  It would ruin all his hard work.

“Don’t let me say anything stupid, please.”  I requested wringing my hands.

J chuckled.  “Sorry, hun, but your bound to put your foot in your mouth eventually.”

I groaned and bounced a little to try and relieve some anxiety.  “Ooh, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.  Just be yourself.  Stray Kids have always been authentic and chaotic, so fans are used to that.  They like that.”  JYP reminded me.  It was true.  They weren’t fake and genuinely cared about what they do and their fans.  “Just flow with the conversation.  They will lead you, guide you.”

I nodded and turned towards the set again.  Lee Know was at a mounted tablet set up for the live on a tripod.  He tapped a few buttons on the screen.

“Okay.  We are live.”  He announced before moving to take his seat next to Han on one of the couches.

There wasn't enough air in the room.

~

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl

[kafka-ish]

obsessed | a.d.

patrick has a new girlfriend; art has a new obsession

word count: 2.7k

warnings: fem!reader, toxic!art, general nsfw content (18+)

-

"yes, yes, yes. god, tashi you feel so good."

"pat," you manage in between thrusts.

"that's not my name. and you know it." art punctuates the point in which he wants to make by sliding his dick even deeper into your cunt.

"patrick," you moan again. this time, earning yourself the promise of an orgasm. when art gets turned on he can't stop, can't turn it off. not until he's done. and he almost is. you can tell by way of his movements that are getting sloppier by the second. he's about to finish, whether or not he has a say in it, whether or not he can help it — of course, he can't and now he's about to bring the both of you the release you’ve so been craving.

he's the same when he plays tennis, you've noticed. all that pent up emotion and energy needs an outlet. it's what allows him to demolish his opponents.

and you, at the moment. he's rutting into you the way rabbits do to make babies, the way a puppy would against a pillow before getting neutered or spayed. he's an animal with pure, unadulterated adrenaline running through him and you can feel it. it’s as if he's transferring it to you just from being inside, using your pussy to pump his cock, not even bothering to fully pull out and ram back in without giving you time to adjust. instead he humps you, fast. slides in, in, in until his dick is kissing your cervix.

"i'm close, pat. i'm close."

“i know. can feel it. i am too,” art pants. “fuck.” he isn’t even able to pull out in time, too wrapped up in the feeling of you wrapped around him, the heat of the situation, what this new dynamic is doing to him.

okay, maybe it was a little sick. roleplaying like this. but it’s what art wanted. he was the one who made the proposition; you were just going along with it.

patrick has a new girlfriend. tashi duncan. she’s stunning — all legs and elegance. has the ability to take your breath away with just one look at her image. she's also really fucking good at tennis.

as if art didn’t have enough problems. already, he'd been skipping lectures to work on his serve. now his best friend was prancing up to him, telling him about the date he scored with his favorite girl on the court.

“you’re joking,” art says with his mouth open.

“you wish.”

yeah. art does wish. he wants this whole conversation to be a standup routine that his friend is trying out on him, wants any inkling of the prospect that patrick could be going out with tashi duncan to go away under the guise of some cruel prank. but it doesn’t.

“i asked her out after her game and she said yes. we’re going to some italian place.”

“which one?” art’s eyebrows are raised. he doesn’t even get to process this information by himself, alone, in private. which is what he wants right now so he can get off to his new playboy that just came in. instead, he has to hear about the details of patrick’s date and how long, he wonders, it’ll take for him to get to third base.

“this new spot in L.A. …think she’ll like it?”

“yeah. that sounds nice,” art manages, swallowing down any hint of jealousy his friend might detect on him.

“great.” patrick slaps art on the back. “and hey, tell you all about it later?” he’s wiggling his eyebrows as he says this.

“yeah. great.” art nods, like he’s equally into it. like it doesn’t take everything for him to not strangle his friend. he would tell him to have fun, but he doesn’t. he doesn’t want to wish his friend luck and the furthest thing he wants is for either tashi or patrick to have fun. instead he walks off, making up some excuse about how he has homework for one of his classes and he just remembered but yeah, tell me all about it after.

he’s pissed, still, even after the walk to his dorm. and it’s as if things couldn’t get any worse until they do, when he reaches for his keys in the pocket of his shorts only to realize he either left them on the court or locked himself out of his own home.

he doesn’t go to the front desk, doesn’t bother trying to text his RA to tell them what happened. doesn’t even go back to the court to check if that’s where he left them.

he gets a call. it’s you, his doubles partner. what the hell, sure. he answers.

“hey,” your voice breathes.

"hey," he says, almost a sigh of frustration.

"jeez, donaldson. you good? i didn’t catch you at a bad time, did i?" and you're always so conscious, so observant of other people and how they're feeling, even if they don’t say anything. when the two of you are playing, you're the one to ask if he needs a break. you let him have the snacks you have saved. started bringing extras just for him. you fill up his water bottle when it looks empty. even after having crushed the team you played against, you tell them good game and mean it. "art? i can call back if-"

"no, it’s okay. what's up?" and he realizes how much of an idiot he looks like, standing outside his own door, on the phone. hand in his pocket like if he keeps feeling around the lining it will summon the key he’s missing.

"i was wondering if you'd be down to hit the gym. get some sets in?"

"funny, i just got back from doing exactly that."

"oh. that's fine. we can-"

"actually, can i come over?"

art's question catches you off guard. you've never hung out with each other alone for reasons other than hitting a ball with a racket. you don't even think he's been to your dorm before this.

"oh, um. yeah. sure."

"okay. cool. great. i'll call you when i'm there." and he's about to hang up when he hears your voice come through the other end once more:

"art?"

"hm?"

"do you need my address?" you giggle into the speaker.

and it only takes five minutes for art to confirm that he’s true to his word. he calls you when he reaches the front of your building and you dash down the stairs to let him in.

“hi,” you say, shy upon seeing his face. he’s gorgeous, as always. even when he’s all sweaty from practicing his backhand. his curls are all messy and he’s trying to hide how irritated he is.

“hi,” art repeats.

you let him in; he follows you upstairs and into your room where he wanders in without waiting.

“so this is it,” you tell him, a little abashed when you open your door for him, now able to see the inside of your being, it seems. especially while he drinks in all the details of your arrangement: the posters you pinned up, the way your sweaters are sorted in your closet. your textbook is laid open to the chapter you were in the middle of reading; on top of it sits your notebook. your handwriting is haphazard, messy.

“sorry, i didn’t have much of a chance to clean,” you tell him, closing the notebook. “i didn’t realize you were so close.”

art doesn’t say anything and you wonder if you should be worried.

“do you want to watch a movie? i just got Bring It On on DVD.” you’re about to go get it from one of your drawers until he stops you. his hand takes yours before you can turn. he catches your jaw with his free palm. traces the distance from your neck to your chin with his thumb; his mouth is on yours before you can say something.

and you’re not sure if this is actually happening. if you’re actually kissing art donaldson. this past hour has been a whirlwind but you figure you should take it because he’s patrick’s best friend and maybe this will be the closest to him you’ll ever get.

his lips on yours feel desperate, a hungry attempt for salvation. but also, like he needs this. and maybe you need it too. so you lean into it. let him have this moment. melt into his touch, just a little, though it isn’t especially hard considering.

but he pulls himself off once you’ve gotten used to the feeling of your mouth working against his.

“sorry, that was… sorry.” he’s shaking his head, ashamed of what he’s just done. his grandmother didn’t raise him to not ask permission.

“no, that was-”

“patrick’s going out with tashi. tonight.” the words come out of art’s mouth like that. a slip. he has no control over his actions or anything he says.

“oh.” you wonder if your crush on his best friend is that obvious; if that’s why art asked to come over in the first place. to tell you. the kiss was just to soften the blow. padding for the inevitable, terrible.

but you also know about the crush your doubles partner has been harboring. you see the way he looks at tashi when she’s about to send her opponent into oblivion. the way he looks at her from across the court, preparing for her matches. he’s her number one fan, not patrick.

“yeah,” art breathes back. a similar note of disappointment hangs in his verbiage.

neither of you say anything following the hurt sentiment. you can’t. not with your lips newly attached to his. he’s taken aback at the fact that you’re the one to initiate it, surprised he’s even still here, surprised you haven’t kicked him out yet.

and it’s different from the first one you shared with him. it’s soft, gentle. an apology and a requiem all at once. already, he misses your touch even though the two of your lips are still locked and your body language hasn’t said anything else. you’d pull apart only to say sorry, that was sudden but you don’t because you’re not.

his teeth find your flesh and they bite down on the fullest part of your lip, hard. any more pressure and he’d be drawing blood, you think. but he doesn’t and you like it, opening your mouth for him to thrust his tongue in. he licks over your teeth, wanting to explore every inch of the inside of your cheek.

and before either of you realize it, your back is flush against your twin XL mattress. he’s on top, pinning you down, still trying to find relinquishment, trying to rid himself of the ugly feelings about tashi and patrick that are still clinging onto him through the harsh action. it doesn’t even feel intimate. like just another one of your shared workout sessions. his hips are grinding into yours and while both of you revel in the friction the movement offers it’s not enough, still.

“tashi,” he moans. he doesn’t even register the fact that the name he calls out isn’t yours.

but for some reason, it doesn't bother you. at least, not as much as it should. maybe because you both are hurt; you both are using each other. art just isn't beating around the bush.

so it made sense in the moment. it made sense for you to call him patrick instead. it made sense to art too, when he hears his best friend's name fall from your lips. and neither of you stop to think about how wrong this is. rather, you relish it. this unspoken agreement has you wetter than you ever anticipated, has art harder than he would be if it were actually tashi under him.

finally, your hand finds purchase on the elastic of his waistband. you don't waste any time trying to tease him, dragging jersey down with a sense of immediacy. think you'll die if you don't get to see him — feel him — immediately.

you tug his boxers down with them and replacing the feeling of fabric is your grip on him. he's smooth, bigger than you expected. the tip of his dick is weeping and it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

you remove your palm for a brief second. spit in it, then resume the position it was in.

“fuck,” he seethes at the contact. uses the hand that’s not holding him up to trail the opening of your shorts and push aside your panties. his thumb runs against your soaked cunt as — “fuck,” — he tries to find your clit to press and rub circles on.

the two of you keep at that position: hands on each other, getting off one another with your clothed bodies pressed together. you finally find a pace that’s satisfying for you both. this is until art removes his hand from your shorts to take yours, wrapping around his girth.

“need to feel you,” he groans, voice barely above a whisper.

you brush your fingers against his lips while he tries pressing a kiss onto yours. he’s in the middle of pulling down your shorts but you want him to taste himself first.

and now you’re the one to groan. the sight of his mouth around your fingers. the feeling of his tongue tracing them. the thought of him lapping up his precum. it's all too much. almost has you coming undone all at once. art senses this from your facial expression and says, “c’mon tash, just a little longer. you can hold out, yeah?”

you nod lamely but the only thing you can think of is how much you need him. all you can feel is your cunt aching. you grind your hips against his in a futile attempt to get him to notice, to try and relieve yourself with something.

and he does. “you want it?” he teases, dragging his dick against the slick of your swollen pussy. his breaths become more uneven and for a split second you wonder if he wants it more and he’s just putting on a show, going through the motions of what he’s seen on porn.

but you’ll humor him; you think if he doesn’t put it in you might explode.

“yes,” you tell him breathlessly. the syllable squeaks out in between labored inhales.

“how much?” he’s nudging the tip against your entrance. it’s as if he’s a vampire and can’t enter unless you invite him in, give him permission.

“please, patrick. need you so much.”

it only takes that first thrust for you to feel your climax building. but you both are athletes; art, especially, has the stamina of one. it’s almost impressive, considering your previous hook ups.

each pump is deeper than the last, still keeping with the rhythm in which he rocks you on his dick. your eyes flutter at the sensation, the feeling of every inch stretching you out, eventually penetrating your sweet spot.

it’s not until you feel art’s fingers pull your chin to meet his face. until he tells you, i want to see that pretty face when you finish. until you’re trapped under his ice cold gaze that you realize he’s being serious, which allows yourself to cum around him.

and he takes that as his signal. pulls out. finishes from stroking his dick over your stomach. fluid spills onto the exposed part of your abdomen but he doesn't bother getting up to clean it off — not yet. he makes sure to paint your lips with the residue caught on his fingers.

you open up your mouth once you realize what he wants. attach your lips around his digits, the same way you would if you were to blow him. your tongue traces along the indentations of his index and middle finger and he uses this as an opportunity to shove them down your throat further.

you wrap your leg around his waist, drawing him into yours where he collapses. the two of you stay like that, silent. neither of you want to address what just happened. but it'll happen again because you need this. and maybe it's sick but so is the thought of tashi dating patrick and vice versa.

[lovelizards]

"Now, Meres, can you tell me what it is you've done wrong?"

The weight of the slender man's legs as they crossed at the ankles and rested on Meres' shoulder was nothing compared to the intense pressure he felt under his master's cold gaze.

How long had it been since he'd been punished?

The moments where he found himself on his knees begging for forgiveness were few and far between in the last few years.

Since he was broken in, Meres had always been a good dog.

No matter what the order was, no matter how fraught his sleep was with the nightmares of things he'd been forced to do, he had done them without questioning.

"Meres." The slender man spat his name like an insult.

"F - forgive me, my lord, I -"

"I asked what you did wrong. I'm waiting for your answer."

"Ah, forgive me, I - I -" Meres hesitated, because the answer wasn't exactly as clear as he thought it was. Should he just apologise for everything all at once? Surely the punishment would be easier if he just got it all out and admitted his mistakes.

The slender man sighed, nudging his head with the side of a shoe.

"You've never been the brightest dog, but must I really repeat myself a third time? Don't you know you shouldn't do things you'll have to ask forgiveness for in the first place?"

"Y - yes, of course, my lord...I - I have been hesitant in following your orders. And - and I've been too familiar with your possessions. And - "

The slender man interrupted him with a kick to the face.

It was the shock of pain rather than the force of it that knocked him, unbalanced, onto his back. Hot blood streamed from his nose and he coughed on it.

With a heavy sigh, the slender man stood up, and put pressure against one of his legs with the flat of his shoe, straining the muscle. Meres grimaced against the pain, but dare not utter a sound.

"Usually I wouldn't care about a neutered dog playing with some wild bird, but it seems like that filthy thing is a bad influence on you."

"A - a bad -?" Meres coughed, "No, she - Iska isn't -"

"Don't you know how cunning a mage is, Meres?" The slender man's tone softened, "they will say and do anything for their own benefit. Did you suppose breaking the tether I have on you would win her over? That the two of you might run off to a happily ever after?"

Meres didn't dare meet the man's eyes.

It was true that he'd been trying to fight against the enchantment.

Iska had said only the weak-willed could be controlled. She...had believed in him, that he could fight it. The arcane mind control that sometimes blinded him and caused him to lose hours, days at a time in a haze -

He had thought if he could break it, maybe...maybe they could...together...

But the slender man knew, he always knew. There was no escaping him.

"Forgive me, my lord...it - it wasn't because of her, I - I get headaches...that's the only reason..."

Meres did his best, but the fear made his voice break. It felt impossible to craft any kind of lie in front of his master.

"You poor, sad beast..." the slender man sighed, "I can see that mage has truly gotten her talons into you."

"N - no, my lord, it isn't like that - I - I only - aagh!"

The slender man gripped Meres' face tightly, his palm flat against Meres' eyes and fingers pressing painfully against his temples.

"Listen to me well, Meres. Are you listening?" The slender man tightened his grasp and caused a shooting pain to rocket through Meres' head.

"Agh - y - yes, I - I'm listening my lord -"

"There is nothing for you in the world except serving me. What would you be without me? I gave you what pittance of magic you were able to absorb. I gave you a purpose. You were nothing when I found you, and you'll be nothing again if you ever were to leave."

The slender man's words rang and echoed strangely in his head, humming almost like a song, tolling low like a bell.

Meres clenched his teeth against it, but with his eyes forced closed there was nothing he could do to distract himself from it.

"That mage's very blood flows pure with mana, she is a mage the likes of which you could never begin to imagine. Even when I break her, she will still be more than a pathetic mutt like you."

The slender man was right. Meres was nothing. Not strong enough to defend himself. Not strong enough to break the mind control. Only as good as his strength. Nothing...nothing...

"A powerful mage..." Meres mumbled, feeling a strange numbness in his fingers, "Iska is..."

Iska...Iska...the name echoed again and again in his mind.

Somewhere, swimming in the fog, like a weak flickering light against a darkness, he found her face. The soft of her lips, the brush of her fingers, her sharp eyes and her voice like a melody when it called his name.

"Poor Meres," the slender man said gently, "so strong of body, yet so weak of mind..."

"Yes...I - I am weak. Forgive me, my lord...I never meant to..."

The slender man slowly pulled his hand away, but Meres kept his eyes closed. He wanted to keep the image of Iska in his mind for as long as he could.

The only light he had ever known in this cold, dark place.

"Retire to your room. I am busy now, your punishment will come later."

"Yes, my lord..."

Meres stood, his legs aching. He finally opened his eyes, wincing against the pale white light of day filtering in through the curtains.

He could feel the beat of his own heart, not racing, but drumming a steady march. Maybe...when he told Iska how he'd been fighting against the enchantment...

Maybe she would reach out to him, touch his face gently.

And if they could...somehow...leave this place...

Even if he became nothing, as long as he was by her side...

Then maybe some day he could see her smile at him.

And that would be enough.

『 Previous / Next 』

[dailygondi]

Daily posts so far | Pinned post | View/download the book | All grammar posts | All word posts | All phrase posts | Gondi language on Wikipedia | Three Gondi alphabets on Endangered Alphabets

[legobiwan]

So I find it a little odd that Mario shakes his brother's hand like he's trying to win political office rather than having just been rescued (again) from one of King Boo's paintings at the end of Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon.

But then I was thinking - this might be a kind of instinctual response.

From what we can gather over the three games, being stuck in a painting isn't a passive experience, but one that is disturbing, disorientating, and mostly likely tantamount to torture.

And given King Boo's abilities, who knows what kind of environment he has dropped his victims into with these settings. The landscapes, you might say. There's no definite background in any of the trapped paintings, ghost or otherwise, but it does beg the question of what can be felt, seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by someone who is trapped in a portrait. Does the hunter create the cage, enrichment area and all, or are the trappings beyond the frame (inside the frame) more akin to being trapped within one's mind and all the pitfalls that could emerge from that?

We see three iterations of Mario being freed from the painting in each game. The first being total confusion and possible injury; the second looking like some kind of hallucination, given Luigi's concerned expression; and the third being a form of decorporalization (not a real word, but whatever), as Mario seems shocked to learn he has a body again.

The first might be attributed to King Boo's insistence of straight-up physical torture combined with E. Gadd's more medieval equipment, which had likely been less-than-tested in extracting someone from a portrait. (And if the de-portraiting process was that bad, imagine what it was like for the ghosts going in. No wonder they held a grudge. I love E. Gadd, but oh boi, is he the pinnacle morally ambiguous mad scientist).

Anyway, in the third installment, Mario definitely shows signs of having been disconnected from his physical form, perhaps meaning that his time inside the portrait reduced him to a neutered, mental representation of himself, incapable of fighting back in the real world. But this being said, he seems to recognize Luigi on-site, rushing forward to give him an enthusiastic hug, which is the reaction you'd expect after being freed from a pair of diabolical ghosts, one of whom is trying to thirst-trap the other through psychological torture.

So what's the deal with Mario's reaction in Dark Moon?

My guess is that King Boo trapped Mario in a painting that was a distorted reality, or perhaps a distorted version of Mario's own insecurities. It would account for the disorientation and the fact Mario comes out of the painting gladhanding his own brother like a stranger. (Which would also account for Luigi's concerned reaction - what the hell is my brother doing?)

And you figure, Mario, at this point, is a kind of figurehead, an idol, a hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. It's become his identity, it's who he is, it's what he does and is known for. Of course, part of this role is going around and shaking hands, being present - at least physically - at press conferences and speeches and all the like. The people need a focal point, a representation of their hopes against the violent and numerous incursions upon their land they suffer from outside forces (although in complete transparency, my personal headcanon is that Bowser's kingdom used to be comprised of at least a part of the Mushroom Kingdom, and that that land and sovereignty was stolen through a series of bad treaties by his father and some of the more malicious factions of the Toad Council, thus leading to both the enmity between the kingdoms and some serious economic and trade repercussions in the Darklands, but that's a whole other post.)

Mario must be so used to blindly shaking hands and putting up that front, that character, so much so that he doesn't even think about it anymore, and it's my theory that this is the version of Mario that emerges from the portrait in Dark Moon, perhaps having been wrested from some situation where this almost desperate attempt at approval was manifesting from Mario's own subconscious.

And poor Luigi. You have to wonder if one of his latent fears is becoming another empty face in the adoring crowd surrounding his brother. The Mario that emerges is not 100% connected to the fact he is Luigi's brother, it seems, is just putting on airs and the right words and actions as he may have been trained to do by the Toad Council. (Who, incidentally, are one of my favorite scapegoats in the series). Talk about a nightmare come to life.

It fits, in a way. Mario's first abduction results in physical harm, his second in mental, his third in more of a depersonalization - perhaps a rushed spell enacted by King Boo as he was, by the time of the whole hotel debacle, was far more preoccupied with his idea of trapping Luigi than enacting harm on anyone else beyond imprisonment. Because by the time Luigi's Manion 3 rolls around, King Boo is almost deranged in his obsession with Luigi, and I wouldn't be shocked if his non-existent heart wasn't into the nastier sides of portrait capture when it came to Luigi's friends and family. But oh boi, if he had captured Luigi in one of those paintings - good night, nurse.