#shes also extremely inhuman in her thinking process which is fun

[maskofgabriel]

Warden of Time Ame

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Doctor Who: The Church on Ruby Road Review- A Nice Big Plate of WTF?

So… I have… questions? Many of them aren’t even things I can express in words- they’re just helpless looks of confusion happening in my head and a general, non-specific yearning for answers. I’m not saying I disliked The Church on Ruby Road. I’m not saying I liked it, either. I’m saying that it’s so bafflingly other that I’m not 100% sure how to process my feelings about it. Consequently, this is going to be quite a short review. I mean, when Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle blew me away, I knew exactly what it was I was enjoying and why. When The Star Beast disappointed, I knew exactly why it disappointed me (it felt like a first draft). I don’t even know what emotions I experienced while watching The Church on Ruby Road or if those emotions even have names, so it’s kind of difficult to talk about.

Okay, let’s start with something easy. I like Ncuti Gatwa’s take on the Doctor. That’s something I’m certain about. He’s breezy and bright and- occasionally- a tiny bit bitchy. I think he’s going to be an interesting addition to the line-up. Also, I think it’s really cool and progressive that he’s the first Doctor… WITH A MOUSTACHE! So yeah, he’s a perfectly fine actor for the role. I could have done with a slightly stronger, more sure-footed introduction- something like Ecclestone’s “Run!” or David Tenant just straight up grabbing a Sycorax energy-whip by the business end and yanking it away… but I get that he’s meant to be the fun, easy-going Doctor and I accept that his intro has to suit the character, which means a gradual, laid-back sort of interweaving. So yes: nice work on establishing Fifteen, Ruby Road.

But then there’s the goblins in flying wooden boats. Doctor Who had goblins now, and that’s fine… but they’re never really explained. We’re told they can surf the waves of time, but we’re never told where they came from. Are they just on Earth all the time? Have they always been here? Are they from space? Another dimension? We’re just kind of asked to accept them and the fact that they regularly abduct and eat babies (yet this has somehow never come up before). I mean, I’m okay with goblins, but I’m not sure how I feel about inadequately-explained goblins in a sci-fi show. Doctor Who has every right to be extremely silly- it’s practically in the charter- but there’s a razor-thin line between ‘silly’ and ‘stupid’ and I’m not sure which side of the divide big-eyed mischievous goblins in flying boats fall on. Especially when they start singing.

Ah, yes. Maybe I should have led with that. The goblins sing. And I don’t mean unearthly, alien singing of the kind befitting their essentially inhuman nature, nor even the type of shanties that would match their outfits and flying, old-fashioned sailing ship. No, no. They sing a full-on, carefully-orchestrated and choreographed, extremely catchy pop song… about eating babies. It’s fucking mental. I mean, it’s obviously meant to be funny and it made me laugh… but I’m not sure I was laughing at the intended joke or if I was just having a breakdown in response to seeing something so fucking inexplicable. I mean, when the Celestial Toymaker interrupted The Giggle for a musical number, it made sense. The Toymaker was characterised in such a way that murdering people to music perfectly fitted his character- he’s bloody psychotic. But with the goblins it just comes completely out of left-field.

I thought the overarching themes of family being about more than blood and people forming intricate webs of connection that depend more on love than superficial genetic ties were pretty solid and universal. On the other hand, making new companion Ruby Sunday such an enmeshed part of an adopted family meant her personality didn’t get much chance to come through properly, despite her more-than-ample screen-time. She always felt like a part of something larger- particularly with the fairly extravagant and entertaining personalities of her other family members (one in particular).

I think what’s weird about this episode is that it’s meant to be the start of a soft-reboot with the potential to draw in new fans, yet if you’re not familiar with Doctor Who already, it presents a bit of misleading picture of what the show is. It centres mythic and magical creatures over the show’s more standard cosmic and alien fare or scientific-disaster-style stories, while previous events are referenced with little or no context. As a long-time Who fan (who even forced myself to watch the execrable Chibnall/Whitaker episodes necessary for an appreciation of the plot), I understood what was being alluded to and also knew to make allowances for this being a daft, knock-about Christmas episode that won’t be typical of the season to come. But new fans? They’re likely to be completely bloody lost.

All things considered, I quite liked The Church on Ruby Road- it’s a bit of fun and it’s a reasonably good palette cleanser after the heavier themes of the previous two specials. Plus, it’s just nice to see a new Doctor in action and know he’s going to be good in the role. Does it set out to do what it was meant to do, though (i.e. set out the stall for new Whovians and provide a real flavour of the show? Erm. No. And, however enjoyable it might be overall, its more confusing elements do make me worry about showrunner Russel T. Davies’ mental state. At least we only have to wait until spring to find out just how mad he’s gone.

[jeonggukkiepabo]

HWASAN [MYG] 🐉

SUMMARY: Yoongi, the only dragon hybrid to exist, has done a lot to escape the life he has been put into. He killed those who held him just to run away, to have the chance of living a life he’s been longing to have for years. Even after switching continents, they seem to be after him, hunting him. When he meets you, he knows you’re one of them and there’s only one way to survive - to kill you.

GENRE: smut  🐉 angst  🐉 action  🐉 fluff-ish

WORD COUNT: 11k

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder and blood, violence, Yoongi rides a motorbike, cursing, blowjobs, fingering, Yoongi has claws and fangs, temperature play, his cum tastes different, choking, fighting for dominance, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Yoongi is stubborn but soft, fox hybrid!taehyung and i’m so soft for him

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It is finally here, my part of The Hybrid Collab! I can’t even tell you how excited I am to post this after months of planning. I think everyone agrees with me that the thought of Dragon!Yoongi is too much to handle. I had this idea in my mind for as long as Daechwita has been around now-it just took me a while to write it sksks.

I’d also love to thank  @spicykoreantatertots​ & @yeojaa​ for betaing this fic and helping me with it.  @kimtaehyunq​ Mags, tysm for designing this beautiful banner for me! Also; thanks for listening to my rambling and keeping up with me and this fic. It was so much fun cooperating your Taehyung into it, I love him. :(

NOW LET’S GET STARTED.

Running was all Yoongi had done for months now.  Running away from those he killed.  Running away from those who wanted him to get killed.  Running away from those that held him ever since he was little, that taught him how to fight and kill. Running away from those that made him a murderer. Running away from Kkangpae.

Yoongi hates running (especially running away), but he had no other choice. He had to leave his home country behind and never go back, finding himself a new place to live instead. He should feel guilty,  he regretted all his actions but by now, he only feels relief. 

Kkangpae treated him like a fucking animal, like a worthless pet. He wasn’t treated like any human being should be treated; he didn’t even have a real bed.

All because Yoongi was a dragon hybrid, the rarest hybrid species on earth. 

The lack of volcanoes in South Korea were the reason why Yoongi was highly valuable to the Kkangpae, because active volcanoes were one of the requirements for dragons to get born. As far as Yoongi knows, there’s only one volcano in South Korea: Ch’uga-ryong, a volcano that hasn’t been active for around five hundred years. 

Around that time, the dragon species became extinct due to a natural disaster that Yoongi didn’t know anything about - because he was still sleeping peacefully in his comfortable egg, buried deep beneath the lava. 

Yoongi’s mother, a purebred dragon, died during the catastrophe, and she was not able to protect the egg. Because of this, his body was not able to develop the way it should have. His egg was found hundreds of years later by scientists. They used newly invented technology to develop the preserved egg and mix human genes into it. Shortly after that process was complete, Yoongi hatched.

Yoongi has never met another dragon hybrid in his life. Maybe he was the only one in existence, maybe other scientists created them the same way as he was created. Even if they existed, they’re probably held the same way he was held - captured by some sort of underground gang and treated like shit.

Yoongi hated it, hated the way he wasn’t even a real creature, that he was built instead of born and that he was sold to Kkangpae to be their guard dog. Even though he was a dragon, well he was supposed to be a dragon, those fucking scientists pulled some weird Jurassic Park shit on him. Did humans even believe in dragons? To most of them he was nothing more than a myth, some creature from a fairytale.

Yoongi almost screams in frustration as his memories hit him once again. The night he decided to end it all, to kill everyone he finds comes back into his vision almost every time he closes his eyes. Because hell, he was a great fighter, the best assassin anyone could ever train and he never failed an attempt of murder. Ever since then, his nights are based on either nightmares or hectic rides on his bike, this is why he lives on coffee and energy drinks even though they're too sweet for his taste, they keep him awake. If he stops to sleep, the memories, the dreams will return in full force.

During that time, Yoongi tries not to stop in motels because:

1. he can’t afford them

2. he shouldn’t waste time on sleep if he can spend them driving down the highway on his motorcycle instead, getting as much distance between South Korea and himself as quickly as possible.

As a dragon hybrid, Yoongi has several magic powers that typical hybrids don’t have, simply because his body doesn’t work like other hybrid bodies; he is born a dragon. Most of his genetics are dragon-like even though he’s now trapped inside a mostly human body. The only features that give off his inhuman origin are his eyes, green and purple irises, swirling around like lava, never resting. Some scales are splattered around his skin, but almost all of them are well hidden under his clothes - and Yoongi is glad that he can hide that feature because of the weird looks he would get if he had scales on his face or hands; no thanks.

That, and the fact that he can extend claws from his “normal” fingernails, which is quite useful in fights… and during other situations. 

One of Yoongi’s biggest advantages is the ability of changing his body temperature to the extreme - whether it’s hot or cold. If he wanted to burn you, he could; if he wanted to feel cold as ice, he could do that as well. He used that power a lot back when he was a little dragon, not wanting to be touched by humans that didn’t have his trust - not that any human has ever earned his trust - so he easily increased his body temperature until those who touched him left with blisters all over their hands.

People always think that dragons have the ability to spit fire, but apparently dragon hybrids can't. All Yoongi was able to do was spit acidic saliva with the ability to burn through all kinds of fabric and material (he even melted a spoon once because he hated the soup he had to eat) and whenever he was really angry, smoke would blow right out of his nostrils.

Kkangpae should’ve known better than to train him until he was invincible. Until he was stronger than them, until he was able to ruin them one by one.

It didn’t even take Yoongi an entire night to kill those who had held him his entire life, which made him Kkangpae’s enemy number one. He obviously didn’t get to kill each member, but he managed to ruin the leftovers by killing their boss, his wife and brother. The golden three, no longer golden anymore.

Which meant one thing: running away. Leaving South Korea with nothing but his motorcycle and never, ever, coming back. Yoongi doesn’t know if he will ever get to settle down somewhere or even where to go next, he just knows that he will never be able to come back to where he originated.

He has been in the United States for almost three months now, after secretly hitching a ride on a very disgusting container ship. In the beginning, he didn’t know where his adventure would bring him, but he has seen some beautiful places here. Yoongi even visits some of the biggest volcanoes in the country (he hates the volcanic mountains in Alaska, though, because the air outside is colder than what he is used to and Yoongi hates the feeling of icy air after a nice long nap in the comfortable lava) to spend some time relaxing his sore muscles. He just left his favorite volcano ever, the Yellowstone in the Rocky Mountains, a week ago and he really misses napping there, but if Kkangpae would ever look for him in the US, volcanoes would probably be an obvious spot to check for a dragon hybrid.

Now Yoongi is here in a cute little suburb that he doesn't even know the name of. Small droplets of rain are blocking the view from his motorcycle helmet and his gas tank is on low, so he decides to stop by the next available gas station and grab some hot coffee on his way to the bordering highway. 

Yoongi didn't bring a crazy amount of baggage from Korea, because it's obviously difficult to ride a motorbike with an abundance of luggage. Instead he sticks to a simple black backpack with some clothes, money that he stole from Kkangpae, his phone, and an old notebook he uses to scribble down places he’s heard of during his trip. 

Even though the gas station is quite empty, Yoongi acts out of instinct and pulls his cap lower into his face, hiding his shimmering eyes and starts to fuel his tank, looking around to check if someone has recognized him. Nobody catches his attention, until a girl on another motorbike stops to get some gas as well. Yoongi scrunches his nose, thinking that his bike was the only one in a suburb like this - because to be honest, he spent a lot of money on it, on spraying it matte black (instead of the bright teal it had before he ran away) and a bigger engine. It isn’t one of the luxurious Korean brands, but a MV Agusta F4 LH44, an expensive ass bike that Kkangpae gave him for jobs out of their area.

This girl though, she rides a fucking Kawasaki Ninja, one of the fastest - and most expensive - bikes out there. He only has eyes for her machine, but once she pulls off her helmet letting her messy hair fall over her back and turns around to the gas pump, he inhales sharply.

She’s Korean. She’s fucking Korean and she rides a fucking expensive bike.

To Yoongi it can only mean one thing: Kkangpae. But, would they really send a girl after him, a powerful dragon hybrid? Probably not. The girl hums some unknown melody as she fuels her bike, looking around as well. Yoongi makes sure that she doesn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes as he turns around to pay. 

But the girl is right behind him, he can feel her body temperature on his sensitive skin and as he walks past her, he can smell something vaguely familiar. That’s when he decides to pull off a classic Joe Goldberg, waiting for the girl some streets down the road and follows her as inconspicuously as possible.

The girl comes to a quicker halt than Yoongi is expecting - simply because he didn’t like to stop more often than necessary -, but he’s quick to park his bike and follow the girl into the establishment she walks in. Bread, Sweets and Treats, says the small sign and Yoongi cringes. Who would come up with such a name? Is the owner inspired by this one Korean band that has a track with a similar name? Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the distracting thought, instead putting his cap back on and stepping into the café.

She is nowhere to be seen, probably sitting in some booth further back, but as soon as Yoongi attempts to stride through the café, the girl behind the counter smiles at him.

“Hi, I’m Yura! What can I get you?”

He really wants to reply with “nothing.” But the smell of coffee lingers in his nose and who would Yoongi be to decline such a chance? “Just one regular coffee, black, please.” 

He pays quickly, just slapping some notes onto the counter as he looks around once more.

“There’s a few empty tables in the back, go and sit down, relax a bit and I will be there with your coffee as soon as possible!”

That finally gives Yoongi the chance he’s been waiting for, strolling through the café to find the mysterious girl and once he has an eye on her, he sits down three tables to her right. She’s on her phone, taking sips of some hot beverage but takes nervous looks around the café from time to time and Yoongi wonders if she has seen him as well.

“Your coffee!” The barista smiles at Yoongi and places the hot mug in front of him. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything else? You look quite tired and I bet some pastries can help with that!”

Yoongi tries to crack a smile, but he knows people are most likely afraid once they lock eyes with him, but it seems like that his eyes aren’t anything that scares the friendly girl as he mutters a soft “I’m fine, thank you.”

He dares to take another look to his left, a silent gasp leaving his lips. There, on her right arm, is a tattoo of a dragon crawling up to her elbow. The symbol of Kkangpae, inked right into her skin. Yoongi’s assumptions were correct, she is one of those bastards and the only reason she’s here must be to kill him. But Yoongi isn’t one to have that, he’ll be quicker.

Patience is key, he reminds himself as he slowly sips his coffee, keeping an eye on that girl as he thinks about that one night again.

Things happen quickly then, the girl stands up and leaves to go to the restroom, but as soon as Yoongi plans to follow her, an elderly lady goes in there as well.

He sighs, pulling off his cap just to run his hands through his hair before quickly putting it back on, covering his eyes as much as possible. The hunter's knife in his boots feels heavy, ready to be used, but Yoongi doesn’t want to make a scene right here. It would cause more trouble than being effective - and he couldn’t find out more about Kkangpae’s plans in the middle of a café. On the other hand, Yoongi can’t risk losing her, that’s why he acts out of instinct once she comes back from the bathroom.

She makes her way past his table, Yoongi stands up quickly to follow her - and once she’s near the exit, he jumps onto her, slamming his full body weight against her smaller frame and smashes her into one of the tables, the wood breaking under their combined weights. His claws are out and he can feel his skin burning up during his rage as he snarls a low, “What’s your name? What are you doing here and where are the others?” at her. 

She must be a tough one though, because even if she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she glares up at him. “Why would I tell someone that attacks me in the middle of a coffee shop my name? Fuck, get off of me, you freak! What even are you?”

Yoongi smirks, pushing her even further into the remains of the table. “Min Yoongi, I think I ruined a bit of your family business.”

Now, her eyes widen in shock as she tries to get out of his burning grip around her throat once more. “You don’t have to kill me”, she whispers. “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. After you killed my father and my uncle, I knew it would be the best to get out of it as well, trust me!”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back - and it looks kind of funny, because there’s a little cloud of smoke coming out of his nose - before looking back down at her. “I’ve learned one thing in my life and that’s to never trust anyone. Especially not when they’re wearing that cute little dragon tattoo on their arm. Sorry, but I guess you have to die too.”

An annoyingly high-pitched scream causes Yoongi to lose his guard for one second, giving the girl the chance she needs to break free from his grip. "Stop it, please," one of the baristas pleads, trying to calm some of the nervous customers down. Yoongi looks at him for a second, smirking as he sees the obvious features only mouse hybrids have.

The dragon hybrid snarls, showing off some of his sharper teeth as he grips his target again. "Don't you dare make a scene, mousey. It's been a while since I had one of your ancestors for lunch, you know? And I haven't eaten in quite some time." Then, he turns around to the girl. "I'm sorry love, but this situation is getting a bit out of hand." He uses his foot on her chest to keep her in place as he grabs his favorite knife that's been sitting in his boot the entire trip, just waiting to be finally used.

Fate isn't on Yoongi's side today as another one of the baristas yells at him, running past some other tables to get to where Yoongi is standing. Yoongi groans, pressing the heel of his foot deeper into the girl's chest. "You stay there, little one, okay?" She doesn't answer, just grits her teeth to compensate for the ache in her body. The mouse hybrid freezes on the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Then, Yoongi turns around to the new voice. "What do you want now, I'm busy and I really need to go after this, so would you let me do my job, please?" The irritation isn’t easy to miss, but Yoongi's patience has always been rather low and he prefers to get over this before the rest of Kkangpae arrives as well. "I don't belong to them anymore, fucking hell!" The girl yells once more, nails digging into Yoongi's jeans-clad calf.

“I’m the manager,” the other barista slash manager says, “You have two seconds before I call the police. Get the hell –“ Yoongi gets ready to leave yet another snarky remark as a rather lean looking guy pushes her behind his frame. 

“I’ve heard rumors about your existence, I was skeptical about it – but anything is possible from where you came from.”

Yoongi’s eyes scan the stranger, thinking about how high his chances are to win another fight when he realizes that he’s one of the rarest hybrid breeds, not a regular fox but a canadian marble fox - which are often held for their beautiful fur. He has been living with one of those in the Kkangpae mansion, the fox hybrid was more likely the opposite of Yoongi’s reason to be there: Yoongi was being held to fight, the fox was a lapdog, bought to look pretty in the leader's wife's lap.

The man in front of him has similar ears, grey with black tips and his amber eyes remind him of the old fox as well. Yoongi tilts his head in visible confusion as he locks eyes with the man.

“I’m not one of them, my name’s Y/N! I’ve heard that you killed my father, my uncle and his wife so I used the chance and ran off, I didn’t know I’d see you here as well, Yoongi! Please, just fucking listen!”, the girl, Y/N, pleads with tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Yoongi, is it? Listen. You can’t do that here, I know what you did to those who held you, but this isn’t the right place!”, the fox hybrid chimes in again. Yoongi’s head moves up and down, he doesn’t know who he should listen to, but he came for this one mission: killing Y/N.

“Shut up, all of you!” He screams out of frustration, the knife starting to melt in his hands because of the unbearable heat radiating from his body. Yoongi drops the now useless weapon to the floor, the weight of his boot no longer suffocating the girl beneath him. She coughs a few times, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, trying to relax her wildly beating heart, but Yoongi doesn’t care about her right now. Instead, he locks eyes with the fox hybrid. “Who are you?” His voice is low, quiet, actually, because Yoongi doesn’t trust it enough to speak up.

“I’m from the Kim lineage”, the hybrid says with raised hands, probably to prove that he’s no danger to Yoongi. “Trust me, I know a lot about our individual histories.” Yoongi breathes through his nose, another tiny cloud of smoke leaving his nostrils as he finally steps back from Y/N. “Kim, as in Kim Jiho? That can’t be it. You’re related to him?” 

He eyes the other man skeptically, not really sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t even look at Y/N who’s been standing but not running away yet. 

The other hybrid's answer shocks Yoongi, his eyes widening as he sees the frown on his face, combined with soft ears flopping down sadly. "That's my father."

The woman behind the Kim hybrid whispers something into his ear, causing the man to nod as he looks back at Yoongi, but aIso at Y/N. "Let's just take this outside, we can talk out there." 

Yoongi's eyes flicker between the hybrid and Y/N, then he nods slowly whilst pressing out a low "fine". Just as Y/N starts walking past him he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, whispering into her ear. "If you try to run off, I'll be right behind you, ready to rip your guts out." As if to prove his point, Yoongi heats his skin up once again, burning Y/N's wrist before smiling sweetly at her and following the fox hybrid out of the café. 

The hybrid, who introduces himself as Kim Taehyung, offers refuge to Yoongi and Y/N at his secret bunker in the nearby mountains. He uses the space to hide during emergencies. It isn’t anything special, it is a literal fox burrow with furniture which totally confirms the impression Yoongi has on Taehyung’s style: simple, yet elegant.

Yoongi is even allowed to eat some of Taehyung’s self grown variety of exotic fruits that he is extremely proud of. He smugly offers a dragon fruit to Yoongi who only raises his brows, a challenging glint to his eyes as he grabs some of the lychees instead and pops them into his mouth. “But you’re supposed to peel them!”, Taehyung screeches, his furry ears twitching in disgust, but Yoongi only smiles and eats one more, swallowing the entire fruit just to see Taehyung’s reaction once more.

“My saliva is acidic, I don’t need to peel them. I’ve been eating worse things, trust me.”

After Taehyung shows Yoongi and Y/N around the bunker (it even included a shower and a functional bedroom), he decides to call it a night and leave the two alone (not without them promising Taehyung to not kill each other, he would “check in the next day” to make sure of it) and heads over to his own little cabin nearby. Once Taehyung leaves, Yoongi pulls Y/N onto the worn out couch to actually sit down and talk.

“Okay, so you say you’re running away from Kkangpae too, right? Why?” Yoongi raises the eyebrow that was cut through by that ugly scar. 

Y/N swallows, trying not to stare at Yoongi’s distracting eyes. “I was born into it, I didn’t choose that life, Yoongi. Just like you I was just a part of their game. I’ve seen people die since I was a kid. I’ve never been allowed to have friends or sleep somewhere else because my father was too ‘worried’ something could happen to me. That’s why one of his coaches trained me in different kinds of martial arts from the time I was able to walk.”

She looks at the hybrid again, shaking her head in disgust.

“Of course I knew what was going on with them, why they were behaving like that and I knew that my father and uncle were the leaders, so there wasn’t any chance for me to get away from it. I tried, really, but once I found out that they got killed... I didn’t know you did it, because the second I heard it, I ran. You can trust me, Yoongi, even though my last name might be occupied by all your prejudices.”

Yoongi listens the entire time, not interrupting her as he tries to understand what she was saying. “I’ve seen you when you were a teen”, he mumbles. “I age differently than humans, but I think you were just around 15 years old when you kicked that one security guy in the balls. That was kind of badass, not gonna lie,” Yoongi smirks at her, eyes glistering mischievously. Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “He liked my dress way too much. One more reason not to wear those weird things at all.” Yoongi hums. “I bet you look great in those, but I do like your leather pants too. Anyways, what leads you to the US? It’s not the most… unusual choice to run away to. Wouldn't a country like Greece or Egypt be better? They must be looking after you too. I tried hiding in volcanoes but it was too obvious.”

The girl shrugs her shoulders, shivering now that the evening starts to settle in. “I don’t know, to be honest. All those countries sound nice and fun, but I don’t speak their language. America is huge, too. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town, but now that I met you, I mean… We could run off together, maybe? I can fight and I know how to use a gun and I’ve heard of your… powers, too. You might know how they fight, but I know how they think. Us teaming up would be useful.” She shuffles around, unsure about how Yoongi would react. 

“Are you cold?” 

“What?” 

This wasn’t the reaction Y/N was waiting for. “Are you cold? You’re shivering. I’ve never used my powers in this way, but maybe I could help you,” 

Yoongi shrugs as he slowly touches her arm and attempts to heat up his own skin in a way that wouldn’t hurt the girl. Y/N flinches at first, but the temperature heating up her body is too comfortable to deny.

“Oh god, this is amazing,” she leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “I haven’t been this comfortable in a while.” 

Yoongi nods, he understands that. The bunker is the first place he might be able to actually sleep. “I’ve been sleeping in volcanoes, like I said, but I haven’t really slept since I left the last one. Not that anyone could come in it and try to kill me, but after two days of sleeping and soaking in lava, it got boring.”

“I wouldn’t even mind bathing in lava as long as it’s this comfortable”, Y/N whispers as she drifts off into a deep slumber. 

Once she’s asleep, Yoongi removes his hand slowly and looks around to find a comforter to throw over her relaxed body. Then he decides that he finally deserves the luxury of a real shower, with real hot water (that he heats up even more), before snuggling into the bed and closing his eyes for at least a few hours.

The next few days went by like nothing, Yoongi and Y/N weren’t really ready to go outside and face the world, so they stay inside the bunker to plan their getaway. They go out twice, practicing their fighting skills and helping Taehyung to pick some fruits (because Yoongi felt bad, he ate the entire mango stash in one night).

This evening, Yoongi prepares some food that he finds in the cupboards, some pasta and a canned sauce that he heats up in his hands, not bothering to put it onto the stove. He’s at the point where he decides that Y/N deserves his trust, that she won’t kill him and he’s pleasantly surprised to have someone like that in his life. 

Y/N steps out of the shower, towel wrapping around her delicate body as Yoongi plates the food on the makeshift table. 

“I swear to you, my muscles are still sore from your training yesterday!” She huffs as she searches her backpack for fresh clothes. “Can I grab one of your shirts? One of us has to do laundry tomorrow, I’m going to ask Taehyung how he’s doing it when he’s out here. But for now, I need something comfortable because I can’t squeeze my tired body in leather pants and a tight tank. So, please, Yoongi?” Y/N smiles her sweetest smile, causing Yoongi to groan out, defeated.

“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow? My old stinky one that I sweat into during training?” He raises the scarred eyebrow at her as he sits down in front of his own plate, starting to eat already. 

Y/N pouts as she grabs one of his last clean shirts and runs into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing that shirt - and only that shirt. Yoongi almost drops his fork.

It’s not like those movies where the girlfriend wears her boyfriend’s shirt and it looks cute and stops above her knee, no. Yoongi isn’t the tallest, Y/N’s actually almost the same height as him - with more curves than Yoongi's lanky body. Instead, his ‘oversized’ shirt ends just a bit below her ass. Yoongi would bet that if she bends down, her entire peach would be on full view for him.

“Aren’t you going to wear any pants?” Yoongi mutters. To be honest, he hopes she won’t opt for pants because… he’s just a man and even his dragon instincts think about sex from time to time.

“Is it bothering you?” Y/N asks as she plops down besides him, starting to eat right away as well. 

There isn’t much space between them and Yoongi can see her hardening nipples under the shirt that once belonged to him. He shrugs. “Nah, but don’t come ask me to heat you up just because you’re freezing your ass off again.” 

She quirks an eyebrow. “Would it bother you? Heating me up?” 

“Probably.”

Y/N pouts and turns away slightly after she throws a blanket over her legs, continuing to eat her pasta. “How long are we going to stay here? We planned to leave for Italy, but when? It’s getting colder each day and I don’t like that winter’s coming.”

Yoongi stands up to go and wash his plate, not sure about the answer to Y/N’s question.

“There’s nothing holding us here. We could go and leave tomorrow, but we could also stay for a few more days, try to get enough sleep and take advantage of this bunker. I mean, would we get the chance to have such a perfect hideout again? Let’s use this opportunity for as long as we can.” 

Inside, Yoongi knows that he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world, not ready to be on the run again. “How much money did you take with you? Wherever we decide to stop by next, we should think about a way to earn money.”

 “I left with my card and packed some money from the family’s safe before I realized it isn’t that smart to run away with my credit card that could be tracked. I withdrew some more money and gave the card to a homeless lady,” Y/N shrugs as she dries the plate Yoongi has washed before placing it back into the cupboard. “I think I still have around 10 grand in my backpack, I really don’t know. I didn’t need a lot of money, most of it was needed for gas and coffee.” 

“You’ve been travelling with 10 thousand in cash? That’s kinda stupid. What are going to do if someone tries to rob you? Ugh,” Yoongi can feel the smoke leaving his nostril as he paces through the room, feeling restless out of sudden. 

Y/N giggles. “Are you worried? Min Yoongi, the baddest dragon alive is worried about a girl that grew up with Kkangpae and definitely knows how to protect herself.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose, already feeling his skin heat up - but not in the magical way he’s used to. Nope. Min Yoongi is being shy. 

“You are worried! How cute! Are you sure you’re a dragon and not just a little lizard? One of those that live in the fields and kids go and pick them up to have them as a pet in some shoeboxes?” Y/N steps closer, gently bumping her hip against Yoongi’s before patting his head with a giggle. “Who knew that the bad boy that’s one of the most powerful human beings is getting soft over a girl.”

Enough’s enough. Even though Yoongi never had the chance to fall in love, to be in a relationship or build a real friendship, he has had more than enough experience in other things, having shared ruts and heats with countless other hybrids that has some sort of place in Kkangpae. He turns around, his instincts taking over him.

Puffing out his chest a bit, standing completely straight so he will hover over Y/N, Yoongi steps forward, breath fanning over her face. “Did you just call me a fucking lizard?”

His eyes are going wild right now, the purple and green swirling around even faster than the usual soft flow of colors. He growls, stretching his neck from side to side as he starts to feel his fangs growing, soon poking out of his lips. 

Y/N smirks, tilting her head to the side, looking up innocently at the fuming dragon in front of her. “Too bad you can’t change forms, huh?” She doesn’t even get to add another snarky comment to her sentence as Yoongi’s body presses her against the rough wall, his shirt sliding up her body as he cages her in.

“You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch, Y/N. Even got to wear my shirt like you’re someone that actually means something to me, yet you’re being bratty and annoying. I don’t hesitate to get rid of people that act up on me, you should know that by now.” 

His hot breath fans her face and Y/N tries her best not to squirm under his intense glare. Then, she smirks. “You wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Mhhm, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Still, you’re being bratty and I don’t appreciate such behavior.” Yoongi looks at Y/N, eyes still intimidating her. 

“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?” She laughs, knowing that situations like this only happen in those new adult novels, not during an escape.

“I should, but maybe you won’t be able to keep up with it. In the end, you’re just human whilst I’m nothing more than a cute little lizard, huh?” Yoongi looks at his hands, claws forming where his fingernails once were. “I don’t remember lizards being able to hurt you, though. Wanna try?” His smirk is dangerous, but so alluring that Y/N just nods, not knowing what the night will bring for her.

Once they move to the makeshift bedroom, Y/N’s knees start to get weak. Yoongi feels the change in her aura, smirking to himself as he stops right behind her, hot breath blowing on her neck. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Bambi?” His fangs gently poke the juncture of her neck, not enough to actually draw blood but to make her twist under his touch.

“I don’t think so, I mean… I guess I like… Yoongi, can you stop that for a second, please?” She turns around in his grip, cheeks blushing and lips parted. Yoongi cooes.

“This turned on already? Can’t even form sentences? Alright, I’ll sit down then and you’re going to tell me what I’m allowed to do to you,” Yoongi smirks as he slumps on the mattress, manspreading to give Y/N the best view of the bulge in his pants.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sinks down between his legs, a dangerous smirk now lingering on her lips. “Maybe I’ll just show you what I like and you can take over from that? Figured you’d be one that prefers to be in control. I’ll go by the traffic light system if I’m not okay with anything - or I’ll kick you in the balls, so don’t worry.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to answer as Y/N presses her mouth against his clothed dick to kiss it lightly. His hips buck slightly as she wraps her lips around him and starts sucking on the side of his bulge through the fabric. She smiles as his cock grows harder under her lips, but Yoongi is quick to pull her off. “I really appreciate your effort but are you down there to drool all over my pants or are you going to suck me off? I promise you my dick is human, not one of a lizard.”

She pouts, playing with the hem of his joggers. “Where’s the fun in that? But fine,” Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls them down slowly, her nails gently scratching the skin of his stomach while doing so. As the waistband of his pants go past his cock, she is not even surprised that Yoongi isn’t wearing any boxers underneath them. 

“Predictable,” she mutters mostly to herself, but Yoongi grabs a bunch of her hair to push Y/N back on his, this time naked, length. 

It costs her a lot of self control to not retort him with a snarky remark, as she continues to remove his pants slowly. Yoongi growls, but she just smiles up at him and grabs his heavy dick to stroke it two, three times. Then, she leans down to gently lick his balls, still not using her mouth on his dick.

Yoongi twists and groans, trying his hardest not to grab her and shove his entire length down her throat until it’s sore, but this woman is testing his patience. One of his hands is still on the back of her head whilst he uses the other one to lean back a little, just to get a better view.

“Are you done playing now, Petal?” Yoongi’s grip on Y/N’s hair tightens, his claws digging into her head - and Y/N can’t keep in the silent mewl that leaves her lips at the burning pleasure. “Be a good girl now, will you?” His voice is almost alluring her to do as he pleases, but Y/N wouldn’t be herself if she follows his orders. 

Their eyes meet and Yoongi has to admit that she looks perfect. Even though she isn’t wearing any make up right now, hair still damp from her shower and eyes already clouded with lust, he wouldn’t want any other person to be in her position right now. 

She stares at his cock again, her own panties dampening at the thought of having it inside her. Y/N’s tongue pokes out to play with his tip, tasting him and getting a feeling for the heaviness on her tongue as Yoongi pushes her down in one swift motion. A gurgling sound escapes from Y/N’s throat, but she does her best to swallow his huge length, using her fist to stroke whatever can’t fit. 

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi groans and throws his head back while trying to keep his eyes on Y/N at the same time. Her eyes are closed, lips beautifully parted around his cock and saliva already drips down her chin, even though Yoongi hasn’t even really moved by now. “You’ll let me fuck your mouth, right, angel?” 

She nods as good as she can with a mouth full of dick, looking up at the hybrid in front of her. Yoongi hisses as he pushes his hips forward, losing himself in the feeling quickly as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. The sight of Y/N not only sucking him off but also wearing his shirt sends him close to edge quickly.

Y/N pulls off to take a deep breath and to wink at Yoongi before sinking down again. 

"God, you're so good, Petal. Wanted to fuck that bratty mouth for so long now. Imagine your father seeing you like that, he'd die from the shock, his little princess on her knees to please the housedragon." 

She moans at his words, fingers sIiding under her, Yoongi's, shirt, but the man is quick to grab both of her hands to cross them behind her head. He grabs her wrists as he plunges himself down her throat once more before he spills his hot load into her mouth with a loud growl a bit of smoke that comes out of his nostrils.

As Y/N pulls off, her eyes show the disbelief she must be feeling. "You… You taste like…" 

"Cinnamon?", Yoongi smirks, his eye color now much calmer than before now that his inner dragon is somewhat sated - for now.

“Yes, I was expecting anything, a double penis, maybe some weird forms or scales, but not cinnamon flavoured cum. Not that I mind, though. Tastes like that gum I used to have when I was still in school.”

Yoongi hums, stepping out of his pants now that they won’t be used anyways, his shirt following too.

“Now it’s your turn, petal. Let me see you,” he gestures with his fingertip, swirling in a motion for her to turn around, finally giving Yoongi the view that he had been curious about ever since Y/N came out of the bathroom with his shirt on. She isn’t wearing one of those expensive lingeries that are nothing but lace, no. Expensive, yes. A sporty looking string is disappearing between her round buttcheeks, the rather thick waistband of it covered with the Versace logo. Yoongi hums, that’s definitely what he had expected Y/N to wear, it looks comfortable but still seductive.

Y/N smirks over her shoulder, lifting the hem of her shirt teasingly but letting it fall down again to cover her butt. “Maybe you need privileges to undress me, Min. I mean, I’m somewhat of royal blood, aren’t I?” She gracefully sinks down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

A chuckle leaves Yoongi’s lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to call you princess now? Because I didn’t know you were into that. Does babygirl also do the thing for you? I bet your blood’s blue too, I’d love to see that.” 

Yoongi traces his finger tip over her thigh, his claw teasing the soft skin there and Y/N’s eyes follow it curiously. He presses down a bit, just enough to break the first layer of skin and draw a little bit of blood - enough to prove both of them that Y/N’s blood isn’t blue. “Oh, too bad, not a real princess,” Yoongi pouts. 

Y/n raises her eyebrow. “Did you just cut me?” 

“It’s not a cut, just a little… poke?” Yoongi wipes over the blood before bringing his finger to his lips and licking the drop off with a smirk. “Doesn’t taste royal to me, rather muddy. But maybe that’s what you get from living with Kkangpae for so long. Guess mine tastes like dirt too.” 

Y/N laughs, not even shocked about the fact that Yoongi seems to  be bothered about her blood on his tongue. The melodic sound of her laugh makes Yoongi smile too, an actual, honest smile that shows all his teeth and fangs, causing Y/N to coo. “And suddenly you don’t look scary anymore.”

Her eyes wander down his body, inspecting every inch, maybe to find something more dragon-like, maybe to just remember the skinship for much longer. “Oh,” She breathes out, “You’ve got scales.”

Yoongi looks down at his stomach where some scales are shimmering in the bedroom light. “Yes, I do have scales. I’m a dragon, remember?” 

And to Y/N, they’re beautiful. They’re not huge, not as dry or disgusting as lizards look like, no. Those scales must come from a line of beautiful dragons. They match his eyes, shimmering purple and green whenever they hit the light. But they’re not only on his stomach, they are also winding around his sides and up his back. 

Y/N’s fingers follow them as she orders Yoongi to lay down on his stomach to get a full view of them. 

The scales grow larger on his shoulder blades, probably where his dragon wings imaginely would be and Y/N can’t help but kiss the rough texture. Goosebumps erupt on Yoongi’s entire body, skinship like this was never a real thing for him. 

“Feels good,” he whispers into his arm, slightly ashamed. Y/N continues to pamper his skin in kisses and licks, biting the rougher areas here and there until Yoongi grows impatient and turns them around, growling playfully. 

“Like I said, my turn now.”

Yoongi always has a thing for taking his time to please his partner, he isn’t one for quick fucks without foreplay. So, he kneels between Y/N’s parting legs, palms caressing the smooth skin that is covered in a few fresh cuts and old scars from practicing her fighting skills, but Yoongi definitely didn’t mind them. His shirt has moved on its own, not even covering her panties anymore but ending somewhere above her belly button by now. As soon as his fingertips glide over the curve of her hips, Y/N shudders with a quiet mewl. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm, ‘m here, you look so good, Petal,” Yoongi whispers while kissing her ankles, her calves, and the sensitive area of her inner thighs. “Truly like a flower. You know that there’s a flower called Dragon’s Breath? It’s bright red and can survive in the heat like a champ, even their leaves are red. But I don’t think it’s scent comes close to yours,” he hums in front of her clothed core, tongue poking against the wet spot on the fabric. “Bet you taste even better, Petal.”

“Yoongi, please,” Y/N whines, getting rid of the shirt by herself, the heat simmering inside her body is almost overwhelming. Yoongi looks up from the space between her legs, eyeing the swell of her breasts with a growl, muttering compliments again and again. He sits up the slightest bit to gently remove her panties - claws nowhere to be seen by now, even his fangs are gone and Yoongi’s just Yoongi, even though the arousal is visible in his eyes again. 

He lies down, cock rubbing against the rough sheets causes him to hiss quietly, but his mind is somewhere else within seconds. How couldn’t he with Y/N’s soaking core in front of his face? 

She can’t see his mischievous smirk as he swiftly controls the temperature of his skin, cooling down his fingertips as he slowly and teasingly traces her folds. 

Y/N yelps. “Yoongi! Shit, what’s that?” 

Yoongi laughs, holding up his unoccupied hand to her face, showing her how cold his fingers are by holding them against her cheek whilst the other hand works magic on her clit. 

“Unbelievable. Warn me the next time,” she mutters as she sinks back into the pillows. 

Yoongi’s hot breath fans the sensitive area before he broadly licks right across the flesh, enjoying the way her body jumps out of surprise again. “Oh, oops.”

Then, he finally pushes one finger in, tongue pressing right against Y/N’s clit as he starts doing what it feels like he was born to do. Yoongi eats her out with no mercy. Ignoring her squirming body and needy whines, he only concentrates on the places that bring the loudest moans out of her, massacring those until she’s close - to stop with a smug smirk. 

Y/N could reach her high by just looking at his face, red and breathless, but also wet from her juices, lips glistering in the light. Two of his fingers are still inside her, teasing her G-spot just as his lips start sucking the life out of her clit again. 

Y/N’s hands are buried in his chaotic mess of hair, pulling on it but also pressing him further onto her core until his tongue slips inside her as well. She doesn’t warn him, too scared of missing another orgasm, but Yoongi also doesn’t look like he’s about to stop this time, eager to pleasure the woman underneath him. Y/N screams as she reaches her high, hips bucking up from the bed, Yoongi’s head going with it, just so he can make sure that every second of her orgasm will be remembered forever.

He kitten licks her folds as she calms down; stroking her thighs, kissing her stomach while whispering praises. “Fuck,” she rasps out, her stomach still heaving heavily. 

Yoongi crawls up next to her with admiration in his eyes as he leans over to kiss Y/N for the first time. She can taste herself on his tongue, but who cares? The kiss is more gentle than Y/N expects. Yoongi seems to be switching moods from hungry to loving within seconds, but that’s probably his inner dragon wanting to devour her whilst Yoongi just wants to take his time to make the night special. Y/N is the one to pull away, looking at him with dark eyes. “Get inside me, please.”

The hybrid smirks, tilting his head as he asks “How do you like it?” 

“I’ll show you,” she remarks as she pushes Yoongi to lay flat on his back. She climbs into his lap and sinks down onto his cock in one abrupt motion without even bothering to tease him. 

The pleasure is overwhelming; Yoongi stretches her so, so good and Y/N feels so, so warm and tight around Yoongi that he loses all of his control over his body. His eyes are bright purple now, pupils forming into slits that remind Y/N more of a snake than a dragon. His skin burns up, almost too much for her to bear, but the hissing noises Yoongi releases are enough to hold on through it. 

“Fuck, sorry, wait a second,” Yoongi tries to push her off so she can cool down a little bit, but Y/N just shakes her head. She shushes him with a gentle kiss, careful of the fangs that now poke out between his lips again. “Don’t hold back, it’s not hurting me. Be yourself, Yoongi. I trust you.”

Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries his best not to move, letting Y/N adjust to his size and the circumstances of his inhumane origin. He’s never fucked a human, and even though they’re not that much different from hybrids he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her. 

“It’s not only the temperature,” Yoongi groans, “I tend to bite and mark my partners. I don’t know how your body would react to it, though. I sometimes say or do things that my human side would never say.” 

Y/N smiles at him, fondness blooming in her heart as she starts swaying her hips slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Like I said, Yoongi, I trust you. I’m sure that you’re inside your inner dragon, that you won’t hurt me and even if I tell you to stop; you’d be able to. Now, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy while your dick is inside me?” 

She tilts her head with a playful smile as her hands glide down Yoongi’s toned chest, teasing his perky nipples and playing with his beautiful scales. It was still hard to believe that the rarest, most powerful hybrid was right here with her, laying underneath her, sharing this moment with her.

“Now come on, Yoongi, wake up the dragon and give me what you’ve promised.”

Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice, hands landing a firm grip on Y/N’s hips as he plants his feet firmly on the mattress before quickly pistoning up inside her. Y/N cries in pleasure, but Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it, too lost in the feeling of her tight pussy around his cock. He’s still trying to be careful, keeping his claws under control so he won’t actually tear her apart. 

“‘m gonna make you cum so good, Petal. So, so good.”

Then, he flips them around in one swift motion, hovering over her frame as he looks down at her like only a predator could. “Mine,” he snarls as he licks into Y/N’s mouth, hips moving slowly but so powerful that her body pushes up into the pillow with each thrust. “Say it, Petal. Say you’re mine.”

Yoongi grabs her face so she can’t break eye contact - not that she would, who could look away from such eyes? They’re hypnotizing and Y/N is sure that she will do just about anything for him right now.

“I’m yours, Yoongi. It’s just you and me right now,” she breathes out as she grabs his hair, pulling his head closer so she can connect their lips once more.

Yoongi’s hips start to stutter, his orgasm approaching, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. Of course, dragon stamina is different, but where would be the fun in that? Orgasm control and denial is a thing that Yoongi enjoys here and there, teasing himself whilst masturbating, not letting him or his partners come and delaying their pleasure for as long as he possibly can. That’s why he pulls out quickly, leaving Y/N’s core clench around nothing. 

“The fuck, Yoongi?” Y/N whines and glares at the man in front of her, eyeing his sweaty body.

He laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips before he sits back on his heels, staring at her body as well. Her chest is heaving, fine pearls of sweat dripping down the space between her breasts and her legs are slightly shaking - all of that is enough to boost Yoongi’s confidence as he quickly pushes two of his fingers inside her, pumping them at a rapid pace. His teeth - and fangs - nibble on her nipples, pulling them slightly, almost crossing the border of comfortable pain as he fingers her through her second orgasm of the night. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Y/N sighs as she catches her breath, knowing that Yoongi is not done with her for tonight. 

He laughs again, fangs shining in the light and tiny droplets of sweat fall out of his hair as he shakes his head. “I could, but where would be the fun in that? Or are you one of those girls that like the thrill of almost being killed? I could choke you if you’re into that.”

“Oh, I am into that, but not after orgasming two times and knowing that there will probably be two more coming. Is that one of your kinks? Choking?” She tilts her head in an adorable way - too adorable for the position she’s in right now. 

“Mhhm,” Yoongi hums whilst tracing the sensitive skin on her stomach. Y/N jumps slightly, shooting Yoongi a playful glare before quickly jumping onto him. She sits down on his abdomen, leans over and closes her hands around his throat. “Do you like being choked too?” 

“Can you handle me fighting back against it?” The challenge shimmers in Yoongi’s eyes, knowing that Y/N is nowhere as strong as he is, but he loves playing. He doesn’t mind if she wants to be on top, he enjoys losing control once in a while, but his dragon usually hates it, fights against it.

Y/N loosens the grip of one hand to slowly rake her fingernails down his chest, leaving visible lines. “I’ve never said no to a good fight, Yoongi.”

The hybrid growls, hands balling to fists as Y/N tightens the grip on his neck once again. 

“This is so hot, you’re so hot,” He whispers, eyes closed and lost in the feeling.  

Then, Y/N lines herself up with Yoongi again and sinks down slowly, gasping slightly because the stretch is still there, but it feels so good. “God, move, please move,” Yoongi rasps and who would Y/N be to deny him such a thing? She uses both of her hands to sturdy herself on his chest whilst quickly bouncing up and down his cock. The noises that Yoongi makes are music to her ears, he’s usually so quiet, but now he doesn’t even try to hide the pleasure he’s feeling.

He groans, grunts, hisses and even moans whilst his hips buckle up to meet her thrusts. “Fuck, I’m going to breed you so well. You’re mine, Y/N. Gonna be my mate, huh? Gonna carry my chicks, all beautiful and round.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, but she can’t deny the arousal that floods through her body with his words. “Yes, Yoongi. Fuck, yes, breed me.”

By now the biggest roar leaves Yoongi’s chest as he pushes Y/N off, to grab her hips and position her on all fours in front of him. A harsh slap lands on her ass as he pushes in again, pressing her face-down into the pillows. “I will, Petal. You could never want anyone else after being mine. Nobody else. Just me.” 

His hand finds its way into her hair, wrapping it around his wrist as he pulls her head back, having her at full mercy. 

They’re both a loud mess by now and Yoongi is fucking thankful for the bunker, because imagine if they’d go on like this in Taehyung’s cabin instead - the entire forest would be able to listen to them. 

It’s gross and sweaty, wild and not gentle, but both of them enjoy it way too much. 

Y/N can’t even warn Yoongi before her third orgasm washes through her body and the tight clench combined with her sinful moans sends Yoongi over the edge too - spilling his thick load into her with one last thrust. 

“Shit,” he groans as he collapses on top of her, pressing kisses all over her neck. “You were so good, Petal.” 

Y/N smiles, nuzzling back into him and closes her eyes to enjoy the comfortable post-sex silence. Yoongi hums quietly, giving the two of them time to cool down - he helps her by reducing his body temperature again -, then he pulls out. “Ew,” he mutters as his cum gushes out of her. 

“Creampies are hot whilst you’re still busy with fucking, but afterwards it’s just a gross mess. Wanna take a shower?”

Y/N’s way too lazy to shower right now, she’d die for a hot bath but the bunker didn’t give her any chance to fulfill that dream, so she just nods. “Mhm, yes, but you’ve got to carry me, you big lizard.”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows before sighing in defeat. “Guess I’ll need to show you my dragon once again.” He lifts Y/N up easily and carries her towards the bathroom, just to have her at his mercy once more. And this time, Y/N doesn’t argue about him being a true dragon. 

Days and nights go by quickly whilst Yoongi and Y/N grow closer each passing minute. 

They spend their days together training, teaching each other self defense tricks and talking about which places they want to travel to next. 

They do sleep together now, not fighting over who will get the bed and who will have to stay on the couch. Some nights are a bit colder, which gives Yoongi the opportunity to hold Y/N close to his chest while slowly heating himself up to a comfortable temperature to sleep in. In general, you could say that Yoongi and Y/N act like a couple - though they don’t talk about their feelings right now.

Yoongi has never been in love and neither has Y/N, Kkangpae hasn't given them any chance to find a suitable partner to spend their lives with. So how would they know if love is what they are feeling?

What Yoongi does know is that he’d protect Y/N with his life - and vice versa.

Cuddling on the couch has become a thing for Y/N and Yoongi and he hates being unsure about the whole situation, he didn’t want to label them, but he is itching to know what’s going on between them. So one evening after dinner, he blurts out “Are we in a relationship? Like, are we a thing now?” 

Y/N jumps slightly in Yoongi’s embrace and looks up at the hybrid, unsure. “I… don’t know? I guess you could say so, we do a lot of couple things, I mean last night when you ate my..-” 

“Oh, yes, I remember. That was fun!” 

Yoongi smirks at the memory of last night’s bedtime adventures, Y/N trapped underneath him, her legs wrapping around his head as he ate her out slowly and teasingly, before he just pulls her on top of himself to sit on his face. Now he has not only her pussy in front of him, but also her ass - and what kind of man would Yoongi be to not use this opportunity?

“I mean, I would… I would like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongi. I trust you, I really like you and I feel like we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together anyway,” Y/N looks at her hands and bites her lip in anticipation, fearful about the man’s answer.

“That sounds like you’re choosing to date me just because I’m the only man around you, Petal.” 

He gently grabs her face, giving her no chance to break the eye contact. This time, the green in his eyes is more prominent than the purple - a rare sight, but Y/N is still in awe. “I want you to choose me because you actually like me, Y/N. Not just like, but maybe even love me. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, there can’t be love between us for now, but I can say for myself that I am really close to loving you. I want to spend the rest of my life running away with you, not just because I have to.”

Y/N pouts, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at Yoongi. “I didn’t mean it like that, Yoongi. But if you’re asking this charmingly, yes, I’d like to date you too, you big baby.” Yoongi growls playfully, showing off his fangs - which he knows that they don’t scare Y/N at all, but he’s proud of them, so he shows them off here and there - and pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips. 

Feelings change kisses. Kissing somebody that you’re now dating is even better so the new couple spends minutes kissing each other carefully and lovingly. Yoongi is just about to get Y/N on his lap as the door bursts open and an out of breath looking Taehyung stands in the living room.

“Yoongi… They’re here… Rats, but they smelled weird,” the hybrid pants as he looks at Yoongi. 

The dragon just stares at Taehyung intensely, before nodding. “Thanks, man. Really. For your help, for letting us stay here, take care of yourself, okay?”

All of them know that it’s now the time for Y/N and Yoongi to leave, not coming back ever again because Kkangpae would always have their men here from now on. 

“Thank you, Tae,” Y/N bows slightly with red cheeks, still embarrassed that they got caught. 

“Good luck, guys.” Taehyung sends them a hurt smile, knowing that he and Yoongi could actually be friends if their lives were different, but now it was time to say goodbye so Taehyung turns around and leaves as quickly as he came.

Yoongi sighs as he stands up and starts gathering their things. “Time to pack. You’ll do the bedroom and I’ll collect our stuff from here, okay? I think the next stop will be South Africa, it’s a long trip but it’ll be worth it, Kkangpae would probably never search for us there.” 

And so, they do end up in Kenya almost two weeks later, the US long forgotten as their lives go on. 

The trip is actually fun, Yoongi and Y/N riding on their motorbikes - Yoongi is even allowed to ride hers for a short amount of time - taking the ferry instead of the plane and sleeping at random places in the countries they passed.

Kenya is beautiful, the temperature is perfect for Yoongi and he finally gets the glow a true dragon should have. He doesn’t look as pale anymore, random scales growing here and there on his arms and neck and Y/N has never found Yoongi to be more beautiful. He seems truly happy.

The couple even started to go out, visiting different National Parks and trying to find some volcanoes for Yoongi. Y/N knows that she could never go near an active volcano, but Yoongi swears that he needed them at least once every two months to keep his dragon alive - though Y/N thinks he wants to take a long nap in the lava again.

During their time at the Masai Mara National Reserve they met another hybrid, a rare persian cheetah by the name of Hoseok. He greets them with open arms and is friendly enough to show them around. 

Hoseok also gives them a perfect description of how Yoongi would find the only active volcano in South Africa on Marion Island. That’s where the couple is right now, Y/N swimming in the turquoise water around the island whilst Yoongi takes, to no surprise, a nap in the lava. 

They’re genuinely happy, living more relaxed and peaceful than ever before and once Yoongi wakes up from his nap and sees Y/N still swimming around, playing with little fish and looking as beautiful as ever, he just knows that he made the right decision. She’s the one he wants to spend his life with, have kids with and die with.

They have a good feeling that Kkangpae won’t find them here. This can be their home from now on. Though, they wouldn’t mind the chance to discover more of the earth, travel around and meet new people. 

But South Korea isn’t on their list, that’s for sure. 

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course Chapter 30) Words as a weapon

.-.-.

As a young boy, Ivar had always envisioned that their Great Hall was the biggest, strongest, and tallest house in the entire world. Its walls were high enough for Giants, and the glorious flames of it’s fireplace always managed to thaw every frozen hand and foot present, without fail. Feasts and celebrations were held; ale and mead flowed heavily, while thralls brought in entire roasted boars. 

Disillusion struck Ivar when he realised his ‘Great Hall’ could easily fit into the ‘Main Hall’ of Castle de Haar. 

As a new rainy day started, the Giant had carried him through the doorway and ordered him to scrub the muddy floor inside. Torches illuminated the hallway, which stood high and mighty. Every stone was even and square, the hall itself was a structure of perfection; made to protect and embosome power and wealth. 

It made Ivar feel like a slimy worm; even if the residents of the castle knew about his royal blood, he’d still be a dirty little heathen, as his ‘Great Hall’ stood closer to the shed he lived in right now. 

He kept his eyes firmly on the floor, as the Giant randomly snuck up on him to check his process. But, occasionally his curiosity got the best of him; every door that opened was a temptation he couldn’t resist. 

One room in particular stood out, it must be the dinner room. Endless oak tables filled it up, under the protection of suits of armour, swords crossed on the walls. Luxurious woven rugs covered the floors, while the candles in tremendous golden chandeliers kept the room lit at all times. 

Ivar took a lot of time scrubbing the doorway leading into the dinner hall, stunned and baffled at how human hands could have created such an immense place. 

It also filled him with bitterness; it was wrong that two fat pigs were rulers of such grandeur and inhuman beauty. It stung him even deeper when he realised Ludolf would eventually rule every corner of every hall. All because of blood.

The Giant half kicked, half shoved him up a twisting spiral staircase. Ivar struggled, but counted a hundred and twenty four steps. And, about six times a massive boot kicking his arse. 

The instructions of the Giant started to become redundant; scrub another hallway. It would have started to become boring, if it weren’t for Ivar being placed in what was now another, much higher, part of the castle. 

And, as it turned out, less supervised, as the Giant didn’t enjoy taking the hundred and twenty four steps up and down. 

The brute still held regular checks, but as Ivar counted the time in between, it gave him triple the amount of time to let his eyes linger and take forbidden breaks. Aside from that, it was very easy to hear the Giant approach; the man weighed a ton and his breathless panting echoed up the staircase about thirty seconds before his hideous face appeared. 

The rooms on this floor weren't as imposing as the dinner hall, yet they still sparked Ivar’s curiosity; although he hated the Christians it was interesting to see how they lived. Many of the doors were closed and Ivar didn’t dare think of opening one up. The few that were an inch ajar, however, were diligently inspected. 

Nothing really stood out, mostly storage rooms, a linen room and one that stank of human waste, Ivar quickly averted himself away from that one. 

Mischievous giggles and chattering reached Ivar’s ears as he slaved through the hallway. It was the sound of a pair of young women. More women than Ivar dared to approach; as a woman already had enough power to make him feel undesirable and ugly, everything up to a pair was simply impossible to face. 

But here, on foreign land, he did have one advantage; the language barrier. Although it would not make their disgusted expressions any less painful, at least any well-aimed spiteful words would pass him. 

That, and the fact that he didn’t think his presence would make much commotion; he was a simple slave after all. Sure, the crippled one that survived forty lashes, but that event happened a winter ago. He was old news, a slave; not the handicapped Viking son. 

Ivar lingered in the doorway and saw the two linen maidens handling a large wooden table loom. One was unknotting a ball of wool, while the other picked out a new color. Both were completely engulfed in their conversation. The topic of which must have been something extremely funny; one giggled loud enough for the entire castle to hear, while the other made exaggerated motions and faces. 

It was enjoyable to watch something so human and careless; a nice chance to observe two young women having a silly conversation. Aside from that, Ivar did enjoy observing the opposite sex. The fact that he couldn’t ‘get it up and please a woman’ did not lessen his interest. The mere existence of young women always felt like a thorn in his eye, though, because he was incapable of interacting with them. Such an experience always summoned up his shame, insecurity, and fire-red cheeks, yet their presence drew him in like  a moth to a flame. 

Women, the embodiment of the one thing he could never have; love. Sex, a relationship. A thorn not only in his eye; but deeply embedded inside of his heart too. Women, seductive but simply out of his reach, for he wasn’t even able to stand next to them, as an equal. No, his place was much closer to the floor. He was beneath women, always looked down upon.

  Someone tapped his shoulder and Ivar darted back in reflex. He had dropped his guard and hadn’t been counting the time in between the Giant’s last visit. Banging his head against the doorframe, he managed to knock the door open, alerting the two linen maidens. 

He managed to make a complete and utter fool out of himself, in less than a second. The opposite sex had that effect on him. 

To absolutely destroy the last bit of his dignity, he realised it had been the fair-maiden who touched his shoulder. 

The silence that emerged instantly changed into loud cackling laughter as the two linen maidens saw Ivar’s wide-eyed, dumbstruck expression, while repositioning himself against the doorframe. 

Even the fair-maiden hid a smile behind her hand and stepped aside of him, taking her place on a stool beside the linen maidens. 

Ivar tried to recollect himself by hastily brushing over the tiles on the floor. When the young women picked up their conversation and included the fair-maiden, Ivar dared to risk a peek. His worst nightmare came true, he was evidently the center of their focus, three pairs of bemused eyes watched his every move. 

Ivar found it wise to retreat and hopefully throw himself out of any available window. Not even that wish was granted, before he could push himself up onto his elbows and crawl away, the fair-maiden raised her hand. 

As a slave, Ivar obeyed her order, although laced with hesitation and confusion.

“Blijf,” spoke the fair-maiden with a lovely voice, “kom bij ons zitten,” and she tapped on a stock of woven blankets. 

Unsure Ivar balanced on the palms of his hands, staring up at each of the three women. Although the linen maiden still wore their bemused smirks, they weren’t laughing at him and the fair-maiden motioned at the blankets again. 

And so Ivar dragged his lower half across the room, sitting aside of the fair-maiden as her lapdog. His self confidence diminished and he kept his gaze in a straight line to the tips of his toes as conversation around him carried on. Nervous Ivar’s fingers plucked at the loose strings of the blankets he sat on.

“Wat is jouw naam?” Suddenly the conversation paused and tried to include him.

Ivar looked back up at the fair-maiden; an unwelcome flush of pink arsing in his cheeks. Now he did hate himself for being too stubborn to learn the basics of Dietsch. 

The fair-maiden noticed his struggle and turned towards the linen maidens: “Badelog,” she extracted her arm towards the blonde, “Duna,” she pointed at the brunette, “Mabelia,” she spoke last and pressed the palm of her hand on her chest. 

“Wat is jouw naam?” 

“Ivar,” his voice was quite, less sure.

“Ivar,” the fair-maiden repeated with her lovely dulcet voice, “Badelog, Duna, Mabelia en Ivar”, she repeated.

Ivar nodded sheepishly as his head got hazy. The three maiden, or Badelog, Duna and Mabelia chattered on, while picking up their craft. It surprised Ivar to see the fair-maiden, or Mabelia, pick up needlework. On the other hand, what fun was there to do inside this enormous castle for a young woman? 

“Hier, maak jezelf nuttig,” Duna directed herself to Ivar and gave him a knot of wool which was all tangled up. 

And so Ivar was set to work, to again do women's work. It beat scrubbing the floors by far. He literally sat high and dry inside the castle, all while quietly listening to three of his peers having a cheerful afternoon. 

This all ended abruptly as the Giant burst into the room, breathing like a mad horse. In his fist he was holding Ivar’s bucket and seemed to light himself on fire the moment he lay eyes on his cripple slave, seated in the midst of three women. 

Ivar automatically dropped the wool and brought his elbows towards his face. Last time the Giant caught him slacking on his duty he’d been thrown down the stairs. The closest stairs had a hundred and twenty four steps; he’d break every bone in his body if he tumbled down all those steps. 

The Giant leaped into action, took hold of Ivar’s collar and dragged him up until the tips of his toes levitated a few inches above the floor.

The two linen maidens cautiously jumped back behind the loom as the Giant raised the bucket and aimed at Ivar’s head. The blow was blunt and viscous, with water seeping over him. Aside from being in serious pain, being struck like this was humiliating and cruel. The Giant shook Ivar’s body until he lowered his arms to give the brute a direct aim at his face. Blood gushed down his nose after the second whack with the bucket and Ivar feared the third might cause him his front teeth. 

That third blow never came and he had to thank the fair-maiden for that. She rose with grandeur and grace, yet her voice turned into ice and anger. 

Without a speck of her usual submissive demeanor she started to fume at the Giant. Even though her frame and length was petite, she stood seven feet tall and seemed to outmatch the Giant in size and power. 

As Ivar hung defenseless in the man’s arm, the bastard seemed to shrink into the size of a mouse, muffling small words of apology to the fair-maiden, the soon-to-be ruler of de Haar. 

Ivar was released, his body sinking back onto the stock of wool, with the Giant’s jaw tightening as he shot Ivara deadpan expression before exiting the room.  

While pinching his bloody nose, Ivar could not believe he wasn’t sent a hundred and twenty four steps down the stairs. 

Comfort in the form of an embroidered handkerchief was kindly gifted, by Mabelia. She had a hard time controlling the tension on her face. She knew her place well, that was evident, but that didn’t mean that claiming her rightful place came naturally to her. Christians had such a strange belief; that women were less than men. Which didn’t make any sense, because although men were able to take life, the power was in the hands of women to create it. Ivar grew up with a strong and powerful example of a woman who ruled with grace and an iron fist.  

Here such women would be tongue tied, broken and overruled by their husband. In de Haar, this was Mabelia’s future, past, and present. 

Ivar pressed the white cotton against his nostrils and curled up a bit to keep the blood from running onto his clothes. 

Duna cleared her throat and soon conversation carried on, as the three young women picked up their daily routine. 

His face stung and all he tasted was blood, but by the Gods did he feel fortunate. Not strong, no, because he’d coward like a small child into the skirts of the fair-maiden. But she’d chosen to take him underneath her wings. She stood up for him, faced the Giant and victored by using words as her weapon.

After his nose stopped bleeding, Ivar dully picked the yarn back up and as he tried to untangle the wires, he also tried to unravel the chaos inside of his own mind. Because how could it be possible that someone of noble blood reached out to a crippled slave? 

At the end of noon Duna walked Ivar back towards the shed. While crawling down the main gate, Ivar spotted the Giant on his knees scrubbing the moss-covered stones of the staircases.  Grinning now would be a death sentence, so Ivar bit the inside of his cheeks to keep his face in shape. But inside he wasn’t just laughing, no, he was towering over that god damned bastard and pissing all over all the steps the Giant needed to scrub. 

.-.-.

Piglet had this sixth sense for destroying all forms of happiness. She must have learned to master that skill by studying the Giant. 

She knew, without a doubt, that Ivar had been inside the castle and when he crawled in with a smirk beaming off his face, her gut instinct must have told her it had something to do with the fair-maiden. 

Or at least with the Giant, because the man didn’t even bother to glance at Ivar as he shackled his slave back up for the night. By the way he slammed the door with all his might it was evident he hadn’t enjoyed taking over Ivar’s task. 

Piglet’s annoying habit of shutting Ivar out emerged. She ignored him and managed to lay an excessive amount of animosity in the few glares she did grant him. 

Right now, Ivar couldn’t care less about his companion’s hostility. For today he’d been the one ‘high and dry’ and learned the Giant’s Achilles heel; the fair-maiden named Mabelia. 

“Mabelia”, Ivar called her name under his breath. It sounded delicate, pure, like a flower. Thoughtlessly, Ivar petted Utstott’s featherless head. The bird had reclaimed his position on Ivar’s shoulder, as the rightful heir. 

Peering sightlessly at the wall facing him, Ivar had his free hand balled up, keeping the handkerchief from Mabelia out of Piglet’s sight. The young woman would either try to smack some sense back into him or retreat back into a seizure, if she knew about the affinity he held for the Christian ruler. 

Maybe he should allow Piglet to strike him, objectively Mabelia was his oppressor. In a world of black and white, it was clear the fair-maiden was the enemy. 

Yet his world started to seep through with specks of grey and very deep down inside, there was a small part of him that couldn’t express it’s delight for spending half a day in the midst of female peers. Without being ridiculed, without being treated like a second-class citizen. Today, he’d simply been Ivar, and that had been enough. 

Ever since the Giant made him a slave at castle de Haar, the foundations of Ivar’s entire being and upbringing had been shaken. The walls he mastered to build up high and mighty had been effectively damaged by feminine touch and care. It had shaken him to the core when he’d come to terms with the fact that he cared for Piglet. It had marked his back; his willingness to die for her. And now, three more female individuals decided to make his miserable life a little less bleak. It made no sense to Ivar, who never saw the thralls in Kattegat as humans, as people. If judgement day would burst through the doors of castle de Haar, if he found a way to burn the place to the ground, would he bring himself to kill those three women as well? They were Christians, for that reason alone they should face decapitation. Ivar yawned and slouched back against the border, ready to face another sleepless night filled with tossing and turning. 

.-.-.

A/N: See Ivar, not all of them damsels are vixens. So, why did I write this chapter? I think because in the TV show all women that surrounded Ivar wanted to use him -we all know who I mean- and all of them betrayed him. Now, without going too much into psychology, it’s hard for a person who’s not familiar with love and affection to make sense of the human need to be kind to another. As in the last bit; Ivar’s whole pov of the world is breaking down. He wants to be a monster, yet experiences that being ‘Ivar’ is accepted as well. Also, I am curious. As a Dutchie myself I added some ‘Dietsch’ in here (kay I will destroy the magic, it's not ancient Dietsch, I wrote in simple plain 2020 Dutch). Since Ivar refused to learn Dietsch he doesn’t understand the words, so I wonder, how clear was it what the women were asking of him? If it’s easier for you all, I can add the translation down here at the A/N, but since it’s Ivar’s POV, I kinda want to let the reader be left a bit in the dark as well. Oh and to calm your angered heart, the Giant will eventually suffer, badly. Xoxoxox Nukyster 

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane The tagged ones: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys ​ @shannygoatgruff​ @pieces-by-me​ @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa​ @readsalot73​ @lauraan182 @conaionaru @sarahh-jane @peachyboneless  @adhdnightmare  If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 scarebat ship meme

(I had @heroes-etc​ give me more questions, but for scarebat this time, since we talk about it 24/7 but I never post about it. These are from this ship meme.)

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

There’s only one feature of Bruce’s appearance that’s scarier when he’s not wearing the batsuit, and that’s his creepy blue eyes. Especially the way Greg Capullo draws them where they’re sickly pale and have ridiculously constricted pupils.

So his eyes would definitely be in the running for Jonathan’s favorite feature, even if seeing them would require Bruce’s mask to be off, which is something New 52 Scarecrow explicitly avoids. Yes, that character trait only exists to justify why Batman’s identity is still secret after Scarecrow mind controls and subsequently institutionalizes him in “Gothtopia,” but I think it’s interesting so I’m going to pretend it’s not shoe-horned in there for meta reasons.

Actually having to see Bruce without the cowl on would definitely permanently break the illusion of Batman as a nightmarish inhuman bat demon, which I’m sure is a large part of the appeal for anyone as obsessed with fear as Jonathan Crane. But Bruce’s creepy eyes would be a serious consolation prize. 

Bruce’s favorite of Jonathan’s physical features is rough, because Jonathan is famously not great re: physical features. I’m going to say his mouth, because a) that’s where the snark comes from, and b) the New 52 establishes that in one of their earlier encounters, Jonathan had sewn his own mouth shut, so it’s one of those things where a bad first impression turned positive later on leads to more fondness than if you’d made a good impression in the first place.

I just looked up the panel where he does it and I DID forget how incredibly gross his lips look here, which makes the fact that I have chosen it as Bruce’s feature seem really funny in retrospect. But I do think that seeing Jonathan’s mouth healed and unmutilated would be a reassuring reminder of how he’s stabilized since their first encounter, at least to the point that he isn’t hurting himself anymore. Also, Bruce buys him a lot of chapstick.

Bonus alternate answer that did not make it into the Google Doc:

9. How open are they with their feelings?

Bruce and Jonathan are both pretty competent deceivers in the New 52; Bruce always, Jonathan depending on how the writer is feeling (though you could argue that Bruce just has a stronger grip on reality, while Jonathan’s skill at obfuscation varies with how lucid he is).

...I was going to use Detective Comics #23.3 as an example of Jonathan being a good liar, but actually upon re-reading I’m realizing that only 1/4 rogues buy his attempt at manipulation. So maybe he’s considerably worse at hiding his intentions than he thinks he is. Regardless, he doesn��t ever attempt to disguise his obsession with Batman.

Whether or not he’d express romantic feelings or try to hide them is debatable. There’s no Masters of Fear equivalent in the New 52 establishing that he was ever mocked or punished for expressing romantic feelings for someone, though there is a flashback panel in his origin emphasizing that he was always lonely in this regard (and coincidentally doesn’t specify that his interest is in women, which is fun).

In Green Lanterns #17 he has some internal monologue about how fear is his romance and he needs Batman to feel it, but it is an INTERNAL monologue, so it’s not clear if this is something he would express to Bruce or keep to himself. Or if he’s even fully processed it himself, given how incredibly out of it he is in this comic. Most of his spoken lines are just kind of screaming incoherently. Bruce gets pretty snippy with a Green Lantern at the end of the issue for suggesting that Jonathan should be punished for his crimes as if he were in control of his actions. 

Bruce is a similarly complicated answer, since for all his deceptions and shadowy mystery he pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to romance. It’s just that his heart doesn’t express or process emotions the same way as anyone around him, which can create conflict. His (seriously underrated) love interest during Scarecrow’s origin arc, Natalya, spent most of her time dating him thinking that he didn’t care about her for this reason. He was trying to express that he loved her, but he mostly did so through complimenting her skills, which she never took as serious declarations of affection because he wasn’t being straightforward and she was insecure.

Jonathan does not himself seem like someone who would be especially secure in the idea of another person having romantic feelings towards him, so I assume that while Bruce might THINK he’s being open with any romantic feelings he develops, he would in reality just be really confusing.

13. How do they react to being away from each other?

I actually think that in general, Jonathan is one of the few people who would have no issue dealing with Bruce’s tendency to unexpectedly go AWOL for long periods of time, given that he himself has a tendency to fixate on his work to the exclusion of everything else.

But New 52 Jonathan specifically probably has pretty serious abandonment issues due to his father putting him in “the pit” and dying before he could take him out, meaning that Jonathan was waiting for his dad to come back for him for God knows how long, until Jonathan Sr.’s employers finally sent the police to investigate. 

So while in general I think he wouldn’t be very clingy, any impression that Bruce had died or otherwise wasn’t coming back for him would probably be incredibly triggering. If Bruce could assuage this reaction by occasionally sending updates that at least indicated he was still alive, then I doubt Jonathan would have any problems with his absence.

(@heroes-etc​: bruce sending like a checkmark emoji once a day. jonathan hears his phone ping, looks at the screen, and goes hm. good. and doesnt respond.)

Bruce meanwhile has no problem ditching literally any love interest at any time if something crime-related comes up, unless he’s considering quitting the cowl for them (as Joker probably accurately fears will happen with Catwoman in Prelude to the Wedding). But I don’t think he’d stop being Batman for Scarecrow, nor would Jonathan ever want him to — he’s interested in Batman, not necessarily Bruce Wayne.

But even though Bruce wouldn’t have an emotional problem with distance, I think he would get similarly paranoid if they went too long without contact, though for different reasons than Jonathan. Unlike some other villains (*cough* Joker and Riddler), Scarecrow has machinations that don’t require getting Batman’s attention, so if he decided to continue with his less legal experiments, he would not feel compelled to get Bruce involved. While the “World’s Greatest Detective” would probably not have an issue keeping an eye on Jonathan while he’s in Gotham, he’s considerably less capable of that in space. And Jonathan is definitely a rogue he would be obsessed with keeping an eye on, even if he reformed. 

Batman & Robin Eternal established that Dick’s first supervillain conflict AND first mission leaving the country was chasing Scarecrow across the world for an entire summer, which is kind of insane considering how early it was in Batman’s career. Like, he did not have an army of children to watch Gotham for him while he was gone. He had one child, and he took that child WITH him. He left Gotham undefended for months, JUST to catch Scarecrow. Sooo that in of itself implies he wouldn’t be great at keeping his distance.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Well, Jonathan occasionally sees Bruce as a giant bat demon, so yes.

Outside of that very obvious differing view, Jonathan in general sees himself and the rest of the rogue gallery as more vital to Batman’s identity than Bruce considers them; the extent to which he’s right varies depending on your interpretation of Bruce’s character, but it’s definitely not something Bruce would ever consciously think or say. 

This is related to something that’s definitely a misconception of his, though, which is that the majority of Batman’s job revolves around supervillains like him. In Kings of Fear, when Jonathan blackmails Bruce into letting him come on patrol with him (which is a whole thing in of itself), he’s shocked at how boring most of Batman’s work is. Which probably goes along hand in hand with sometimes seeing Bruce as an almost mythologically inhuman figure. 

In his defense, it’s not like he has a lot of context for what the minutiae of Batman’s job is like. He’s either fighting Batman, hiding from Batman, or imprisoned by Batman in Arkham, a place where everyone else also spends all their time fighting or hiding from Batman. Which would really skew your perspective.

Interestingly, Bruce and Jonathan are both people who pride themselves on being extremely self-aware. Both of them probably inaccurately. You can rant about how you have a perfect understanding of your troubled mental state all day long, but if you’re still dressing up like a monster at night to indulge the power fantasies you created as a traumatized child by scaring the hell out of people, there’s probably a level of self-realization you haven’t gotten to yet.

Bruce however is at least self-aware enough to regularly be able to analyze his way out of fear toxin induced hallucinations, which Jonathan is unable to do — when he’s not depicted as having become immune to his fear toxin due to overexposure (as he is in Green Lanterns #17), he can be defeated with the same formulas that Batman regularly manages to resist (like his honestly embarrassing breakdown in Nightwing #50). 

Which ties into the difference between how he sees himself and how Bruce sees him: Jonathan obviously visualizes himself as a “master” of fear. He actually has the same internal monologue about fear and trauma that Bruce does in Batman: The Dark Knight #13: “Make it your own... run to what you fear... stare it in the eye... until it whimpers and backs down.” But Bruce doesn’t see Scarecrow as conquering his fear; he sees him as addicted to it, to the point of his own detriment.

Which is interesting, because Jonathan clearly sees his Scarecrow persona as a way to regain control after being victimized by his father’s fear experiments throughout his childhood. I guess Bruce’s perspective would be that Jonathan’s father instead got him addicted to fear as a child, so his attempts at agency as Scarecrow are just a) reliving his trauma over and over and b) compulsively inflicting his own trauma on others. There’s probably some truth to that, even if overall it’s probably an oversimplification (and coincidentally pretty much EXACTLY what Riddler argues Bruce is doing by “funding” Batman in Batman Annual #4, so there’s that).

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

The obvious answer here is yes, because Jonathan is a supervillain with no regard for human life while Bruce is a superhero who has dedicated his life to protecting people. So presumably one or both of them would have to make serious compromises to be together. HOWEVER. Scarecrow’s primary motivation is to research, understand and inflict fear, while Batman’s modus operandi is making his enemies afraid of him. So despite their contradiction in morals, they’re uniquely positioned to advance each other’s goals, were they to ever join forces.

Bruce never has a problem using fear toxin on Scarecrow, presumably partially out of an “eye for an eye” sense of poetic justice, but also because Batman is practical and it’s a nonlethal weapon that’s always available to him while fighting Scarecrow. If he could have fear toxin customized for his own use, it’s hard to imagine him being unwilling to use it. In Gothtopia he actually advocates for using what’s leftover from Crane’s new formula on all the inmates at Arkham, which seems about as insanely morally ambiguous as it gets. Arguably, putting fear toxin in his smoke bombs would be considerably less wrong than drugging mental patients out of their mind when they’re supposed to be receiving therapy (this is also the issue where he illegally releases Poison Ivy because she did him a favor, which is both morally questionable and relevant to the current topic).

Jonathan obviously already thinks Batman is the most interesting possible case study in fear; it’s why he keeps coming back to Bruce and Gotham despite being one of the more independent villains in Batman’s rogue gallery in the New 52. So though he would have to give up actively kidnapping people (which would be a huge sacrifice, I’m sure), teaming up with Bruce would give him unrestricted access to his favorite test subject. Unfortunately, it seems very possible that he would fall back to old tricks if he ever felt that he’d gotten everything he could out of a partnership with Bruce. Fortunately, that would probably take a VERY long time.

[twitchesandstitches]

emergency digestion

(Commission for @heimkoheimkofan of my OC Odina getting vored by thier OC Sariel and my Tia to actually help her out!)

-----

A beach was a fine change of pace from the dangerous places Odina usually saw, but she wasn’t in much of a mood to appreciate it properly.

A beach sprawled about into the distance, as far as the eye could see. There was no horizon, just a faint curve of dim light that grew darker and then brighter in something like an alien imitation of a solar cycle. The sea went on, and subtle awareness of the geometries suggested that it just went on forever, a serene expanse of ocean and tides.

Probably, there were sea creatures there. She thought she’d seen a few of her friends, or teammates, bringing some back from a hunt, on the basis that a beach vacation demanded barbeque. She was in too much pain to notice.

Odina and the rest of the eccentric people she’d gotten stuck with had seen a lot of strange places over the past few years. She’d met a lot of strange people, and some of them were… friends, she supposed. A few were more intimate than that suggested, and she wasn’t comfortable enough with her feelings to acknowledge that directly. She’d been to many places, too, some of them were weird. Others were things she’d remember in twisting nightmares, brief memories scarred into her soul that reminded her of how small and brief she was.

A beach was a pretty nice change of pace. Even if they’d gotten there through a doorway and it had opened into a plane of existence that was a single continuous beachfront. Seemingly going on forever, as far as they could tell. Odina had been to many weird places, that defied all common sense and rationality; a perpetual beach, complete with days and nights despite there being no such thing as stars or a sun here, was a lot less awful than some other places she’d seen.

Odina sat huddled on the beach, looking as terrible as she felt, her squat body curled up like she was trying to compress herself into a living ball. She was a human woman of Algonquinian descent; her features were broad, her skin a deep brown, and her thick hair an earthy tone offset by a streak of red dye. Glasses covered her eyes, dipping slightly as she stared down. her toes wiggling into the sand. Her face twisted with pain, and a subtle sense that there was something horribly wrong with her.

She was not a large woman… at least as far as height was concerned. She was one of those humans whose ancestors had been mutated and bred true. She was one of those known as dwarves; a human’s full mass compressed into a squat form about half the size. She was barely four feet tall, but she was nearly six feet wide, particularly at her massive hips. She was a buxom woman, her huge breasts spilling all over her massive thighs, though her butt was probably the most impressive aspect of herself.

Magical energy, the availability of transformatives across most known worlds, and shape-changing abilities all meant that body types tended to get pretty extreme in the modern day. Odina’s body emphasized hips broad enough to wreck most doorways, her thighs wider across than most men’s whole bodies, but her butt in particular was incredibly huge. It squashed beneath her, apparently as big around as she was, and so soft, yet strong, that it was propping her several feet off the ground, a living couch she carried with her. If she stood up, the top of it would be level with her shoulders, her legs mostly swallowed up in its bulk; as it was, she was sandwiched by it as the two fatty masses swelled around her.

It was also glowing faintly, pulsing with random flows of magic. Each pulse made it grow visibly larger, both cheeks wobbling violently; so much that it was visibly hurting her. She winced, looking more ill as it kept growing.

She hugged herself. A modest top, emblazoned with her favorite crafting/sandbox game’s title, did its best to support breasts swelled to torso-obscuring size by her own particular magical abilities. Odina had the power to nullify magic in all its forms by directly absorbing it into her body, mainly her backside, and grew bigger by turning it into physical mass until she processed that energy.

She was so charged up, so full, that even her breasts were growing. Odina thought, in a bleak and intensely worried way, that his was an extremely bad sign.

Around the beach, others from her group had spread out to have fun or set up a small settlement. There were slime girls and robots, humans and beast-morphs, nagas and centaurs, fauns and angelic entities, and stranger creatures; all of them knew Odina, if only as the short human who yelled at them to focus and stay on task. She didn’t want any of them to see her, and she was a lot better at going unnoticed than might be expected.

Her discomfort and distress had not gone entirely unnoticed, though. There were two people watching her from a distance, debating about the matter.

“She’s sick! I’m sure of it!” This first speaker had a soft, gentle voice with a faint accent that was hard to place, but suggested an islander origin. The speaker was also abundantly female, and a testament to the power of what modding (or self-shaping powers) could accomplish.

Her name was Tiashar; her friends, including Odina, usually called her Tia. No one was quite sure what she was, Tia included. Many of the others around the island now were big people, ranging from human sized to larger; special powers, the luck of genetics, their species, or simply deliberate magical or biological modification allowed them to be as huge as they wanted. Tia was even larger than the biggest of them, freely changing her size as seemed warranted, and she didn’t just tower over her friend here: she would have towered over trucks and cars. Even now, her power deliberately reigned in and her body significantly downsized, she could have been mistaken for a hill, and crouched and almost laying on her enormous breasts, she was at least thirteen feet high.

She gleamed faintly, her thick skin a lustrous shade of pitch black and lubricated, like her body oiled itself up. She was vaguely humanoid in form, but she wasn’t human in the slightest; her skin was like a mix of a frog and a whale’s, and she crouched on two digitigrade legs, with broad three-toed feet like some primordial beast. Behind her, a massive tail curled and lashed about anxiously, various flapping bits smacking heavily against herself. Generally, she looked like some amphibious creature that was, bit by bit, adding in various other traits to herself.

Sensory organs running down her back her to her tail, nubby and resembling a kaiju dinosaur’s dorsal spikes, wobbled as she picked up on mysterious signals. Her neck was very long, almost serpentine, and bent slightly as she slowly raised up her solemn-looking face towards Odina. Massive flaps like huge bunny ears (though covered with the same sensory nubs) fell over her shoulders, and around her head a massive mane of pink tentacles swished about, rather like living hair.

Massive breasts spilled out before her; they were bigger than queen size beds, and likely made up a lot of her body mass; nearly as much as her butt, which rose behind her like a pair of matching hills about the base of her tail. It was an interesting dichotomy; she was definitely inhuman in appearance, but she was spectacularly curvaceous, even matronly.

“I mean, I suppose it makes sense,” said the other speaker. This one was even less human-like than Tia, and that was saying a lot. Her voice was musical; not just in the sense of having a pleasing voice, but with a reverb as though the sounds were made by ethereal instruments all playing in tune together. It also did not appear to be spoken; her voice welled up from around her, and her mouth did not move in any way. She simply willed the worlds in, or sung them in a deeper way.

Her body, coiled in a tense cone with her torso at the center, was vaguely serpentine. She had no legs, but a long curling trunk and tail, gently tapering to a tip, all a faintly luminous substance that appeared to be bluish-purple, shimmering like fire made into something solid. She rested on this, rising up so she was roughly the height of a human, but where it should have met her torso, the rest of her body simply detached from this tail. There was a green sphere, glowing like a small star, and above that, there was something like a human woman’s torso, made of the same substance. Two large breasts (roughly the size of her head; not so grand as Tia’s, or even Odina’s) hung suspended under their own power, and four arms branched off from her shoulders, claw-like digits anxiously wiggling together.

This being’s name was Sariel. She was not… from around there. She called herself an angel, and she certainly looked the part.

Six purple wings, similar to a dragonfly’s but fleshy, hung morosely down her back. And finally her head floated just above her shoulders, detached from her body and with no signs that it was meant to attach, a cloud of something like hair above several pairs of eyes and a human-like mouth.

The two of them watched Odina sadly. They knew she was sick; that she’d gotten sick.

They didn’t even know her powers could do that to her. Odina didn’t like talking about herself much; now both of them were very worried that they didn’t know what was wrong with her, exactly.

They did have theories, though.

“Do you remember that fiend berserker who came out of nowhere?” Sariel asked.

“Yeah,” Tia said, thinking about the size of a massive horned brute charging and screaming bloodthirsty war cries, just as Odina dropped on it’s head.

Everyone, in the magical transformations the mortal universe had experienced, had their own unique abilities. Odina was unexpectedly gifted with a singularly potent ability: she could drain magical energy. It was a simple sounding technique, but as everything was made of magic on some level, it translated into an ‘I win!’ skill if she’d bothered to work at it. As it was, she was well within her power to short-circuit spells, nullify magic-powered attacks sent her way, and in the case of purely mystical entities, absorb them entirely.

Case in point: the berserker had dwindled away, until he was dissipated. Nothing but essence on her butt, to respawn later on.

And she’d started looking queasy around them, Sariel thought.

She added, thoughtfully, “And then those… ghost things that tried to ambush us.”

Tia winced, remembering the wave of howling, grotesque things, bundles of raw emotion and the lust to kill, bound into an undead framework of bones and muscle. Odina had simply extended her absorbing field, and their frameworks had collapsed on the spot, the ghosts sucked right into her backside.

That was how they’d found the portal to the beach; the ghosts had been eying it, perhaps to build a nasty trap there. And then, with the rush to explore somewhere fun for once, Odina had been allowed to quietly suffer in silence.

“...She processes magic, doesn’t she?” Tia asked, giving Sariel a sidelong look. “Like… she gets all stacked for a while, but it dies away eventually. Like a short-term power boost.”

“I think so?” Sariel’s wings flapped like someone making an awkward gesture. “I’ve never seen her have problems, uh. ‘Digesting’, I think?”

“But… I guess it’s not a problem with most forms of magic, but she absorbed a big, strong demon and ghosts,” Tia pointed out.

Sariel’s color faded. Horror drew her face into something crumbled and ill. “And they’re made of evil and, and death, and she just took that into herself!”

Tia blinked. “Ohhh, that makes sense. No wonder she’s feeling ill!”

Sariel flapped around. “We have to do something! We have to get her to a doctor or, or something! We need to rip that bad stuff out of her! Ohhh, please don’t just sit there, we have to do something!”

Tia grabbed her with one massive, flipper-like hand. “Sari! This isn’t the time to panic!”

“This is exactly the time to panic!” Sariel wailed. “Our Odina is in danger!”

Tia gently pushed her face into the sand, muffling her. Briefly, she had considered pile driving her on the basis of it being totally awesome, but decided at the last second that it wasn’t the time for that. “Yelling and running around isn’t going to help! Helping will help! And I have an idea!”

Sariel made a vaguely interrogative mumble. Tia leaned down and whispered to her.

------

Odina was still clutching herself, whimpering faintly in pain, when she felt the sand shake, and a familiar ethereal presence wash over her. It honestly made her feel a little better, a thought so sappy she was instantly revolted at herself for it.

She glanced up, a shadow falling over her. Sariel hovered before her, her four hands grasped in a very prim way that Odina instantly knew was Sariel trying very hard to pretend she was composed. Behind her, so big that she practically was her own crowd, Tiashar loomed. Mostly Odina saw a pair of massive black breasts extending over the immediate skyview like a platform, wobbling faintly even though she was standing still, a sign of her exotic internal structure; she was built like a big mass of jelly, honestly. Curiously, though, she didn’t seem particularly sexual in a way that would normally make Odina uncomfortable or irritable.

Her outfit helped the part. Tia had a tendency to dress either like a mom-type figure with a punky flair, or she wore so little that she technically qualified as nude; she had a poor grasp on social norms, rather than being some kind of exhibitionist. The funny thing was that either way, she didn’t feel particularly sexual. Today, she was fairly primly dressed, with a massive white t-shirt and beach shorts that looked quite sensible. They were rather tight and the neckline was so low it nearly reach her belly, so much cleavage visible that the bottoms of her breasts were nearly on display, but that was down to her body sorely testing any confinements she found.

Tia leaned over. A thick mass of belly pushed over her waistline, while her tail looped overhead, making a sort of perimeter that made the whole scene feel a bit more private, or perhaps intimate. “Hey, hun,” she said, now so low that her massive breasts were pushed into the sand, but she appeared not to notice. “You’re not doing so great.”

Odina glanced above the massive valley of cleavage, unfazed. “I’m fine,” she said, and immediately rolled back into her own swollen backside. Dark flesh rolled around her, swelling and pulsing erratically with light; sharp pain struck out with each pulse, and in its wake, there was a nauseous bile, and a raw feeling like she’d been slashed with hooks, and something was leaking through the wounds.

She groaned, miserably.

Sariel eyed her, wings fluttering in distress. “You are not fine!”

Odina tried to speak, but groaned again, twisting with clear pain and holding onto her body. She flinched as her breasts visibly swelled larger, trying and failing to hold in a pained gasp.

Any kind of physical reaction from Odina was notable. And that kind of growth being painful? Tiashar and Sariel shared another worried look. That wasn’t normal at all.

The mechanics of the way bodies got bigger through power absorbing or the many ways superpowered digestion could empower you, they were not well understood. But it was almost always a pleasant thing; sometimes addictive. But it was never painful. It didn’t make people sound like their guts were being filled with acid.

Sariel fluttered down, her serpentine lower body curling gently around Odina. Though ODina was normally adverse to even friendly touches, needing to be leaned into it, now she leaned desperately against Sariel’s length. Her butt, improbably, was stiff to the touch, as if filled with sharp edges instead of fat.

Something very much like a hand pressed out, as if from somewhere else. Tia recoiled in horror and sudden awareness, and Sariel had to remain very still to repress the urge to pull away from the sudden surge of malice and inhuman ferocity welling up from… well, Odina’s hindquarters.

Her butt was full of evil. It’d be silly if Odina wasn’t whimpering in agony, and the presence of so much nasty energy enough to make her feel nauseous. Tia’s tentacles writhed and slapped against each other anxiously, and from the way her heavy legs shifted, Sariel got the impression that Tia was fighting the urge to simply lash out at what every instinct knew to be a threat.

Tia’s massive, floppy ear-like structures shifted. She’d grown those a while back, apparently just for the aesthetics, without them actually doing anything. Currently she’d adapted them into something like a cat’s whiskers, or the barbels of some fish; organs to form a new sense out of, sampling the etheric energies around her for total sensory awareness. Right now, they curled back as she flinched away, and the little nubs on them glowing erratically as her sensory powers went active… and then dimmed.

“Odina?” Tia said carefully. “Um. Not trying to be an alarmist buuuut…”

“Just say it, fuck!” Odina howled the last word out, a fresh stab of pain making it too hard to bother with the niceties.

“The energies you absorbed are still independent of you, but they’re interfering with your body! They’re spreading their bad energy through you, and it’s poisoning you!”

“Yeah, kinda figured,” Odina groused.

Tia nodded miserably. She was not a very serious person; she tended to speak in random, whimsical nonsense, and she preferred to not take things seriously if at all possible, and so it was a very bad sign when she spoke in a grim tone. “Odina, this is bad, this is really bad. Do you, um. Get it?”

“I think something I ate is disagreeing with me,” Odina managed, with a hint of her usual sarcasm. The skin on her backside, quite visibly with her very small swim trunks, again stretched from inside. There was no actual hand there; nothing there but fat. All the same, something there, a malign intelligence, was imposing itself and magically lashing out, and so her form was distorting around the… infection. “Oh, hey. A literal metaphor. Neat.”

“This isn’t funny!” Sariel yelled, wings flapping about and her hands struck out, finding Odina’s soft shoulders and squeezing. “You absorbed them but you can’t process that kind of magic!”

“They’re… dead, right?” Odina said hopelessly.

“I mena, kind of?” Tia said. She loomed above them both, and her presence was calming. “As dead as they could be. But their essence is still packed full of everything about who they were, and they were almost literally made of evil! I don’t think your body can just dissolve that kind of thing! Sariel and I can do it, but I really don’t think your body is adjusted for just… purifying the evil from demonic or these kinds of undead things!”

Odina’s eyes went wide. Her glasses dropped off. She didn’t even notice. “Oh no… oh noo…”

Sariel swallowed. “We can help.” Odina’s head tilted up sharply. “We can digest things like that. Easy! But… we can let you ‘borrow’ that sort of thing from us. No, I mean. We can digest them for you.”

Odina squirmed, looking uncomfortable and in pain at the same time. “Oh… ohhh…” She knew full well how their abilities worked. “That means you’re gonna have to… to…” She stopped, shutting her eyes tight, face twisting up in an expression best described as like a pear shoved through a grate. It was certainly an embarrassed look.

“Swallow you,” Tia said bluntly. “Yeah.”

Sariel nodded, holding her gently. “We won’t digest you. Just… be close enough so we can use our powers on you, dissolve that stuff right out of you. I can do it for you!”

Tia’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Uh, hey! That’s not entirely true, this is a team effort-”

Unfortunately, at that moment, Odina’s distress gave her unwanted guests an opening. Her mind had to firm to keep them contained, and she was too worried and upset to do that properly; her body was a prison for what was left of their shattered essences and impulse to damage things, but in that moment, there was enough for one of them to lash out.

Power coiled around her. To the naked eye, it manifested as a faint discoloration of air, as if of the air freezing over and curdling at the same time, with a profoundly unpleasant aura around her, but to the magically perceptive, they might have seen the energy pulsing from her and concentrate into a large spike-like mass. It manifested in real-space, sand pulling around it and condensing into that pointed shape, transmuting into bone and metal as the magic poured their energy to it, and it did so violently, launching right into Tia like a cannon blasting off; it hit and then-

She was gone, flying away over the sea.

“Oh holy shit!” Odina shouted, throwing herself back into her butt, the twin masses around her writhing like a bundle of monsters. She pulled Sariel down, in a tangle of wings and arms. The tension keeping the spike held back by Odina’s will let go and fired; she wasn’t strong enough to keep it back.

Tia was mildly put out as the missile was deflected from her body in mid-air, though. It had rocketed off into Tia’s breast, with so much force that she was sent flying like she’d been punched by artillery. The missile did not damage her, though, sinking a little into her breast and then bouncing off, into the water. But Tia kept flying into the distance, skidding along the surface of the water. Her body twisted and morphed, her powers instinctively trying to find a configuration of the many traits she’d absorbed to something that would get her out of this mess.

By this point, she was already out of sight, and as far as they knew, had just had a giant spike launched into her; they did not get to be so lucky as to see her deflect it with her extreme bustiness. “Tia!” Sariel yelled, unfurling upwards, briefly forgetting about Odina’s own situation. She was reminded as Odina actively howled in pain, and Sariel turned back to her, freezing up as Odina’s backside turned knobbly and hard, dozens of gruesome shapes pushing against its insides.

“I, I don’t know how long I can hold them back!” Odina cried out, into the sand. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!”

Sariel hesitated. “I don’t know if I can! We need Tia here!”

“Do it now!” Odina screamed.

Sariel made her decision. Odina needed her unique help right here, and right now.

She held Odina’s hands, another pair of hands finding what remained of her hips beneath the swelling butt mass, and she leaned in. Her wings enfolded around her and Odina’s smaller body (at least the bit of it not swelled to the size of a full couch), and then her lips met Odina’s.

The kiss was soft, and those who did not know Odina well would have been shocked at the passion from her as she sank gratefully into it.

Sariel’s jaws widened. Her face shifted form as her mouth opened wide, her throat expanding to fit anything she might gulp down. Slowly, her lips spread over ODina’s face. First the whole of her mouth slipped into Sariel’s own, and her jaws opened more impossibly wide, the kiss going deeper. Odina’s entire face pressed into those lips, and then sank into her mouth, against her tongue.

Gently, Sariel leaned forward, pushing Odina’s head into her mouth, sliding her down into her throat and tongue. She felt Odina’s hair tickle the insides of her throat as Odina’s head, from the top all the way down to her chin, slid into her body.

---

(About a mile away, Tia poked her head out of the water like a very lost softshell turtle. The water churned with her tendrils, and water foamed into a geyser as her massive tail raised up and then smashed down with so much force that it propelled her towards the shore.

Racing like a living speedboat, she REALLY hoped that Sariel wasn’t about to panic, or go off the plan!)

---

Back on the shore, Sariel felt Odina’s body trembling. Waves of pain flowed through Odina to Sariel, and though it hurt to feel, Sariel forced herself to just let that pain pass through her. Without comment, or visible reaction.

Sariel had no throat; at least one in a conventional sense. She had no neck, her head simply floated at a fixed distance from the rest of her body. She formed one now, her head bobbing down and then back up, a slim neck connecting head to body.

Now Odina’s head moved down that throat; the passage was slick and glowing faintly, and where there was light, it was very easy for her to move downwards. It should have been uncomfortable; Odina’s hair was already drenched with saliva, the muscles of Sariel’s throat squeezed so hard on her that Odina’s feet left the ground, and Odina hated personal contact to begin with.

But some people have at least one exception to their ‘never touch me’ rules. Odina visibly relaxed, letting the soft warmth slide down her ears and hair. The sense of wrongness invading her body seemed distant, somehow. The remnants of the monsters she had absorbed snarled their wordless cries of mindless, in the back of her mind, but they were stifled.

Sariel gently lowered herself, pushing downwards. Odina’s head sunk further into her body, her shoulders sliding into her mouth. Odina wiggled, letting Sariel do her work and even grabbed her breasts, compressing them. It wouldn’t work much to make it easier on Sariel, who felt how large they were, pressing against her own stomach. They were bigger than Odina was.

Nevertheless, she did her best. Her jaws gaped even larger, the tops of Odina’s breasts bulging around Sariel’s lips. More spilled down, smacking into the sand, all the way to where Sariel’s serpentine body curled on the ground. Sariel’s lips had a very good grip on Odina’s body, though, and she smooched, or perhaps slurped, very hard, with a magical potency strong enough to overcome physical limits. Reality warped to accommodate her desire, like clay bending beneath a sculptor’s fingers.

Odina’s back slipped entirely into Sariel’s mouth, and her breasts dragged off the ground. Despite their sheer size, or the wriggling as the captive essences fought to make her body fight on her behalf, they were pulled in, Sariel’s mouth too powerful to be defied. Her throat bulged, swelling out with a massive pair of twin spheres that slid down as Odina traveled into her belly, and Sariel sighed with pleasure as Odina’s head settled into her belly, the comforting fullness growing more as her engorged breasts joined her, and then her back falling into position.

Odina was very short, as befit a dwarf-type human, and so her belly and waist were swallowed up all at once. Her hips and butt, though, loomed above Sariel, a daunting and terrible sight. Briefly, doubt crept across her mind: how was she supposed to engulf something as big as that?!

One cheek was close to her mouth, Odina leaning at a slight angle. All Sariel could see was a massive sphere of an enticing dark brown, contours that she knew intimately well… though the rigidity of them was an offense to her, and she felt the hateful attention of the monsters that were concentrated there, and she forced herself to think of Odina’s good. She had to do this.

Sariel inhaled. Odina’s waist slipped down into her, and Sariel’s mouth gaped into a massive ring as that butt came down.

It should have hurt, she thought distantly as the upper curve of them went into her. It was so big; each buttcheek more than twelve feet across and far higher than that, dwarfing her so imposingly. Yet, magic flowed into her body, giving her greater flexibility, and so her body simply expanded around it, growing wider to accommodate it.

Odina’s butt came down. Slowly, grindingly, with horrible slowness, but it was the kind of slowness that was also an inevitability. Soon the brown flesh was passing by her lips, and then a massive distortion in her throat. Sariel wobbled with the weight of it, wavering in place, her Odina-stuffed belly shaking in place, and then she gave one massive gulp-

And then it slipped down, and her belly filled, so violently that it knocked her over, and a huge swell of faint blue filled her vision. Odina’s legs and feet came with the butt, so comparatively tiny that Sariel honestly didn’t notice.

Her stomach squirmed. Odina moved around inside her, getting comfortable as divine fluids washed over her, and at once, Sariel felt the pain retreat from Odina. The demonic essence plaguing her recoiled form it at once, weakened by her digestive powers.

Sariel sighed in relief, and blinked up as a shadow loomed over her.

“Sariel! This wasn’t the plan!”

Sariel’s wings flapped weakly as she tried to shift her position, but it was too hard to move now; she’d expended a lot of power to swallow all of Odina, and just propping herself upright proved difficult. She managed it all the same, and tilted her head upwards to look at Tia, who was panting heavily. The green-feathered gills of Tia’s neck flapped in exhaustion, and she was almost walking on all fours from how tired she was. Her hair tentacles flopped down somewhere around her waist, one or two of them growing crude mouths just to wheeze pathetically.

Tia loomed over her now, even so; her massive breasts wobbled indignantly upon a chubby belly that Sariel was nearly eye-level with. Her legs could support her well enough, but her arms were drooping, almost jointless, and her tail flopped out behind her. “Whoo. Gimme a second…”

Sariel did so. “I, um. Already got Odina.”

Tia gave her belly an indignant hand wave. “I, uh! I noticed!.” She held up a wobbly tentacle; it extended a tiny pseudopod, as if to say ‘give me one second’. She panted and huffed for a while longer. Sariel obliged her.

Finally, Tia got back up, having recovered. “We were supposed to fuse and combine our powers! That’s the best way to fix Odina and pull those nasty monster essences out of her!”

Sariel coughed. “Um. I might have panicked a little bit?”

Tia gestured at her belly, full of Odina. It was an amazingly expressive gesture that conveyed ‘you call THIS just panicking?’

“She was crying! I had to do something! I thought they were about to take over! OR something even worse!”

Tia rolled a shoulder, half-shrugging. “Okay, okay, I understand. But it still takes two of us.” Sariel gave her a dubious look. “You can handle the demon-y guys! You’re an angel, I know. But what about the undead? I got my body adapted to digest them real good and prevent them from poisoning you with their soul-gunk. Do you?”

“Um. That can happen?!”

“Yeah! Their kind of undead is all about spreading rotting essence to poison the physical world! It is literally their thing!”

“Oh…”

Tia patted her on the head. “Not to worry. I did have a back up plan!”

Sariel smiled faintly. “Oh. That’s… good. Are you going to merge with me?”

Tia waved a hand. “Ehhh. From a certain point of view, I guess you could call it that?”

“You’re not going to swallow me, are you?”

Tia looked speculative at this. She put a stubby finger to her mouth and frowned, apparently mulling something over. “Uh. The answer there’s kinda complex, but I’m leaning towards ‘not technically’?”

And with that, Tia took a step forward. Without an explanation, or the slightest hint of propriety, she grabbed her shorts and pulled them down to her knees, completely exposing herself from the waist down.

Sariel squeaked and turned away sharply, blushing terribly. Her imagination reminded her of brief sights that involved very puffy, ample flesh, and little tendrils wiggling coyly.

“Right, this will take a bit!” Tia lowered herself, and it was a physical presence, her immense size growing closer to Sariel. It was not particularly threatening; someone of her size, particularly such a potent predator with a digestion so powerful, should have been fearsome, but being afraid of Tia would have been like being afraid of a plush toy. She was just too soft and pleasant.

She was also… well. Sariel had definitely harbored some kind of feelings for the monster heroine for a while, and this was brushing up against some intense emotions. From the stirrings in her, she suspected Odina had the same feelings.

Though she didn’t look, and thought that would be rather rude, she heard the gentle noises of Tia’s body transforming, the noise of thick fleshy lengths extending themselves.

The air above her went black; Tia’s legs lowered themselves around Sariel. Soft, damp coolness engulfed her, Tia’s thighs easily more than several feet across and big enough to cradle her whole body, and doing that very thing right now.

And, though she couldn’t see it, she felt several long tendrils extend from Tia’s sex; multi-colored and faintly glowing, and they curled around Sariel’s whole body.

“Um. There we go.” Tia murmured to herself as her tendrils went around Sariel’s arms and dipped down, to the base of her Odina-stuffed belly and her snakey lower body, wrapping around and securing her very tightly. The tendrils clasped on, and lifted her, all at once.

“Oh!” Sariel said, realizing what Tia meant to do, and blushed furiously.

Tia hummed softly to her, sing-song, perhaps trying to ease her. She was a good singer; her voice soothed Sariel, the lilting melody a sweet lullaby. Her tendrils were thick and muscular, and very soft despite their considerable strength. Sugary fluids dripped heavily off them, coating Sariel’s body in tingly raindrops that made her feel a bit lightheaded.

Up Sariel, and by extension Odina too, went. Many feet above the ground, past Tia’s knees, over her enormous bed-sized thighs… and then, Sariel felt her head slide into something soft, and now very slick. With a meek cry, she felt powerful muscles take hold of her as the tendrils pulled her into Tia’s body, and then all she saw was darkness.

Sariel’s shoulders were pulled into Tia next, the plump flesh of her sex locked around her and slowly sucking her in, very gently and taking care to not hurt her in any way. Glowing muscles, very much like a throat (given Tia’s mutant body, it was an apt comparison), pulled her up, towards Tia’s core. Sariel’s breasts came next, and then she felt those tendrils pulling her tail up ahead of her belly, and then that too was sucked into her.

Tia adjusted herself, an enormous and heavily distended gut hanging out from between her legs. She panted and made faint keening noises, pleasure pulsing throughout her lower body. Oh… this felt so good. She longed for this sense of fullness, and the sense of another inside her, her massive body protecting them, nourishing them…

Her body swelled, a big distension appearing there. It wasn’t exactly a massive belly, but it looked similar. It was where Sariel’s belly and Odina were pushing against her own body, and it was traveling upwards.

She moaned, face wrinkling in a very silly expression; there was little pride in the face of such pleasure, and a massive tongue drooped out of one side of her mouth as the belly was pulled into her too.

Slowly. Her hips widened, her body adjusted around its guest. Eventually, she gaped to a point that she thought sufficient. Her tendrils retracted, and her inner muscles pulled gently, but firmly.

The belly slid up her legs, and into her. Slowly, the whole massive bulk slipped inside her, wobbling all over with the bulky masses inside it. Tia softly cried out; waves of pleasure crashed hard in her, but she mastered the impulse to be loud. She was trying to be a courteous host! (At least that’s how she thought of this sort of thing.

And her entrance closed, as all of Sariel and Odina were pulled into her.

Tia trilled with happiness. She sat down, and her internal muscles pulled at Sariel, moving her upwards. Tia’s own body was a bit fluid or elastic even normally, and she was used to reshaping it to suit her needs. Or the needs of others, as in the here and now. Currently Sariel was in a sort of internal cavity; a storage section. But that was pushing her upwards, deeper into Tia’s body.

Tia’s belly twitched and swelled faintly. She formed a nice organic room for them inside herself; it was pretty much a womb.

And Sariel saw the inviting darkness around her, with its pulses of neon lights, give way to a sudden open space that she was squeezed to. There was more light there, blues and pinks mainly, and she was pushed into it. From head to toe, and belly too, she and Odina slid up, until they were pushed into it and their entrance there sealing itself.

Sariel felt fluid all about; warm and flush with magical energies, pulsing around them, and with each pulse, raw nutrition and healing energies were infused into her body. It went deeper; into her belly, and into Odina, and she felt something happening there, just as she felt Odina getting even calmer. The pain was gone from her.

Sariel relaxed, and allowed herself to recline in the womb Tia had made, just for them.

Tia’s belly swelled out; she looked pregnant, her belly slung out and with a distinctive projection to her belly too. It didn’t stand out that much, though, thanks to her sheer size. She lay on the ground for a while longer, eyes closed and mouth smiling faintly. She felt so occupied, so full with happy friends that needed her.

The moments went on, and they pulsed with a very particular happiness for her.

Inside her, Sariel curled up peacefully. Her wings framed her body, her arms cradled her belly (which was as close as she could get to holding Odina with more than just her guts), and her tail coiled around her. Tia’s body embraced her, and she slept in restorative fluids.

And the magic of those fluids seeped into her, magnified with both Tia’s own powers and now Sariel’s too. Their combined energy flowed into Odina, bolstering her body’s magical resistance, digestive powers all pooling against the remnants of the things she had absorbed.

Fiends and specters alike were corrosive and an existential terror to someone like Odina; alone, her body couldn’t process energy so based in pure malicious antagonism towards mortal life. They were anathema to her; no wonder she wasn’t able to absorb them fully into her. But Sariel and Tia were adapted to deal with them.

And so, they withered away, these shades and echoes. Their power waned; any influence they had left over Odina was sharply burned away, cornering them and leaving them to their doom. What little remaining of their willpower dissolved over the next few hours, and those hours stretched out into days.

For the moment, though, Tia simply reclined on the beach. Her body trembled with the movements of her passengers.

All three slept in the sunlight. There were no more thoughts of pain, now.

It would take a long time before Odina was fully recovered though. And all three of them thought that staying together, like this, was a very pleasant thought.

[electriscar]

i’ve mentioned it in the past, but there’s a great deal that goes into becoming a member of the fatui, least of all one as high - ranking as a cicin mage — and much of what happens with these mages is extremely horrific.  getting into the details below —

(  this is, obviously, all conjecture and me having fun.  when interacting with other fatui or ex - fatui members, especially other bosses, we can of course work something out if any of this doesn’t work for you.  ) 

ON FATUI & IDENTITY :

the masks aren’t just to hide the member’s identities.  all members of the fatui are encouraged to exchange individuality / identity for usefulness; niya was told to abandon her self and think of herself as a tool for the tsaritsa above all when she was still a footsoldier, before her vision developed.  prior to that, even, given that she was raised with the purpose of becoming a tool for the fatui.  this is enforced in a lot of subtle ways — fatui members are almost never referred to by their names by but by their titles, for example.  they’re also punished for removing their masks amongst others (  assuming they’re caught, of course  ) and encouraged to keep them on even when alone, to avoid them seeing themselves.

as she rose in the ranks from footsoldier to mage, this loss of identity more strictly enforced.  there’s a reason the skirmishers all look alike (  within their specific type, obviously  ); why you rarely see any deviation in hairstyle or colour amongst the mages.  why they all have the same lines.  in - game, this is obviously a matter of models and using game resources wisely.  but i’m in charge here, so!  they are all expected to fulfill certain aesthetics — the fatui, of course value such things.  but it’s not that.

the girl who would become niya looks through her newly green bangs, and imagines being anicka / karine / irina / every other mage.  looking in a mirror becomes looking at your allies, and looking at your allies becomes a mirror.  the differentiation between these blurs, ends.  the girl who would become niya looks through her bangs, and forgets that she is not anicka / karine / irina / every other mage.  in some ways, she is.

it’s a very useful way to build a fighting force.  no identity, no self, no separation.

ON CICIN MAGES :

the agents wear full - face masks; the vocal distortion in their lines might be something built into the mask.  but cicin mages, it seems, are just like that (  the distortion is present in every language sans japanese, before anyone accuses me of being eng - centric  ).  combined with them being described as “wandering aimlessly, as though compelled by some unknown duty” and their weird idle animations, i take this to mean that the cicin mages are undergoing Weird Shit beyond what even the agents are being put through.

the short of it is : experimentation.  magic and science, together, to remake them.  blood magic, human experimentation, et cetera.  it makes them more powerful, yes.  it’s also incredibly painful, which makes them easy to manipulate, to bend, to remake.  your average cicin mage undergoes constant physical and mental conditioning, until identity fractures alongside mind.  there are no fully sane cicin mages, and all are hooked into — or at least believe that they are hooked into — a sort of hivemind with their other sisters / their other selves, the other mages.  there were times, in this period, where niya was frequently forgetting her own name.  altogether, the process makes them very, very powerful, but a bit...inhuman.  eldritch, one might say.  the longer it goes on, the worse it gets.  niya was a cicin mage for — a long, long time.

i’ve talked before about how niya dislikes being around cicin mages — this is less a trauma response and more because, simply, it causes her to dissociate and throws her back into that hivemind.  she forgets where she ends and the enemy begins.  watching one die — feeling one die — feels like dying herself.  it’s painful and upsetting.  using any of her abilities associated with cicin mages has a similar effect.

ON ESCAPE :

once learning what had happened to her sister, niya took two months to gather resources for her escape, during which time she also began attempting to extricate herself from the hivemind.  she wore her mask as little as possible, avoided other mages, and avoided using what mage abilities she could — all this could only be taken to a certain extent, lest she attract suspicion.  given that scaramouche themself had prompted her escape and was her primary superior, she was especially careful to appear ‘normal’ to him, hoping to give the impression that despair had so thoroughly broken her that she’d made the decision to simply give up and become the role.

still, it — didn’t work.  it took almost six months after her escape from snezhnaya for her to consistently keep the echo out of her voice; to retrain herself how to speak like a human.  (  during this time, she communicated primarily via sign.  everyone was very surprised when she started talking regularly.  )  it was almost a year before she stopped having the other cicin mage’s dreams.  even now, being around other cicin mages typically throws her dreams into a bad state for a few weeks, and being near one while they die means she has to watch her voice very carefully for a while.  it’s a constant battle not to fall back into the role that her body was literally remade to fill; not to fall into being something not - quite - human.

[devolusion-a]

i’ve mentioned it in the past, but there’s a great deal that goes into becoming a member of the fatui, least of all one as high - ranking as a cicin mage — and much of what happens with these mages is extremely horrific.  getting into the details below —

(  this is, obviously, all conjecture and me having fun.  when interacting with other fatui or ex - fatui members, especially other bosses, we can of course work something out if any of this doesn’t work for you. )

ON FATUI & IDENTITY :

the masks aren’t just to hide the member’s identities.  all members of the fatui are encouraged to exchange individuality / identity for usefulness; niya was told to abandon her self and think of herself as a tool for the tsaritsa above all when she was still a footsoldier, before her vision developed.  prior to that, even, given that she was raised with the purpose of becoming a tool for the fatui.  this is enforced in a lot of subtle ways — fatui members are almost never referred to by their names by but by their titles, for example.  they’re also punished for removing their masks amongst others ( assuming they’re caught, of course  ) and encouraged to keep them on even when alone, to avoid them seeing themselves.

as she rose in the ranks from footsoldier to mage, this loss of identity more strictly enforced.  there’s a reason the skirmishers all look alike ( within their specific type, obviously  ); why you rarely see any deviation in hairstyle or colour amongst the mages.  why they all have the same lines.  in - game, this is obviously a matter of models and using game resources wisely.  but i’m in charge here, so!  they are all expected to fulfill certain aesthetics — the fatui, of course value such things.  but it’s not that.

the girl who would become niya looks through her newly green bangs, and imagines being anicka / karine / irina / every other mage.  looking in a mirror becomes looking at your allies, and looking at your allies becomes a mirror.  the differentiation between these blurs, ends.  the girl who would become niya looks through her bangs, and forgets that she is not anicka / karine / irina / every other mage. in some ways, she is.

it’s a very useful way to build a fighting force.  no identity, no self, no separation.

ON CICIN MAGES :

the agents wear full - face masks; the vocal distortion in their lines might be something built into the mask.  but cicin mages, it seems, are just like that ( the distortion is present in every language sans japanese, before anyone accuses me of being eng - centric ).  combined with them being described as “wandering aimlessly, as though compelled by some unknown duty” and their weird idle animations, i take this to mean that the cicin mages are undergoing Weird Shit beyond what even the agents are being put through.

the short of it is : experimentation.  magic and science, together, to remake them.  blood magic, human experimentation, et cetera.  it makes them more powerful, yes.  it’s also incredibly painful, which makes them easy to manipulate, to bend, to remake.  your average cicin mage undergoes constant physical and mental conditioning, until identity fractures alongside mind.  there are no fully sane cicin mages, and all are hooked into — or at least believe that they are hooked into — a sort of hivemind with their other sisters / their other selves, the other mages.  there were times, in this period, where niya was frequently forgetting her own name.  altogether, the process makes them very, very powerful, but a bit…inhuman.  eldritch, one might say.  the longer it goes on, the worse it gets.  niya was a cicin mage for — a long, long time.

i’ve talked before about how niya dislikes being around cicin mages — this is less a trauma response and more because, simply, it causes her to dissociate and throws her back into that hivemind.  she forgets where she ends and the enemy begins.  watching one die — feeling one die — feels like dying herself.  it’s painful and upsetting.  using any of her abilities associated with cicin mages has a similar effect.

ON ESCAPE :

once learning what had happened to her sister, niya took two months to gather resources for her escape, during which time she also began attempting to extricate herself from the hivemind.  she wore her mask as little as possible, avoided other mages, and avoided using what mage abilities she could — all this could only be taken to a certain extent, lest she attract suspicion.  given that scaramouche themself had prompted her escape and was her primary superior, she was especially careful to appear ‘normal’ to him, hoping to give the impression that despair had so thoroughly broken her that she’d made the decision to simply give up and become the role.

still, it — didn’t work.  it took almost six months after her escape from snezhnaya for her to consistently keep the echo out of her voice; to retrain herself how to speak like a human.  (  during this time, she communicated primarily via sign.  everyone was very surprised when she started talking regularly. )  it was almost a year before she stopped having the other cicin mage’s dreams.  even now, being around other cicin mages typically throws her dreams into a bad state for a few weeks, and being near one while they die means she has to watch her voice very carefully for a while.  it’s a constant battle not to fall back into the role that her body was literally remade to fill; not to fall into being something not - quite - human.

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 3: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

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This article contains WANDAVISION Episode 3 spoilers, and potential spoilers for future episodes, the wider MCU, and Marvel Comics. We have a spoiler free review here.

WandaVision episode 3 is the first full color episode of the series, and moves the setting from the black-and-white 1960s of the previous episodes to a vibrant Brady Bunch-esque Technicolor of the early 1970s. There’s lots of fun weirdness to find between the lines, both from a Marvel and MCU Easter eggs standpoint and callouts to classic sitcoms of its era.

Let’s get to work…

SITCOM INSPIRATION

Let’s start with the big one…

The Brady Bunch

This episode borrows almost the entirety of its aesthetic from all-time classic sitcom The Brady Bunch. Wanda and Vis’s house strongly resembles Mike and Carol Brady’s humble ranch home inside and out. The gorgeous wide wooden staircase in particular is a real tell – as is Wanda’s bold ‘70s attire that seems to be right out of Marcia Brady’s closet in later seasons.

The opening credits title card even adopts the 3×3 grid format as seen on The Brady Bunch. Of course, the Wanda and Vision household isn’t as jam-packed as the Brady’s but there is an undeniable underlying theme of family throughout this installment.

Mork and Mindy

Mork and Mindy was a 70s-into-early-80s show with a weird sci-fi couple, in the sense that the husband is an alien. In the final season, there’s a one-and-done pregnancy storyline episode called “Three the Hard Way.” In it, Mork is the one with child. Due to his alien biology, an egg comes out of his navel and out of it hatches an elderly man, as their people age backwards.

Other Sitcom Stuff…

When Wanda tries to hide her pregnancy from Geraldine, she holds a small basket of fruit in front of her large stomach. This is likely a playful homage to all of the not-so-creative ways that sitcoms have tried to hide actress’s pregnancies over the years.  And funny enough, it seems like the fruit Wanda is eating at various points in the episode corresponds to the fetus size as outlined by their doctor.

The doctor’s name is “Dr. Stan Nielsen.” As in the Nielsen Ratings. And maybe Stan as in, you know, Stan Lee…

And now for the Marvel and MCU stuff!

Scarlet Witch

In the opening credits when Wanda is reading a magazine on the couch and using her powers to vacuum, she’s reading another issue of Glamorous (which we saw in episode one). This magazine features a woman in a red bathing suit, kind of like some of the skimpier Scarlet Witch costumes Wanda has worn through the years in the comics.

Vision

Similarly, the scene of Vision barbecuing on the patio shows him wearing an era-appropriate shirt in his comics colors of green and yellow. The swingset he’s struggling to put together is also in his colors.

Wanda’s Pregnancy and the Twins

When Wanda gave birth to her kids in the comics, something similar to what we saw here happened: nobody, not even the doctors, were aware that Wanda was carrying twins, so the arrival of the second child was a surprise to everyone.

Watch everything Marvel and more on Disney+, right here!

The way Wanda’s pregnancy rapidly progresses through the episode feels like a reference to Avengers #200, one of the most hated issues of any Marvel comic. In the comic, Carol Danvers is discovered to be suddenly pregnant and goes through the entire process over the course of a day or so. Nobody really bats an eye at this and all the creepy, questionable parts are handwaved as a good thing.

When Wanda’s pregnancy starts causing chaos, she and Vision strike a pose based on The Vision and the Scarlet Witch #1.

Not particularly relevant right now, but in the comics, none other than Doctor Strange delivered Wanda’s twins. Given all the ways that this show is supposed to tie into Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (some of which we think we’ve already spotted), this is just worth a mention.

Billy and Tommy

The twins are named “Billy and Tommy” just as they are in the comics. They were later reincarnated as Billy Kaplan and Tommy Shepherd. You likely remember them as Wiccan, the First Gentleman of the Kree-Skrull Alliance, and Speed…uh…his best man? 

Very briefly, because a full discussion of this would take a while: Billy and Tommy were born to Wanda and Vizh in 1985’s Vision and Scarlet Witch. They were unmade when it was revealed they were figments of Wanda’s powers and imagination, imbued with shards of Mephisto’s soul and reabsorbed into Master Pandemonium’s arms in West Coast Avengers. They reappeared as heroes in the first Young Avengers series, and reunited with their mother in Avengers: Children’s Crusade. That is an extremely quick summary of what might be the most Gordian continuity knot in the entire Marvel Universe.

Geraldine

Teyonah Parris returns as “Geraldine” for this episode, but this time it’s even clearer that there’s more to her than meets the eye. As we’ve pointed out before, “Geraldine” is a cover for Monica Rambeau, the daughter of Carol Danvers’ best pal Maria Rambeau, and someone who will play a significant role in Captain Marvel 2.

“Geraldine” tells a rambling story about her boss, “Mr. Haddix.” There’s no obvious immediate Marvel connection with the name. However, it might just be part of the motif – the stork tries to eat the fish on Geraldine’s pants, maybe it’s actually “Mr. Haddocks”? We’re still not finding any Marvel connections with this one, though.

It’s also probably not an accident that Geraldine’s cover story involves her working for an ad agency. The commercials are one part of the show where reality peeks through vividly. Ad agencies are, in a sense, manipulating reality for consumers to make them want a product more, and there’s no shortage of reality manipulation going on here. 

Geraldine is rocking a striking blue and white outfit, with starburst type designs on them that could either recall the log she wore as Captain Marvel, Pulsar, and her other superheroic identities…or possibly dimensional portals.

SWORD

Geraldine is wearing a SWORD pendant, so it’s pretty clear who she’s working for. Those pesky SWORD agents seem to be everywhere, from our pal The Beekeeper to the folks monitoring Wanda in that command center to…well, who else in Westview is working for SWORD?

While we’re talking about Mr. Haddocks and Geraldine’s job, the cereal in Geraldine’s work story – Gravity O’s, with the marshmallow moon men – is likely a nod to SWORD’s mission in the comics, when they used to watch space rather than “sentient weapons.” 

We wrote more about SWORD here.

AGNES

Agnes’ brooch looks like it has three witches, one holding a scythe. There are a few options for what this might be referencing:

The obvious one is the three witches from Macbeth who use prophecy to steer the main character to his doom. 

Less obvious and much more unlikely is the Weird Sisters, Quasar villains (!) working for Maelstrom, an Inhuman/Deviant hybrid who has had several run-ins with the Avengers

And the least likely: Jennifer Kale (from Man-Thing), Satana (sister to Damian Hellstrom and the Daughter of Satan), and Topaz (of Werewolf by Night…fame?), three Marvel witches who starred together in a four-issue Jemas era series in 2004. It’s definitely not this one.

Pietro and Age of Ultron

Geraldine mentions to Wanda that Pietro was “killed by Ultron,” referencing the events of Avengers: Age of Ultron. This is clearly one of the memories Wanda is trying to suppress with her sitcom antics, and it doesn’t go well for Geraldine/Monica…who finds herself “banished” back to the real world of the MCU.

We wrote more about what the Pietro connection could mean here.

Westview

We actually just wrote in detail about the significance of Westview (which is kind of a real place, too), but here we see the town’s slogan: “Home, it’s where you make it.”

Wanda is indeed “making” her home in whatever image she feels most comfortable with at the moment, so this is a further clue to the House of M-esque shenanigans that seem to be going on with her.

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Other Marvel Stuff

Not strictly a Marvel thing, but the opening credits feature a lot of hexagons, the same kinds of shapes you see in beehives, which brings our creepy beekeeper friend from episode 2 to mind.

The paint cans in the nursery are from a fictional brand known as “Simser” which promises “a universe of color.” Jeremy Simser who works as a storyboard artist on WandaVision, and who is also doing work on Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. So…perhaps “a multiverse of color” might have been more appropriate?

Dottie’s husband fill is reading a newspaper with a headline that says “TWO FIRE HYDRANTS ADDED ON MAIN STREET” but the paper is folded so it says “TWO FIRE HYDRA” at one point. Also…twins. Note the “twin motif” on Phil and Dottie’s lamp, too.

Wanda sings a Sokovian lullaby to the twins.

The episode goes from fullscreen to a more MCU-appropriate and cinematic widescreen when it cuts to Geraldine/Monica back in what appears to be the real world. Not that there was any doubt, but whatever is happening in “sitcom land” is definitely not reality, and time travel has nothing to do with whatever’s going on here.

The final song is The Monkees’ “Daydream Believer” which was also used in trailers. The title is pretty on-the-nose if you consider the dominant House of M-esque theory about what’s actually happening on this show, and that Wanda is using her powers to manipulate reality.

THE COMMERCIAL

Hydra Soak implores its consumers to “Find the Goddess Within.” We don’t have to tell you what HYDRA is, but what about this “find the goddess within” stuff?

Well, we can kind of speculate that this is a reference to the upcoming Thor: Love and Thunder, in which Natalie Portman’s Jane Foster will end up becoming the new god/goddess of thunder, just as she did in the comics.

Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 3: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[dragonshoard]

@markala5 

(Because the thread was getting too long i made a new one // I’m sorry for any typos ;( I’m super tired lol)

I agree with the fact that she is super stubborn. She’s set on not only creating an alternative for the extermination Hell goes through each year but also proving herself to her father and the people of Hell in general. It would definitely be something inherent to angel!Charlie because she aches for people to care about her and people to care about. 

She’s definitely developed her own sense of self after all these years, but the problem is that it’s based off of validity from people around her which IS NOT HEALTHYYY. It’s actually really sad. She’ll be her perky self and be immediately shut down by the people around her. She may be willing to brawl, but she’s just as likely to shut down. 

Long post is long so I’m putting it under read more

On the thing about apathy. I find it an interesting concept with this world. There is a certain level of Apathy to Hell but its the type where everything is super active and violent, just everyone is super blase about it. There’s the half of hell actively always looking for a fight/power and the other half that just sort of... exists in misery.

As an angel who not only needs people around them but also NEEDS a purpose, it’s an extremely toxic environment. With the system you’re describing... just ow. I can only imagine how many times Charlie has nearly faded and just what needed to be done to get her back. 

Like, Vaggie is a recent development (not even 10 years) and there hasn’t been anyone else around Charlie that would function as a support other than her parents, possibly. 

(I’m still shocked that Vaggie only died in 2014. She’s super young but comes off as acting like one of the oldest - I genuinely thought she had been childhood friends with Charlie lol)

I’d imagine that instead of fading away, it would be more like she falls into a coma (I need Disney references, she’s literally a Disney princess). And I’d like to think that its more like a self generative state because, again, been established that you can’t exactly die naturally in Hell (or Heaven, presumably). Longest she’s slept would probably me... probably a year? It’s been established that Lilith and Charlie have a close relationship, so I’m thinking that most of the time it’s Lilith bringing her back after the fact and supporting her. There was one time where her father showed he cared enough (the time she slept for a year - he was even nice enough to preen her feathers) but he went back to being mostly apathetic after that (jealousy is no good :/). 

Because even people with the strongest sense of self and will power will crash in that environment. Lilith would definitely be her number one supporter until Vaggie (and especially how now Lilith is very busy in canon time), but it wouldn’t be enough (especially when flocks typically have around 10-15 people). 

She’d fight for as long as she could. Towards the end of the “cycle” (about to go to sleep) it would be the hardest for her not to sing and her passive song would be the strongest and most violent/desperate (enough that even her Dad can vaguely hear it and typically starts preparing her room). At this point it would be the hardest to keep her angelic features in so she starts isolating herself, speeding up the process. Her song would come out stuttery (imagine the first song in the pilot - constantly singing that one but in between sobs) and she’d try to stay awake but would fall asleep each time. 

And when she wakes up her song would be bright, loud and optimistic, determined to break the circle (it never works).  

Alastor would have no clue that this happens so the first time she goes through it after meeting him, he is beyond curious. He knows little about angel biology, only bits and pieces he’s picked up over the years. He spends the two weeks she spends sleeping taking care of her and feeling out her (for once) peaceful song. 

(I do the same. Making myself sad should be a professional job lol)

Charlie displays steel and passion on her shoulders just as clearly as her insecurities. Alastor was drawn to her from first song, tbh. There was something about it that he found fascinating and when he actually met her she was far more interesting. To be frank though, I’d imagine that initially she reminds him of the type of people he would hunt when he was alive. Meeting her, it would kind of reinforce that because he doesn’t really see her thinking for herself. The more he would get to know her, the more he’d see that she is truly someone born of Hell and the more interesting she becomes to him. She’ll say some things that are so blatantly inhuman that it’ll just make him double take. 

She would be an itinerary of knowledge for horrible things (like how to kill, how to torture people, etc) but she doesn’t use or like any of it. It’s just a result of living with her family and in Hell as a general concept. I’m kind of imagining a young Charlie being forced to sit through executions and torture sessions either performed or ordered by her father (maybe even forced to do it herself). 

....ok i went on a tangent whoops. 

And YES SHE ASSOCIATES HELL AS HERS ALL HERS. This is canon. Actual canon. She doesn’t care about silly turf wars, doesn’t care about who is on whose side. They’re all hers. I remember reading in the wiki that she takes the approach of treating rehabilitating sinners like children. I think this would come in here. 

It would kill her to lose so many souls so constantly but, holy hell, she’s also getting just as many people daily so she’s constantly hearing new songs join the already mixed and jumbled song. It would be really distracting and sometimes interferes with her higher process thinking.

But you gotta admit the angel part of her would be super confused at all the killing because, technically, it’s her own kind that’s killing off her people. One half of her would be screaming “WHY WHY WHY DO THIS KIN WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME” while the other half is screaming for blood and respite. 

And yeah, being unable to do anything about it and no matter how much her Mom tries to calm her down and how thick the walls of her bunker are, it doesn’t stop her from hearing the screaming and sheer devastation. Coming out after the fact is draining and she spends at least a day or so crying and singing her heart out (her voice practically broken at this point from her own screaming). Her skin would be especially ill-fit but there’s no part of her angel half willing enough to show itself. It’s akin to feeling like you’re swimming in a sweater that’s three sizes too big. 

....she is totally a lion. She has the mane for it despite identifying as female xD

Tbh honest, when I first thought of angels in this universe and what not, I likened them to being a species in which you’re one or you’re not. So a hybridization like Charlie is not only rare, but unstable. Her demon and angel halves fight for dominance and, eventually, one half will win and there’s no going back from there. Omg CHARLIE BEING THE FIRST SURVIVING CHILD IS SO SAD. NOOOOO ;((((((

Charlie goes underground during the extermination for a good reason lol. As she gets older, her instincts would severely change. The older she gets (and the more powerful), the more prone she is to fighting back. By the time canon comes around, she has to be chained during the extermination and Lucifer or Lilith have to be there to make sure she doesn’t break out of the chains.

Charlie is aware of this and so she would be terrified af when her friends suggested they get together during the extermination for support. By this point, Charlie is starting to feel more stable and feels that she might actually be able to control herself better with her flock surrounding her. 

Alastor probably wouldn’t know about it until he shows up out of nowhere and sees them barricading the hotel and is like wtf are you all doing. He side eyes the chains that Charlie sneaks past her flock. He immediately decides that it would be a splendid and fun idea to join them. Vaggie tries to deny him, but Charlie is quick to agree, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t have to be chained. 

She sticks close to him when the clock hits midnight and the angels descend. The chains were a precautionary measure and in between Alastor and her flock, she thought that she wouldn’t have needed them but she was WRONG. 

Somehow, Charlie manages to hold herself back until an angel shows up at her door. A part of her is whimpering cousin-friend-family-brother-sister while another part of her knew what exactly this meant.and was screaming in the only way she knew how to tell the angel to GO AWAY. 

But yeah, they don’t and they get messed up and Charlie ends up revealing her eldritch form to her friends (other than Alastor who has already seen her in this form by this point).  Alastor would definitely draw her into a duet to bring her back to herself. 

During this Alastor would be so excited to see his angel kill an actual angel. Sadly (to him) they end up getting away. The feathers clenched in her hands were trophies of another kind. He wanted to pin and frame the wing in one of her clawed hands. 

But it’s still kind of a horrible moment too because the extermination is still happening and Charlie can still hear and feel her people dying. She’d be crying to tell him to make it stop and all he could really do is sing quietly to her, emphasizing his own song to try and mute some of the carnage. 

But if there’s anything Alastor can do, it’s talk and talk about everything but nothing. 

FUTURE LA MUERTE/XIBALBA AND ADAMS COUPLE VIBES AHHHHH. I support this so much. I see them in the future as a fairly antagonistic and competitive couple I don’t know why (so kind of like La Muerte and Xibabla xD). They love each other more than anything but, at the same time, they can only handle each other in contained doses. There would of course be the honeymoon period, but eventually when they settle, their personalities and morals combat each other quite a bit. Both of them are unyielding in their beliefs and unwillingness to change so it would cause some clashing. 

Can’t live with em, can’t live without em’.

They would be that couple that’s always singing and dancing though, from tango to intense and dramatic songs to slow ballroom. It would annoy everyone around them and Charlie would feel some embarrassment at first but, in the end, absolutely love it. 

Lol this was all very very great :DDDDD  I feel you. I feel like I’ve written a fic but its great xD

[seeaddywrite]

bitch, i’m a monster

a/n: this is the start of the vampire AU that’s been bugging me for the last few weeks. it takes place in a mostly canon universe, but ignores max’s death & michael’s relationship with maria. michael & alex still aren’t together, though the reasons are different this time around, & their feelings for each other are still very real. 

it’s a little ridiculous, a lot melodramatic, & a whole lot of fun to write. i probably would have given up on it a long time ago if it weren’t for @soberqueerinthewild‘s insistence i do something with it, & her beta-ing, so, as always, she’s the best!  i’m hoping to post the follow-up for the last day of Roswell NM Week, & then hopefully that will be the end of it because i absolutely do not want another never-ending ‘verse haha. 

also, this is not the real title!! i just grew attached to the title on my google doc & can’t find a good one yet -- soooo it’s temporary haha. hopefully it makes you laugh as much as me. 

The sharp, stabbing pain in his residual limb is the first sign. It’s a human pain, one easily avoided if Alex is careful and drains one of the packets in his specialized, hidden cooler on a consistent schedule. But that cooler is in his cabin, safely stashed in the sub-basement that Jim Valenti had kindly left him, and Alex is stranded in the middle of the goddamn desert without access to anything that would help the pain disappear.

It takes several minutes for the severity of the situation to process, though, since Alex is busy blinking the remnants of unconsciousness from his eyes and trying to figure out how he’d gone from reclining on his couch to what seemed to be the middle of the New Mexican desert. He groans and pushes himself up from coarse, brownish grass and gritty red dirt. There’s nothing ahead of him for miles but desert landscape and waves of heat rising from the ground; it’s got to be close to midday, as the sun is still high in the sky and beating down on him. It makes his skin feel too-tight and sore, like he’s got a low-level sunburn, and Alex has spent enough time in deserts to know that it will only get worse the longer he’s outside. 

The sun might not reduce him to ash like it does in horror films, but sunlight is still not kind to vampires. The damage it causes will burn through whatever blood is left in his system at twice the normal speed, and leave him starving even faster than he wants to consider. It’s not worth thinking about, not yet -- it’ll only make him panic, and he needs to be focused on getting back to his cabin before he loses himself to baser instincts. 

“Fuck,” he mutters passionately, giving himself approximately thirty seconds to acknowledge how miserable he is before forcing his tactical mind and survival training to take over -- but he doesn’t have the chance. A short, wry chuckle from behind him makes Alex jump, and he twists around abruptly to find the source, his body habitually trying to find a defensive stance, even from his seated position in the dirt. 

“Yeah. Fuck pretty much sums it up,” Michael Guerin drawls, his achingly familiar features drawn into a pinched scowl as he surveys their surroundings, and Alex’s heart sinks. Stranded alone in the desert is bad enough, but Michael’s presence makes it worse, despite the traitorous feeling of security and pleasure that sparks in Alex’s chest when he sees him. It’s a vestigial reaction from the days when Alex was allowed to think of Guerin as his only port in a storm, and he hates that he can’t shake it even now, with years of one night stands, abandonment, and heartbreak between them. “Whoever knocked us out and dropped us here got our phones and dosed me with pollen. Again.”  He shakes his head, hard, and a cloud of yellow dust surrounds him briefly to illustrate his point. 

It takes a moment for Alex to remember the significance of the dust. It’s been over a year since Noah’s death and the discovery of the strange powder that nullified the aliens’ powers, and he’s had too much on his mind to spare it much thought in the intervening time. Jesse Manes’ escape from Kyle’s hospital and the subsequent skirmishes with him had taken up all of Alex’s time and energy -- but he knows intimately how much Michael loathes feeling powerless, and that frustration is obvious in the tight pull of his shoulders and the set of his jaw. For a moment, Alex wants to get up and smooth the lines in his face with his fingertips, to kiss away the fury at feeling helpless that burns in his own chest as much as Michael’s, but as always, he holds himself back. Getting close enough to touch Guerin at this point is too dangerous, anyway; every time Alex has allowed himself such luxury since his transition to vampire, the fight to keep his appearance and instincts within human bounds had been nearly impossible to win. He’d been an inch away from burying his fangs in Michael’s neck the last time they’d been naked together -- which is going to stay the last time they were together. Alex isn’t going to allow his love for Michael to put him in any more danger than his alien heritage already does. Especially not danger from Alex. 

“You gonna sit there until you dehydrate?” It takes a moment to process the question as Alex looks up at Michael. His jeans are covered in the reddish-brown dirt of the desert rather than the streaks of oil Alex is used to seeing. There’s a sprawling purple bruise across his sternum, revealed only because there are several buttons undone at his collar, and his curls are in utter disarray, matted with dried blood at one temple. Alex does his best to keep the latter as a clinical observation, but he swallows convulsively at the realization, forcing himself to focus on Michael’s scowl instead of the blood. His stomach cramps at the sight anyway, reminding him that it’s well past time for his bagged lunch, and he drags his gaze away. 

Michael waves a hand in front of Alex’s face in silent offer to help him up, and he takes it without thinking. As always, the contrast between his extreme body heat and Alex’s undead cold is shocking, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice. Everyone feels considerably cooler to him, Alex imagines, so the difference must not be as noticeable as it would be to others. Still, he’s careful to release Michael as soon as he’s found his balance on both feet, and to mask the wince that threatens to contort his face as he does so. He’s never really had to deal with aches or pains in his residual limb, even immediately after the amputation, because he’d healed with miraculous speed after he began to feed on a consistent schedule. 

It wasn’t actually that simple, of course. Alex had woken alone in a military hospital with limited memories of the explosion that put him there. The blast itself was still a blank spot in his mind, but if he tries, he can picture the tall, broad-shouldered Sebastian Erickson leaning over him, his ABUs torn and bloodied though there were no visible wounds on his body. Alex remembers trying to look at him, to focus and tell him to go get the others to safety, but Sebastian had only smiled sadly and rested a cold hand on his forehead. “This is going to hurt, I am afraid,” he’d said, in the same old-time accent that Alex remembered from nights at the bar with his squadron and countless training simulations. “But it is the only way you will live.” 

Alex remembers the words, but no accompanying panic. He hadn’t even felt pain at that point, just a vague sense of disconnect from the world around him and the sudden, overwhelming certainty that he was about to die. He’d always imagined he would fear death, would fight it with everything in him, but it had seemed a relief, then. No more war. No more guilt. No more anything. But the moment he relaxed into it, allowed himself to accept his fate, Sebastian’s familiar visage was in his line of sight, twisted into something … other. Something monstrous. And while the thought of death wasn’t enough to make Alex panic, blood-red eyes and fangs, it seemed, were. 

The flash of fang, the burning pain that started in his neck at the site of the bite and spread through his entire body with alarming alacrity, are crystal clear in his shoddy memory. Alex remembers screaming for help, clutching at Sebastian’s hand until it was just gone, along with Sebastian himself, as if he’d never been there in the first place. 

The next foggy memory Alex has is from days later, after his amputation. He was high on pain medication and barely lucid, but there’s no forgetting Sebastian’s sudden presence in the tiny, sterile room. After the initial burst of fear, an instinctive panic that comes from two predators in a room together while one is weak and vulnerable, Sebastian had begun to explain. It was the first time Alex had heard the word vampire outside bad pop culture references, and even high on painkillers, he’d believed it too fantastical to be true -- until Sebastian had snarled, fangs flashing in his mouth beneath fluorescent lights, and bit into his forearm. Blood streamed crimson over his pale skin, and from feet away, Alex could smell it. His mouth watered, his gums throbbed, and when he blinked, his vision was suddenly too good, taking in every detail of the hospital room before he even looked in that direction. 

Then, the bloody wound was shoved beneath his nose, and Alex loses the thread. He remembers sensations, feelings -- the way his entire body thrilled at the first drop against his lips, the first impression of his tongue against elongated teeth, the pure euphoria his first swallow. He’s been high on weed and drunk off his ass, but nothing else compares to that initial rush of fresh blood in his mouth. And at that point, there was really no denying the truth of it any longer. Alex was a vampire, and it did no good to pretend otherwise. 

When it was done, Sebastian disappeared, sliding through the tiny window with inhuman grace and without a backward glance. He left a phone number for his contact at a blood bank in Sacramento, California, behind, and tucked a tiny cooler full of blood packets beneath the bed, where the doctors would have no reason to look -- and Alex never saw him again. He’d been forced to learn most of what he knows of vampirism on his own by trial and error, and he’s lived in constant fear of what he’s capable of ever since. 

“Alex? Alex! Did you end up with a concussion or something? Hello?” 

The increasingly anxious voice pulls Alex back to the present, and he blinks, shaking his head and taking a step back, far enough away that the temptation to touch Michael eases. “No, I’m fine,” he says with a tight smile. In all honesty, he may have had a concussion, but it’s long healed by now. “I don’t remember anything about how we got here, though. You?” 

It doesn’t matter, really; the course of action is still the same. Get the hell out of the desert, find a way back to town, and hopefully manage to do it all before he ends up revealing his less-than-human side to Michael. But Alex isn’t the sort of person to be hit over the head and dragged out into the middle of the desert without wanting to know who’d done it -- if they didn’t get what they were after the first time, there’s too high a chance that they’d try again. Plus, whoever had done this has to know about Michael and his siblings’ secret to have used the pollen. That alone is enough of a reason to find and stop them; there are too many ways that information could be used against them, and Alex won’t let it happen. 

It turns out, Alex needn’t have worried. 

“C’mon, Manes, think about it. Who are the only people who know about this shit that aren’t on our side?” He brushes another waterfall of the yellow powder to the desert floor, scowling at it furiously. “Plus, you and me? Not Max or Isobel? Not Valenti, or Liz, or the half of the damn town who knows what we are? It’s gotta be personal. Who’s the only guy you know who’d want to take you and me out first?” 

Alex sucks in a sharp breath, ignoring the scent of Michael’s blood that it drags into his lungs. It’s impossible to deny that he’s right -- even though Alex very much wishes he could, because the insinuations are terrifying. 

“My dad,” he says tersely, rubbing at his temples in a futile attempt to stop the ache building behind his eyes. Of course it was his father. Jesse Manes is the only addition to this fiasco that could possibly make it worse, and that’s the way Alex’s luck has been running, lately. “Remind me to call Kyle as soon as we get back to town. He’ll need the heads-up to make sure no one shows up behind him with a gun again.” 

Michael stares flatly back at him, incredulity glowing in his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Seriously? Look around, Alex!” He spreads his arms wide, encompassing the expanse of desert surrounding them, touching the horizon on all sides. There’s no sign of the way they’d come, no way of knowing for sure in which direction home was, and they’d been left with no supplies or methods of communication. Just the two of them, with Michael’s powers muted and Alex’s useless without a steady source of blood. 

In short, they’re screwed. 

Alex presses his lips together tightly, then nods curtly, conceding the point. “Yeah, okay. Valenti’s on his own for now,” he agrees, and tries to organize his thoughts, filtering out the voices in the back of his head that are screaming that he’s going to either starve in the middle of this wasteland or end up fang-deep in Michael’s neck before he can stop himself. 

“As long as this isn’t all a diversion, I think everyone else will be fine until we get back and show we ruined the grand plan … whatever the hell that is,” Michael muses thoughtfully, and Alex’s shoulders slump in relief when he keeps talking. Not because his thoughts bring good news, but because it gives him something else to focus on, anything else, besides the steadily growing panic in his chest and the hunger that’s beginning to gnaw ruthlessly at his insides. “Any ideas? Kidnapping us and leaving before we’re dead isn’t exactly Jesse’s style. He’s usually into more hands-on stuff: torture, gunshots to the head, fiery explosions, all the classics. So why’d he dump us out here when there’s a good chance we’ll be able to find our way back and come after him?” 

Alex calls on years of military discipline to keep from squirming at the questions. He knows the answer, of course. His father has been his nemesis, his war, since he was eight years old, and Alex believes in knowing thy enemy. Jesse Manes is a sadist. He gets off on watching others hurt and always has -- especially when it comes to Alex, who has managed to disappoint him in every way a son can. He’s gay. He’s unalterably in love with an alien. And three years ago, when he should have died in an IED explosion, adding to the family legacy, Alex became something inhuman instead. It’s the perfect trifecta of sins, in his father’s eyes, and being dumped in a sun-scorched desert at midday with nothing and no one around besides a powerless -- and therefore defenseless -- Michael Guerin is his idea of a fitting punishment. 

Even after discovering all of Jesse Manes’ secrets, Alex still has no idea how he found out about his condition, but that doesn’t matter. He knows, and at least thinks he knows how to kill a vampire. And Alex has to admit that this is a good way to do it. Eventually, instinct will take over and he’ll end up attacking Michael to stay alive. And afterward, in time, Alex will begin to dessicate from lack of blood. At least, he assumes so -- no one has ever actually told him what happens when a vampire goes too long without blood, but movies and literature all seem to agree that the consequences are unpleasant. 

Not that it particularly matters. Alex isn’t naive enough to think he’d care about what came next if he lost control of himself and murdered the love of his life. He’s a vampire, and maybe a bit monstrous, in the right light, but his heart still beats faster when Michael looks at him, and he doubts he’ll ever be able to shake the warmth that infuses his body when their eyes meet. Together or not, Alex loves Michael, and while he may have managed to forgive himself for a long list of sins, killing him isn’t one that Alex could ever recover from. And a world without Michael isn’t one that he wants to exist in, even if the guilt wasn’t enough to kill him instantaneously. 

None of that is information he plans on sharing with Guerin, at least not yet, not until he’s absolutely sure they can’t make it back to Roswell before the situation becomes critical. They don’t even know how far out they are -- maybe they can hike back in a few hours with no worse repercussions than dehydration and a sun burn. They both tend toward the pessimistic, both looking for the worst-case scenario as a direct result of the ways they were raised, but Alex doesn’t have any choice but to hope for the best, this time. Hope for the best … and prepare for the worst.

“I don’t know,” Alex lies, leaning down to hide his face under the guise of adjusting his compression sock. Even with all of the unpleasantness and recent distance between them, Michael knows Alex too well, and the last thing Alex wants is for him to read the falsehood in his expression. “But it doesn’t really matter now. We have to get back to town as soon as possible.” 

Michael rolls his eyes. “No, really? I thought we’d stay and take a nice vacation,” he snarks, head cocked to one side as he rakes agitated fingers through his curls. Yellow powder again coalesces into a cloud around his head before falling to the sand, and Michael’s lips tighten angrily. “This stuff is literally choking me. I can’t reach Iz or Max until it’s gone, so we’re on our own, unless Daddy Dearest was nice enough to leave you a phone?”

Alex sighs heavily, eyeing the horizon with displeasure. It’s going to be a long fucking day. “We’d better get a move on, then,” he tells Michael, and points them north, toward what he hopes is civilization. 

[howtotrainyouragents]

Agent H’s AOS Rewatch

Season 3 Pro’s and Con’s 

We’re done with the season 4 rewatch, and I’m over here still trying to process season 3. First time watching, it was my least favorite season and I nearly stopped watching the show because of it. Second time watching…it’s still probably my least favorite just by comparison, but I have infinite more respect for it. Anyway, I needed to sort out my thoughts on this, so it’s all under “keep reading” and don’t get mad at me.

Cons (because let’s get the bad stuff out of the way)

-I really dislike revenge stories, so all the revenge stuff with Hunter and Coulson and Ward and all did not sit well with me and felt even OOC. 

-Speaking of, from the S2 finale through most of this season, there’s this theme of the men protecting and revenging their wounded or fridged girlfriends. It’s not super fun because this is a show where the women are clearly just as, if not more, competent than the men, but they’re not given the same opportunity to protect/revenge the men, much less given the same importance even in their own stories. I’m blanking on what MCU movies were going on around the time of this season, but I remember seeing this even in the movies. If I remember correctly there was a head of MCU who was later removed, but was apparently responsible. 

-The use of Ward is muddled. I’m cool with his takeover of HYDRA, that seemed natural. But you expect it to lead to a huge standoff with SHIELD because he, their worst enemy, is now head of their worst enemy organization. Instead, he gets converted to the HYDRA religion and literally becomes a vessel. Which is fine, but the transition was really hurriedly and poorly done. This is a man who has complex views of loyalty (Garrett not HYDRA. Skye and Coulson but not SHIELD), so I’m gonna need a lot more convincing that he’d believe Gideon’s HYDRA.

-This will be on both lists: I’m disappointed about how after three seasons HYDRA is taken out so quietly and quickly.

-I don’t know where to put this, but: I didn’t actually hate the space boyfriend arc as much the second time around, but the potential overall got squandered and I dislike that. 

-Rosalind’s death and possibly her whole arc was pointless. She was literally created and killed to serve Coulson’s character. Gross. And it’s a shame because it would have been really cool to use her as an actual foe-turned-friend for SHIELD throughout the season; she could have easily taken Mace’s place in S4 and that way at least would have been important for two seasons

-Okay, this is ABC’s fault not AOS’s. But like I remember how hard they advertised for Secret Warriors. Like that was the name of the arc. And. Then. They were a team FOR AN EPISODE.  Imagine my disappointment. Also, there really weren’t enough Inhumans this season to suit me.

-Bobbi and Hunter leave for a failed spinoff and I will never forgive Marvel for doing that.

-I mean…I appreciate that they give Andrew a noble death, but like…was it really necessary to have him turn and later die? Really? It gives Ming Na Wen and Blair Underwood opportunities to do extraordinary acting and they nail it, but like maybe don’t kill a guy to solve your inevitable ship? Don’t kill off your second black actor?

-The time jump in the season finale is too sudden. Like we barely get to grieve over Lincoln and they hit us with a time jump and Daisy on the run and new director in charge. Uncool. 

-This was the season I started to dislike Fitzsimmons. Don’t hate me. To me there’s an undercurrent in the writing that seems to favor Fitz over Simmons. FS’s subject to the same sexism that I mentioned in the first bullet. Like the story post-Simmons’ return focuses a lot more on Fitz’s feelings than on hers. He’s the one who has to stop her from getting tortured. He’s the one who saves Will, when it makes way more sense for her to go. He’s the one they all turn to for answers, when it should be both of them combined. And Simmons just gets a little pushed aside in her own story arc, but she just goes along with it anyway. 

-I had to write this last because this is the thing that hurts the season the most for me: Lincoln’s treatment. Okay, first, he’s a great character who got a major personality change between seasons. I don’t like the personality change, but I’d be okay with it if they didn’t do worse. For starters, we barely know him. His life and backstory are so vague, the guy he visits in 3x03 is just “a friend”, and like we get zero information on how they know each other. They spend the entire season having everyone in SHIELD (except Daisy) be against him, dislike him, belittle him, and mistrust him WHEN HE DESERVED NONE OF IT. Like they make it really obvious that Coulson dislikes him father-style because of his relationship with Daisy. They make him petulant and act out to prove that Mack and May are right to mistrust him when really given the fact that he was an Inhuman guide and a medical doctor and a recovered addict, he’d be a lot more under control. They make Fitzsimmons talk down to him just because no one can be smart except Fitzsimmons, when clearly he would know more about Inhuman biology and medicine in general THAN THE BIOCHEM PHD (sorry that one will always bug me). Like they make some work on him with Coulson and May, and that’s good, but overall he is not allowed to have a solid relationship with anyone but Daisy. I think the writers 1) knew he was gonna die and decided not to invest in him or his relationships. 2) were trying to get a moody bad boy in the cast, and decided to cast him as it when it didn’t really make sense. Also, while talking about Lincoln, I really wish they did some more interesting things with his powers than lightning blasts. He has electric powers!! There’s so much you can do!!

-Okay, this one is just real personal. LINCOLN IS A MEDICAL DOCTOR. Or at least a medical student or resident or fellow (I mean, he’s in the hospital doing rounds). TREAT HIM AS SUCH. HE WANTED TO HELP PEOPLE, LET HIM HELP PEOPLE. LET HIM DO THE SURGERIES AND KNOW THE STUFF ABOUT BIOLOGY AND MEDICINE. LET HIM RETURN TO HIS OLD LIFE AS A DOCTOR. You had such a good character who turned himself around from addiction, dedicated his life to saving lives, got thrown multiple curve balls, and now has to decide how will he continue to serve others. Yes, he’s a hero in the end. But all that in between time, he could have been saving lives too.

Pros (because there is good stuff, I promise) 

-Someone mentioned that this is the first season to have a unified storyline throughout, and that’s so true and it’s so well done! 

-There’s a good natural continuation of the HYDRA and Inhuman storylines from S1 and S2. I think we can look at AOS as two large arcs: S1-S3 is about powered people and HYDRA. S4-S7 is about bending the limits of reality with Ghost Rider, LMDs, Framework, Space, and Time Travel,. S1 was about introducing us to powered people and HYDRA, S2 was about developing the history and politics of them respectively and how they relate to SHIELD. S3 is when Inhumans get involved with SHIELD and with the world directly and the fallout from that. For HYDRA it’s when we get the history and reasoning of the group, and even if it’s a retcon, I appreciate that it introduces the background of HYDRA as a way to end this arc

-Overall, I really do appreciate how this season fills out a lot of worldbuilding. We get a complete history on HYDRA, and we get way more info on Inhumans, but we also get to see how the human world is reacting to and divided on Inhumans, which carries over into the net season

-On both lists: It’s good that they take HYDRA out so quickly and quietly. That plotline had run its course, and it was so bittersweet because they finally had defeated their biggest enemy, but now they had even bigger problems to deal with it. That scene of Coulson and May watching HYDRA fall is one of my favorites because it mirrors that S1 scene of watching HYDRA takeover, but it’s so quiet and not celebratory like it should be.

-Like I said, I hate revenge arcs, but I do appreciate how it came full circle at the end with Coulson admitting his mistake and regret in seeking revenge. That’s much more on brand with Coulson and MCU even I had to sit through a painful arc just to get to that point. 

-Episode 1, Daisy’s entrance and, for that matter, Fitz’s entrance. HOT DAMN.

-One of my favorite things about AOS is the way that they mix up pairings and everyone feels like friends and family. This season did a fantastic job on that with like Fitz/Bobbi, Mack/Daisy, Hunter/May, and way more.

-I complain that there wasn’t enough Inhumans to suit me, but also I really enjoyed the ones we got. I expected them to do Inhumans with basic powers like water, fire, plants, shrinking. But AoS writers were like nah, how about a guy who melts metal?? How about Medusa eyes?? How about a guy who can predict deaths? Like they just went straight to the extremes and I respect that. And yes, we have our typical speedster and fire guy, but the sheer joy that comes from those characters makes up for the predictability of their powers.

-We get Joey and Yoyo who are the effin’ best and deserve the world. And with Lincoln and Daisy we got SECRET WARRIORS!!!!

-First time, we get introduced to Charles and Robin and manipulating time, which obviously becomes important later, so I like that they introduce it so early in the show.

-I also love the way things come full circle with Lash. I wish he didn’t die, but the reveal of his true purpose was amazing 

-THE FITZSIMMONS KISS. THE FITZSIMMONS SEX SCENE. Do I really need to say more?

-THAT FITZ vs MONOLITH SCENE. That is top like five moments of the show for me, and I’m gonna need the Emmys to give Iain de Castecker his belated Best Actor award any day now.

-4722 Hours was a work of art, and Elizabeth Henstridge, I will be getting you that Best Actress Emmy one way or another. 

-Brett Dalton’s acting. This rewatch served to highlight how brilliantly he developed Ward’s evilness over the course of the three seasons and then the way he flipped the switch and played a completely different character as Hydra. You can feel it in his voice and mannerisms, it’s a totally different person even if it’s still technically Ward’s body. And to top it off, that finale where he pulls of a brilliant two-minute psychotic breakdown and a kickass fight scene. Standing ovation, good sir. I miss you.

-After S2 fridged three women of color, I do appreciate how this season chooses to take out four of its white characters even if I’m sad that they had to go.

-The Star Wars references were so effin’ funny

-Spy’s Goodbye. I will never be okay about this.

[daydreamindollie]

bts ot7 | Home

Fragments Series: Just another incomplete written piece/plan/idea - not edited, not proofread, just raw writing w/ my notes

A/N: I wrote a bit of this while I was on holiday two years ago, I think. I really wanted to write my own hybrid au for BTS after being inspired by so many other writers out there, mainly @hollyhomburg , @magicalsalamander , @chimkookie , @daydream-hobii and SOOOO MUCH MOOORREEE! There are just so many talented people out there! Anyway, as this was written two years ago and I hadn’t looked at it since, please excuse any grammatical errors or just any errors really; back then, I tried to write better than I actually could so I’m sure many of the sentences are long-winded. But...yeah! The inspiration was there but without a proper plan, my vision wasn’t steady enough to maintain and just collapsed so...*sigh* another one for the fragments series, I guess...

WARNING: these may contain some of my notes, they will be indented and in italics so you can distinguish them from the writing. 

Also, this may contain some prejudicial views and minor conflicts, nothing major but just so you are all aware x

✚          ✚          ✚

Never Before had you felt so excited to reach your journey’s destination. Seeing as you live almost a full hour away from the city, these time-consuming journies were a normality in your life but they were bearable because you always distracted yourself with music, something to read and would even just watch the scenery run by the car window. All previous times were bearable because distractions always held your attention with a vice grip and iron fist, not on this particular day, however. 

Today, you would get your first ever hybrid. 

You had begged your parents multiple times promising that you’d be responsible for them and that you would take care of them and love them with all your heart. Eventually, they grew convinced and launched at your rambling plea for one such companion. 

“You can go get one tomorrow - heck get multiple! I know how lonely it gets here and we don’t want our hybrid to grow bored of you being its only other companion,” your father joked as you squealed with happiness and jumped into his arms, too happy over the long-awaited agreement.

Your parents could never say no to you for long, these were one of the times where they had tried to put their foot down, knowing the true requirements needed to own a hybrid. Deep down, however, they’d always given in because they loved spoiling their only, oh-so-precious daughter. If you asked for the world, there isn’t a doubt in their mind that they’d still say yes, after all, they have an immeasurable amount of money to spare and with such an amount they already had the world in their palms anyway. 

Months of convincing and pleading has brought you to this moment of ultimate concentration and anticipation for one thing - a person’s incomparable and irreplaceable companion - a hybrid. 

Even before your father’s agreement, you had long debated over the type of hybrid you’d prefer to have above all else. //You didn’t want the typical cat and dog, although that would be a rather tame decision, seeing as this would be your first ever hybrid and more information was available for them. //Maybe a bunny, the hybrid’s counterparts were always very endearing with their large doe eyes and extremely petite physique but hybrid-wise, that meant that they looked a lot like children and - you assume - would behave a lot like them too. Taking care of a child, although you’re very fond of them, isn’t something you wanna sign yourself up for just yet. In your head, you imagine a scenario where you’re able to chat and do fun activities with your hybrid like making up silly dances ti your favourite songs. There’s not a chance on this earth that you can do that with an exotic fish hybrid, they usually had fishtails instead of legs and looked very mermaid-like, meaning that only the richest had them, their mesmerising beauty was always a sight to behold and treasure although, however beautiful they may be, you’d rather be able to interact physically with your hybrid and not just stare at it. A peacock? you heard how high maintenance they were (alongside foxes) due to their animalistic traits coming ever so naturally to them/their counterparts not being usual house pets and therefore requiring more attention than usual. 

All this debating leaves you to wonder over what particular hybrid you’ll end yo choosing and befriending; there’s so much to choose from with pros and cons to each. The idea of even getting one is surreal, there are butterflies exploding with a vivacious flurry within the depths of your stomach constantly, surprisingly able to lift the weight of your precious meal on their frail wings and leaving you toeing the edge of either anxiety or excitement. The feeling, no matter how confusing its effects may be, is something you welcome with open arms, the way a lover would embrace the flaws that were responsible for their partner’s perfection. 

Throughout the lengthy travel, your nerves were itchy with impatience, which made your contemplation of the journey being shorter than expected after finally arriving, all the more peculiar. Your mind certainly has a distinct thought process in comparison to actual logic. Despite all that, it seems as though all of your previous excitement has been completely overtaken by an overwhelming sense of nervousness when facing the hybrid adoption centre. 

It was a powerful-looking edifice, tall and broad, harbouring an abundance of rooms with a similar amount of occupants. Amoung those many rooms, lies your future companion and longtime friend. It’s a heart-thumping prospect, so why were you so antsy? 

“Will they like me?” you hum thoughtfully to yourself, voice shaky and uneven with stress. This was your oppressing problem. You’re certain that you’ll find someone you’ll like but will they like you back? And even if they don’t, will you bring them home with you anyway? Just to know them better and have them eventually take a liking to you, perhaps? But what if they never grow fond of you? You can’t just ‘return‘ them, that’s absurd and so inhumane, it’s degrading; they can feel emotions more prominently than normal animals because they’re part human and vice versa. Your morals scream that you just can’t do that to a person. 

Your stuttering thoughts should have deemed your form motionless but your body moved on its own as if one autopilot from your subconscious. You’re lead through the main doors, across the foyer and right to the front desk, where the lady behind the computer asked however she could help you. 

“Um, I’m looking to adopt today,” you stated surprised at how reasonably steady your voice sounded. 

“Do you have an appointment ma’am?”

“Sorry, no,” you pull a face of guilt, mentally shaming yourself for being unprepared. 

“That’s alright! Do you have a particular type of hybrid in mind?”

“You shook your head ‘no’, “I’ve debated but I’m still very indecisive,” chuckling, the lady smiles up at you. 

“Don’t worry miss, that’s usually the case. Is this your first adoption?” her hazel eyes blink curiously at you.

“Is it that obvious?” you muse nervously as you fiddle and fidget with your fingers.

“Don’t worry it’s only because I work here that it is,” she assures before typing away momentarily, only beginning to reach over to the phone beside her to look up at you again, “please take a seat while I get someone to help show you around,“

Nodding with a sheepish smile, you gingerly take a seat, smoothing down the lap of your pleated skirt before taking the time to observe the facility. On the far left, there was a large door labelled with a metal plate ‘NURSERY’, where you imagine the newly borns are kept and goo at the idea. To the right, there seems to be a very spacious room filled with many pastime activities such as sports balls (footballs and basketballs), skipping ropes, books, a TV and probably more things as your view was rather restricted even though the doors were glass. Behind and to the right of the front desk, is another door that states ‘ROOMS’, which is pretty self-explanatory to you but also sets your nerves ablaze with spine-tingling anticipation with what’s to come. 

Inhaling a deep breath, you attempt to calm and tame your nerves as you pivot from where you’re seated, wanting to explore more of the place without having to walk around. You weren’t really expecting anything more but right behind you stood a tall black door. It seemed to hold secrets that begged you to unveil them. 

The amount of time you spent staring at the barrier that held back any number of malicious or wonderful secrets was unknown but your gaze was foxed for long enough that your feet began to move on their own again. Soon enough, you were making your way down a dimly lit staircase to find a room occupied by several - more specifically seven - hybrids. There was: a cat, two dogs, a peacock, a fox, a fish and a bunny-rabbit?

You tilt your head and shyly wave your hand, your head slightly bowed in timidity, showcasing your bashful demeanour whilst also allowing your eyes to stare at them in wondrous fascination. This was your first time ever seeing a hybrid in person and there were seven right in front of you. //“Hello,” you whisper, meeting the gaze of the only cat who hisses in warning at you, causing you to jump in place, your heart ready to fly out of your chest. You felt the nerves in your body preparing to run if need be but they instantly calmed at the sight of the bunny. As opposed to the pierce almond-eyed cat, the bunny appeared to reflect your anxiety, it was an endearing sight, but he was also beautiful, as a matter of fact, all of the hybrids present were ethereal in beauty. 

The peacock in your peripheral view was especially so, you felt as though he could resemble a prince from a fairytale, even so, the bunny had your full attention. He was nothing like a child as most should look like, he possessed the build of a male with thick thigh muscles, which was probably due to his bunny genes but it was still unusual (in a good way) to see a different beauty representing bunny hybrids. 

“What’s your name?” you ask after reaching the cage bars, eyes caring and warm and unable to hold back your elation. He gave no answer, only a frightened stare, making you furrow your brows. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have one?” you gently press for a response, eyes pleading for him to speak. 

“I’ve...I’ve never been adopted before...” he finally speaks, his voice like a finely tuned harp, having all things that leave his lips be melodious and musical. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, “but you're so beautiful...” you whisper to yourself, smiling fondly when you see a faint blush dusting his cheeks, “maybe you can finally have one if you agree to come home with me,” the instant those words left your lips, the other hybrids, who were looking on at your interaction cautiously, panicked. The peacock and dog shielded the bunny with their bodies as the other pup and the fox embraced him, leaving you to jump at the cat’s loud hissing as the fish banged a tight fist at his tank’s wall. //’Why were they being so protective?’ you ponder, not realising that the cat was reaching for you, past the bars of the cage, with his sharp nails drawn and bare, ready to strike. Just as he was about to claw at your face, a hand grabbed your upper arm and pulled you back. 

“Miss, you shouldn’t be down here!” a man with woodchip hair warns, drawing a taser from his back pocket and going for the cat, which you screamed at. 

“What are you doing?!” you snatch his arm back, expression scrunched up in worry and anger. 

“This lowlife was going to attack you, ma’am,” he reasons, brows knitted together with confusion. 

“Lowlife?...”

“yes ma’am - was going to attack you, a human,”

“I don’t care about that, I must’ve done something wrong in his eyes. I’m sure it was pure instinct for him to lash out,”

“But-”

“if you’re so concerned about them behaving ‘improperly‘, why don’t you teach them by being civil yourself and lead by example,” you huff, “people behave by copying others’ actions, don’t ya know?” you can’t believe how angry you’ve become since you only ever use shortened expressions when your temper was truly pronounced. 

“Ma'am, you really shouldn’t be here,” he warns, finally tucking away his taser, consequently calming your nerves, something all hybrids picked up on and raised a curious brow at after calming down themselves. 

“I know I’m not, I’m sorry for wandering off without fair warning or reason,” you try to be civil but your curiosity is peaked, “but can I ask ‘why‘ I’m not allowed here?” 

“Simply put, it’s too dangerous down here ma’am...” you note how his voice wavers and his eyes are restlessly examining the room, not keeping eye contact with you for too long.

“Dangerous?...” you turn to the hybrids with worried eyes, an expression they were unfamiliar with and don’t quite know how to interpret, “why are these hybrids here then?“

“Ma’am,” the worker hesitates, “these hybrids are the reason why it’s so dangerous,”

“I...I don’t understand...” you mutter, unable to comprehend how people with such sad, gentle eyes could harbour such a threat. The employee with the taser is more threatening to you. 

“We should really get you upstairs now ma’am. I can show you to the hybrids that you will definitely favour,” he puts on a weak smile as he attempts to lead you up the stairs behind you, only to falter in his steps when you abruptly pull away and step towards the cages once more, dismissing the worried gaze the male flashes you. 

“I’ve already made my decision though, so I won’t need to go upstairs,” all eyes in the room visibly widen at your proclamation as you smile in innocent excitement. 

“Who?!”

“The bunny please, if he’”s alright to go with me, that is,” you give the bunny a timid smile, staring into his large doe eyes as you try to tame the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I’m afraid that’s impossible ma’am,”

You pout, “and why’s that?” your tone is stern but also childish in some way, much like how a child would deliver demands during a strop. 

“Well, it’s impossible because if you want one, then you’ll need to adopt all of them.” now, it’s time for your eyes to widen.

“How come?”

“They’ve formed a very peculiar group-pack-alliance,” he sighs as you take a moment to look at the seven hybrids together, it was definitely a strange but lovely picture, “they always cause trouble by lashing out at whoever draws near, especially the cat. Many workers have quit from needing to go have some treatment done on scratches from him. This is why it’“s so dangerous here, they may look harmless but they can really hurt you, and it’s extremely expensive to adopt all seven. I, along with the rest of my coworkers, strongly advise that you don’t even think of adopting any from this group.”

You ponder for a moment, contemplating all your options as you stare at all seven hybrids collectively, “There’s no other way for me to bring the bunny home?”

“I’m sorry but no,” he says sternly, “please, just let me take you upstairs ma’am,”

“Is it possible for me to come here at a regular basis?” you turn back to him, having completely ignored his advice, “So that I can befriend them all before taking them home with me?” 

The worker’s jaw drops, “you actually want to adopt all of them?”

Facing all hybrids, you smile, eyes sparkling, “why not?”

[MAYBE END OF CHPT.ONE?????START CHPT.TWO???⇣]

Yet again, you find yourself taking another long journey to the hybrid adoption centre, giddy with butterflies after a long week of waiting. It would have been easy for you to take the journey every day but you knew how high gas prices were and didn’t want to trouble your parents in spite of knowing their wealth. You were also adamant in being eco-friendly. 

In your hands, you fiddly with the wrap of a large bento box, there were six others surrounding you filled with homecooked meals that you’ve put your heart and soul into. Hopefully, they’ll like what you’ve cooked; you did your best to research what particular hybrids liked. Bunnies loved carrot cake, cats like friend fish, dogs loved meat, foxes too, fish liked anything with bread and peacocks were very fancy with exotic fruits and such. It was a lot of fun to make but you also wanted to introduce them to other foods too. Most of the dishes were advised from the website most prominent in providing hybrid care information but you also included your favourite dishes, hoping to bond with them over something you liked similarly. 

“Good morning!” you greet the secretary, flashing a peppy smile which she returns hesitantly, eyes hovering over the bentos that were piled high in your arms, “I hope this is okay,“ you lift the lunches before quickly making your way down to the basement, too blinded by the excitement of finally making your own friends to notice that the secretary had just begun to protest, only to face the slam of a door. 

“I’m back!” you announce, giggling as you finally make it down the last step, “And I’ve brought lunches!“ again, you lift the bentos with a huff from their weight before setting them down. Facing up, you quickly note the surprised look all hybrids harboured just as you were about to ask what was wrong, your bunny spoke up. 

“You came back...” his eyes were wide and his form rigged, completely unbelieving of the fact that you had returned. 

“Of course I came back. I said that I would sooooo...here I am!” you gesture to yourself with a glint of mischief in your eyes, “Anyway, are you guys hungry? I made lunch,”

“We’re not hungry,” the cat snapped stubbornly from the back of the room, black ears and tail flicking in annoyance. 

[MAYBE REAL END OF CHAPTER ONE????]

please remember that this is, unfortunately, not going to be continued as it is a part of my ‘Fragments’ Series, where I just post works that I have discontinued, maybe still in its drafting/notes-infused stage. I know it might seem like a pointless series but I’m proud of all my works and love to share more than I should. 

[rhomsfanfic]

BnHA Vampire!AU

Here we go guys, with my own take on a Vampire!AU!!

Feel free to use for your own art/writing, but please link back to this post or @ me because I would love to see what you do with it and also for the original idea

It’s long, so click read more if you are interested! Also, frequent blood mentioning if you guys are sensitive to it, you might not want to read this!

Shouta Aizawa is still a relatively young but because of his human age and incredible body control, already a fully-grown vampire. Used to be a professor at an elite school before getting turned by Hizashi after being involved in a freak accident. Has never believed in the supernatural and even after his turning, refuses to see himself as a vampire. He does not like drinking blood, eventually starving himself for a long time - resulting in dark bags under his eyes and sometimes passing out from hunger - however, he does realize fully that it’s something he has to drink to survive and rather chooses to starve until the very last bit of his sanity vanishes. Is incredibly strict and grumpy, but makes for an amazing teacher if he’s willing. Even after decades being a vampire, he’s still the one that tries the most to go back to his human roots, only ever meeting rejection. He spends his nights reading if he can, always having dry eyes because the mansion is so dark and candles do not suffice as a light source for all the reading he does. If he isn’t reading, he’s most likely outside of the mansion, trying to find new books. The new life bores him extremely, which is why he urges for new knowledge

Hizashi Yamada is the third oldest of the adult vampires, differencing himself in how flashy he is. He wears colors that absolutely stand out even at night and he loves it when people point it out to him, only reassuring him in his choice of clothes. He makes the creature of the night name proud, always up to some form of shenanigans. Hizashi is the most likely to bring “fodder” into the mansion, having his fun before letting someone dispose of the body before he/she wakes up in the mansion the next morning. He can be found in night clubs and opium holes during the night, passed out in his room in the morning. Had absolutely no problem with becoming a vampire and even though he doesn’t hunt for fun - he won’t bite someone if it isn’t absolutely necessary -, is the most seductive and efficient of them all concerning humans. Incredibly loud and annoying but also a good teacher to the young vampires for everything concerning vampire-lessons. Used to be infatuated with Shouta when he was still a human because he was so serious and no fun, eventually turning him into a vampire when he got fatally wounded. He’s almost a century older than Shouta so he claims to not remember his life as a human, hiding the deep scars it left on him with his obnoxious personality

Toshinori Yagi is second oldest of the mansion and next to Lady Midnight the patriarch of the young vampires. Probably the calmest, modest and honest of all of them, even though he keeps secrets from not only the students but also the two adult vampires under him. He just doesn’t see the necessity to tell them certain things that are more than harmful to their living alongside humans, keeping these secrets to himself. Used to be a soldier, centuries ago. Fell in a war, but got resurrected accidentally by a vampire who used to feed off the dead. Got taken under the wing of said vampire and taught all the necessities by them. Follows their teachings to the point but also has since refrained from their old practice of feeding off the death out of his own morals. After living for so long, he still carries great empathy for humans and is the most sorry for drinking blood, but after the long time of being a vampire, he can’t be bothered with starving himself anymore. Spends most of his time teaching the little bats how to be a good vampire and life alongside humans and is the only one who can go outside by day if necessary - though he will eventually start coughing blood and die if he’s out too long - due to the fact that he can transform in a more humanly form at day, looking like an old, weak man, instead of a build soldier as he does by night. Only one to also advise drinking animal blood if there is no other option but staying undercover

Nemuri Kayama - or how she wants to be called: Lady Midnight - is the oldest vampire of the pack, the lady of the house, matriarch to everyone joining them and most of the ones that were turned into vampires, and first teacher to them all. She has lived so long. So incredibly long. Think about a long time, now think longer. Do never ask her for her age or your dead. After being a very primal and instinctive vampire for centuries, she eventually got back in touch with her human roots and chose to live alongside humans as peaceful as possible, giving up her monstrosities of behavior after that long time. She formed one of the few clans of vampires that do not choose the being superior to humans and is one of the main threats to them. Used to be something like royalty as a human and even after all the years still has the same graceful but suppressing aura as she had then. Though it’s only half of her, as sometimes her beastly behavior still shows in the way she talks and relentless she is in her thinking. Could go years without drinking blood without any consequences to her sanity, but drinks it for pleasure. No matter how much she puts into living peacefully next to humans, they still mostly are fodder for her. She is well-respected in human society and attends social events by night or teaches her ways to the little bats. Otherwise, one can find her in high-end clubs or in the mansion’s saloon, where she’ll gladly talk about stories she experienced or heard for hours. Very interesting and also sleep-inducing. Had a word in Shouta’s turning and though she didn’t turn him herself, is still considered to be his matriarch due to the fact she is Hizashi’s. Even though she is the oldest and highest ranking member of the pack, she still gave rights to Toshinori that enables him to have the same place in the hierarchy as her. They never fight and are very much in correspondence with each other, however, their main point in difference is their view on humans and it comes to fragile tension every now and then between them

Izuku Midoriya was a young student in the city’s university, always incredibly curious about the supernatural and considered a little odd for his fanatical researches. However, except for being dedicated to his researches, he was naive at the same time, running right into the vampire’s lair and witnessing something he shouldn’t have. Was turned by Toshinori as a precaution, even though the vampire felt very sorry for young Izuku to have to go through that process and the tragedy that comes with being of the supernatural kind. Relatively quickly adjusted to being a vampire, however, struggles with having to drink blood and his own hunger a lot. Is in a constant fight over his own desires and morals and has a hard time getting used to it like the other students. Very curious about vampires still after becoming one himself and spends most of his time learning more about it, next to being taught by the elders

Katsuki Bakugou was yet again another student curious about the supernatural, though not to the extent of Izuku. Comes from a more prestige family and loved making fun of Izuku for his interest, while keeping his own interest to himself, due to fearing that other people would find him odd too. Used to bully Izuku a lot and when he heard about the other boy going to inspect a so-called vampire lair, he made it his purpose to spook Izuku and make fun of him. Got unwillingly pulled into the whole disaster they had to witness and turned by Toshinori too so they wouldn’t tell on the vampires. After the transformation he’s even more aggressive towards Izuku, blaming him for the procedure they had to go through, though he finds his new strength and power quite alluring. Lady Midnight fears he’s the most likely to fall into the category of vampire that would cause harm to humans just because he thinks he’s better than them, so he’s kept under close watch. Surprisingly, even though he has bad habits and swears like a sailor all the time, he is still pretty respectful towards Toshinori and Shouta. Even though he seems to have quite the superiority complex, he still learns what he’s told and much like Izuku is an example vampire for the clan

GENERAL INFORMATION FOLLOWING

Overall there are two differences in vampires, 1.) the ones that want to live next to humans and with them, accepting their thirst and do drink the blood, mostly hiding it behind sexual play or by biting people who will not cause a scene. They have an undergroup of vampires who drink exclusively from animals and/or the dead. And 2.) the ones that see themselves superior to humans, hunting and killing them with their bites just for the fun or satisfaction of their needs. They are more inhuman than number 1 and can barely stand walking through crowds of humans without attacking them. They also look more like monsters than vampires in disguise, with larger fangs and claw-like fingers, due to their constant consumption of blood and hunting habits. Vampires with a strong will can turn away from being a monstrosity and turn back into a more human-like appearance, still keeping up their inhuman speed and strength. Vampires of type 2 are still capable of conversing like humans and think logical, but are driven by their instincts more and have less reasoning to hold back or overthink situations

Vampires can go a long time without drinking blood, but with every day they starve they lose a bit of sanity and could turn back into their inhuman form at any point. They only die when exposed to the sun too long - lurking in the shadows is an option - and/or are stabbed by a silver knife/hit by a silver bullet. Vampires and other supernatural beings are the only species capable of murdering another vampire with brute force, but it’s not common practice

Vampire bites do not kill - per se. They leave the characteristic marks on the victim's body but No. 1 Vampires do not drink enough to kill the victim or let them bleed out either, their salvia can close up the wounds. They are most likely to get their victim to faint before placing them back somewhere near the village where they can be found. The marks are quite troublesome as they signalizing a vampire’s presence, so they do their best to bite somewhere, where it won’t be noticed too much later on. No. 2 Vampire’s however, kill their victims by ripping out either limbs or biting through their throats which will leave the victim dying. Ultimately a way more efficient method of hiding their presence, but also much crueler and deathly.

Vampire can eat and drink whatever they want, but will be faced with tummy aches and other medical conditions if they overdo it. Some of the main cast prefers human drinks over blood, though it gives them nothing. Lady Midnight likes the taste of red wine, but can never get drunk. Shouta likes coffee but will not get a caffeine rush from it. They simply won’t gain any negative or positive effects of it, and their bodies cannot change except if they have a high intake of blood, since that will trigger the poison in their own blood to rise and turn them into the monster they are if not controlled by their will

Turning does not happen via biting someone, but through intake of the vampire’s DNA. Most efficient are nails or hair, also in form of powder in a drink. But saliva will do just as much, it just takes a whole lot of it to be intaken by the victim to be turned. It is not possible for a human to become a vampire by having sex with them, though the species cannot impregnate each other either. Vampires cannot have children and it’s uncommon to turn a child into a vampire as that is what it will be for the rest of its life. However - though very rare - a human can possibly be turned if a vampire were to lick a very deep wound of them, the vampire’s salvia having a chance to get into the body enough to let out the poison of their being that would turn the human. Dead bodies cannot be turned anymore, as the poison simply cannot circulate through them anymore. The likelihood of a victim of No. 2 Vampires to survive and turn is small, but not impossible and more likely than them surviving.

The main goal of the vampire clan under Lady Midnight is the hiding of what they are, while also protecting the territory she managed to achieve. In the eyes of other vampires, she owns a big university city, the forests next to it and the mansion inside the forest and their mission is to protect the humans in her territory from mostly No. 2 Vampires but also No. 1 who dare to set foot into it. That’s why the clan has patrols every night and even in the day (thanks to Toshinori and eventually maybe some other characters depending on where the AU leads)

It is set in medieval times so yay for carriages, old clothes, and chaise lounges

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (31)

The lengths he’d go

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18. This also alludes to pretty disturbing content, regarding Amara’s backstory.

Word count: about 4,100 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during the first night in Penelope’s estate, right after Liam saw Liv and Rashad, starting with Drake’s POV.

*****

Maxwell had just left for the night, after a fun evening of movies and chats, and Drake was just about to turn in when someone knocked on the door. He was secretly hoping it would be Amara, but he knew that they were being prudent. Maybe Max had forgotten something?

‘Hey Max, coming!’ he yells out.

‘It’s me, Drake.’

Liam’s voice. Not like his usual self, though, his voice is broken and sad. Trembling, even. Drake rushes to the door. ‘Hey man, come on in.’

Liam looks like shit. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s holding a sad, slightly wilted bouquet of roses, as well as a jewelry box. Oh no, Drake thinks. Who rejected him this time?

‘Thanks for opening. I know it’s late.’

‘Hey, no worries, Li. I was up, Max and I were watching movies.’

Liam nods. ‘Any chance you were also drinking whiskey and there’s some left?’

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah. Sit down, I’ll pour you a glass.’

*****

‘Maybe it’s better if we go our separate ways here,’ Liv whispers as Rashad parks his car in the garage where they met up earlier.

Rashad nods and smiles. ‘Whatever you say. I had a great time. Thank you for coming out with me, Nevrakis.’

Liv sighs, unable to keep the smile off of her lips. ‘I had a great time too. Sorry I’m not inviting you up, I just-’

He puts his hand on her arm, ever so gently. ‘Stop. This is perfect.’

She stays like this for a few minutes, taking it all in. He obviously wants her, she realized it on the beach, when they made out for a while on that rock --how cliché?-- and she felt his hard cock against her. But he didn’t try anything beyond kissing. 

Not that she didn’t want it; of course she wants it. He’s so fucking attractive, and respectful, and kind --oh fuck, since when have those been positive criteria for her? Still, she doesn’t want to rush into something new. She’s loved Liam for as long as she can remember, and cannot jump into something head first right now. But maybe just dipping her toes is fine. 

Plus, since Ilya’s nude picture was leaked, she’s been feeling...violated. It wasn’t even her picture, of course, but the intent behind the text exchange was clear, and plain for everyone to see. Her personal life, on a shelf, for the whole court to judge. Fuck that. 

No, she’s not ready. She would love to shed her inhibitions and jump his bones right here right now. Just say fuck it, and straddle him, in the driver’s seat. She could ride him immediately if she wanted, and on some level she does want it, but… not yet.

‘Liv,’ Rashad murmurs, as if reading her mind, ‘there’s nothing I would love more than spend the night with you, but there’s no rush. So, we can keep hanging out, and in a little while, if you want, well, if you’re still into it, I’ll be there.’

She smiles and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. ‘Good night, Domvallier. See you very soon.’

*****

Liam looks at his best friend process what he just told him. Drake’s eyes are the size of saucers as he’s reacting to the thought of Liv with Rashad. Liam’s thoughts exactly.

‘Li, this is crazy… are you okay?’

No, he’s not okay, he thinks. Bit late for Drake to worry, huh? But he can’t tell him that. ‘I’ll be fine, Drake. I’m just disappointed, as you can see, I was going to make a grand gesture, and my plans were completely derailed.’

Drake is responding, with words that Liam is not listening to. All he can think about right now is Liv’s lips tangled with Rashad’s. Amara’s rejection of him, very clear, very business-like. Drake’s budding friendship with Maxwell, which had taken over Liam’s own friendships with the two men. When did the actual Crown Prince become everyone’s third wheel? Even Bertrand seemed more integrated to the group than he was, when they had lunch at the cabin. 

‘Liam? Are you listening?’

‘Hm? Oh, yeah. I know, crazy, right?’

Drake squints. ‘I was saying, you should talk to Liv. Be upfront with her, ask her if she is serious about Rashad. Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding, maybe she’s just hanging out with him because she thought you would never propose to her. You’ve gotta at least try.’

Liam plasters on his fake smile, the one he’s been showing off 24/7 these days. ‘You’re right. Thank you.’

But what he means is, why is it always my job to clarify everything with everyone? Why can’t people just be upfront with me, and that way I don’t have to constantly ask them how they really feel? 

But Drake wouldn’t understand. No one fakes anything with Drake. No one feels obligated to pretend to like Drake, people just show him their true colors.

So, he gets up from the bed, downs his whiskey, and heads towards the door. 

‘Hold on,’ Drake says as he gets up to follow him, ‘are you leaving already? I don’t think you should be alone, Li.’

But Liam’s always alone. ‘I’m fine, Drake. I’ll see you tomorrow at the fishing activity, ok?’

*****

‘Are you sure, Suarez? You can take as much time as you need, prolong your leave of absence, but don’t quit now.’

But Amara has made her decision already, no way she’s going back. 

‘Thanks, Captain, but I don’t plan to come back. No need to string the NYPD along. Thank you for everything.’

She holds out her hand, and Captain Braugher shakes it vigorously. ‘Take care, Detective. Thank you for your service. Please call if you change your mind.’

As she walks away, she can’t block the voices in her head, the gunshots that repeat themselves in an infinite pattern, killing her brother over and over in her memory. 

She closes her eyes as she tries to repress the recollection of her own voice, the one that screamed ‘Sergio!’ at the top of her lungs, almost inhumanely, hoping to God her brother had survived. 

She hears those sounds all day long, everywhere, no matter who’s talking to her. 

They distract her so much, up to the point where she has no idea what is going on around her. Up to the point where she absolutely does not see the bus driving towards her as she crosses the street.

‘CAREFUL!’ a voice screams at her.

She wakes up in a sweat. Hana is next to her, her brow furrowed with concern. ‘Amara, are you okay?’ she asks.

Amara catches her breath. ‘Y-yeah… I had a nightmare…’

‘Damn,’ Hana says, sitting up in the bed. ‘You fell asleep so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you up, I didn’t realize your nightmares were so bad.’

The thing is, this one wasn’t even bad. She didn’t even dream of the fateful day, she didn’t even see any images of her dying brother. This was one of the good nightmares. 

‘I’m ok, hun, thanks for letting me crash, I should probably go back to my room.’

‘Nonsense,’ Hana replies. ‘I bet your nightmares get worse when you’re alone, huh?’

Amara’s eyes well up. She nods silently. She doesn’t want to tell her that, for every night when she hasn’t been near Drake, she’s gotten about two hours of undisturbed sleep.

‘Alright then,’ Hana says in a determined tone, ‘you’re staying here, and that’s final. I’ll make us some chamomile tea.’

*****

‘Grampie!’

‘Mijita! Come give me a hug!’

Michael’s heart grows two sizes every time he sees his daughter smile. When she’s around her grandparents, Callie’s face never fails to light up.

‘Hi Jorge,’ Michael says as he hugs his father-in-law tightly. ‘Sorry we’re here so early. I wanted to beat traffic.’

‘Mikey, good to see you. Don’t worry about it sweetie, you know we wake up at 6am every day.’

Michael goes to the kitchen to greet Nancy, who already has an armful of Callie, who can’t get enough of her grandmother. 

Alright, he thinks. No funny business, he can’t tell them anything. These two are the worst secret keepers, and he was told to remain discreet so as to not ruin the surprise. He was evasive on the phone, asking them to watch Callie for about a week as he had a work trip to take. They didn’t ask any further questions, however unbelievable it sounded. Michael’s an attorney, he doesn’t take work trips, not really, but Jorge and Nancy were not the type to doubt him. 

He’d have to be careful not to mention Amara too much, which would be hard, given that Jorge usually talked about her every ten minutes. And given that there were around 20 pictures of her in the living room, including her giant quinceañera photo on the mantel.

He’d arrived a couple of days early, so he could visit with his in-laws and ease Callie into her sleepover week. She and Michael were basically inseparable. 

Of course, he could have brought her along, which his contact person had encouraged, but Michael didn’t want to subject his daughter to the long trip, especially since he really had no idea how things would be once he got there.

‘Grammie, is this me?’ Callie asks Nancy, pointing at a baby picture of Sergio. Nancy glances at Jorge, who looks like he’s about to cry.

‘No, baby, this is your Papi. You look exactly like him.’

Michael looks away before he makes eye contact with Jorge and they both end up weeping. Yes, Callie looked exactly like Sergio. Michael blesses the day when they both had their sperm count tested, and Sergio’s had slightly better odds. If things had gone differently on that day, they wouldn’t have decided to use Sergio’s, and Callie would not look like him. As hard as it is to look at her painfully-Suarez little face every day and be reminded of his husband’s death, Michael wouldn’t have it any other way. Like this, he lives on.

Ten minutes later, Jorge is already showing Callie the wooden toys he’s been making her in his shed. The two are off in the garden, and Michael hears them laughing from afar. The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to move to the Philadelphia suburbs to be close to Jorge and Nancy. Callie would love it, and Michael already has had offers from lawfirms in Philly. He just has to bring himself to sell their apartment in Williamsburg.

‘Tell me honey,’ Nancy says softly as she refills his coffee, ‘are you taking care of yourself? You look tired, and I don’t mean it as a passive-aggressive mom thing.’

He knew she didn’t. Nancy is not like that. If she says he looks tired, then he does, and she’s probably just really concerned. But he also cannot tell her what’s been keeping him awake, because she would tell Jorge instantly.

‘I’m fine, Nance, thank you. I’m just anxious about leaving Callie.’

She smiles at him. ‘Honey, you know she’ll be in good hands, right? Plus, Lauren and Matthew are coming this weekend with the twins. She’ll have a nice playdate.’

Michael nods. Matthew is Nancy’s son, and he and his wife were incredible with Callie after Sergio passed. Their twins, a boy and a girl, are lovely little kids, just a year older than Callie, and they all get along beautifully. ‘That will be good. I know she’ll be fine, but we’ve never been apart so long.’

Nancy nods. ‘I know. But you have to rebuild your life, sweetie. You’ve got to think of yourself.’

Michael nods but hopes they don’t think he’s going somewhere to meet a man. That’s literally the last thing on his mind, always. When he met Sergio, ten years ago --jeez, ten years--, he knew that was it. Boom, done. The one. That’s why they didn’t wait long to get married. Two years into their relationship, they were about to tie the knot. Two years after that, they were looking into surrogacy. And finally, four years ago, Callie was born. 

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Michael was not supposed to be a widower at not even 35 years old. And yet, here he was. 

*****

The second day in Portavira seemed extremely long to Drake, who usually enjoyed fishing, but didn’t really feel like being among the whole court today. He exchanged a few words with Amara, but they couldn’t be seen together for too long, for fear of being discovered. Although, as Drake recalled Bastien’s words, discovered or not, something shitty was coming Amara’s way. All they needed to know was what, and when.

Liam had barely spoken to him all day, and looked even worse than the night before. It was obvious that he had been ruminating Liv’s new relationship all night. Did Drake do enough? Probably not. But he’s starting to feel tired of it all, and specifically of managing Liam’s expectations.

What did he think? That he could play with Liv’s feelings for twenty years, and that she would in turn be at his disposal? That was a real underestimation of Nevrakis, and it confirmed to Drake that Liv deserves better.

Maybe Rashad would treat her better. Maybe this was for the best. 

Fuck, he misses Amara. It’s been only a day since they were happy and free at the cabin, but it feels like a year. Every time he catches a glimpse of her, his breath intensifies, and he finds himself irresistibly attracted towards her. 

‘Drake!’ Hana exclaims, walking towards him with her little fishing rod in one hand, and her straw hat in the other. ‘Can you show me how to catch a fish? I haven’t been able to do anything all afternoon!’

‘What? Hana Lee, as I live and breathe, are you…’ he fake gasps, ‘are you NOT TRAINED in something?’

Hana laughs earnestly, ‘You can laugh all you want, but this was not very high on my parents’ priority list. Believe it or not, they’d rather I catch a husband!’

He shows her how to prep her line, and as she’s closer to him, she looks all around for eavesdroppers.

‘Everything ok?’ he asks.

She nods. ‘Have you spoken to Liam?’

He wonders whether he should say anything, but he doesn’t want to talk about Liv and Rashad in public. It’s not his place. ‘Last night, yeah. He came to my room around 1am.’

If she was surprised, she certainly didn’t show it. ‘How did he seem?’

Drake hesitates. ‘Not good. I think he’s unraveling. I can tell you more about it tomorrow when we get back to Ramsford.’

She sighs. ‘I can’t wait. This is stressful. We’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

‘Exactly.’ He pauses. ‘Hana, can I just ask--’

She interrupts him. ‘She’s ok. She slept over last night, and she had a pretty severe nightmare, though. I think she’s on edge.’

Fuck, he thinks, the nightmares are back. Weird, because Michael has stopped calling. But maybe she’s been talking to her dad, or to Mia. Or maybe it’s even the tense atmosphere that’s getting to her. Drake wouldn’t be surprised. ‘I was hoping the nightmares would fade away,’ he says to Hana.

She smiles kindly. ‘All we need to do is be there for her. And love her.’

Drake grips his fishing rod tightly and scoffs. ‘How can I do that if I can’t even talk to her without raising suspicion?’

‘Hey, be patient. Tomorrow we’ll have a couple of days off until the rehearsal dinner on Friday. We’ll do something fun, recharge our batteries.’

Drake nods. He’s all for recharging his batteries, but a few days away from the Decision Ball, it feels more like one last treat you give a dying dog. 

*****

Amara took the first opportunity she found to escape the crowd and walk on her own. She had some fun fishing, specifically spending time with Max, Bertrand and Olivia, with whom she hung out for most of the activity. But now, as everyone is gathering around to have yet another tea time with pastries and cider, she needs a break. She doesn’t want to wander too far, in order not to be rude, but she figures a light stroll around the gardens can’t hurt. 

She’s still reeling from everything. The everlasting threat of her personal business being leaked, the ongoing pressure from a competition she doesn’t want, the anxiety of wondering whether or not she’ll be able to be with Drake completely, and of course, the habitual agony over her nightmares. 

So, for now, if she can grab a minute to herself and literally smell the flowers, she’s gonna do it. 

‘Amara?’

She turns around nervously and relaxes a bit at the sight of her interlocutor. ‘Oh, Penelope, you scared me.’

Penelope smiles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just getting some air.’

‘Same. Your place is beautiful, thank you so much for having us all here.’

Penelope’s smile broadens. ‘Oh thank you for saying this! It’s been great having everyone here. It’s just…’ She stops.

‘What is it, Penelope?’ Amara inquires.

‘Oh, nothing.’ She pauses and looks at Amara intently, as if to judge her intentions. After a long pause, she continues. ‘It’s just that it feels it’s all for nothing.’ Amara chooses to remain silent and nods vigorously until Penelope continues. ‘The competition, I mean. It’s pretty obvious that I’m not going to be chosen. I think we all know that.’

Amara’s heart breaks a little at Penelope’s confession. She studies her face for a minute. She’s probably around Amara’s age, but she looks so young and naive, that Amara feels the need to protect her all of a sudden. People talk about Hana’s innocent temperament, but few of them realize how strong she actually is. With Penelope, the naiveté is probably not an illusion. Plus, if her parents’ overprotective attitude is any indication, Penelope has probably led a pretty sheltered life so far. 

Still, Amara decides to play the supportive card. ‘You can’t say that. Liam might choose you.’

Penelope waves her off. ‘Oh, I don’t even want to be chosen. My parents and I only decided for me to enter the competition because it would be suspicious if I didn’t. But we all hope I won’t make it. My place is not in the Capital, really, it’s here with my family and my dogs.’

Amara nods understandingly. Parts of her can’t help but feel relief, because this means she’s probably not involved in Hana’s and Liv’s leaks, since she’s that disinterested. ‘I get it,’ Amara says. She wishes she could say more, commiserate in their non-love of Liam, but she decides not to. After all, Penelope is still friendly-ish with Madeleine, who could make her life a living hell at the drop of a hat. ‘If you don’t want the prize, the whole shebang must be quite agonizing,’ Amara continues.

Penelope laughs. ‘Not really, because I do like hanging out with everyone and having fun at court. I do miss my family and my dogs but I know it’ll all be over on Saturday night.’

Amara smiles silently. She fucking hopes it’ll all be over after Saturday night.

‘But I didn’t mean to discourage you,’ Penelope continues. ‘You have all your chances, Amara!’

*****

No one seems to have noticed that Liam slipped out of the tea time. He went to the bathroom a good twenty minutes ago and never came back, and no one came after him. He can only see Bastien, always a good twenty feet behind him. 

So, he just stays at the balcony, far from the crowd, and refuses to go back until someone, anyone, comes for him. 

Bratty? Maybe. But that’s how it is. 

He plays on his phone. No one has texted him, either. Just a few emails, mostly boring ones. One from Ioanna, the assistant to the Greek ambassador, thanking him for the reports he’s sent. As he’s about to press ‘Reply’, he hears footsteps, and his heart rate increases, in the hope that they belong to someone he wants to see.

‘Hello, Your Highness.’

He turns around. ‘Oh, hi, Madeleine. How are you?’

She smiles weakly and plants herself right next to him on the balcony. ‘I should be asking you this. You left a while ago, I was worried.’

He sighs. Just his luck. The only person worried about him is Madeleine. ‘I’m fine. I’m just feeling a bit…’ he looks at her. ‘Restless.’

She puts her hand on his forearm. ‘It happens to the best of us. It must be hard being the center of attention while no one really pays attention to you.’

Yeah, spot on. ‘Very well put,’ he chuckles.

She wrings her hands together. ‘I wanted to apologize for the other day, too. Sincerely.’

‘Apologize for what?’ he asks, all the while knowing exactly what she’s talking about.

‘For being too forward and entitled the other day. For giving you the impression that you owed me a date. For being shamelessly flirtatious. For all of it.’

He can’t help but smile. She’s never admitted fault before, so that’s a first. He can get behind that. ‘Apology accepted.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘I’m not trying to find excuses for myself, really, but the truth is…’ she blushes, ‘you’re so attractive and so perfect in every way, it’s difficult to resist hitting on you.’ She shrugs. ‘I’m only human.’

Liam laughs wholeheartedly for the first time in a while.

*****

Madeleine walks back to the tea time with Liam on her arm. She tries not to appear too smug, although old habits die hard. Thankfully, she and Liam are facing the same way, so he can’t see the self-satisfied look on her face.

She just had to schmooze him a bit and apologize to get him to finally give in a little. She almost tried to kiss him again, to seal the deal, but decided against it at the last minute. Too much too soon can never be good. Plus, she could give two shits about kissing him or fucking him. All she wants is the crown.

*****

‘Hey little blossom, are you ready to go?’

Amara smiles from ear to ear when Max enters her room with his suitcase. She finishes zipping hers up, excited to get back to Ramsford. The previous evening in Portavira had been uneventful, except for the fact that Liam and Madeleine had appeared unnaturally close, and then again at breakfast this morning.

She’d worry about that later. Or maybe there was nothing to worry about at all. She couldn’t tell anymore.

All she knows is that Wednesday is finally here and they can all get the fuck out of courtly duties for a whole 48 hours. Everyone is going home, and she, Drake, Max, Bertrand, Hana, and Liv, are going to Ramsford.

‘I’m all packed!’ she announces proudly.

‘Alright, let’s go then! No time to waste, it’s a long drive!’

*****

After saying goodbye to Penelope, her parents, and her poodles --Drake had to admit those little bastards were really cute--, the gang piles up in Maxwell’s and Bertrand’s cars. 

‘Max,’ Drake says, ‘can you drop me off at my cabin so I can get my car?’

‘Sure thing, let’s go!’

Drake had thought about this moment all morning, and also all of yesterday. Just sitting in the backseat next to Amara feels illicit. Liv is in the front seat, and Hana rode with Bertrand. Drake catches a glimpse of Amara’s smile the moment they settle down next to each other, and he wonders how he’s gonna be able to hold off from kissing her, from holding her, until they’re out of sight. But he does. Eyes on the prize.

As soon as Max’s car exits Penelope’s estate and passes the gates, Amara’s hand inches closer to Drake’s until their fingers touch. The much awaited contact sends shivers down Drake’s spine. ‘Fuck, Suarez,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Ugh, guys, you’re gonna make me carsick,’ Liv complains. ‘Unless Beaumont’s driving gets to me first.’

‘Hey! I’m a great driver!’ Max yelps as he swerves to avoid a bird.

Drake squeezes Amara’s hand. She turns around, looks behind them to look at the Portavira estate, which is getting smaller and smaller in the distance. She looks at Drake, a look that could melt his heart, and their lips crash together. 

‘For fuck’s sake, Suarez,’ Liv sighs, ‘keep it in your pants.’

But Drake can’t hear anything. All he’s aware of is the touch of Amara’s lips, the warmth of her embrace. The love he feels for her. The lengths he’d go for this woman. 

*****

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[imaginedanganronpa]

Can you please do some headcanons with the rest of the DR2 cast with the Despair Disease?

Obviously I’m excluding those who did actually get the Despair Disease canonically (Nagito, Mikan, Ibuki and Akane) but otherwise, this was really fun and I hope you like it!

V3 Cast with the Despair Disease! | SDR2 Spoilers Ahead!

The Rest of the SDR2 Cast Getting Infected with the Despair Disease!

Hajime Hinata

Revelation Disease

After coming down with the DespairDisease, Hajime would receive an intense revelation, hence the Disease’s title– afterwards, he would immediately recall his affiliation with Junko Enoshimaand his status as Izuru Kamukura. 

Unlike the Remembering Disease that affectedMikan, Hajime would not slowly put pieces together but instead his memorieswould hit him like a truck. In many ways, he would revert back to being Izuru. 

He would be much colder andcruel, as well as disrespectful towards the others. He would be more reluctant to helpothers and instead laugh in their faces while he watches them scramble around onthe island, insulting them whenever he had the chance and refusing to help during the Investigation process since it isn’t his job. 

In a twisted way, Hajime finds enjoyment out of watching them struggle and suffer since, if it wasn’t for him, they would be dead by now… and if he wanted to, he could easily kill them as well.

Hajime would likely become overwhelmed with Despair and enjoy their situation much more after being infected, succumbing to Despair and going a bit insane in the process. 

He becomes much less trustworthy and more prone to lashing out against his friends, which causes them to break away from his leadership. 

They treat him like they treated Nagito at the beginning and locked him away so he would be unable to harm anyone.

He doesn’t care about his lack of talent, contradicting how he used to be veryinsecure about it. Hajime would own up to being an average Reserve Corpsstudent and belittle the Ultimates, using his title as Izuru Kamukura to establish hisown dominance since he obtained every talent in Hope’s Peak’s history.

Hajime would be much more skeptical and a little bit unintelligent, not as quick to put pieces together during the Investigation and Trial. He’s not dumb by any means, but he wouldn’t be as sharp as he used to be. He would be more willing to let Despair win and lay down his arms.

Chiaki Nanami

Hyperactive Disease

Although her A.I.’s personality isnot totally reflective of her real-world personality, the Despair Disease wouldonly affect her A.I., meaning that it doesn’t actually flip who she really was on the outside world.

Instead of being quite sleepy and a bit aloof, Chiaki would be much morehyperactive and unable to keep her mouth shut. She would obtain a more bubbly,but annoying, personality and clings onto the other students, butting into their business and becoming much more preppy and talkative.

Because of this Disease, she no longer feels the need to sleep and instead stays up at all hours of the night, and can often be seen roaming around the island curiously. A lot of this might also be due to her mind overworking itself and being unable to fall asleep.

Surprisingly, Chiaki would be more emotional despite not having ‘true’ emotionsas an A.I. She used to normally forget to take other’s feelings into considerationand could be extremely blunt, but now she’s overly-emotional and deeply affectedby others, over-analyzing the situation with her hyperactive mind and easily misjudging how the others might react or feel, considering their feelings ‘too much.’

When a killing does occur, she would sob and show a much more pessimistic and bleak outlook on their situation. Due to this, Chiaki wouldn’t care about the Killing Game as much. She wouldn’t really see a point and it much less likely to help during the pivotal moments of the story.

She would also show a sour taste towards games and would no longer use her talent, since she thought it was useless in comparison to the others’, anyway. If Chiaki did play games while infected with the Despair Disease, she would make hastier decisions and curse at them the moment things started to go downhill.

Overall, Chiaki would be much livelier and bursting with energy, unable to contain it all and talking incredibly fast, to the point where they wouldn’t be able to understand what she was saying. 

She would practically bounce off of the walls and require the others to restrain her, and once she finally recovered from the Disease, Chiaki would collapse from exhaustion.

Gundham Tanaka

Ordinary Disease

He would be very… normal andordinary. Gundham is typically very eccentric and overly confident at times,boasting about how he is a Dark Overlord, but he would ditch that persona afterbeing inflicted with the Despair Disease.

Now, he’s just plain, with nothing very special or remarkable to define him. He shows very little to no interest in thesupernatural or dark subjects, finding them to be a bit disturbing actually. He loses his colorful tongue and speaks like a regular teenager, often using slang rather than an old-fashioned way of speaking.

He starts to think that people who believe in Overlords and Dark Magic are out of their minds, belittling his former attitudes and rolling his eyes whenever the subject is brought up.

Gundham would also become much more dependent on the others and is always veryclose in proximity to the rest of the group, often placing himself in thecenter and feeling desperate for physical touch.

Normally, he would resent this kind of contact but now he feeds off of it. Gundham needs the others to show him affection and thrives off of the contact, becoming clingier and needier than usual. He fears being alone since that places a target on his back, and he hates the feeling of solidarity.

He would love it when the others talk to him and give him attention, becoming friendlier and much more likely to strike up a conversation rather than slink away from the group. Gundham is a lot more relaxed and average after catching the Disease, and far less dramatic. He often fades into the wall and the others easily forget he is even there, which they were unable to do before.

However, Gundham is also much more cowardly. Before, he had no issue with putting himself out there when he wanted, but now he fears the potential Blackened lurking around, always peering over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, this also has negative effects on his Devas as well, because now he also shows little interest in animals and thinks that they are gross, germ-carrying creatures and keeps the four hamsters in their cages. It’s odd to see Gundham without them in his scarf, and once he is finally cured of the Despair Disease, he makes sure to apologize to his beloved animals and coddle them with plenty of attention.

Kazuichi Souda

Charming Disease

Typically, Kazuichi is a bitawkward around others, especially women he finds attractive. After the DespairDisease, he would be much more suave and smooth around those he has feelings towards.

He is comfortable and feels at ease, confident and able to charm his classmates, becoming a real Casanova and stealing the hearts of his classmates with ease, both male and female. He is more collected and takes life with a grain of salt, never worrying too much and causing the others to feel relaxed as well.

He develops a very casual way of speaking, and dresses differently, too. He is much less uptight: popping his color and walking around with a toothpick between his teeth, slicking his hair back and widely crossing one leg over the other when he sits.

Kazuichi would also be more serious and stern rather than carefree. Thedecisions he makes would be more logical and level-headed, thinking out all of his moves and planning what he is going to say and do rather than blurting out offhand comments. He is able to lie easily and convince the others into trusting them, but that all results from his charm.

Since he gains the respect of his peers after getting the Despair Disease, Kazuichi would take upa leadership role in the group, becoming braver and less afraid of theirsituation.

He wouldn’t be nearly as paranoid and instead he would be more relaxed andchilled out. He becomes the stereotypical ‘cool guy’ who does his best to calmly diffuse any hostile situations, smooth-talking his way around the others.

Kazuichi gets quieter when he is infected, but isn’t as shy, either. He simply has a smoother way of speaking that doesn’t require him to raise his voice as much; they listen to him without him needing to use force.

Ironically enough, his feelings for Sonia would disappear and Kazuichi would bemuch more interested in the men on the island as a whole instead of women…

He wouldn’t be happy once he came to his senses. He would find out that he was charming and collected, thinking he finally put the moves on Sonia, only to find out that women on the island weren’t who he was flirting with… so, Kazuichi takes several long once he is cured.

Peko Pekoyama

Cheery Disease

Peko’s normal disposition is muchmore intimidating and serious; after catching the Despair Disease she wouldbecome more giggly and childish, like your typical schoolgirl.

She can normally control her emotions and suppress them, but not anymore – shecan’t seem to hold back her tears and shows an intense fear of dying in theKilling Game. 

Typically, she wouldn’t be shaken when forced into high-stakes situations but now, she would tremble at the thought of dying, showing intense anxiety levels behind her smiles.

Her talent is useless and her past as a known killer is disregarded because Peko would likely fear the sight of blood and get physically sick at thethought, often preaching about how killing is inhumane and shying around the possibility of uncovering a dead body.

She would no longer care about Fuyuhiko, showing an intense resentment towardshim instead. Although she would be upbeat and positive, she would still show hostile and even violent tendencies towards him, disrespecting the Kuzuryuu Clan and breaking away from the thought of being his ‘tool,’ gaining some independence.

This independence can come across as selfishness, though; Peko is no longer afraid of putting herself first.

Peko would become a little bit flirty, but that would be more-so due to her newfound charismatic and sociable attitude. 

She can come across as a little bit ditsy and air-headed at times, twirling her braids in-between her fingers as she questions the others, struggling to keep up with the group consensus. This causes her to be a bit obnoxious at times.

But overall, Peko becomes a ray of sunshine in the group and is always passing smiles at her friends and trying her best to uplift them: a little bit gullible, but she always has good intentions. She is consistently showering the others in compliments and braiding the other girls’ hair.

She would often giggle, even if she doesn’t understand what was said; her Diseased personality reflects that of Ibuki’s normal one.

When she recovers from the Disease, she would attempt to erase any memories of the way she acted and deny the possibility that she was ever easygoing and carefree; as well as mend any burned bridges between herself and the Kuzuryuu Clan.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

Spineless Disease

The normal Fuyuhiko would not behappy with his Despair Diseased counterpart, refusing to believe that he everacted the way he did.

He becomes much more dependent on the others, relying on them for companionshipand discarding his ‘lone wolf’ persona. 

Instead, he heavily depends on others around him and needs to constantly have physical contact with the others, never straying too far from the group and often seeking out the approval and company of others, especially Peko, even if she doesn’t kindly reciprocate.

Fuyuhiko becomes much weaker and more vulnerable, considering himself to be atarget and even offering himself up as a sacrifice to the Blackened. 

He wouldbe seen sobbing and fearful of the others, telling them that they could simply kill him to escape the island since he ‘didn’t stand a chance’ anyway as he collapsed onto the floor and bows graciously. He is highly emotional, to an almost embarrassing extent.

Unlike your typical Yakuza, he couldn’t be easily angered and would have ahatred for violence, trying to break up the tension between the group but being a bit too dimwitted to contribute to or help anything. 

Fuyuhiko generally becomes scared of their situation and the fear of death within him becomes amplified; he is much more quiet and reserved, less likely to lash or speak out and apologizing for things he isn’t even apart of, similar to how Mikan acted normally. 

Also similar to her personality, he will sob at the slightest rude remark and becomes an easy target for bullying and harassment. And since he is spineless, he will no longer try to fight back and instead accept the harsh words and start to believe them himself.

Fuyuhiko is much softer, but also more fragile and it’s easy to hurt his feelings. He feels uncomfortable in stressful situations and does his best to avoid conflict - anytime someone starts to even remotely argue with him, he cowardly apologizes and flees, terrified of what might happen to him if he stays there.

He can be seen playing with his thumbs and remaining quiet in the corner, only speaking once spoken to and trying his best to disappear into the wall. But generally speaking, he will have a kind heart and warmly welcome anyone who accepts him, becoming easily attached to anyone who shows even the slightest attention to him.

Once Fuyuhiko is cured, he becomes incredibly hostile if anyone tries reminding him of his spineless nature, returning to his normal self.

Sonia Nevermind

Uncivilized Disease

Sonia was raised to be a verytypical Princess – she had strict rules which combed her into being a politeand ladylike young woman; but all of that would immediately disappear once shecatches the Despair Disease.

She isn’t very vocal about her talent and strives towards being treated andviewed as a normal Japanese student, but now Sonia would use her talent andhigh-status to force people into doing her bidding.

She would be much more rude and crass, not afraid to lash out and use colorfullanguage as she curses a lot more, both at the other students as well as Monokuma and in their situation when things started to look bleak.

Needless to say, Sonia wouldn’t be very ladylike anymore. She loses all of her good mannerisms, sitting with her legs spread open, eating with her mouth open, cursing like a sailor, and so on. 

She would be much clumsier and less poised as well, tripping and accidentally exposing herself as she does so - but anyone who says anything about it would get cussed out.

But she still insists that others do all of the work for her since Princesses don’t have to work! She looks down upon the others, viewing herself as a superior and calling her classmates ‘slaves.’

If they don’t do what she says, then Sonia will verbally berate them and borderline bullies the others, becoming quite mean and feisty. She is selfish and takes full advantage of her status as a Princess, becoming lazier and not caring about their situation as much since she is convinced that no one would kill her, since her country would go into an uproar. 

She makes comments like, “If you kill me, then Japan will go to war, and I don’t think you want that,” as she smugly smiles at the other students.

Sonia is known for being a sweetheart, but now she is much more rude and will spew hateful language that you’d never expect a high-class citizen to use, flipping off those who annoy her and turning her nose up to ‘average’ citizens like Gundham.

When she gets angry, she will physically lash out against whatever, or whoever, was closest to her, throwing punches and letting out an aggravated scream as she does so.

Ironically, she would find thrill in the chase and Sonia would start openly flirting with Kazuichi, although it’s debatable over whether or not her Despair Diseased self actually had feelings for him or if that was just part of her own amusement. 

Nekomaru Nidai

Insecure Disease

Nekomaru is easily the loudest, most boisterous and outgoing person in their class, so he has a major personality change after becoming infected with the Despair Disease.

He really lets himself go, no longer caring about his figure or athleticism and becoming much lazier than he was before. He fails to follow a real workout schedule, sleeps in often and eats plenty of junk-food as he no longer worries about training or sports.

Nekomaru stops caring about himself and the others; where he used to be their biggest motivator, he was now found often stuffing his face with food, like Akane used to, and blabbing on about how they had no hope and that they might as well give up.

He slowly becomes insecure and quiet. It isn’t normal for someone like Nekomaru to retract from the group and become reserved, but he is a lot harder on himself and amplifies his own flaws, tearing himself down in the process and wallowing in his own self-pity.

He becomes much more awkward and gives terrible advice to the others, especially Akane. His mood drags the others down since he was normally so loud and energetic, and now he doesn’t lift up his feet and hangs his head low.

Nekomaru has many negative side effects as well, becoming selfish and pessimistic. His loud, iconic laughter was nowhere to be found and he often puts himself before others, no longer willing to take one for the team if necessary, especially not for Akane.

Their relationship takes a toll after they each catch the Despair Disease because he is much less supportive of her, which negatively impacts her self esteem as well.

He can take it so far as to be rude and lash out against the others, becoming snippy and easily provoked, and Nekomaru is the last person on the island that you want to piss off. Not only does he become insecure, but easily agitated and hostile as well.

He suffers from intense mood-swings after succumbing to the Disease: one moment, he could be annoyed and hostile, and the next he could be insecure and quiet. Nekomaru also speaks more softly, rather than screaming, since he is afraid of scaring the others away.

Mahiru Koizumi

Promiscuous Disease

Mahiru is quite outspoken and canbe bossy, at least towards the men on the island. She has very traditionalviewpoints and strongly believes that men have responsibilities that womendon’t, and that they should be the ones running this island. 

Now, however, she tends to boss the other girls around while hanging allover the boys. Her opinions, as well as her personality, completely flip and her beliefs become just as compromised as her attitude.

She no longer takes responsibility of her actions and isn’t nearly as mature, which can be proven when she holds the other girls to a standard that she does not hold herself to.

Mahiru would send very flirty photos of herself to the boys, essentially  sexualizing and objectifying herself. She no longer says what is on her mind and instead says and does whatever she thinks will impress the guys, purposefully acting air-headed as well.

She becomes more ditzy and empty-headed, often acting dumb and failing to follow what the group had decided upon. She thinks with her heart and her other body parts rather than her head which in turn clouds her own decision making.

She is a true pushover, who is quite gullible and likely to do whatever she is told without much of a second thought. This makes her much more vulnerable and needs to be protected from possible killers, similar to Ibuki’s Despair Disease but not to the same extent.

While she isn’t as gullible as Ibuki, Mahiru doesn’t think as much as she used to and tends to go with whatever the group says rather than making her own choices for herself, no longer a truly independent woman.

That, and Mahiru will start to objectify the boys and flirt endlessly with them, even during the inappropriate situations like during the Investigation or in the middle of the Trial.

She becomes more childlike and clumsy, ‘tripping’ purposefully or bending over to find herself in precarious positions to attract the others, exposing herself and giggling about it, clearly trying to seduce whomever may see her. 

Mahiru obviously lacks a lot of the manners she formerly had and doesn’t care what the others think as much. Instead, she’s just trying to have a good time and becomes more careless and reckless while she’s at it. 

Teruteru Hanamura

Gentlemanly Disease

Teruteru is arguably the most lewdperson on the island, par maybe Kazuichi, but Teruteru often takes the cake,pun intended, when it comes to promiscuity.

After coming down with the Despair Disease, Teruteru would no longer make suchlewd comments or innuendos, nor would he try putting the moves on gullibleclassmates, like Sonia, or view others in that way.

He would become more serious and develop a distaste for lewd comments, oftenshaking his head at Mahiru; whenever she tries exposing herself, he would takethe liberty of covering her up with his apron to prevent the others fromseeing her in that state, and move her away from the others to maintain her dignity.

He would even scold her, as well as Sonia and Mikan, for being too promiscuous even if it wasn’t intentional.

Teruteru has much more control over his hormones and thoughts, becoming braverand taking responsibility for their situation as he tries leading the group inthe best way he can. He becomes a standoffish ‘gentleman’ who doesn’t viewothers for lewd purposes and contains his own excitement.

Honestly, he would also get extremely self-confident and more aware of the thoughtsthat run through his mind and the comments he makes, cautious as to not say ordo anything that might alarm his friends.

He shows that he values people more than he does objects or fantasies, a much more down to Earth person with clear thoughts that aren’t often clouded by lust.

Teruteru has a very serious disposition, shamefully looking down upon those who chase their own urges but this might stem from a self-conscious feeling and his own insecurities.

This doesn’t really fall under the rest of his Despair Disease, but Teruteruwould also probably speak in his very pronounced Southern accent as well since he has no reason to hide it while infected. 

He also refrains from overeating and doesn’t pride himself on his cooking as much while infected since that kind of pride can be seen as shameful and sinful. He has much more traditional views that contradict his typically shameless, bold personality.

Hiyoko Saionji

Sweetheart Disease

Usually, the Despair Disease will bringout your negative qualities and switching your personality often has itsrepercussions, but in Hiyoko’s case, she becomes a wholeheartedly genuine person.

She becomes much more graceful and holds her tongue as to not make any crude orhurtful comments, always putting the other’s feelings above her own and is hyper-aware of their emotions. 

She starts to resent harassment and no longerstands for it, especially when it is directed towards more sensitive people, like Mikan, and argues with people like Sonia who purposefully tease their peers.

Hiyoko can’t stand violence or death, especially when it comes to small anddefenseless creatures. She empathizes with the ants and crabs that she used totorment.

She would also stick up for Mikan if anyone started to give her Hell, defending her and caring for her once everything was over. Of course, the Nurse would be a bit startled by Hiyoko’s sudden compassion but she wouldn’t turn it away, either.

Her motherly instincts start to kick-in and Hiyoko becomes moreloving and protective towards her classmates, doing her best to keepthem away from danger and tending to their needs. She becomes selfless and turns into the most kindhearted person on the island, so sweet that it could make your teeth rot.

That’s something that most people wouldn’t associate with her. Perhaps her personality change is the most drastic and surprising.

Hiyoko is very mature and takes responsibility for her own actions, turning up her nose to crass jokes and innuendos and becoming the ‘mom’ figure of the group, despite her size. 

She is incredibly positive and motivating, trying to push the others towards working together and uniting her class in a peaceful harmony, insisting that the only way they can survive this is to work together and respect one another.

But in return, this makes her a little bit too trusting of others, seeing the good in everyone around her and unintentionally ignoring the bad; since she is blinded by their good words and can no longer differentiate whether or not someone is being genuine.

Byakuya Twogami (Imposter)

Confusion Disease

The issue in the Imposter’s caseis that the Despair Disease is supposed to flip your real personality, butsince he impersonates others and steals identities, the Disease gets a littlebit confused and convoluted, affecting not only his true personality but thosethat he has stolen as well, specifically Byakuya Togami’s.

Since the Imposter is a kinder, more considerate version of Byakuya who triesleading the group, he would likely revert back to Byakuya’s personality at thebeginning of his Killing Game and became a cold, cruel person who couldn’t careless about the others in the Killing Game, only himself.

He becomes more selfish and willing to sacrifice the others in order to save himself in the end, valuing his life above others and completely disregarding the leadership role he tried to originally take on.

However, since he loses his interest in being a leader, the Imposter also becomes much more cowardly and defensive when it comes to his own life and will wholeheartedly shove someone in front of him to use as a shield if necessary.

But the Imposter, while infected with the Despair Disease, has trouble discerninghimself from his personalities and identities, so he often breaks character.This, too, confuses not only himself but his classmates as well.

The Imposter switches between personalities and struggles to maintain balance, so his attitudes, beliefs, and actions can become drastically different no one ever really knows what to expect from him. 

They all begin to overlap and merge with one another, and by the time he is cured he is no longer able to tell what is a factor in his true personality and what is a trait that he has copied.

He often disassociates and there is a clear distinction between his personalities, visibly switching between them, even in the same sentence. His speech and mannerisms become more unstable since he can’t control when he switches, which is alarming and disturbing to the others and blows his cover as the Ultimate Imposter.

- Mod Rantaro