#Wooden Product Bend Testing

[fanservices123]

Wooden Products Testing Lab Mumbai, Pune,Nashik,Chennai, Hyderabad, India

[skelly-words]

Hey! If cool I was wondering if you could write tentacle smut. I’m not too sure on the plot but wanted reader to be very much in some sort of public setting with loads of people just watching as she gets railed by a tentacle. The kinks I wanted to ask if they could be in there is Voyourism (public sex), public nudity, squirting and/ watersports and overstimulation.

If not that is totally okay! I just wanted to ask :) and am exited to see what you come up with if your comfortable with writing this

okay cool so....

Not proofread, tags in the ask + spit a lil bit, ass eating, idk futa shenanigans, ahhhh milk (i kinda scared myself w/ this at the end)

My brain immediately went to big networking conventions that businesses have where the important people from the different corporate branches come together to drink, schmooze, and brag about sales numbers to each other.

Your boss asks you to come with her to help with the demonstration. The travel expenses and hotel costs are all covered, so you agree to spend the weekend on Wall Street with her.

I hate this, but there's the slightest bit of lore, so i ECOURAGE you to read the other parts first -> masterlist

MINORS DNI, stay away 18+ only

The presentation room of the hotel caters to corporate mixers like this. Circular dinner tables decorated with charcuterie fill out the hall. Your knee bounces nervously as people begin to file in. Saturday had been boring, spent bumming around the all-inclusive spa while your boss attended other company presentations not too dissimilar from this one.

"Relax." Your boss whispers. She sits in the squeaky folding chair beside you. Her hand lands comfortably on your thigh, stilling your knee with her warm touch. "All you have to do is bend over the podium."

You nod and try to emulate her flippant attitude. The bounce returns to your knee anyway because nerves are impossible to hide. The minutes slip by as people settle into their seats. The dimming lights act as a cue to hush the small talk and side conversations.

“Ready?” She gives your thigh a heady squeeze.

“Yea, ‘m ready,” you mumble.

Her gait is steady and comfortable up to the front of the room, and you trail behind in the shelter of her shadow. You smiled unsteadily at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Your boss tapped her knuckles on the podium, clearing her throat to get the rooms attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” she begins. “My branch is testing a few new methods of increasing productivity today. It’s all based on the same principle, ‘a happy mind is profitable one.’

“Of course, we’ll begin with the demonstration, just to prove how much it’ll help you focus on the rest of the presentation.”

An interested hum sweeps through the crowd as she leads you around the front of the podium. You aren’t wearing panties, only a skirt, which immediately becomes apparent as she lifts your waist up to the podium. The sturdy wooden surface slopes slightly up toward the room, propped up for dozens of eyes ogle your bare skin.

The position makes blood rush to your head, almost dizzy from the heavy heartbeat in your ears. Your skin feels hot and sensitive. The skirt tickles, sliding down the gentle slope of your back. You wonder if they can see how wet you are, cunt aching from all the attention.

The speech sounds so far away, like all your senses are dulling to make way for the electricity running beneath your skin. From the corner of your eye, you see a couple workers wheel three tanks up to the front of the podium.

The terrariums are large and damp, too fogged up from humidity to see anything through the glass. They're pushed into a neat line, starting at your side and progressing to the front of the stage in single file. The tank closest to you is the smallest. It's the only one you can properly look into because the creatures have suctioned themselves to the wet panes. Their round bodies flatten into mounds on the glass, little mouths busily opening and closing. You watch them, mindlessly observing them inch in little circles, around and round, maybe spirals if you spent enough time staring. You shiver, imagining the pattern it could suck into your skin. From your position now, you wonder if you look anything like that mouth on the glass to that polite crowd of people.

You feel a warm hand skim over your ass, inviting your neatly pleated skirt to drape over your back completely. The gauzy brown fabric went well with your blouse, and you remember packing it for this conference a week in advance. It feels silly now, to think what you're wearing matters when it's really the demonstration that's important.

The first tank slides open with a squeak, and your boss pulls a writhing blue tentacle out with a cloud of steam following it. You can barely see what's happening in your peripheral vision and only when you turn your head to the side. She wastes no time at all, taking the companies limited resources into account, the conference room was only reserved for an hour. Her other hand traces up and down your back, nails first, to scratch gently through the layers of fabric.

"You're doing great, hun." She whispers the reassurance into your ear, low and husky so only you can hear it. In one motion, she presses the end of the tentacle into your butt. It's bigger than what you had at home, which is what you prepped for. Her hand flattens to soothing circles when the pain comes through in your groans. You quiet to a whimper as the thing flails, twisting to orient itself inside you. It still hurt, but you were adjusting quickly to the pressure in your ass as it slithers down to find your pussy.

Now, no matter how you turn, you can't see what's going on. The suckers drag against you, that much is easy to discern from the sense of touch. The rest of your senses besides that have gone totally useless, so you watch the hypnotic pattern that the specimens in the last tank trace in the condensation.

The blue tentacle pushes into you. It's fat, thick and showy so the people in the back can see. Your eyes might be crossing from the way it slowly stretches you out. A shiny blue slime drips from every pore, sucker, and gland on the thing, making you squish obscenely from every movement. In. Out. In. Out. And your boss is still talking, you can even see the slides she flicks through when your eyes roll back, but it all sounds like white noise as the monstrous size shoves into your cunt, slipping out to momentarily attach an oozing sucker to your clit. Then it squirms right back into your hole, so slick that it runs down the inside of your thighs.

It's hopeless to imagine paying attention to anything else.

"But that's when we ran into the issue of hygiene. Clearly, this doesn't fit corporate dress-code."

That cuts through your thoughts, followed by light chuckles. The second tank slides open with a thunk, and you don't have to crane as much to see the pink tentacle calmy wrap around her arm.

"Oh, f-fuck," you finally make a sound audible over the disgusting squelch of that blue monster. She's trying to press the thick bulb at the end of the pink one into you, leaning real close, almost cheek to cheek as she forces it further past your rim. A glob of spit falls from her lips, you groan as she smears it around with her tongue.

"Just relax for me." And you're not even sure she's talking to you in that raspy tone. The hand on your back has inched lower to keep you pinned in place, and it's making you sore from how the podium’s edge digs into your hips.

Your sounds fall freely now, turning to whines as she licks you to ease the stretch. The hand on your back lightens up as the fat plug slides into place alongside the blue one. An affectionate smack lands on your ass, rubbing her warm palm over the spot as she watches the pink tentacle unfurl and flatten.

You can't see it, only whine as the weight shifts and adjusts inside you. The blue tentacle stops moving as if to behave and play nice with a friend. The gummy feelers attach as the pink tentacle latches on. It cups your swollen pussy, cleaning up the appearance quite nicely to the audience's disappointment. But your moans grow louder, echoing to let you know the sound made it to the back of the room. The little fingerlings lining the pink tentacles interior are so active. They pinch at your clit, making it slip between the soft jelly limbs while the others started playing with the rest of you.

"...And when properly stimulated, this specimen can be prompted to release its reproductive material on command." That faint comment reminds you of the eggs.

Your gasp is mixed between startled and concerned when her hand begins to brush the tentacle wrapped around your crotch. Being stuffed with the twitching blue tentacle makes you wonder where all the slimy eggs will go.

At her light brushes, the tendrils start to pull you apart. They slip inside you, just barely, enough to make your legs start to shake. You can feel them start to pour in as her thumb pushes down, squeezing out the soft spawn like horrific toothpaste as she slides the digit up from the base.

The blue tentacle comes back to life now, helping push the pink jelly into your poor pussy. You can feel the tiny limbs scoop and blue suckers fuck the eggs up against your sore cervix. And still, nobody can see. Your boss stands over you. Her hand trails between your thighs, tapping in the drying slick that's become tacky. She tugs at the tip of the tentacle, pinching firmly at the pink appendage and peeling it back.

Not all the eggs made it inside, rolling down your thighs as the mess is exposed. She's slow with her reveal, trailing her fingers through the juices to try the combination. You've gotten quieter, trying to keep your whimpers silent now that it's easier to hear. She starts to pull at the plug, and you have to bite your lip to keep it down. It doesn't wanna come out of your ass, still pulsing from so recently releasing eggs. Still, she tugs, making you squirm and clench your cunt. You've been on the edge for so long, and feeling the stretch to your rim makes your thighs squeeze together. They can barely shut to rub around your throbbing clit.

"I might as well introduce the last one then." She gives up on freeing the pink tentacle with a frustrated sigh and finally steps behind the podium to reach the tank in your eyeline. "They fit perfectly under your bra, so we'll both be demonstrating."

Your eyes follow her hand, from the lid, to inside the tank, to the buttons on her shirt. You strain to look up at her because she's standing so close, watching with jealousy as that thing sucks on her nipple. Her breasts look bigger too, spilling from her bra when she tries to squish them back into her shirt. A glance back down makes you blush. A bulge starts to bubble from her pencil skirt. It wouldn't be very noticeable if it wasn't a few inches from your nose.

"My turn?" You look up at her from between watery lashes, bending to smiling crescents when she nods. She lifts your chest just enough from the podium to let the green lump latch onto you. It doesn't seem to mind being squashed against the wood when she lowers you back down. They feel good, sucking at your breasts in a perfectly alternating rhythm. You start to feel weird, hotter as your tits get sore. The mouths pinch a little, not enough to hurt, barely more than a warning bite. You groan, the throbbing in your ruined pussy is getting worse. It makes you imagine what your boss is feeling. The pre dripping into her underwear. You probably could take her cock too if she asked you. She's still giving a presentation, talking through a slide as the buttons on her dress shirt strain. Her hand slips back to your butt, where it was yanking the bigger plug out of you.

She braces the opposite hand on your asscheek, rocking the pink tentacle back and forth to coax it out. You can barely hold sound back, dissolving into pitchy breaths when the fat blue fucker decides to start up again. It starts slow, but that pace doesn't last. After packing you with eggs, it's eager to let its cum out. Every loud thrust makes the eggs probe deeper. You can feel it in your tummy, pressed flat to the uncomfortably hard podium.

Your sensitive nipples pulse in time with the relentless suckers. You can't even care to be surprised as they spurt milk, moaning instead from the toy twisting in your ass.

The pink tentacle finally slips out of you, put back in its tank where it belongs. But you're sore, hole left gaping for the blue one to fill in as it swells. It gets bigger in your pussy too, larger with each beat. Even as she talks, her fingers can't stop playing with you, either pinching at your skin or dragging a digit through your slit. Her microphone is ther only thing keeping her intelligible over your cries, strung out from the pleasure.

Her fingers swirl around your clit, so sensitive. The touch isn't any more than light nibbles on your chest, but it makes you gasp and jump against her hand. You start to cum when she twists harder. The moans inside you spill out in one cry as you squirt. The pinch to your clit makes you spurt all over the front of her clothes.

She gasps in disgust and yanks you off the podium. The flooring is carpet, soft enough for your sore ass when you slump against the sturdy wood.

Your boss brushes off the interruption like nothing, simply indicating the conclusion of the demonstration as the slides flick to a new segment. She steps carefully between your legs when walking back to her place behind the podium.

The front of your blouse is halfway unbuttoned, however much was needed to get those creatures on, and now you notice how swollen they made your tits. You whine as the blue thing keeps moving between your thighs. There's more leverage at this angle and you don't know if you should moan or cry. In a few stunted thrusts, cum starts to fill you up, thick ropes of it that still somehow leak out from between all the eggs and the fat tentacle.

The pretty blue sheen coats your inner-thighs and the conference room floor. Something’s still wrong though. The ache between your legs isn't gone, not completely no matter how much your sore body begs to stop. It's the milk, or the hormones that come with it asking for just a little more. The demonstration portion is over. You're done, everyone's supposed to be focused on the woman speaking.

You slip a hand to your clit, circling the bud with shaking fingers. Just one more, and you'll be fine. Your boss doesn't even notice the room's eyes drifting lower. The blue tentacle indulges you, lazily moving in your cunny along with a few pumps of its warm seed. You can look at the lump it makes in your stomach from this angle.

This time, the orgasm builds fast and you have to muffle soft pants against your hand as you cum. Your poor pussy hurts, but you still need another and the tight circles on your clit don't let up.

There can't be that much more time before the hour is up and she has to get these things off you. Yet, your wrist is getting sore and weak dribbles of piss leak out of you at each peak. You notice people in the crowd hiding their arousal, and that somehow makes your crazy mind even hornier. Your abused clitty gives a heartbeat to your thumb each time someone palms their crotch or crosses their legs, still trying to be politely discreet.

The lights brighten as the presentation ends and a few odd bursts of scattered applause break out at a few tables. You still don't have the decency to leave your needy cunt alone, finally closing your legs around the blue tendril still curled up inside you as the people leave the room to pick a brochure up.

I had another anon ask abt going to find a new tentacle with the coworker from pt.2, but I kinda decided they were aliens (pink and blue both would normally use a host for mating and the suckers kinda do the same thing but for food, ig they're all just parasites sorry if that's gross), so i added a new variety into this one for you <3

A/N- how'd she do that? i would've gone ngh~ *squish* IMMEDIATLY, sry can you tell idk anything about an office job? oh well, stfu and enjoy the smut then (this is way over the top 😭) Also why did i give myself the displeasure of two (2) unnamed characters, give me names for Ms. boss or i'll start adding y/n (a threat)

[cyberchronics]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

satoru gojo, the office slut [ intro to series ]

★ lil bratty sub sato, dom gn reader, m!receiving anal, m!receiving handjob, can be read as dick or strap, gentle sex, soft brat taming?? is that a thing? ★

✩∘₊ ✩*✯☆⃟⃟⃟✯*✩₊∘✩

satoru has a reputation in the office. he always wins the weekly contest between 'interns' on who can help the most employees, walking around with a cheeky smile and purposefully showing off all the markings he's gotten throughout the day with pride.

with you, he's always been such a tease. ever since your first week he's fallen into a rhythm of nagging you every day without fail, 'innocently' finding his way into your office and finding a new way to get you riled up.

he gets fucked just the way he likes, and your productivity skyrockets after you put all your negative energy into him. it's a win-win situation

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Whenever Satoru barges into your office, it's always with a whine of complaint. You don't even have to call for him anymore because without fail he's plopping himself down in your lap right after lunch. White hair tickles your cheek as he buries his face into your shoulder and airs his grievances, hands teasingly drifting along your body as he settles.

“The other guys are always so rough…” Slender hands reach for his already messily buttoned-up shirt, hastily ridding him of the garment once more and revealing his marked-up form. Hickies and love bites are littered all over his pale skin: a testament to how much he manages to get around in a day. “They think they can be mean just because I have a perfect body. You know how many times I got my pretty face slapped today?”

It's always easy to tell when he switches gears into being bratty. His hips grind down against your own subtly, a silent tease before the real one slips from his lips. “Feels like my cock’s bruised too… everyone's been using it this morning.” Despite the desperate pout Satoru wears, he can't hide the excitement in his eyes.

There was some unfounded joy in riling you up, pushing you to the edge purposefully, and testing just how merciful you felt every day. “Can you kiss it better?” A comment like that would normally result in him getting the rough treatment he's bargaining for. Computer pushed to the side as you bend him over the wooden desk, the room filling with the sound of his pathetic whines and moans as he's pounded into oblivion.

It was fun to do things like that, of course, taking out your frustration on someone who's just begging to be ruined. He always did look prettier with tears streaming down his cheeks and caught in his long lashes... but something about it felt too much like a reward. So you give him exactly what he's asking for.

The moment almost feels too sweet, kissing him tenderly while bouncing him on your lap. Your lips press over all the blemishes coating his skin, ignoring him as he incessantly begs for you to manhandle him. Despite how gently you treat him he's still got his face buried in against your skin, biting at your shoulder and whimpering into your ear. It's a big change of pace in the way he usually gets taken care of, but not terrible.

The warmth of your hand wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes while maintaining the constant rhythm of thrusting into him, pulls him to the edge in no time. Satoru almost expects you to flip the script on him, waiting for the other shoe to drop and result in his orgasm being ruined or being stuck on the edge as you tease him relentlessly.

He's pleasantly surprised when you grant the mercy of letting him tip over the edge. Thick cum paints both of your stomachs white, thin strands connecting your body as he swiftly pulls you into another embrace. The kiss is as hungry as usual, his tongue frantically brushing against your own as his fingers tangle into your hair. White hair has long since fallen into his eyes, baby blues teary when they finally open back up.

Satoru mumbles out a quiet "Thanks..." after pulling away, body slumped against yours as he recovers. He spends the rest of the day in your lap, cuddled up with you while you work and annoying you all the while.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[levacomix]

case study

You are in a space that relishes in recovery and relaxation with a slight clinical feel with the stainless steel taps greeting you by the entrance 

They mean business 

They mean a hand massage while you try products and hot tea with a Franz Kafka quote on the inside 

Everything is bespoke and even the hand cremes have little houses where they rest. 

Uniforms are clean with a small logo on the right side down where the knees bend. 

I was served by a beautiful women with great skin and a silky British accent very aesop 

Bottles lined face forward, chins up. Putting on their fresh smiles for their customers. Oil diffusers lay silently behind wooden boxes with a series of holes in them to release out smoke slowly. As the shop worker told me they cater towards the senses, even the linen bag my face wash came in was perfumed by the gentle man at the counter.

I wasn’t spending $60 on face wash, I spending $60 to be in the presence of reclaimed remu wooden shelves, connected by a simple cubed joint.  And the green stone that stood proud in the centre of the shop, making space for the stainless steel sink where customers test out new potions for pimples and every lasting youth. The shop felt like that cool friend, a retreat in LA. Somewhere where you would spend $400 on a Reiki massage  

If the store had a favourite colour. It is definitely stone grey. 

I loved the repeating elements. The sink in the “face washing room” is also the same material as the little casted bowls that hold their smaller products, lip balms, travel sized stuff. 

Then there are more big casted bowls for decoration. The material on the couch is then repeated on the ceiling giving the industrial roof more finished feel. 

[steel-plates]

Manufacturing of the plates-

The suppliers are providing the high grade of plates at affordable rates. And talking about the production of the plates, it is done by using the finest quality of raw material that is collected from reliable market vendors. The alloy before use is well examined for assuring international product standard quality production. The plates are easily made available to the buyers at different at specifications, dimensions, standards, grades etc as per the needs of the universal buyers.

At the manufacturing industry, the availability of the experienced group of well qualified professional and proper use of available latest technology and modern tools have assured effective production. Doubtlessly the industry supplied high quality of plates to the customer all across the globe. During the time of manufacturing, it undergoes some processes like cutting, machining, forming drilling, testing and grinding etc to bring out the well-produced finished goods. As the available product in the stock, it can be easily cut to shapes and sizes as per the clientele fabrication and design needs. All the work here is governed by the independently as well as consistently audited quality system.

The industry carries out the inventory of the high yielding cold forming steel plate that is assured with good mechanical properties and good cold formability and clean surface finishes. This material is heat treated and uses the temper and quenches process and is having good welding as well as bending properties. WELTEN series is the superior welding and high tensile steel that is featuring at the rich variety of the categories of the products. Today it is used widely in ranges of applications like bridges, oil storage tanks etc.

Testing of the plates-

The WELTEN 780ER STEEL PLATE before shipping is well tested for the purpose of quality assurance. The tests are positive material identification test, hardness test, chemical analysis, mechanical test, pitting resistance test etc.

The documents offered-

The documents like heat treatment chart, quality assurance plan, packaging list, commercial invoice, radiography test report, raw material test report, lab test report, MTC as per EN 10204/3.1B is provided.

The packaging of the plates-

At the time of product delivering to guarantee damage free and faster shipping, the packaging is done in wooden cases and wooden pallets.

Standard Specification

StandardASTM A514/A514M-13Width1000mm-4500mmThickness5mm-150mmLength3000mm -18000mmProcessHot Rolled (HR)Delivery StateQuenched and Tempered

Welten 780E Steel Plate Manufacturers in Mumbai, Welten 780E Steel Plate Suppliers in Mumbai, Welten 780E Steel Plate Stockists in Mumbai, Welten 780E Steel Plate Exporters in Mumbai

[compositepallet]

Why Hardwood Pallets for Concrete Block Machine Is Useful

The process of moulding blocks using a concrete block manufacturing machine or a big, fully automated concrete block production line, using a pallet as a carrier for loading the wet blocks once the block is demoulded. Pallets are also extensively utilised during the block curing process. Many different types of block machine pallets have been developed by our Hardwood pallets for concrete block machine through decades of innovative research and development, and among the best are the wooden pallet, PVC plastic pallet, bamboo pallet, bamboo-PVC surface and edge covered pallet, and glass fiber pallet.

Block machine wooden pallet

The boards are the primary components of wooden pallets. The wooden block machine pallet has the qualities of bending strength and lower density and this kind of wood block pallet is lightweight and liked by buyers of block machines.

In the production of wooden pallets, we use special methods and techniques. Three or four pieces of fastening screws and rods are placed for reinforcement of the pallet between each lath of the wood board using male and female slot joints. The wooden block pallet also has channel steel covering and protection at both ends. With the aforementioned unique design, the wood pallet achieves exceptional strength and endurance throughout the manufacture of concrete.

A typical pallet's opening glue and losing edges is broken by the core layer of the pallet, which is made of bamboo chips and particles. Our pallet performs well when it comes to bonding. The tested average bonding strength of the new generation which is more than twice that of the industry standard. Compared to other pallet materials, it has a significantly higher strength. Additionally, the pallets are developed and manufactured in strict agreement with the concrete block manufacturing industry in terms of their longitudinal and transverse static bending strength and elastic modulus.

[jumanah-saklou]

Week 3 Blog

What’s planned this week:

This week plan to continue designing the website’s pages, finish the on-site posters, and finalize the promotional poster plan and content.

What was actually done:

Website

I adjusted the homepage animation/transition and content. I then started on the shopping pages, which included the shop, product page, cart, and checkout.

For the checkout process, I first tried the legit checkout system of Readymag’s, which is connected through Ecwid; however, despite it being fully functional to the point that one can complete the order, the design didn’t suit the website. So I designed the pages for prototyping the checkout and cart functions.

On-site posters

Objects stopping point posters

As the last stopping point poster is designed as a wooden box, this week, I started developing the first two stops identifying posters. These posters aim to reassure the users that this is the right spot and promote it to nonusers by giving Vivify a permanent presence in the street through these posters, so I added content that hints about Vivify. 

Starting point poster

I started designing the starting point poster, which also aims to serve users and nonusers through this poster is a higher chance to familiarize the potential target audience with Vivify, especially being next to the journey’s starting point.

For the design, it is a double-sided poster to match the street sign (which is the starting point) function of being able to view and read from both sides. 

Below are the design experiments; I tried giving the poster itself an irregular characteristic by giving the paper an unusual cut-out one that emphasizes the graphic lens by bending the paper around it as if it’s weighing the poster. 

Promotional poster

I developed the plan by trying different sizes and attaching techniques to the posters’ together, which will be through punch holes and a robe to match Vivify’s publication, and I wrote the content. For the CTA paper handouts, I decided on using a poem as Vivify’s publication tone of voice, and most of its content is poetic; however, I’m going to test out whether to use it in Arabic or English. Currently, I have written variations for the two. 

Prototype the reward element.

I printed the card to see its size and the plastic bag size. Next is to purchase the correct plastic bag size and the reward materials.

Reflection + what’s planned next

This week I focused on experimenting with the starting point poster 3d rendering of the image to use, color, layout, and the poster designs itself, so next is to finalize an approach and develop it. And work on the promotional poster and prototyping the reward and box, which is halfway done. 

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg fic: Shame

He had been foolish.

Slamming down the bottle of whisky he had procured from the drawer below his workbench; the force was enough to send several small bolts scattering from the wooden bench and bouncing along the floor as he ripped the lid off and brought the bottle to his lips.

The familiar taste of the alcohol was welcomed as it burned a path past his tongue and down his throat, the warmth helping to calm his senses and give him something to focus on which wasn’t his own damn stupidity.

That bitch Miranda.

It was her idea to have a meeting and- like a good son- he had attended when called but her only intent seemed to be to give him information which was designed to piss him off and test his already-thin patience.

His own experiments had been a disaster this week and he could have done without the extra shit piled on top but she had pushed and he had reacted without thought.

Unable to get a quick enough hold of his temper, he had been slow to prevent the hunk of sheet metal from lifting from the floor and careening towards her. He knew it was a mistake but the red mist that settled before his eyes made reason a much less attractive option than rage.

What happened next was unknown to him as a darkness had fallen over his consciousness, but he knew it had something to do with that bitch and her powers. It had been foolish to attack her in her own domain, where her power was at its peak and the megamycete would protect her.

Regardless, he had awoken in an old friend, one he had not had the pleasure of visiting since his adolescence and with it came a lot of old memories he would have rather left unchecked.

The faraday cage was of Miranda’s own design; an emergency restraint constructed after his bonding with the cadou manifested his growing influence over magnetism. As a child, it was almost impossible to control without supervision and experimentation but in those moments where neither was found to be necessary he would find himself locked in the cage, cut off from his newest sense until it proved of interest again.

He remembered little of those early days aside from the pain and the false promises of a growing family. He remembered Miranda, her cold touch and even colder gaze, as she spoke about his brilliance and his potential.

All lies.

He also remembered Alcina.

She had visited him once with Miranda and he could recall his open surprise at just how tall she was. He had heard Miranda speak of her other children, of how he would take his rightful birthplace as Lord and join them as a family, but he had never imagined that one of her children would be so big.

His fascination died when her eyes met his, her gaze even colder than Mirandas, and she laughed, commenting on his small frame and asking Miranda if she was joking about his strength.

He never forgot that laugh.

It was his first taste of the humiliation to come.

However, that was then and this was now and he had long since grown out of caring about the opinions of others.

That said, he had forgotten the distress of the cage.

His powers came second nature to him and he barely had to think of an action before his abilities would fulfil it for him. Manifesting steps from loose scrap, bending metal into impossible shapes, encasing flesh in machinery with enough delicacy to fuse it to the complicated systems. All came to him as simple as a thought and nothing more.

All stripped away.

It was not pain in the traditional sense as he was under no physical torment as he paced the cage but the disconnect from his powers ached at him like a phantom limb; a discomfort which had no salve. It stung at his senses, making his skin tingle with an irritation that would not cease. It was the pain of having a part of you, of your core, cut out and dangled before you as your captor told you it was for the best.

Invasive surgery, performed on a conscious host.

The physical disconnect had been difficult, but the true punishment, the punishment which pierced him even more deeply was far more emotional.

The humiliation of being locked away like a disobedient child had burned at him, strong enough to make his chest grow tight as furious tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. The shame of not having the strength to defend himself from his object of hate.

She had released him, of course, the following day with little more than a dispassionate chastising; a reminder about learning to control his power to prevent any foolish mistakes from occurring.

A child, scolded by its mother for throwing a tantrum.

A false son, put to bed to think about his actions.

He was a Lord; he held dominion over his land while possessing power that would make him a force to be reckoned with in such a technical age. If he desired, he could rip the modern world to shreds without breaking a sweat, but that world was locked away from him. Hidden behind the wall of Miranda’s control, she would never allow for outside interference in her plans and his power remained tethered by her narrow-mindedness.

He had no doubt that she knew of his hate.

She was no fool, which could only lead him to believe that her disinterest in his rage stemmed from a confidence that she could control him should he move against her and an acknowledgement that he was no true son of hers; he was little more than an interesting experiment that could be destroyed and replaced with little consideration.

That confidence would be her downfall and his metal army would carve a bloody path through her lycans as they fought to secure his freedom. He was their god as she was theirs and he would kill them all.

Her lycans.

Moreau.

Beneviento.

Dimitrescu and her three little bitches.

And, finally, with her defenders dead, he would rip Miranda’s heart from her chest and show it to her. He would show her the true heart of the family she had stitched together to replace something that was pointless. 

Hell, if he had time, he would tell her, in great detail, how he would use his connection with the megamycete to wipe her daughters data from the mold.

In her final moments, he wanted her to know she failed and that from the ashes of her power, her true successor would be the false child she disregarded as a failed experiment.

Taking another swig of his whisky, he dropped into his work chair with a heavy sigh, the soft thrum of the magnetism in the air around him a welcome friend as he focused his thoughts, channelling his shame into something productive.

Then, and only then, would he be free.

Also uploaded on AO3

[cockasinthebird]

Number 11 please!

Hello hello hello!! ✨

11. “If this is a booty call then yes.”

I went with a Modern Day College AU for the sake of texting and, well, booty calls, I hope that’s to your liking!!! Thank you so much for sending one in, I’ve gotten so many and each one of you all hold a special place in my heart! 🤗💕

Just above 3k words! Enjoy~

-

Fuck fuck fuck.

He groans in exasperation and throws his head back onto the pillow, dark hair spreading, clean and still a slight bit damp from the shower. Every night, to wind down from another stressful day of studying and classes, he goes through an intricate ritual to unwind and calm down, spending close to two hours in the communal bathroom on this floor, using a dozen different skin care products and hair masks. It makes him feel better about himself, makes him feel pretty despite only being able to sleep for about four hours every night.

But sometimes it isn’t quite enough to make him relax.

Stress, anxiety, parental pressure, all of it is keeping him awake and it’s definitely going to have him grow gray hair and wrinkles all too early. Not that he wouldn’t absolutely rock the shit out of silver hair, but he likes his brown hair, thick and deep in its color, although Billy has been talking about how good highlights would look.

Hmmm Billy

Billy Billy Billy

Now there’s someone that doesn’t cause him any grief, if you look past the few fist fights they’ve been in in the past, at the start of the semester, and the occasional teasing.

Steve thinks some more about Billy, the gorgeous, handsome lit major, moved here from California, skin kissed and beloved by the sun, body hard and firm with sculpted biceps and rippling abs. 

He chews a bit on his lower lip as he looks to his phone, peeking out from underneath his pillow, daring him to just text him. Billy’s only two floors up. And Steve’s been spending the last half hour fingering himself and jerking off, craving that sweet, delicious relief, but all he’s gotten so far is a half chub and exhausted fingers.

The more he thinks about it, the better of an idea it seems, so he wipes his fingers clean of lube and grabs his phone.

Bambi: U up 💕

Despite it being 1am, the response is near immediate.

👑💘🌹: If this is a booty call then yes

👑💘🌹: 🍆👌💦

And Steve feels heat rush to his gut immediately, proving way more effective than his own touch - way to be biased, body.

Bambi: Tommy’s spending the night w/ Carol

👑💘🌹: 👍👍👍

He smiles wide with a clear blush to his cheeks and shies away, covering his face with a hand. So maybe he’s got a crush, but who cares! He can handle it, it’s fine, Billy’s not the “relationship type,” as he explained before their first time together, and it is fine.

Quickly he throws the phone back onto the mattress, jumps up and starts shoving dirty laundry under his bed, papers and books get crammed into the drawers of his desk, and he just barely manages to check his hair in a mirror before there’s a gentle knocking.

Billy must have hurried down here, and just so, Steve rushes to open the door to his dorm room.

“Did anyone see you?” he quietly asks Billy through the slightly ajar opening.

“If they did, I doubt they’d tell anyone; wouldn’t wanna get caught sneaking around past midnight.”

And Billy doesn’t wait for Steve to invite him in before pushing through. He looks around the dimly lit room, taking in all the barrenness of dorm life - it being nothing like they show in the movies or on instagram. 

“Looks the same as last; you ever gonna put up poste-” he goes mum as he turns to Steve, now realising that he’s naked and hard.

The devil is in his grin, and it makes Steve’s soul ache, cock twitch, as he looks back with heavy eyes, dark with lust, grabbing Billy by the collar of his tee to pull him into a deep and desirous kiss, tongues out to taste, hands slipping down his pale back to squeeze his exposed ass, eliciting an erotic, “A-ahh.”

“You’re so eager, huh pretty boy?” Billy drawls all sensuous as he gropes Steve, bringing their hips flush together, fingers inching between cheeks, closer and closer and-

He leans away, staring at Steve with his mouth slightly open, watching him as he presses one finger all the way in.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps loudly.

Billy’s slack jaw tenses to a grin, and he chuckles as he licks across his teeth. He doesn’t pause, keeps pumping his finger in and out, and Steve can feel how Billy’s cock grows hard against his own leaking prick, caught between them.

“Hmmm been thinking ‘bout me, babe?” Billy hums in the most mischievous way, drives the finger as deep as he can go and wiggles it around.

Steve squirms, rutting his hips against Billy, moaning all too loud with just one finger and some friction against his impatient dick. He tries to kiss Billy, have his lips muffle him, keep him quiet, but the blonde just dodges out of the way with a shitty smile.

But when Billy presses a second, thick, rough finger in, it becomes impossible to not pant and cry like he always does, making him weak in the knees, like pudding in Billy’s hands.

“I love how easy it is with you,” Billy growls and moves down Steve’s neck, sucking and biting and licking, marking him with gorgeous purple hickeys. “Already so wet and stretched out perfect for my big cock.”

Steve wants to retort, say something of equal vulgarity, tell him just how bad he needs Billy to fuck him blind, shove his head into the pillow and pound into his ass. But all he can do is push onto those two fingers, whimper breathlessly against Billy’s lips, and clutch his hands in the fabric of his shirt.

“Gotta keep quiet, baby, can’t have you waking up the whole campus. Think you can do that for me?”

He nods, profusely, and stumbles through his words, “Yes, yes, I’ll shut up, please just… I-I need to relieve some goddamn stress.”

Billy’s self-satisfied smirk cracks open a little to show teeth as he chuckles, a low and dark rumble that Steve feels beneath his palms. “I can help you with that.”

And Billy kisses him again, licks into the sweetness of Steve’s mouth, swallowing every little whimper that comes whenever those digits curl, fully inside of Steve’s ass. When he pulls them out he leaves behind an aching emptiness; Steve feeling so needy he’s actually a slight bit uncomfortable in the absence of being filled and stretched.

“Go sit on the bed,” Billy demands, smirking with lidded eyes, gazing at Steve with such promises, he can’t help but melt a bit.

Steve doesn’t hesitate before sitting down on his bed; it’s a small and wooden frame, big enough for one person, two if they’re on their sides or on top of one another. All kinds of things are possible even with limited space, as these two have discovered through the last half year.

Billy lifts off his shirt and drops the shorts, exposing his steely, veiny cock, standing to full attention at Steve’s eye height, and he feels his entire body twitch with far too much enthusiasm, mouth running at the sight like a fucking dog and bone. Billy moves closer, spreads his legs and plants them on either side of Steve.

“Wanna suck me off, pretty boy?” it's barely an ask, as Billy brings one hand to drag his fingers through Steve’s hair, the other to angle the tip of his fat dick towards Steve’s lips.

Steve gazes up at him through his lashes, looking almost thankful for the opportunity, and he’s not gonna lie, there is something so enjoyable about having Billy’s cock heavy in his mouth, although he’s not super into swallowing, he’d do it for him.

So he wets his lips, runs his tongue flat and broad against Billy’s blunt head like it’s a goddamn ice cream cone, watches how he bites his lip, staring at how Steve tentatively tastes him before sinking down abruptly, all the way till his nose brushes against Billy’s lower abdomen, his dick hitting the back of Steve’s throat.

“Fuck, Harrington,” Billy groans out and brings a hand against the wall to support himself as he bends forward. 

Steve works his tongue, swallows around the head, hollowing his cheeks as he slowly pulls off again till he can suck at the tip, then goes back down, starts bobbing and moaning.

Billy “helps” a bit, catching on to the rhythm and thrusting along to it, testing to see just how deep and fast he can go before Steve would start complaining. Which proves to be quite a bit more than Steve offered up initially; with a fist locked tightly in his hair, he relaxes as much as he can to allow Billy free reigns of fucking into his mouth, sloppy and careless and obscene, spit running down Steve’s chin as he does nothing but enjoy being used by Billy.

Billy Billy Billy

Billy’s scent is incredible, musky and dominant and salty, his sweat tasting all the same, and Steve has started to notice that whenever they’re together, whenever they’re intimate, Billy doesn’t bother with cologne or deodorant or anything that might obscure his smell. Maybe Billy doesn’t care to be all fancy and proper around Steve like he is with the girls or other guys around campus. Maybe he knows it drives Steve wild.

Steve had gotten so lost in the moment, that when Billy pulls all the way out it’s a sudden awakening, and Steve swallows only spit and pre, wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and is left gasping for air like he just ran a marathon.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” Billy sounds just as out of breath, probably having been all too close to cumming already.

Eagerness so apparent when he throws himself onto the bed it’s almost embarrassing, as he dives for the large box underneath his bed. It takes a second of rummaging through dildos and vibrators and lubes to find a condom wrapper, and barely does he get to offer it up before Billy yanks it from his fingers.

He fiddles a bit with the foil, grinning in a way that makes Steve’s skin crawl wonderfully, then asks, “Want me to take you from behind? Fuck you hard into your bed?” each word a lascivious little promise.

“Please…” Steve’s voice quivers with wanton.

Loves getting absolutely railed by Billy, he trusts him explicitly, would let him do anything. Even if Billy doesn’t feel the same way about Steve, Steve can’t get enough of him; hasn’t been able to think of anyone else or even be with someone other than Billy since they started this little affair months ago.

Billy Billy Billy.

He gets on all fours, gathers his legs and bends down to press his face into his pillow, arching his back. Heart beats faster, full erection twitching where it dangles alone, as he feels the mattress dip on either side of his knees when Billy positions himself behind.

“Mmmh, I like it when you say please and beg for it.” With the condom on, he rubs the fat head of his cock against Steve’s clenching entrance, but then slips it between cheeks, swaying his hips back and forth as he teases with too little.

“Please, Billy,” Steve whines, moves his ass closer for more, but a pair of strong hands stills him. “Please please please, Billy, I need you to fuck me so bad, I-I want your cock, please.”

And Billy pulls away. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” Bucks his hips as he shoves his girthy cock all the way in in one fell swoop.

Steve clasps his hand flat over his mouth to keep in the surge of moans that comes from Billy setting a relentless pace, slow but rough, skin slapping together louder than Steve’s own croons and keening.

“Like that?” Billy laughs, nasty and snide, grinning like a wolf staring down at a helpless sheep.

A sheep whose cries gets suppressed by a pillow, as Steve bites into it in his tries to keep quiet, but the way Billy fucks him all brutal and savage feels absolutely incredible, making his eyes roll back.

“God, you take my cock so well, princess,” his growl hot and predatory.

Billy bends forward, grabbing Steve by the neck for support, hand like a vice and pressing him harder into the bed, the other hand on his hip.

“That ok for you?” he asks as if he cares about Steve.

Or maybe that’s just how Steve hears it.

“Y-yes, ahh, fuck!” he says in a hurried tone before biting down on his lip again to keep those kinds of bawdy sounds in.

“Good.” And Billy picks up the speed, thrusts going shallow as he shoves into Steve like both their lives depend on it, making the bed shake and creak beneath their weight.

Each deep plunge more phenomenal than the other, driving straight into his prostate; he won’t last long if Billy keeps this up, waves of the purest arousal drowning out all his other senses, and Steve lets himself get pulled under the current.

“Fuck, baby, love how tight your ass is, arrh, best hole in all of Indiana,” Billy’s voice deep and gravely as he praises Steve with words dipped in honeyed lust. “So eager to suck me dry, all needy and starved for my cock.”

Anyone that has ever had even one conversation with Billy Hargrove will know just how much he loves to listen to himself talk, but Steve can’t blame him, for now there’s nothing more in his world than Billy’s thick erection and sultry voice. Praising him, calling him dear names, groaning and cursing about how fucking good he is. He could listen to it all night; wants to listen to it for the rest of his life.

“Feel so good, princess.”

Billy…

“So nice and warm and soft inside of you.”

Billy…

“Wanna cum inside of you so bad.”

“Billy, I’m-I’m… so close, ah-h-” Steve’s voice a mess in contrast to how cool and collected Billy remains.

“Shh, gotta be quiet,” his tone soft and delicate as he continues to utterly ram into Steve’s sensitive body, pounding like a hammer.

He bends down, snakes his arm around Steve to cover his mouth, and angles him to the side to kiss across his cheek, nibble at his jawline, bite down his neck.

“Show me how good I make you feel, let me watch you ruin your sheets.”

Steve moans out in agreeance into his hand strong and calloused against his lips, then brings his own down to fist at his leaking prick, throbbing and filled and oh so close, he’s toeing the finish line, only a few strokes away from doing as told, wet and slick with pre, seeking to find the same rhythm as Billy fucks into him, like a rabid dog.

His orgasm is sudden, like being shoved into a pool of euphoria, bottomless and filling his lungs.

“God, yes, fuck, just like that,” Billy growls into his ear, burning hot and white, bringing an extra, warm, thick wave of thrill through Steve’s emptying cock.

He jerks quick and uncontrolled as he spills onto his sheets, toes twitching on the edge of cramping up as his body tenses, Billy’s girthy cock still drilling into him, and when Steve is ready to go limp, blissed out and finally relaxed, Billy leans away.

Grabs him by the hips to continue thrusting, bucking, slapping skin together as he pulls out to the tip just to slam right back in, tugging at Steve’s hips till he’s fully buried to the hilt, then once more, twice, thrice, ramming into Steve where jolts of over stimulated pleasure and a burning sensation makes him cry into his pillow.

And Billy digs his nails into soft flesh as he brings them together, crude and deep as he cums, breathless with a stutter, he brings a hand next to Steve’s head for support. It’s short and silent and uneventful, perfected from years of hiding and fucking around; he once told Steve that loves to fuck in all too public places, dangerous and with high chances of getting caught. Said he wanted to bring Steve to some of those places.

Steve’s… kinda hard again. Sore, exhausted, satisfied, sure, but definitely not entirely flaccid. 

Billy kisses him down his back, across every bump of his spine that he can reach, rubbing soothingly against where his nails have left marks, then pulls out and gets off the bed. He pulls off the condom and throws it into the trash can, untied and reckless.

“How you doing?” he asks as he gets dressed, back turned to Steve.

Who’s still bent over, legs spread out to steady himself a bit, but nevertheless unmoving, staring at Billy’s gorgeous back muscles.

“I’m… yeah, I’m good,” Steve chuckles with a light heart and a way too satisfied and appreciative smile.

Bluest of eyes glance at him over a shoulder, and after putting on his shirt again, Billy goes to kneel by the bed, where he pushes aside a few locks of hair so that he can properly look Steve in the eyes.

Steve thinks it unfair, that the way Billy touches him gently like this burns more than when he holds him down like he did tonight. He hates how easy he is, how needy he is for pure affection, and he can feel it creep up in red on his cheeks.

“You should probably clean all that up before it dries,” Billy says so nonchalant, like their tender little moment here just doesn’t affect him at all.

And Steve can’t do anything but sigh, hopelessly in love with someone who is, as Billy puts it, “A man of the people.”

“Yeah… it’d be real gross if I slept like this,” Steve huffs and sits back on his heels.

“Just get some tissues to wipe it off then sleep on a towel till you can change your sheets tomorrow,” Billy explains, eyeing the wet stain seeping into the fabric, “It’s what I do.”

Then he stands up again, stretching and scratching his stomach with a tired and pleased groan, before heading for the door.

“See you next time, Harrington.”

[kessielrg]

[DA+KH] Let Down Your Guard for Me (Just This Once)

Summary: An unofficial part of @chibi-mushroom‘s Dragon Age AU for the Kingdom Hearts series, in which Ventus invites Sabrina somewhere special for one-on-one sparring practice. Inspired by something that happened in chapter 36 of Dragon Age: Wayfinder.

Rating: K+ (because DesireDemon!Vanitas is a very angry critic)

Word count: 3,862 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

The conspicuous sounds of Ventus grunting is what initially caught Sabrina’s attention. How she was able to hear it when he ended up being on the other end of Redcliffe Castle was beyond her. She was quite disappointed to find that he was in the training room. Training sword in hand, he was giving some potshots at a straw filled dummy. The bard, curious to see how long it would take for him to notice her, simply laid against the entryway in amusement.

He didn't take as long to notice her as she first assumed, however. His reaction at her being there was just as great in the meantime. Ven had caught her out of the corner of his eye. At first, he just as easily dismissed the intruder, since they were just staying at the door. It was when he noticed the light purple cotton blouse that he ceased his movements. He had turned completely around before finding himself shocked at Sabrina's presence.

“Sabri-” Ven exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch so high that his voice cracked. He quickly covered it with a cough before trying again. “Sabrina. What are you doing here?”

“In the castle or in the room?” she replied with a wicked grin. “Because that first one shouldn't be a surprise. I sleep with you.”

The young man let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. Beads of sweat reminded him of just how hard he had made himself work. Did he look like he had given himself an intense workout? Oh Maker, how much did he stink? Would Sabrina even notice? She didn't seem to act like it was noticeable at the moment. Instead, the bard casually strode into the room and almost to his side. His face started to heat up the closer she was. Whether it was from embarrassment or being flustered was a little beyond him at the moment.

“Let me see your sword.” she requested, holding her hand out to him. Admittedly, Ven had to do a double take. His confusion immediately made her groan in disgust. She amended her previous statement with an annoyed, “The sword in your hand, you moron. The training sword.”

“Oh!” Ven realized -just as easily feeling dumb for his initial thought- before giving the sword to her.

Sabrina gave one last judgmental raise of her eyebrow being looking over the training sword more carefully. She held the wooden sword with both hands, occasionally taking a few test swings out of amusement. Ven simply watched as she let out a small hum of interest. In a thoughtful tone, she mused, “You've always held your swords in reverse.”

Confused, Ven asked, “What makes you say that?”

Sabrina moved closer to him again, holding the sword up so they could better examine its craftsmanship.

“Your practice sword has a special guard.” she informed him. She even bothered to run a finger along said guard to help him see it. “It's better designed to block incoming blows.”

After saying this, she picked up Ven's hand so he could take the sword back. Although the sword was back into Ven's possession, the two did not step away from each other. The air had become a bit heavier as they lingered there. Ven, for one, wanted to say something but didn't know what. Why was carrying on a conversation so hard? He never had this problem when he and Terra would seek trouble together. All they had to do was mention sparring each other, and they'd grab the training swords to head out to...

“I want to take you somewhere.” the young man blurted.

Sabrina looked at him. Her fingers instinctively going for her rabbit shaped mask- even present when she wasn't wearing it on her face, it clipped to a string that she tied around her waist. Ven immediately stopped her by placing his hand on hers. The bard flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, but didn't move him. Instead, she looked up at him with a certain darkness in her eyes.

Ven unintentionally gulped before quickly telling her, “You won't need your mask where we're going. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but in seeing his honesty, she relented.

“Fine.” she agreed. “But at least let me put it in my room.”

Ven quickly gave her an eager nod. “Meet me at the back gates.”

“The back gates?” she repeated. “I… Whatever. Fine. I’ll meet you at the back gates in 10 minutes.”

“You won't regret it, I promise!” Ven eagerly told her, almost taking her hand. He was impressed by his own refrain, actually.

Sabrina still looked him over- as if she still needed some reason to bail out of the situation. They both knew she couldn't find a good excuse for this, though. When she finally turned to go put her mask away, Ven's heart was already pounding in his chest. Even if they were just going to get sweaty all over again, ten minutes was enough time to take a quick bath. Right?

. . .

It was always suspicious when Vanitas was silent for long periods of time. Even more so when Ventus's heart fluttered at the thought of Sabrina's presence. Today the desire demon was quiet- not that Ven was going to ruin that quiet. He needed all of his thoughts to belong to himself. Taking Sabrina to this spot was as important as remembering which spoon to use during a formal dinner. Maybe the demon knew this was important, so he was minding his own business for once? Didn't seem right, but Ven wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Where are we even going?” Sabrina asked. She had arrived at exactly the ten minute mark. Of course she would.

“Do you trust me?” Ven just as easily questioned, offering his hand out to her. He was answered with a skeptic raise of her eyebrow.

“For now.” she replied as she took his hand. The young man held her hand tight as he started to lead them away from the castle.

Ven held a brisk pace as he lead them around the town and to a wooded area. The sounds of the town disappeared the further they went, and eventually the sounds of gentle waves hitting the shore became more prominent. Ven let go of Sabrina's hand when the woods finally dispersed to a small beach facing Lake Calenhad. A small chill coming off the lake sent goosebumps up Ven's skin. He turned back to Sabrina to take careful notice of her expression. She didn't look very impressed- her eyes drifting to the sand, taking note that it was clear of driftwood.

“Terra and I used to come here when we were younger.” Ventus then explained. He moved closer to where the sand met the lake water just to subtly guide Sabrina out of the woods some more. “He found it one day after getting mad at Dad. After awhile, it became a place where we would spar each other for fun. I was… I was wondering if we could spar too...”

“Did you bring another practice sword, then?”

It was the bluntness of her question that caught Ven off guard. “H-huh?” he fumbled, looking back at her with an almost fearful expression.

“Figures.” she grumbled with a roll of her eyes. Placing a hand on her hip, Sabrina looked over the area before tilting her head at something. Ven wasn't quite paying attention. He was absently rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Really didn't think that through, huh?” he mused to himself. “We should head back.”

“No,” Sabrina then all but snapped at him. “Just give me a minute.”

At this, Ven looked up. Sabrina had already ventured by the trees bordering the area, apparently looking for something. The mage gave her a curious look as she went over some fallen limbs and branches.

“Here,” she noted before bending down to pick up a branch almost as long as her body and half the width of her arm. “This will do for now.”

“You mean you do want to spar with me?”

“We're already out here, aren't we?” came the callous reply. “Might as well make it productive.”

Ven watched as she knocked some excess dirt off, and even stripped the bark in certain places. For a moment, he wondered if he had ever seen her wield different weapons before. Let alone something like a sword, or fighting staff as she was going to treat this branch.

“I thought you used knives?” he wondered.

Sabrina just let out a little hum as she tested the staff in her hands. “A bard is trained in many things.” she claimed. “Like various weapons, seduction, potions, and-”

Sabrina got cut off when Ven attempted to attack her with his wooden sword. Her reaction time was just skilled enough that she blocked it with the staff. Just barely.

“And how not to gloat when the enemy is also armed?” Ven teased, pressing up against her a bit more just to playfully grin at her.

Sabrina's momentary look of bewilderment became a boastful smirk. “Something like that.” she agreed as she pushed him off. Ven let out a small laugh as he moved away from her a bit. They needed a better area for their practice-  the main beach would have the space.

They were both incredibly confident as they got ready. Ven casually spun his sword with a single hand, his heart almost pounding in his ears as the grin on his face got wider. His cheeks were going to hurt later, and he didn't care one ounce. Sabrina stood tall as she adjusted herself for the fight. (And yes, he did notice that her foot was pointed when she brought one leg around to adjust her stance- assuming that little movement wasn't just to distract him.) She held her makeshift staff with enough certainty, you almost would have assumed that it was her weapon of choice. Sabrina was not a mage, though, and she certainly didn't plan on using it to channel magic.

“Whose count do we start on?” Ven asked. He couldn't even hide the excitement in his voice at the question. Something Sabrina countered with a firm smirk of her own.

“Mine.” she decided before lunging at him. Ven suspected as much, and was easily able to get out of the way. A laugh erupted from his lips as they continued to fight. Nothing else mattered at the moment- just him, her, and the sound of their wooden weapons knocking against each other.

. . .

Aqua needed an excuse to leave the castle for a moment. She had no sense of envy for the arl and arlessa- politics had never been the Hero of Ferelden's strong point. At least she was able to leave if the hustle and bustle served to be too much. Or, even use the distraction of finding Ven, who was no longer in the training room and apparently not even in the castle anymore either. He had a meeting to go to soon, and his random disappearance would probably be a cause for concern.

She wasn't going to lie about it, but Aqua had been worried at first. It wasn't until she realized that someone else hadn't been seen in the castle for awhile that she gained a certain hunch. A small trip to the training room helped support the theory. Now it was only a matter of where they went. It came to Aqua with a sudden realization- one that she was just as easily embarrassed about. Thinking on it more, it seemed only natural that he would take her there. After all, Terra had done the same with Aqua not too long ago.

“Have you seen Ven?” Aqua heard Terra ask her just as she was about to leave the castle. The Hero of Ferelden stopped just to look at her boyfriend.

“I was just about to go get him.” she affirmed. “Would you like to join me? I'm not quite familiar with the path yet.”

Terra raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask where she thought Ven was. Considering she made it seem like he would know where they were going anyway, he instead gave her a solemn nod of his head. Aqua beamed in satisfaction and gestured for them to walk together.

The woods had become more dense since the Fifth Blight. The canopy of the trees almost blocking out the sunlight as they moved away from the village. Sticks and small branches that had fallen out of the trees had also covered the ground- not quite big enough to be kindling, but too small to be used for much else than potential bird's nest supplies. It didn't take long for the duo to hear the sounds of some fight up ahead. From the sound of it, it seemed like wooden weapon against wooden weapon as the two duelists made snappy remarks at the other. Terra and Aqua recognized both voices at the same time.

“Not a bad parry.”

“I can do better. Watch this!”

“Oh, so close. So very, very close- yet so very far, far away.”

“Hmph. Maybe we should call a draw. You're not even trying.”

“Giving up already? It's not my fault you're easy to read, sweetie.”

Hearing them made Terra walk faster. He stopped when he and Aqua were close enough to see the other duo, but far enough away that they could still hide behind several trees. Aqua put a hand on him to guide him over a bit. She already knew he wasn't going to like this, so at the very least she could try to keep him out of sight for a bit longer.

“What is he doing here with her?” Terra questioned. His expression was darkening as his gaze locked onto Ventus and Sabrina. Most of it was targeted at the latter.

“For the same reason you brought me here, I'd guess.” Aqua calmly replied, even putting her hands behind her back. “He's getting her to open up. We can't interrupt them now, or they may never have this opportunity again.”

Terra looked at Aqua like she had gained another head.

“This is ridiculous.” he asserted. “Ven has other things he needs to-”

Terra was cut off when Aqua grabbed him by the collar, forcing the two of them to stand fairly close to each other. A mocking grin was etched on her lips as she told him, “Nobody interrupted us.”

Terra's face immediately lit up in a deep scarlet. He took several steps away from Aqua while refusing to look at her.

“I'll find Tidus and tell him that Ven is busy.” he grumbled under his breath. Aqua only smiled.

“Yes you will.” she agreed. Terra gave her a stiff nod before leaving. She laughed at him before turning her attention back to Ventus and Sabrina.

It was apparent that Ven was not used to fighting with a sword after so long. Sure, you could tell that he had fought with one in the past, but it was not at a level able to defend him in an actual battle. However, as Aqua observed with a tilt of her head, Sabrina was not showing the best of confidences with her two handed staff either. Of course, she had always been a more offense fighter than defense. There were small moments where Sabrina tried to be direct, only for her to leave an opening for Ven to exploit. It was equal to the times when Ven tried to prepare a spell, but remembered that he wouldn't use them- a small moment of hesitation that lead to a great advantage.

But it was their smiles that had Aqua's full attention. She couldn't see them well from here, however she could almost hear it in their voices as they bantered back and forth. Hearing Ven enjoy himself wasn't much different than usual. Hearing Sabrina with genuine amusement in her voice had been the more shocking discovery. It was in thinking that Ven was lucky enough to see this side of Sabrina, Aqua decided to quietly make her leave. She did make note of the sun's position, wondering how long it would take for the two to come back to the castle. The smile on her face wouldn't leave, no matter how hard she tried. It was great seeing the odd couple be so happy.

. . .

They never knew that they had gained onlookers for a few minutes. Even after Terra and Aqua left, Sabrina and Ven kept going at each other. Their faces were flushed from exertion, and their breaths came out heavy and shallow. But they kept going. Neither one wanting to give up the high they had in this form of intimacy. They weren't even keeping track of what they were saying to each other either. Words spilled out of their mouths that could have been flirting, or insults, or appreciation, and they would have forgotten their meanings almost instantly.

Their draw came without warning. It only took one last block that made the two pause. Ven's focus had immediately gone to Sabrina's eyes. Almost half lidded from her own exhaustion, they were trained to where his sword met her staff. If she was looking at anything else (anything lower), then the future arl had no way of knowing. He took a very careful step forward, bringing them almost chest to chest, and leading Sabrina to look up at him.

He almost kissed her, right then and there. As if he truly needed a reminder of how much he loved her.

“We work well together.” he managed to husk out. Sabrina simply looked at him. A certain sense of vulnerability and mutual attraction coming through that he'd only seen on her in the dark. It was even more beautiful in the day. Amazing, even.

“We do.” she agreed, not quite aware of her saying it.

But after this declaration, the tone started to become more somber. The weight of what they really meant coming down on them like a heavy fog. The gaze they soon gave each other measured an equal heartbreak. Ven moved forward just a bit more, closing the distance between their lips. Sabrina reacted by tilted her head up a bit, but didn't move much further than what they were.

“Please stay with us.” Ven then whispered.

“I… I don't know if I can.” she said. Her voice even more timid than his. “I only stayed as long as I did the first time because...” She trailed off, looking away from him as she took a few steps back. The corners of her mouth turned into a distressed frown. Ven only watched her- too afraid that any wrong movement would make her turn away. Her conflict on the situation was obvious. She couldn't easily find a way out of the situation- she felt trapped.

“This was a mistake.” Sabrina decided with a shake of her head. She immediately dropped the staff, turning away to leave. Ven was caught shaking his own head as well.

“N-no, wait!” he called out, not expecting it to work.

To his surprise, it did. Not knowing how much longer he had before she left for good, Ventus quickly tried to give her a speech from the heart.

“Sabrina, I love you. I love you so much that I don't even know how to express it. I don't know… I don't know how to say it so you know it too. So that you're sure that I'm telling the truth. And you know I can't just go reverse psychology on you because you'd still take it at face value. What do I need to do, Sabrina? What do I need to do to make sure you know that I love you?”

That was when Sabrina turned her body back toward him. She still refused to look him in the eye. She wanted to say something, but all words seemed to fail her. Instead, she just looked up at him with an expression so vulnerable that no other person would be able to see later. That was when he understood. Maybe not everything, but enough.

Ven used his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb gently outlining her cheek. Sabrina cautiously leaned in to the embrace, placing one of her hands at his wrist. She didn't attempt to remove his hand- she didn't want to.

“I love you,” Ven once more said, almost afraid to say it, as he pulled them in for a small kiss.

The kiss had been bittersweet. At the same time, it bore a lot more affection than when they were actually heated. Pulling away had been the hardest thing to do.

“I'd rather you become an arl than Grey Warden.” Sabrina softly admitted. “But if you take on a political spouse, they have to fit my criteria before you ever dream of putting a ring on their finger. Got it?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Ven smiled. Sabrina only offered a stiff nod. Her usual attitude was slowly returning- he could tell by the way she held herself. Her chest was lifting, her back a bit straighter, and any vulnerability was taken away to a hard callousness.

“I plan on staying in Ferelden until I receive word from Orlais. But I don't want to stay sitting at the castle. I need something to do.”

“You were still looking for things of your mother's, right?” Ven offered. A hand reaching behind his neck to absently rub it. “Maybe I can scout around for you. If there's a lead, we could go together to find it?”

In one last show of true emotion, Sabrina's eyes widened before her signature scowl came into play.

“I wouldn't mind that.” she agreed. The corner of her mouth twitched before adding, “Thank you.”

Ven offered her a small smile. She took it as a sign to leave. Her head was once more cast down as she went back through the trees.

'3 stars.'

Hearing the demon's voice in his head after so long nearly gave Ven a jolt.

'What?' the young man mentally replied, starting the trek back to the castle as well.

'I give this episode 3 stars. Good tension, but not a lot of build up between points. What even was that resolution? Did the writers not know how to end the story?'

'You do know that I have no idea what you're talking about, don’t you?'

'You're not the one that needs to.' Vanitas huffed. 'Could you guys do that thing were you take a bath and end up in bed after? I like that. I need it after this mess. You two really need to learn to start fucking it out when the tension's high, not bait switching it with pity. Sure, it gives Wabi-Sabi some development, but it train wrecks the whole mood. How hard is it just to get your shit together?'

Ventus couldn't help but roll his eyes. Nice to know that someone had faith in their relationship.

[thegeeky]

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Mind Bending Jigsaw Puzzle

[the-melting-world]

Kinktober | There is No Spoon 🍋

Kipling x Dante

Big thanks to @arcanecadenza for letting me borrow Dante! I am in love with this pairing. I CANNOT stop thinking about them. Expect many, many, many fics with these two. I might just fuck around and write a damn book because who’s gonna stop me?

For context of Kipling and Dante’s first meeting, check out this fic: Between the Pages

CW: begging, distracted sex, anal penetration, oral 

~ 1.7k words

It’s been some time since Kipling Bronne last saw Dante Aleghieri . The humble gardener missed the shy, dark-haired alchemist she met in the library while he was away. They had only begun to get to know each other before his job required that he leave town. They promised to meet up again if he were ever to pass through Vesuvia. 

Kipling’s POV:

Kipling remembered Dante telling her that he liked tomato soup. Well, that was nice. So did she, but she couldn’t just make him plain old tomato soup for dinner. That wouldn’t make her stand out in his mind. No, she had to prepare this soup a little differently. 

Carrots. That would add depth to the flavor without going overboard. And herbs. Lots and lots of herbs. Also cream. To add some body and smooth out the taste.

Kipling was in the middle of reaching for her jar of thyme when there was a sudden knock at the door. Her gut tightened. 

Relax, Kipling. It’s probably just a client.

Kipling set the stove fire down to a simmer and went to the front door to find that… it was definitely not a client waiting for her.

“Dante!” Kipling drew a sharp breath in the presence of her still very new, very awkward crush. Though he was much too early, she put on a welcoming smile for him.

“Dinner’s not ready yet, but come in. It’s good to see y–” 

Dante stumbled right into her, his ungainly limbs gathering her up against his chest. Kipling had forgotten how broad and rough his hands were. His lankiness, his largeness. She had forgotten how tentative and at the same time how forward he was with his affection. 

Kipling kissed him back, letting go of those annoying formalities that the time away had planted in her head. When they had both got some of that longing for each other out of their systems, Dante finally pulled back and apologized for arriving so early. 

Standing so close, Kipling could only concentrate on the beauty mark in the center of his lower lip. 

“It’s good to see you too.” He said so with the awareness of where her attention was fixed.

Kipling felt her smile become a bit warmer as she tugged him inside. She asked him to tell her about his travels after she pulled up a stool for him at her kitchen island and returned to the soup. 

Dante only managed to summarize a few of his harrowing adventures before he kept stopping and sniffing the air. Kipling didn’t comment on it, but allowed herself a satisfied smile as she kept her back to him. She knew it would only be a matter of time before…

“Sorry, I keep getting distracted because this smell is just... incredible.”

Just as Kipling suspected, Dante drifted up behind her, close enough to embrace her if he wanted to. She steadied her nerves while she took her narrow, wooden spoon and scooped some of the opaque, sunny broth. Holding up the spoon and turning slightly, she offered it to her guest.

Kipling kept her grin in check as Dante eagerly sampled her work in progress. 

“Oh.” His eyelids fluttered as he savored the taste and went back to the spoon to suck off the rest.

“Kipling, that’s really, really good.”

The humble gardener dipped the spoon in the pot and offered it up a second time.

“Do you want some more?”

Dante was nodding before Kip even finished the question. This time, as she brought the spoon close to his mouth, she angled her head towards his neck and walked her lips up to his jawline. Dante, unsurprisingly, could not contain any of his shy, breathless noises. There was something kind of irresistible about the particular way he became flustered. It managed to both excite and embolden Kipling. 

Kip started to take down Dante’s hair just as he undid his pants. 

“Um…”

Kipling withdrew, noticing that it wasn’t her Dante was looking at, but at the spoon. She too stared for a moment before she understood.

Dante finally fell out of his own trance, his sun-baked complexion broken by a dark band of blush as he met her gaze.

Kipling twirled the spoon between her fingers. “I have some salve in the bathroom. The soup needs someone to watch it. Think you can handle that?”

He gave another one of his enthusiastic nods. Kipling left to go rinse off the spoon and find that lemongrass salve that she knew was hiding somewhere…

When Kipling returned, she was relieved to see that Dante hadn’t ruined their dinner. Still, she turned the stove back down to a simmer so she could take care of her guest.

As soon as Dante recognized the smooth product coating the length of the spoon, he surprised Kipling with another round of hungry kisses. Kipling helped him get his pants down to his ankles. She remained standing and moved beside him, making it easier to work with both hands. After squeezing the precum from his cock and giving her thumb a swift suck, she met Dante’s gaze.

“You’re supposed to be watching the pot, remember?”

Dante’s features flashed with brief panic before he caught on to Kip’s little game.

“Right.” His low-lidded gaze gave him away. Playing along, he focused on the barely simmering soup and spread his legs a little wider. Meanwhile Kipling teased his rim with the fingers she coated in salve earlier. Then she pressed the head of the narrow spoon into his warm opening. With her other hand, she pumped his cock, pausing every so often to inch the spoon deeper.

Dante was not watching the pot. 

He grunted a lot, and would turn to give Kipling a hot, flustered kiss before breaking away just to groan some more. 

Trapping his bottom lip between his teeth, he hissed, “Oh gods. Kip, I-I don’t want to come yet.”

Kipling didn’t want that either, so she eased the spoon out and let go of his cock.

“That’s good,” she said as she went to the sink to wash off, “because no one’s coming tonight until we finish our dinner.”

Dante fumbled with his pants. “I beg your pardon?”

Kipling smiled cheerfully. “Bowls are on that shelf over there. Help yourself to as much as you want and meet me at the table.”

***

Dante’s POV:

I need her to eat my ass. I need her to eat my ass. I need her to eat my – 

Dante’s mind raced, coming up with all the reasons why Kipling might say no. She had been such an accommodating host so far, but what if he was asking for too much? 

He definitely could have shown better manners since he showed up. Up until he arrived at Kipling’s doorstep, he had no plans on kissing her. Yet somehow that happened before he even said a word of greeting. But how could he stand a chance? When Kipling opened that door, she unleashed a wave of delightful scents. Herbs and olive oil from the kitchen. And then there was the halo of seawater and coconut extract that no doubt lived in her hair and on her skin. Her light brown eyes had regarded him with surprise and then instant acceptance, perhaps even longing.

It might have been a mistake to kiss the gardener so soon, but he forgot about his regret when he felt her reaction. So sensitive to every touch, leaning into him with such intensity. As if her magic carried the weight of an entire ocean. Her walls disintegrated fast, revealing the Kipling that he had met in the library. Curious, observant, and intent on testing her knowledge in ways he least expected.

Kipling must have noticed that Dante wasn’t eating because she lifted her gaze and gestured to the soup that he barely touched.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Dante blinked away his reverie. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, Kipling. You went through all this trouble, but I don’t think I can enjoy this meal until...”

The ghost of a smirk graced the gardener’s freckled face as she arched a dark brow. None of which was helpful to Dante in that moment.

He started to ramble. “What you were doing earlier with the spoon was… generous, but I’m afraid I don’t deserve your hospitality –”

“Dante,” Kipling interrupted, “speak to me plainly. What are you trying to say?”

She knew damn well what he meant.

Still, Dante needed to be honest.

“I want you to be the spoon, Kip. The way you kissed me, I just thought if –”

Kipling got up from her side of the table and came over to where he was. He stood up too.

“When I’m finished,” she said, her voice low and husky, “that bowl of soup better be empty.”

Dante swallowed. “Oh gods, of course.” Then he whispered, “Thank you.”

Kipling’s eyes softened before she spared him one last slow kiss. 

“You’re sweet, Dante. Enough that you don’t ever need to beg. Still,” she stole a glance, “I really like it when you do.”

If Kipling wanted him to beg, then Dante would beg all night if he had to.

“Kip, please… be the spoon.”

Dante moved in a little closer, brushing his erection against her leg so she could know how desperate he was. How much he needed her.

He didn’t know how many times he said please. Kipling impressed him with her ability to appear stoic. But finally, she relented and told him to pull down his pants. When he did, the smell of the lemongrass lubricant kissed the air, still clinging to his skin from before. 

“Lie down,” Kipling instructed, bending him over the edge of the table while dropping down to her knees. Dante remembered his orders from earlier and focused on eating his soup. But once Kip warmed up his ass with her fingers and started exploring with her tongue, his mind blanked. 

Dante was acutely aware of the flux of pressure as Kipling spread his cheeks apart and bobbed her head in a dreamy rhythm. He held onto the table like it was his only lifeline. He wished he had the fortitude to jerk himself off, but all he could manage to do was weep with fresh cum and pathetically hug the table.

“Uh, Dante? Are you all right?”

Dante shakily pried himself from the table and sort of melted in a heap on the floor next to Kip. Then he surprised her with a messy kiss, tasting remnants of the lemongrass salve and traces of his own sweat.

“I didn’t finish the soup. Sorry.”

He really was a rotten guest.

Kipling grinned. “Was I that good of a spoon?”

Dante looked down at his stiff length before reaching for Kipling’s wrist. Guiding her hand to where he needed her most, he said, “You were… more than good, Kip. Much more than that.”

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Whipped

A Getting In Deep future short.

 -On the third day of lock-down the break room gave to me...

A competition for Dalgona Coffee!-

 Watch Two had been warned in advance that the base would have a five day lock-down and nonessential persons should go home to wait it out.  A bare-bones collection of people were left to slowly go crazy in Watch Two's underground base.  They had grown too accustomed to the card games where have of the players cheated.  Mario Kart couldn't hold a candle to the impromptu desk chair races which became a whole new sport when Will included the element of lances and jousting for rings hung from the ceiling.  

Even the retired test bunny, Copperfield, had gotten tired of people's need to cuddle something fluffy and would kick them before running away.  

What the Watch needed was a bit of excitement.  A bit of competition that didn't rely on cheating or luck.  And wouldn't get them killed.  

It happened when four voices complained in Main Tech.  

"I'm bored," said Will.  He had already read the books in his desk and had no inclination to read them again.  And picking out another ebook was a chore.  

"I'm tired," said Louis.  He had finally reached the over-saturation point of his coffee intake.  He would have to degrade himself to lay still and sleep that night instead of being "productive".  

"I want something sweet," Reese and Beni chorused.  They had not had time to stock up the essentials (ex: chocolates, candies, energy drinks, pixie sticks, gelatin - don't' ask), and the vending machines had not been restocked in a while, leaving behind stale chips and granola bars trying to be a treat and failing horribly.  

"Check the break room?"  offered Will.

"Sure." Louis pulled his body off his desk like he was pulling himself out of a grave.  It was only noon for crying out loud.  He needed more coffee.  Break room was a must.  

Beni and Reese, figuring Will was talking to them as well, joined the pair to the break room.  The four searched every nook, cranny, and drawer.  Beni even took out drawers to see of anything had fallen behind them.  

Aside from a few flattened and perished bags of peanuts and sugar packets, she found nothing.  

"Why do we have a twenty pound bag of rice?" asked Reese.  

"Cheap and easy food," said Will.  "I'm more worried about the ten canisters of instant coffee."  

"Without coffee there is chaos and darkness," said Louis without missing a beat.  "I'm more curious why we need a twenty pound bag of sugar."  

"Without sugar there is oppression and darkness," replied Beni.  "Plus adding sugar to cooked rice is tasty."  

Rachel, who had observed the four's need to pillage the break room at a distance, chimed in.  

"Have you ever heard of Dalgona coffee?" asked Rachel.  

All four looked up.  

"Whipped coffee, right?" said Louis.  

"Gone viral," said Will.  "I think."  

"It's half sugar," added Beni.  

"Equal parts sugar, instant coffee, and water whipped together to make a foam," said Reese. "Why do you mention it?"

Rachel shrugged. "Sounded interesting. Thought we could make a game of it."  

Game.  A chime in the wind.  A call to action.  A call to possible fun.  

"Go on," said Reese.  

*** 

In essence, Rachel wanted the four of them to compete in who could make dalgona coffee the fastest without using an electronic mixer.  At first the four assumed this would be a test of arm strength, until she added a caveat.

Only one of them would have a whisk.  

They set up the break room like a competition on Food Network, complete with aprons and pre-measured portions of instant coffee, sugar, and hot water.  Sleeves were rolled up, jackets taken off.  Beni put on her high speed roller blade goggles.

Rachel held up four paper bags with large letters from A to D written in sharpie.  

"These are your tools to aerate your dalgona coffee.  Each of you will have ten minutes to turn your tool into what you need. Your resources are tape, rubber bands, string, knives, and your own ingenuity.  No glue, no welding, no setting anything on fire."

"Aw."

"Once your tools are made you will have another ten minutes to turn your instant coffee, sugar, and water into a whipped delight.  Whosoever has the better whipped coffee after ten minutes wins.  However, one of you will receive a whisk at a time disadvantage, you will have only five minutes to whip your coffee instead of ten.  Any questions so far?"  

Reese popped the top button on his shirt and leaned over the counter with a "charming" smile.  "How do you prefer to be bribed for me to get the whisk?"  

"It will be random selection."  Rachel held out four cards with the letters A, B, C, and D, and had each of them pick one.

Each card got a matching bag.  Reese, card A, got three plastic forks.  Beni, card B, received three plastic straws.  Louis, card C, three cheap wooden chopsticks.  When she put the bag down in front of Will, she pulled it back when he reached out for it.  

"You got the whisk," said Rachel.  "You have to wait for the five minute mark."  

Will's eyes glimmered and he nodded.  

"Trade you," said Reese, holding up one of his forks.  

"Not even going to bribe me?"  asked Will in mock offense.  "I'm hurt.  And no." Will turned to Louis.  "You don't want to trade?"  

"No way, Fanboy. Me and my chopsticks are gonna out-whisk you!  You're gonna wish you never skipped arm day."  

Rachel held up her hand, contains of rubber bands, string, tape, and knives at the ready in front of her. "Ten minutes to make your whisks, go!"  

Beni, Reese, and Louis dashed to grabbed their implements.  Over the next few minutes Will got to observe his coworkers turn straws, forks, and chopsticks into something else.  

Reese proceeded to bend the tines of the fork outwards as much as he could without breaking them, and then bound the three forks together with the rubber bands to make something that looked like a sea urchin.  

Beni grabbed a knife and spliced the three straws half way down the middle in four ways, and then curled the ends back up to the barrel of the straw, securing them with a bit of tape. Once bound together she had something that looked very close to a whisk.  

Louis also took a knife and split two of the chopsticks into chop-twigs a fourth of the original length. With bits of string he tied the twigs together like little crosses, and then tied those crosses onto the third chopstick.  At the unadorned end of the chopstick, he added some rubber bands for a hand grip. Finished, it looked like a found-art depiction of a tree.

"Are we ready?"

"Bring it!" said Louis.  

"As I'll ever be," said Reese.  

"I got this," said Beni.  

"Red leader standing by!" said Will.  

"All but Will, go!"  Rachel tapped the stopwatch on her phone.  

In unison the four dumped the instant coffee, sugar, and hot water into their bowls.  While the others whisked their concoctions, Will waited, tilting his bowl this way and that to fully dissolve his ingredients.  He swirled it about, trying to see if he could get any foam going with just moving the bowl.  Any start was a good start.  

Four minutes in, Reese with his forks had turned his syrupy coffee into a slightly thicker syrup, the color changing from coffee black to dark chocolate brown.  He moved the makeshift whisk to the other hand and flexed the cramping fingers of the other.  

"Feeling the burn there?" jeered Louis.  

"I'm working at a disadvantage!" snapped Reese.  

"Excuses!" said Beni.  "Keep going!"  

Beni had her bowl on a towel and tilted as she whisked with her straws.  Her compact arms moved the whisk in a blur, as if inhaling the coffee and sugar scent energized her.  Her coffee was the color of milk chocolate.  She was also tiring, and the tape keeping her whisk together slowly peeled.

"Wow," said Will looking from one bowl to the next.  "You are all actually getting this stuff to work."  

Louis didn't turn his whisk like the others.  Instead he put the spiky end into the concoction and then twirled the top if it like a child would a dragonfly toy, or a scout trying to start a fire with two sticks. A design requiring less effort, but a fragile one as some tiny branches pivoted from where they were tied on their branch.  However, Louis coffee was also the color of milk chocolate, and slowly getting thicker.

Will felt a bit left out. Making a whisk out of found objects sounded fun, and he was sure he could have created something just as effective. But he had the advantage.  He got the whisk.  Which he could use...

"Five minutes, whisk!"  said Rachel.

Will snapped up the bag and immediately felt something was wrong.  The bag didn't feel heavy at all.  He opened the bag and saw...

Nothing.  

No.  Wait.  A glimmer of metal.  

Will tipped the bag over. One teeny tiny whisk, at home with the mice in Barbie's Malibu kitchen, rolled out onto the counter.  

Will dared not even attempt to pick it up between his fingers. He would need tweezers to even hold it.  Forget using it on his coffee.  

Will whimpered and bent over , arms braced on the counter.  "I've been defeated before I began."  

"What?" Louis looked over, saw the tiny speck of a whisk and full-belly laughed, hands fumbling at his chopstick whisk as he wiped a tear from under his shades, leaving a smear of coffee brown on his cheek.  

Beni kept whisking with her straws, but she glanced over and then smiled.  

"How did you even find a whisk that small?" Will asked Rachel, aghast.  "Polly Pocket outlet?"  

Reese chuckled. "Your overconfidence is your weakness, jedi."  

"Wrong quote," said Will, bent back to the floor.  

"Get working," said Louis.  "The coffee ain't gonna whips itself."  

"Not funny," said Will, pouting  "No one can whisk coffee with a whisk that size unless they were that size!"

Louis and Will froze and then looked at each other, the scenario finally clicking.  

"Switch with me, please!" pleaded Will.  

"I'm on a roll here!" said Louis, nodding to his coffee lightening to slightly lighter milk chocolate.  

"Switch with me or shrink with me, I'm okay with either!"  Will put on the most pitiful puppy eyes he could manage.  "I'll make it worth it!"  

"How?" said Louis.

Will leaned over, cupped his hand over Louis' ear, and whispered something that couldn't be heard over the swishing and clacking of plastic forks, chopsticks, and straws.  

Louis dropped his chopstick, grabbed Will's still un-frothed bowl, sat on the counter, and shucked off his shades, hooking them over Will's collar.  "I'll hold you to it."  

In a flash Louis had shrunk down to a little less than three inches, the bowl with him.  Perfect size for the tiny whisk.  

"Is that allowed?" cried Reese.  

"No rules against switching in the middle of the game," said Rachel, smirking.  "Four minutes left!"  

Will continued where Louis left off, twirling the chopstick until his skin burned.  Despite Rachel's warning, he just might start a fire with the amount of friction going on between his hands.  But the coffee got thicker, lighter, airy, harder to spin Louis' chopstick whisk through.  Out the corner of his vision he could see Louis attacking his bowl with his arm a blur. The tinny, tiny sound of metal against glass a constant ringing.  

Beni gritted her teeth, switched hands, and continued.  Reese cursed under his breath as his forearms protested.  

Rachel looked too happy at their collective state.  "Ten... nine..."  

The four put in a final burst of energy, coffee froth spattering over their bowls and they whisked to glory.  

"Four... three..."

Win or lose, I get to keep that promise to Louis, thought Will. And that was a prize indeed.  

"One... time!"

The whisks, what was left of them, dropped from their hands and they all backed away from the counter, wincing at their achy hands and arms.  

Louis panted laid down on the counter, and rolled his shoulders.  "Okay.  That was arm day."  

"Agreed," said Reese.  Of the three of the makeshift whisks, his had stayed in the best shape.  However his coffee was still more thick syrup than fluff.

"No more moving," added Beni.  Her whisk had practically fallen apart, bits of plastic straw sticking out every which way. But so did her coffee, the peanut butter colored fluff spiking out and staying there.  

Will's inherited chopstick whisk would never whisk again, the main branch falling off when it hit the bowl.  But the foam matched Beni's in color and stiffness, perhaps a hair lighter.  

Beside Louis a tiny bowl brimmed with light caramel colored foam, the top of it peaking like a sharp tack.

Rachel examined each of the bowls, testing the fluffiness of the coffee with a spoon and comparing the color and volume.  Louis' bowl had to be judged with the assistance of a magnifier.  Louis laid there unmoving.  Rachel also jotted down a few notes on a clipboard.  

A few minutes later, she stood before them with her judgment.  

"You should all be proud," said Rachel.  "The variety of whisks made was impressive, as well as your collective arm strength.  Which you will try to improve, I'm sure."  

Reese gave a grunt of negative.  

"Beni, you win for best use of a makeshift whisk, despite its short lifespan.  Out of all the dalgona coffees made with non-whisks, yours is the lightest and fluffiest."  

Beni held what was left of her three straws with pride.  

"Reese, while your dalgona has a ways to go, your handmade whisk can last the whole time without breaking or bending.  Out of all non-whisks, yours is the sturdiest."  

"And in a pinch double as a torture device," said Reese, airing his collar.  "For the wielder."

"Will, while at a disadvantage, you realized the proper use for the whisk given to you.  Fitting the tool to the purpose, well done."

Will nodded, but felt the praise was undeserved.  He had jumped in on Louis' bowl halfway.  That didn't count in his mind.  

"And Louis," said Rachel.  

Louis groaned on the counter.  

"I have never seen an arm whisk that fast.  For pure, brutal arm strength, you get the strongest arms."  

"Yay," Louis said, deadpan.  

"What do we win?" asked Reese.  

"I already have a batch of dalgona in the freezer.  All of you get to take a break and I will serve each of you a bowl."  

"And...?" edged Beni.  

"And there  are sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and redi whip for your use."  

Beni and Reese cheered as they ran back to their desks, still splattered with sugar coffee syrup and clad in their aprons.  

Will leaned down next to Louis' tiny prone form.  "You can have my frozen dalgona."  

"On top of what you promised?"  

Will blushed. "Yes.  You'll have to get it later tonight.  I had a lot for lunch."  

"Gotcha," said Louis.  "Would you mind picking me up?  I can't move my arms, I'll be flopping around like a fish."  

"Whatever you want, Mighty Mouse."  

"The Mightiest"

Will nodded and gently scooped Louis up in his palm.  They would wait out in Rachel's lab until Louis could turn back to normal size.  

***

Rachel covered the large bowls and set them in the fridge.  They would be good for coffee come morning.  The tiny bowl Rachel set aside on a lab tray.  She had a test on air density and viscosity to run.  

***

Beni and Reese had their bowls of dalgona slathered with caramel and chocolate sauce, sprinkles like confetti on velvet.  As much as they preferred energy drinks over coffee for their caffeine needs, they could appreciate it's slightly bitter taste as a dessert.  

In a spare office space designated as sleeping quarters for the lockdown, Louis enjoyed his double dose of dalgona with Will's help.  Louis lay on a cot with two pillows under his shoulders.  Louis refused to move his arms, claiming that whipping his tiny bowl of dalgona had ripped his muscles to shreds and needed help.  Will indulged his overreaction and fed him with loving spoonfuls.  

"Thank you for switching with me."  Will swirled the spoonful of dalgona through a streak of chocolate and whipped cream. "You didn't have to."  

"Yes I did," said Louis.  "Rachel's been wanting me to do more tests with her during lockdown.  And I've been avoiding it."  

"Oh."  

Louis reached out a pinky to Will's thigh.  "You're the only one I would have switched with."  

"Good.  I'd hate to be jealous of Reese over a cooking competition."  

"Speaking of competition," said Louis, sliding closer.  "I won a little something."  

"Hardly little."

"I will be." Louis rose up from the pillows and pressed his mouth to Will's, sharing the bitter taste of coffee and too much sugar. They parted with a sugary smek. "Gonna let me inside?"  

Will licked his lips, butterflies in his stomach ready to migrate,  and put the bowls aside.  

***

Later that night, Beni, Reese, Louis, and Rachel, realized that a scoop of dalgona coffee should not be eaten like ice cream right before they were about to sleep.  

Sleep did not happen until the crack of dawn.  For many reasons.  

--------

If you enjoyed this short, consider buying me a ko-fi!  

[heavenage08]

Delhi Federal Government Bans Over-The-Counter Sale Of Nsaids Without Prescription.

Having Lenses Replaced Into Existing Frames

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Content

What Causes Ocular Pain?

Looking For A Reduced Vision Help To Eliminate Vision Loss? Take The Irisvision Test.

Common Eye Disorders.

What Is Glue For Glasses Frames.

Nose Pads Maintain Glasses Comfortable.

I Have A Disability Can Lenscrafters Accommodate Me?

It's inevitable that somewhere along the way they will obtain scrapes or break down. Axelrad M, Tosh M. Stacking up the leading 50 optical retailers. Walmart is today the third leading provider of optical products in the United States. Your optical method can inform you how much your NHS optical coupon is worth. Glues used for repairing the frames of glasses are not the like the ones utilized by youngsters for their arts as well as crafts tasks.

If you shed your specific fabric you can also make use of an additional microfiber towel. If you're using Felix Gray glasses or other glasses with anti-glare finishing the top priority is to prevent your glasses from ever before obtaining scratched. If you have any kind of more queries you can figure out just how to call us below. If your purchase was online you can find our full returns policy is outlined in the Legal Policy area.

The greatest grievance I have regarding this item is the UV light, which, I assume, is not solid enough. You can adjust the nose pads to ensure that they keep the glasses frame in the best place.

What Triggers Eye Discomfort?

In fact, you can locate a lot of the products that you need in your house. Eyeglassescan break or bend when you bring them without a case, lay them on the table or accidentally drop them.

Looking For A Reduced Vision Help To Combat Vision Loss? Take The Irisvision Trial.

Yet be very cautious, due to the fact that even a tiny change of the nose pads will certainly change the fit dramatically. If you have actually acquired glasses online, before you begin your glasses fit modification, make sure you recognize exactly what it is you intend to accomplish. Both most common goals are to tighten frames while keeping the optical facility of the lens directly before your students, as well as to make using the glasses feel a lot more comfortable on your face. There are https://top-specs.co.uk/frame-and-lens-range/ of frame products, memory plastic frames as well as cable frames. It calls for treatment as well as persistence, and we warn that you must be very mindful.

Obtain a superglue that, other than being excellent at bonding plastics, can additionally stick together porcelains, wood, paper items, and also also steel. The glues also deal with non-porous materials like plastics, metal, and others.

Now, you require to readjust your eyeglasses frame so that it will always be properly positioned. If you need to wear glasses to compensate for your poor vision after that you recognize exactly how tough it is when your frames obtain accidentally damaged.

Unlike regular college glue, superglues dry and collection completely in secs. You seriously require to locate the most effective glue for glasses frames so you can do the repairs yourself. Even simply getting your spectacles frames skillfully repaired will set you back fairly a great deal of money.

Nonetheless, as soon as used and also cured, this stuff will certainly not be damaged and will certainly not give. It is due to the fact that because situation, you just require to wash the surface area with some soap as well as water and you are fine. It is not such as a superglue, which bonds to the skin and takes permanently to eliminate.

Widening the nose pads goes down the glasses lower down on your nose. Bringing the nose pads more detailed with each other elevates the glasses up on your nose.

Do not go back and also forth with your old glasses, also if your old set is extra comfortable. The switching will only make it harder for you to adapt to your new specs, and that will make the procedure take longer.

In a blind (or low-visibility) test, they operate nearly the same as brand-new. The hinge offers really little play and also they fold up perfectly for storage. The new joint is a tiny, attractive brass joint sold for usage on precious jewelry boxes or various other little wooden crafts. The bundle included two joints and also small brad nails, which will be conserved for later tasks. The brand is National with a component # V1810, Size 5/8" x 2-3/4".

Second, I utilized a basic BIC design lighter to heat the tip of the pliers' jaws. Nose pads are held together by tiny screws, usually like the ones from thetemple hinges. Think it or otherwise, toothpaste is effective in removing scrapes. You can fixsmall scratcheswithout needing to go to the facility.

Common Eye Disorders.

Silicone nose pads are more durable and also comfortable, and also protect against the glasses from slipping out of area. The majority of people that wear them don't typically require to recognize the components of glasses by name. But if you're ordering a new set or have issues with your existing glasses, recognizing the temples from the nose pads will certainly be valuable. As well as it's not a poor idea to know the feature of each different component of your glasses in instance they break and you require replacement parts. Glasses and also Sunglass Nosepads commonly deteriorate with time and also require to be replaced with a fresh set in order to maintain the comfort and also appropriate adjustment of an eyeglass frame.

If your acquisition was made in shop just return it to the store you bought from who will have the ability to assistance. If you experience lightheadedness or nausea or vomiting when wearing your brand-new glasses, it's likely that you're likewise dealing with deepness assumption concerns.

Review the section above to find out exactly how to tighten plastic frames or metal frames. You can additionally make a very mild change of the pad arm, the tiny metal little bits that hold the nose pad.

You will certainly have a difficult time sticking things with bigger surface areas with each other using superglue due to the fact that there is very little air between part to promote the treating procedure. Your glasses will certainly not be the only thing in your house that will certainly need fixings, specifically if there are young kids around.

I located that as soon as dried, this adhesive comes to be completely waterproof and also heat-resistant. This brings about so many various applications not simply repairing broken glasses frames.

Most of the times you will not need to fit spectacles, but if you do, you can take them to a local optical store for a suitable. Look into these quick suggestions to readjust your spectacles frames. If you have wire frames, your glasses will have nose pads. These can be readjusted with an easy pinch or tug of the fingertips.

Can the optic nerve heal itself?

Damage to the optic nerve is irreversible because the cable of nerve fibers doesn't have the capacity to regenerate, or heal itself, when damage occurs. This is why glaucoma is an incurable disease at this point, and why early detection is so important.

This has actually lowered the amount of in-office customization which suggests that less as well as fewer opticians are performing these tasks.

As laid out in various other blog posts on this site, a giving optician might be called for to finish official education as well as training depending upon the state in which they function.

This is generally done to enhance office efficiency and also rise economic efficiency.

Those who appreciate dealing with individuals are motivated to find out more about the laws in their state and also start trying to find prospective job chances.

States that have no opticianry demands normally permit employers to train their opticians nonetheless they choose.

Several optical stores are now outsourcing lens modification orders to specialized labs.

Press pads internal if your glasses slide and also exterior if your glasses rest uncomfortably high or explore your nose. If you have plastic frames, you can bend the temple arms in or bent on aid change the means your glasses sit on your nose.

In most cases, the more you use your glasses, the quicker you'll get used to them. I wish I would certainly understood about this a year ago when my toddler tore my glasses apart. I liked your home heating the pliers suggestions as well as not heating up the plastic directly. All I considered while reviewing this is how much it should have drawn to do without glasses on. As a fellow four-eye I've bodged a number of fixes in time.

Who can diagnose eye problems?

Health professionals who are qualified to diagnose and treat eye diseases are optometrists and ophthalmologist. Ophthalmologists complete 4 years of medical school and perform 4 years of residency training.

What Is Glue For Glasses Frames.

Additionally, when it concerns the strength of their bonds, superglues are organizations in advance of regular ones. The very best glues for eyeglass repair show off the fact that they can hold numerous extra pounds of dead weight. Although using this item to fix damaged eyeglass frames can be a bit tricky since you require to mix it extensively before you can use it.

Most of polyvinyl chloride PVC nose pads are made of a soft firm plastic material that gives comfortable assistance of spectacles frames over the facial nasal area. As with all nose pads fabricated from any kind of material, nose pads need to be appropriately changed to make sure that the nosepads fit flush against the skin, otherwise the weight of the glasses frame might leave pressure impressions on the skin.

To do that, first stand in front of a mirror as well as look straight ahead, neither up neither down. Put on your glasses and also place the center of the lenses directly before your eyes. This reveals you the put on your nose that you want the glasses frames on your face.

Nose Pads Keep Glasses Comfortable.

Eyeglass frames have temple arms, holy place corners, nose-bridge as well as nose-pads and also they are all designed for modification. Glasses are created to be gotten used to fit if required, to fit most any kind of face framework. When you ask a neighborhood optical specialist to adjust glasses for you, it is called a fitting.

Can an optometrist diagnose glaucoma?

All optometrists, no matter their level of licensure, are expected to diagnose the condition or at least to recognize that a problem exists and refer the patient to another practitioner. It is in the area of the diagnosis that most referrals by optometrists to ophthalmologists related to glaucoma occur.

try it out was split at one end to allow for the insertion of a lens, as well as the split was closed by a piece of copper cable. The frames were very light, yet the stress in the rivet would certainly have loosened in time making them not able to remain on the nose. Paintings illustrating such frames day from as very early as 1392 CE. Superglues are usually utilized to affix tiny pieces, like damaged eyeglass frames, scale design parts, and take care of broken ceramics, damaged dentures, and so on.

You simply require to be more cautious with your glasses later. If your glasses frame does not have nose pads, you only need to change the holy place tips in order to accomplish your goal. The nose item on plastic frames is made to fit many nose bridges. find a job might be the tiniest noticeable components of eyeglasses, yet they guarantee a comfortable fit while holding the glasses in place.

Replacement nose pads used in fundamental spectacles repair are available at moderate cost as well as maintain your glasses sanitary and comfortable no matter. The earliest kind of eyewear for which any type of historical record exists originates from the middle of the 15th century.

By obtaining a good superglue to make use of on your broken frames, you are conserving a lot of cash, which you can utilize on more vital points. This item provided by the brand is the best glue to deal with glasses. It has a gel-like uniformity so when you position a grain on one part of the eyeglass frame, it will not run. Either way, it is essential to make certain that the optical center of the glasses lenses remains straight before your eyes.

If you make huge changes, or frequent changes, the arms will damage or the weld to the glasses frame will damage. Glasses frequently glide down the nose bridge for different factors. The very best method to stop glasses from gliding down your nose is to flex the rear of the holy places tighter around your ears.

Visual Skill Examination.

You require to repair your eyeglass frames as soon as you can and also the very best means to do so is by utilizing extremely adhesive. These are the scenarios that necessitate using superglue. It is since these products can make fast and also simple work of damaged eyeglass frames. You just require to use the superglue on the components that need to be reattached and after that press them back with each other.

Frequently, a nose pad or nose pads likewise get removed from an eyewear frame and also need changing. Nonetheless, with the help of the purchasing guide and recommendations stated over, your opportunities of obtaining the best very adhesive for plastic spectacles frames will considerably boost.

The issue I have with UV cured glue to fix glasses frames similar to this one is that you need to make sure that it is totally revealed to the light. Although the bond toughness of this adhesive for steel glasses frames is not that solid, it is enough for most glass fixing requirements.

What does OD mean after a doctors name?

An optometrist receives a doctor of optometry (OD) degree after completing four years of optometry school, preceded by three years or more years of college.

I Have A Handicap Can Lenscrafters Accommodate Me?

Nose pads are connected to nose pad arms, which are welded to the spectacles frame. You need to make just tiny fit adjustments to the nose pad arms.

Can You Place Lenses In The Frames I Bought At An Additional Shop?

It is a primitive pince-nez whose frames were made from items of either metacarpal bone from the forelimb of a bull or from big pieces of antler. The two items were each paddle-shaped and also were joined by an iron rivet which offered the stress over the nose and also permitted the lenses to be folded up together. The objective of the 3 openings at the location where the deal with connects to the joint doubts, though they may have been made use of for pinhole vision, a principle which was recognized from old times.

[tigerbus2-blog]

Dyson Repairs

We carry more than 4 million parts from over one hundred seventy five major brands, so chances are, we have the part you need. Find appliance elements, lawn & garden equipment parts, heating & cooling parts and more from the highest manufacturers within the business right here. He holds his staff to the same normal, and is always willing to impart his vast information to anyone who wish to be taught. Just watch a couple of of his classes, and you will clearly see that the distinction with Mars Discount Vacuum, is the value you get from the experience and information we now have. We supply free in-retailer estimates, and free in-home central vac estimates. We restore ALL makes and fashions together with Dyson, Kirby, and Kenmore. It journeys a breaker in the house whenever you attempt to vacuum. Stop on by our Pewaukee storefront to search out exactly the vacuum accent you’re on the lookout for. 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[lokishornns]

Make a Wish [2]

—

masterlist

—

— send requests!!

pairing: loki x reader (fem)

type: series, some humor?

rating: pg13

word count: 4,419

warnings: cursing? probably. occasional mentions of being killed. loki being annoyingly arrogant

summary:  You’re a new employee for the Make a Wish foundation, struggling to make a living in the ever expensive New York City. When your boss - who, for the record, hates your guts - assigns an impossible task as a way to get you fired, you do everything in your power to make a kid happy. Even if that does include getting face to face with the most hated man in the city.

notes: im actually dead but i managed to crank this out, so hopefully, this does well. also, a huge thanks to @lady-loki-ren for being a saving grace for this chapter!

send requests

—

“So, this kid wants to meet Reindeer Games?” Tony asks and you hum in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, not sure why, but I don’t really think it matters too much,” you shrug, eyeing the billionaire from the back.

In all honesty, he’s not super impressive. His presence is intimidating and practically terrifying, but presence set aside – he almost seems normal. He’s on the shorter side and his hair is starting to grey – from stress or age, you couldn’t really tell. His skin, however, is smooth as hell and you wonder what products he uses to get his skin like that.

Tony turns into a random room that’s shrouded in darkness and smells far too similar to a hospital. You glance around in the darkness, hoping to catch sight of everything, but you can only make out a few computer monitors. Tony goes to one, turning it on, the light piercing through the darkness.

“Unfortunately, Reindeer Games is hard to contact, but if I piss him off enough, he’ll answer,” Tony says, and you crack a bewildered smile at his words. They almost seem like teenage enemies.

Tony begins to type in some random credentials that you probably shouldn’t know or even be around to witness him doing it, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so you watch as he pulls up some sort of program, typing in what you could only decipher as code. He leans back in the chair, his fingers now interlaced and placed over his chest.

“What do we do now?” you ask, peering at the screen, unable to make out any of what Tony had just done.

“Give it a minute, Loki does not really care for the ever-pressing concept of time,” Tony explains as you nod. You resort to leaning back against a metal table, the edge biting into your skin in the slightest.

Time passes slowly in the room and the awkward silence seems to make everything significantly worse. On top of that, your stomach growls loudly, startling yourself and Tony.

I would kill for a piece of bread, you think, or maybe some hot chocolate.

“When was the last time you ate, kid?” Tony asks and you’re surprised at the amount of concern you detect in his voice.

“Uh, maybe last night? I’m not entirely sure,” you say, sheepishly.

“Well, we can’t have you starving, can we?” Tony says, springing up from his seat, then instantly regrets it. You watch as he sways in the slightest, his hand going to cradle his head. “There’s a price you pay for being a near-alcoholic,” he mumbles before regaining his composure and striding out of the room in his ‘Stark’ glory.

You’re not sure if you should follow, but you aren’t in the mood for being in an abandoned room that houses the only communication to the most villainous person in New York City, so you scramble after him, your feet almost tripping over themselves.

You soon reach what could only be described as a massive kitchen. There are white, polished wooden cabinets that are on almost every wall – save for the one wall that is purely windows – and around four or five ovens are pushed into one section of the kitchen. Drawers litter the kitchen and it’s hard to miss the impeccable stainless-steel sink that seems to be as big as your bathroom in your apartment. Your eyes land on two massive fridges that you initially thought were doors leading into the many rooms in this monstrosity of a tower.

“Whaddya want? We have pasta, some leftover beef roast, some pop-tarts; really anything you want,” he says, and you glance back at the massive room, surveying the large granite countertops and the grey backsplash.

“Whatever is fine, I don’t want to impose more than I already have,” you mumble and from what you can tell with his sunglasses on, Tony rolls his eyes in the slightest.

“Please. You know what, Bucky’s been annoying me lately; let’s just swipe some of his snacks,” Tony suggests – or more instructs – and heads over to some cabinets on the opposite side of the kitchen. He shuffles through some things before snatching up some chips and other random snacking items.

He motions for you to grab the snacks and follow him out of the kitchen, walking down the same hallway you had come from before entering the same dark room. He sets the chips and snacks on the table, grabbing a bag of chips and sitting down in his seat. You carefully pry some saltwater taffy from the pile, popping it in your mouth.

A loud beeping sound makes your heart jump and your attention is drawn to the monitor that is now flashing red and has words you can understand. Incoming call.

“Perfect timing,” Tony mumbles before hitting the enter button on the keyboard, answering the call. A loud, staticky crackling sound pierces your ears at first and you wince alongside Tony who’s practically cringing away from the sound. The crackling fades away to a light static sound before a voice comes through the monitor.

“What does my brother want now?”

You’re surprised at the voice. You had never heard Loki talk and his voice is surprisingly smooth – much smoother than Thor’s. He doesn’t sound like a villain.

“We have a special guest who is very eager to meet you!” Tony cheers with fake enthusiasm and you frown, not sure if Loki’s going to be all too happy with his enemy taunting him. But surprisingly, he bites back.

“A guest so special they came through you? How exciting!” the sarcasm drips from the monitor and you almost want to laugh before remembering that this dude terrorizes New York on a daily.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I have someone from the Make a Wish foundation here,” Tony starts, and you hear what you presume to be a snort crackle through the speakers.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Loki asks, and before Tony can respond, you tap his shoulder gently, as if asking if you have permission to talk. He nods and you swallow thickly, your hands beginning to shake.

“There’s a little boy in a hospital right now who would love to meet you,” you pause waiting for some sort of evil comment. “He really idolizes you –”

“A terrible idea, really,” you hear Loki’s voice puncture through your sentence and a snort slips from you before you can control it. Who knew that Loki Laufeyson had humor?

“I was just wondering if somehow we could work something out for a visit? He’s in his last stages, so he doesn’t have very long,” you chew on your lip as you finish your anti-climatic speech to the literal God. You only get more nervous as the second tick on, feeling as if it’s been an eternity since you fell silent.

“This child can die happier without knowing me,” his words cut through you like a knife and before you can respond or plead for his assistance, the line goes dead and you freeze, your mouth open wide. At this point, you didn’t care about your job, but you sure as hell cared about this kid.

You groaned – loudly, staring at the now-blank screen. What were you to do now? Go back and tell this kid ‘hey Danny, what’s up, so you’re probably going to die without meeting your idol, sorry!’? You dragged a hand down your face, cursing the dumb villain that is too sure of himself and prideful to do anything for a dying kid.

Tony swivels in the chair, offering a sympathetic look towards you. You only smile weakly as reassurance before a loud clanging sounds from outside the room.

“Dammit, Bucky and Sam can’t work together to save their lives,” Tony mutters before racing out of the room to somehow stop a quarrel. You stand silently for a minute, surveying the room as your mind reels over the recent events.

Your eyes land on the keyboard, noticing a manila folder placed underneath it, as if a cheat sheet in a test. You hadn’t noticed it before so Tony must have put the folder there. You peer at the doorway, holding your breath as you wait for the Avenger to come back in, but he doesn’t, and the loud sounds are still erupting from the kitchen. You tiptoe over to the folder, gently scooting the keyboard off it. Your eyes widen a fraction when reading the name of the folder.

Laufeyson, Loki

You hesitate, your fingers tracing the small bends and creases in the folders as if it were ages old. You pry open the front, your eyes trained on the folder. In it are news reports, criminal records, and details of some of the encounters with the villain. You’re just about to shut it closed when a bright orange tab catches your attention. You flip the papers to the orange tab, shock filling you. There’s an address.

And it’s Loki’s.

You wave your goodbyes to the few Avengers, assuring that you would be able to navigate on your own, and thanking Tony and Thor for their hospitality. You actually cringe once you meet Steve’s gaze that holds a petrifying look, but you just escape into the elevator, giving an unsure smile.

You’re finally able to breathe in the elevator, your head pounding from the number of experiences you had gone through today. You had met with some of the Avengers, stole and ate snacks with Tony Stark, and contacted a Supervillain. Oh, and you also stole the address out of the file, but no worries. You may just get tracked down by a gang of superheroes and find yourself eternally imprisoned.

Why do they have his address, yet they don’t attack? You shake your head of the irrelevant thoughts. All that matters is this kid.

You meet Helda’s gaze as you step from the elevator, and somehow it makes you curl into yourself and reminds you that your clothes are still damp from the torrential downpour. You glance through the windows that are black and spotted with raindrops, your steps uneasy as you approach the doors that lead outside. You give one last look to Helda before pushing out into the rain.

You’re immediately met with burning cold rain that tears down your face and clothes, prompting you to shiver through the walk. You glance occasionally at the small post-it note that has begun to get ruined by the rain, the ink smearing slightly. You tuck it into your hands, hoping to keep it as dry as possible.

When you arrive at your intended destination, it’s well past ten and the sky has retreated its attack, only leaving a small drizzle in its place. You glance from the paper to the house, your brows furrowing. This was the right address. Loki lives in this?

It was a large, modern-style home with black doors and polished, white rock that made up the body of the building. Large, opaque windows stood ominously encasing the black doors. You gulped.

Well, Loki sure did have a flair for design apparently.

Your nerves begin to overtake you, anxiety springing through your bones like lava. Your hands are trembling, and you can’t tell if it’s from the damp clothes that are still on your back or if it’s from the prospect of coming face to face with the most feared dude in New York. You bit your lip.

You cautiously approached the door, knocking twice on the doors that now seemed much larger than when you surveyed them from across the street. You waited patiently, your eyes catching sight of a small and hidden camera in a crevice, the camera facing you. You narrowed your eyes at it before looking back to the house and knocking again. When you were once again met with only silence, you rolled your eyes, stepping up to the camera. You hoped this thing had a mic on it.

“Hey, uh,” you pause, not knowing what to say. Improv is obviously not exactly your forte. “I spoke with you over the weird communication thing with Tony. I know this is probably really weird and kind of imposing, but I really cannot have this kid let down. I am totally willing to let you kill me if it means this kid gets everything. Oh, and no Avengers are with me. Most of them didn’t seem all too happy with me anyways.” You glance back at the door, waiting a few moments for a response. You’re just about to give up when you hear a crackling sound.

“Ah, so this is the brave little girl who spoke to me on the phone. How delightful to see you for once,” you hear his smooth voice even over the crackling of an intercom and you think you’re about to pee yourself. You swallow your nerves.

“Listen, buddy, don’t think you’re slick by escaping me on the phone call earlier. I really, really just need a moment to speak with you. It won’t take long unless you’re down to let me camp out on your porch,” you call out and you sense a hesitation in his response.

“My, my, how mouthy you are. That mouth is in desperate need for discipline.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice and your jaw drops. Did he really just insinuate that? You stand in shock, not able to process what he just said.

“I beg your pardon?” you ask incredulously.

“Oh, dear. You have much to learn,” he almost mocks and your stomach churns at the sound of his voice. You’re just about to lay one on his camera when a small chime rips your focus back to the door where it’s now swinging wide open.

You give one last look to the camera before stepping through the threshold, squinting your eyes in the darkness to make out details of the house. Two winding staircases meet at a second floor, a small table with a white orchid poised between the two of them. Further back you can see a sitting area, but for now, it mainly rests obscured from creeping eyes by darkness. You’re just about to start exploring for yourself whenever you hear footsteps approaching from above.

You glance up to find the Loki Laufeyson carelessly strutting down the stairs.

“You’re much more enticing when you’re not dripping on my floors like a wet dog,” Loki bites and you look down to see that you have indeed made a puddle around yourself and a small trail of water from the door. Your nerves hit you like a brick and suddenly you feel like fainting.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Such a submissive thing. Shielding when one hint of criticism is thrown your way,” Loki taunts and your eyes narrow at the villain, forgetting that he could very well kill you right now.

“No, I just happen to have respect for housing and nice floors,” you snap and surprisingly, Loki’s smirk is soon replaced by what seems to be an amused smile before it quickly fades.

“Are you here to plead to me about your insufferable cause?” Loki asks, making his tone very dramatically exasperated and you roll your eyes at the notion. You freeze, realizing you just rolled your eyes at a notorious criminal.

Jesus Christ, I’m such an idiot. I’m going to die. Yep. It’s been awful, bye world, you think. You manage to find your voice through all of your anxiety.

“Yes, and by the way, it’s hardly insufferable for you. I’ve lost my dignity multiple times today. I was almost detained by a woman named Helda; can you imagine how humiliating that would have been?” you babble, not noticing the way Loki seems to be scrutinizing you until you stop. You wish you were smaller. Loki’s facial details were hidden to you by the shadow that lurked over him, making all that you could see of him a lean and muscular body.

“I do believe you have no clue what this entails in terms of my appearance,” Loki patronizes, and you press your lips together, awaiting his next words. “First, the hospital will go under complete lockdown. Then, the police will arrive, and Odin knows that when that happens, the SWAT team arrives. Then your precious friends. I’m not particularly fond of searching for chaos.” You crinkle your nose in confusion.

“Aren’t you the God of Chaos?” Loki sighs deeply before rolling his eyes.

“While I do like chaos, chaos usually finds me, not the other way around,” Loki concludes, and you look away. Weirdo.

“Alrighty, bud. Aren’t you the most powerful guy in New York? Like isn’t that enough to go to the hospital? I’ll make sure no law enforcement reaches you, but I can’t promise for the Avengers,” you sassed. You realized a second too late that it’s probably not good to feed into his ego, but he only gave a small smirk.

“I may consider this pathetic deal of yours, but I need something in return,” he says and raises an eyebrow. Your face distorts in disgust.

“Uh, if you’re into sex stuff, I’m probably the last person you should ask-”

“What? No. You’re not my taste,” Loki says, startled, scanning your figure with his eyes and you become hyper-aware of the dampness of your clothes once again. Your face flushes a bright red and you attempt to cough the awkwardness away.

“I guess you get attention out of it.”

“I get attention all the time,” Loki deadpans and you flush even redder – if possible.

“It’s good attention. Someone who genuinely thinks you’re super cool,” you try to remember the marketing class you took in college, attempting to throw random rhetoric strategies in your words.

“I do hope you realize I get far enough of good attention too,” Loki lowers his voice, smiling suggestively at you, and you have to restrain yourself from gagging.

“Fine, what do you want?” you ask, exasperated. For a moment, Loki seems caught off-guard, hesitating in the slightest before his lips curl into a smile that eerily resembles a sneer. Sheesh. Pretty teeth, though.

“For you to work for me.”

“No,” you say quickly, your facial expression only showing bewilderment and disgust.

“Ah, that’s too bad,” he hums. “You could have gotten your precious boy a visit.” You almost waiver at his bargaining, but you bite back.

“You’re scared? And that’s why you’re escaping this?” you ask, making sure your eyebrows were raised for an extra effect.

“No-”

“You must be. And let me tell you,” you take a threatening step forwards, the god following you with his eyes, “I sure as hell know how to make this a lot scarier. So, I suggest that you concede to me and we be done with it.” By the end of your little escapade, you feel your hands trembling, hoping that Loki doesn’t notice. But Loki only cracks a smile.

“My, my, you are far fiercer than I initially believed. You have quite a bit of fire in you, little one,” Loki says, his eyes sweeping over you once again as you huff, attempting to stand taller.

Why am I even trying? This dude could probably kill me with his eyes. Whatever. Girl power, am I right? Black Widow would be proud.

“I thought you already had shitty morals, but this is even lower. He’s a child for god’s sake. Can you extend any sort of kindness? At all?” you almost plead, realizing that pleading like this was most likely going to be the best way to convince him. Let him know he had the upper hand.

“Kindness is not in my nature.”

“But mischief is, and I promise you, this will take a lot of mischief,” you say, watching as his eyebrows draw together to study you. You attempt to smile, but you’re sure your lips just pull into an uncomfortable, thin line.

“Why do you care so much?” Loki asks and you stand for a moment, unsure of what to say. Why did you care so much? Why did you even come here, in the face of one of the most dangerous criminals, to plead with him for a kid? You didn’t know, so you let your mouth run away from you, hoping that will be the best way to a truth.

“I don’t have a lot of time in my life like you do, and I guess it’s human need to leave an impression. Plus I love the kid; he’s super funny,” you conclude, your shoulders slightly relaxing from some unknown tension. Loki hums.

“Human nature is a repulsive and disgusting thing. You mere mortals usually end up tearing yourselves apart,” Loki decides to say before abruptly turning back into his monstrosity of a house.

You stand in shock at first before he turns around, waving you forward. You stumble to keep up with his steps, his long legs taking impossibly long strides. Damn him and his long legs.

“However, although you are quite persistent and annoying, you are far more intriguing than most mortals I have met,” Loki speaks over his shoulder, and you glare at his back, wishing you could pierce holes through him with laser eyes. Screw being a villain, he was an annoying ass. You huff, following him through winding hallways, a thought popping into your head.

What if he’s leading me to my death? What if he’s trying to kill me? Oh, god. I guess I deserve it.

You almost sigh in relief when he leads you to an open and covered balcony. You study him, careful to make sure the psychopath isn’t looking.

He’s attractive. Dammit! You are not supposed to find him attractive! He’s a villain! He could kill you in an instant.

You feel the ever-constant, ironic want of death rise in your stomach, wishing to erase those thoughts from your memory. You glanced at yourself, horrified that you even began to think any such thoughts of the villain. It’s over for you if you find out you’re somehow attracted to criminals and psychopaths.

Do they have standards? you wonder.

You’re caught red-handed as you look back up to the villain, who’s watching you with a bewildered look.

Oh great, he probably thinks I’m a lunatic now. I guess they do have standards.

“Why did you take us out here?” you ask, just as the cold begins to seep into your clothes, giving you a bitter reminder of what your day had entailed. Loki glances back to the door – which he’s thankfully left open (for needs of escape, of course) – and reverts his gaze back to you as if thinking that he couldn’t trust you. Haha, buddy. Very funny. You’re the villain here, Mr. Bad Guy.

“There are prying eyes everywhere, fierce one. In this storm, no one can hear us,” Loki says, this time his tone isn’t biting or sarcastic as usual. He’s serious and for some reason, that makes your stomach feel very unsettled.

You turn to survey the balcony. It was only what you could call enormous. There were occasional sitting areas and plants, leaves blowing in the wind. There was a firepit across the balcony and you wished you could somehow cuddle up next to a raging fire and fall asleep, warm and dry. You still shivered.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, apprehensively. You swear you almost felt faint when he chuckled.

“No, mortal, I have no needs or intentions to do so. You are not a threat to me, and nor am I to you,” Loki said, an amused smile on his lips. You almost felt comfort in his words. Almost.

“You’re the God of Lies; how can I trust you?” you ask, biting your lip again. He only cracks a bigger smile.

“Although I am the God of Lies, I don’t lie when I need to. What motivations do I have to kill you?” he asks, arching a teasing brow. Wow, his brows are nice. Ugh. This is so bad.

You think for a moment, trying to come up with some plausible reason that the bad guy in front of you would kill you. Your eyes narrow as you pick out a few reasons.

“I’m annoying you, plus, you get off on watching people die,” you state, pointing a finger at his chest before turning a dark shade of red and retracting your finger. Loki only quirks a brow, as if asking ‘Is that the best you can do?’.

“I happen to not find satisfaction in death. If I need remind you, I am the God of Chaos. I get off on chaos,” he says, and you furrow your brows. Uh-huh, sure buddy.

“Chaos makes people die, so, it’s basically the same thing,” you point out, thinking you have him in a corner, but he only laughs.

“Darling, we could debate all day about this, but unfortunately it is quite late, and I do want a good night’s sleep,” Loki responds, and you shiver at the nickname.

“I’m not your ‘Darling’,” you drawl, glaring at the God, but he pretends to not notice as he takes a seat on a nearby couch. You stiffly follow him, plopping into the seat across from him. Surprisingly, the seat cushions are warm and dry, contrary to the storm that seems to be picking up again. You curl into them.

“So, do tell, who is this boy?” Loki asks and you respond, filling him in on Danny – the one, who for some reason, loves Loki. Loki only seems to become more and more intrigued by each word, and soon it feels like he’s staring through your soul. You shift, unsettled by his stare.

By the end of your little biography of Danny and occasional, thrown in rhetoric devices, you blush, realizing you were taking quite a long time to explain it all. However, Loki doesn’t seem to mind as he leans back against the couch, his finger absentmindedly rubbing his chin in thought. He still studies you, yet this time is less intense, and for that, you’re relieved.

“Do you trust me?” he asks out of the blue, and you stare at him as if he lost a head.

“Of course not,” you respond, watching his mouth pick up the signature smirk that’s starting to annoy you.

“Clever girl, now, about the boy. Where is he located? We must plan this soon, for time is of the essence of you pathetic mortals.”

—

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