#he is approaching my location at rapid speeds

[yanderespamton78]

its so weird watching tadc again after spending so much time listening to the background music by itself, because you suddenly notice it so much more. it feels kinda surreal hearing these tracks when i didnt hear anything before

[initial-lime]

Heads up guys, I actually refuse to keep making normal drawings in normal poses/situation, you get like. Maybe 1 or 2 more before I just go off the fucking deep end.

Jon is about to be in much worse situations than just “falling over”

(Q)

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Rot: Patient Zero

An infection is spreading across all of Cybertron and not a spark knows what is going on. Ratchet has been called upon to inspect patient zero to try and find the cause of all this. It ends as well as one might expect.

This is a little gift for my dear friend @spreadwardiard and their fantastic fic The Rot.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where is the patient?” The datapad in Ratchet’s servo cracked as he clutched it a little too tightly. He cursed softly and strode forward with greater speed, First Aid scurrying alongside him.

“We have found several infected patients, but the one we are going to is in the far room, the most secure part of the facility.” First Aid supplied with a hint of worry in his voice. Ratchet hummed and looked over the datapad again. 

Hundreds of reports of a strange virus infecting the lower levels had begun to spread like a wildfire. Every few kliks there was another ping and yet another designation added to the growing list of those infected with the virus. This was an outbreak, and it was growing worse at rapid speed. Ratchet had already given the order to close off the upper regions of Iacon, but the middle and lower levels were being overtaken by whatever this was.

They needed to understand it and find a cure fast. There had been no casualties yet, but Ratchet had seen the Rust Plague. He knew how quickly something so simple as a mere respiratory malfunction could turn deadly. 

“We believe this is patient zero, correct?” Ratchet inquired as he passed by several holding cells where infected individuals were pacing mindlessly. Looking over them briefly, they seemed… lost. Their optics were hazy and their movements disjointed. Most were mumbling about nonsense, but there was a common theme that left a worrying fear nagging at the back of Ratchet’s mind.

“Hungry… need… energon.” Ratchet grimaced slightly as he passed by a particularly delirious patient. The mech was leaking oral fluids, seemingly without any care whatsoever. His frame seemed gaunt, almost emaciated. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes, the patient we are going to meet is indeed the one we believe to be the original carrier of the virus. He was at a bar at the time and the infection has spread from that location since. And while we do have enforcers down there trying to keep things in order-” First Aid fidgeted and stepped back hastily as one patient flew against the bars separating him from the hall. The patient’s face was the embodiment of madness, and his expression was lopsided, almost as though he’d had a spark attack and was still recovering.

“What do we know so far? What are the symptoms?” The mech gurgled worryingly as Ratchet grabbed First Aid by the arm and pushed on. First Aid stumbled for a moment before replying. Ratchet took care to not look at any of the patients in the optic directly. He hated keeping patients behind bars, but they were too dangerous to be interacted with. 

“Severe hunger, madness, disorientation, mobility loss, and in the most severe cases, plating loss. It seems to be a degenerative virus that weakens the frame over time.” Ratchet nodded and passed First Aid the datapad as they approached a door. It was thick, black proof based on the structure of it. A wise place to keep patient zero.

“Give me a hazmat suit. I am not going in there just to catch whatever this is.” First Aid was quick to follow the given order and collected a suit from the nearby lockers. Within a klik, his apprentice was back by his side with the materials. Ratchet always hated the suites, but they were useful despite their appearance.

Neon green boots and leg coverings slid on first, kept in place by straps that were fitted over his shoulders. They dug into his seams, but with the covers coming up to his mid waist, there would be no risk of fluid getting near his exposed cabling or plating. Next came the gown with First Aid had to get a stool to help Ratchet get into. The thing was also disgustingly bright green and it fell over his helm without issue. Getting his arms into the sleeves was a nightmare with his arm guards, but he managed. 

Gloves were strapped onto his wrists with tight bindings and the cuffs of his sleeves were tucked into the gloves just to be safe. As if he didn’t look ridiculous enough, the helm piece of the whole suit was quickly put into place. It was a relatively simple design. A draping helm cover fell down from his helm to his shoulders, held in place by straps under his chin. Then to top it all off, a cone shaped, almost beak like visor was slipped into place and locked on. The thing was almost entirely air tight, but there was plenty of room around his intake and optics so that he could run his air filtration systems without issue.

He looked like a hot mess, but he was ready. The bright purple mark of the medic stood proudly on his chest as he gestured for First Aid to step away and made his way through the door into patient zero’s containment chamber. 

“You are… Springstep, correct?” Ratchet called out, his voice coming out somewhat staticy through the communicator built into his mask. The mech in front of him had his arms bound behind his back, a safety measure to ensure he didn’t hurt himself or any staff. If they were doing things properly or if they had more time, the mech would have been given better accommodations.

As it was, patient zero was simply too dangerous to be handled properly.

“Yes? You are… a doctor?” The mech questioned, his optics hazy and uncertain as he looked Ratchet up and down. Ratchet made a noise of affirmation and edged closer to examine the mech. 

“I am. My designation is Ratchet.” Cautiously Ratchet shuffled forward until he was about a foot away from the mech. Springstep looked terrible just from a quick physical glance over. His complexion was awful, his facial protoform sunken in enough that it seemed as though it was stretched too thin. His frame was boney, his hips jutting out awkwardly almost as if he hadn’t had a decent fueling in stellar cycles. 

According to his files, he had been perfectly healthy up until about three cycles ago. Such rapid loss of mass was highly concerning. Perhaps it was a parasite? That would account for the lack of nutrients in the patient. However, it did not rationalize why the virus was spreading so rapidly. 

“Tell me how you are feeling and when your symptoms began to show themselves.” Ratchet ordered as he dutifully began running scans from a safe distance. Springstep was startlingly low on fuel. His systems were resorting to consumption of excess mass in order to keep functioning. There was no way a mech who was perfectly healthy mere cycles prior should have been suffering from third degree energon deficiency. 

“Rotted… broken… my insides burn… my processor… all foggy… started down at the docks.” Springstep attempted to speak, but his glyphs were broken and disjointed. Ratchet grimaced beneath his mask. This mech wasn’t going to make it. Such severe speech impediments combined with his frame’s state did not speak positively of his chances of survival. 

“Where by the docks did you encounter this virus? Do you know?” Ratchet continued his line of questioning even as he began sending pings back to the other medics outside. 

[[Lock down the lower levels entirely. Priority individuals and essential workers are to be moved to the upper levels and secured immediately. Begin administration of hazmat suit instruction to all medical personnel. Not a spark is to be seen without a suit from this point onward.]]

“Don’t… know…” Springstep trailed off and Ratchet frowned. This was just like the Rust Plague, and yet so much worse all at the same time. The virus was spreading just as fast, but the effects were worse, or rather more intense. The rust killed a mech slowly through corroding their insides. Whatever this was worked at an  accelerated rate and with incredible efficiency. It hadn’t even been three cycles and already patient zero was going to drop dead.

A lockdown was the bare minimum.

“Thank you Springstep. I will have one of my associates administer a sedative to help ease the pain-” Ratchet trailed off as Springstep lurched forward, his frame heaving as he purged green goo onto the ground. Springstep’s optics widened and cycled rapidly as he struggled. Ratchet knew that look, it was a sign of madness, the swift clarity before death that faded away into insanity. 

He didn’t hesitate to turn around and run.

Time seemed to slow as he crashed into the door, hurriedly trying to punch in the code to exit as Springstep growled like a wild animal and snapped his restraints. Energon rushed from the mech’s wounds, but he was rapid as he skidded forward, no intelligence remaining in his gaze.

“STAY BACK!” Ratchet lifted an arm just in time for Springstep to collide with him. The mech’s jaw clamped down tight on his arm, denta digging deep and tearing through protective plastic sheeting. Ratchet winced as pinpricks of pain shot up his arm from where Springstep’s denta had dug into him. But he did not waste another moment in kicking Springstep to the ground and rushing through the door as it opened.

He couldn’t use his servos to hurt a patient, but no one said anything about his pedes. 

“Sir! Are you alright!?” First Aid hurried forward, a welder in his servo. He was quick to begin welding the minor cut closed, and Ratchet allowed it. Once his apprentice was done, Ratchet sighed and pulled off his mask.

“I will be fine, but this is far worse than I thought. My orders still stand, but I want every sparkling in upper Iacon put in stasis for the time being. They won’t last more than thirty kliks under this virus.” First Aid nodded and began taking notes, but Ratchet did not wait around. His frame suddenly ached with exhaustion which he chalked up to having to beat a patient into the ground on short notice. It had been a long cycle of handling the situation. He needed rest. There wasn’t much he could do until his orders were implemented anyway.

[[This is a direct order from the CMO of Cybertron. The situation has been deemed a medical emergency for all of Cybertron. From now until the situation is dealt with, medical orders take precedence over all others. Comply or be removed from major cities effective immediately.]] 

He groaned as his message was sent out to every mech of importance in Iacon. His helm pounded and he found he didn’t have the will to make the long march back to his hab. He had a work office nearby. He would stop by there and take a nap as he’d done plenty of times before.

“By the Allspark, this is bad.” He murmured as he arrived at his office and stepped inside. He hadn’t even bothered to remove the suit. His limbs felt like lead and his helm pounded so much that he could hardly see straight. This wasn’t good. 

The bite on his arm burned and his very frame felt as though it were struggling to keep functioning. He hardly had enough time to close the door behind him before he fell to the ground, spark deep exhaustion pulling at him along with bursts of pain he couldn’t fight. 

His optics flickered and he weakly tried to move, to do anything. His limbs would not obey him, and as he lay on the hard ground heaving, he wanted to curse. He should have known better than to march off as soon as he’d interacted with a patient. At the time he had just been so very- -tired.

[selfixsworld]

I´m bored...

so i´ll give some ideas for quirks for BNHA DRs or OC:

Script Template: @/mx.levias on TikTok — linktree (NOT MY SCRIPT)

VAMPERY:

Quirk Inspired By: Bats (Mammalian Animals) and Vampires (folklore of East Europe)

¦ ⌈Quirk Type⌉ ⩵ Transformation

APPLICATIONS:

Enhanced Condition

Limb Regrowth

Enhanced Bite

Enhanced Vision

Night Vision

Fear Inducement

Wing Disguise

Claw Retracion

Echolocation

Blindsight

Enhanced Hearing

Radar

Pain Suppression

Healing Blood

Invisibility Awareness

Night Empowerment

Wing Blades

Wing Barriers

Pointed Ears

Vertical Pupils

Night Empowerment

Fang Retraction

Blood Flow Vision

Blood Empowerment

Special Moves:

¦ ⌈Echo Pulse⌉ == Using echolocation, the user emits a sonic pulse that reveals the location of all nearby enemies and disorients those within the area of ​​effect.

¦ ⌈Fear Mirage⌉ == The user induces a state of extreme fear in their enemies, causing them to view the user as their worst nightmare. This can temporarily paralyze opponents and cause confusion.

¦ ⌈Winged Assault⌉ == The user performs a rapid aerial attack, using their wings as blades to slice through multiple enemies in a single motion. This technique is extremely effective in high-speed combat.

¦ ⌈Dark Vision⌉ ==The user combines his night vision, enhanced vision, and bloodstream vision to detect and track enemies even in complete darkness and through thin walls. This ability is extremely useful for espionage and planning strategic attacks.

¦ ⌈Blood Bond⌉ == By sharing their healing blood with an ally, the user not only heals their wounds, but also creates a temporary mental link, allowing them to communicate telepathically and better coordinate their movements in battle.

¦ ⌈Silent Stalker⌉ == The user suppresses all sounds and scents he makes, becoming a silent hunter who can approach his enemies without being detected. This move is ideal for ambushes and surprise attacks.

Backlash:

Uncontrollable Bloodlust: The user may experience uncontrollable bloodlust after using their abilities, which may lead them to attack allies or innocents unintentionally.

Exposure to Fire Weakness: While not a direct weakness of the Quirk, vulnerability to sunlight can extend to an extreme weakness to fire, which can cause serious or even fatal damage to the user.

Regeneration Side Effects: Rapid regeneration can cause extreme pain or an intense burning sensation, affecting the user's concentration and performance in combat.

[acapelladitty]

Whole Day Off: The Betrayal

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Reader (5.5k)

Warnings: physical assault, mentions of sexual abuse, restraints, injections, hallucinations, rampant misogyny.

Summary: An unexpected arrival within the basement sets off a chain reaction that may prove difficult for Crane and his Witty Girl to come back from.

The promise of dinner saw you moving at an embarrassing speed as you locate your various bits of discarded outer clothing which lay scattered across the basement. A snappy trip to the bathroom paired with some wet wipes had cleaned you up well enough to be presentable and you pull on your spare skirt and shirt combo with little effort; their time spent folded within your bag making them more crumpled than you would have liked.

Not that it matters, given the situation, but it was still nice to try and look somewhat decent.

Wearing dark slacks and a pale blue shirt, Crane looks much more put together than yourself and you offer him a vague smile as he watches you get changed into your outfit. A girlish joy is tapping at your thoughts as you relish in the idea of going to dinner with him in a more public space. Sharing a meal was an intimate thing and something which you had not yet broached outside of the odd snack which only served to keep your combined energy levels up for your games.

“What kind of food do they serve there? Just so I know what to expect.” You ask, tucking your shirt into the hem of your skirt neatly.

“They advertise themselves as Italian but I think the Italian community would contest that.” Comes his easy reply, the words as dry as ever as his eyes continue to follow your movements.

“I’ll avoid the pasta then.”

“Probably for the best.”

As you finish fixing the last few buttons on your shirt, a vague rumble announces the arrival of some kind of vehicle overhead and you both pause to look up at the ceiling.

“Is that a car?”

Instead of an answer, Crane’s eyes narrow at the sound before growing wide as some kind of recollection comes to his senses.

Quick as whip, he is on you and his hands wrap around your shoulders as he pushes you towards the dentist chair which is bolted to the ground and serves as his main area for experiments. Squeaking at the unexpected motion, you almost trip but catch your feet at the last moment.

“What’s going on?” A panicked ask as you drop to the chair, remaining in place as he strides away from you without answering.

Pulling a clean handkerchief from the top drawer of his work desk, he reappears quickly, and his hands move skilfully as he forces the fabric between your lips and ties it off at the back- essentially creating a simple gag to prevent you from speaking.

It creates a jolt within your chest that only increases as he begins to strap you into the chair. Struggling for only a moment against the attempt at restraints, his hand is firm against your chest as he pins you into place and meets your gaze directly.

Something approaching uncertainty clouds his gaze and that alone is enough to make a genuine anxiety snap at your senses.

“Be smart, witty girl.” He growls. “We will soon have a guest and I need that brain of yours on top form. Follow my lead.”

The words are a stark warning, and they shock you into a simple nod as you swallow around the fabric gag and allow him to finish strapping you in; your wrists and stomach locked into place by thick padded straps that allowed no movement. He did, however, leave the leg straps free and you place it down to him being limited in time.

Crane continues with his rapid pace as he hotfoots it to the mannequin which holds his costume before snatching free his Scarecrow mask and pulling it overhead just as the metal door to the basement slams open with obvious purpose.

Your expression is blank as you watch Roman Sionis descend the stairs of the basement with the airs of a man who thought he owned the place. His white suit, familiar due to his regular appearances on Gotham news sites and papers, is as impeccable as could be and so finely tailored that it screamed its expense. The black mask which adorned his face is twisted in such a way that you can feel how unimpressed he is with the meagre state of the basement as he moves carefully to keep any grime at bay.

“Scarecrow!” He calls out with a casual ease. “I have your chemicals. Do you have a little something something ready for me in return?”

“Good evening, Sionis.” Crane greets, the words vaguely modulated by his mask. “And yes, I have your documents waiting and ready to be exchanged.”

Reaching the base of the stairs, Sionis pauses to survey the room and you watch his eyes expand slightly as he glances over your prone body before moving on. With a purposeful stride, he moves towards Crane’s work desk and drops the briefcase in his hand on the wooden table with a loud thunk.

“As promised.”

“If you open the drawer to the left and take the manila envelope you will find that everything you need is in there.”

Sionis follows the instructions and pulls free his prize. Flicking through it with a thoroughly pleased look, he glances up for only a moment to secure his gaze on Crane.

“It makes me nervous when you wear that, you know. Makes me think that I should take the safety off my guns in case there’s any little gas-filled surprises waiting for me.”

“You have nothing to fear at the moment. It would be foolish to betray you over something as asinine as a case of chemicals.”

“True, but still, if you’re concerned about the company,” a shiver runs across your skin as Sionis openly acknowledges you with a waved hand, “then I’m sure we could convince your little friend here to keep her mouth shut.”

Crane’s spindly fingers rise to his mask as he pulls it free to reveal a nonchalant expression. Following Sionis’ movements, he drops the mask to the desk so that it lays atop the briefcase before turning to face him once more.

“Present company should be ignored. She is no concern to either of us and her fate is sealed.”

Ah, so this was his game.

A sliver of relief pierces your concern, and you widen your eyes and thrash your head a little to play up to the part he needs you to play.

A perfect little victim.

Sionis moves like a serpent as he slips past Crane and comes to stand before you instead.

“Who is she?”

“No idea. I found her walking along the docks earlier this evening. A simple thing, she followed me down here without too much persuasion.”

“Looks like a whore.” Sionis hums and you swallow the insult down with only a little hurt.

“Possibly. The profession does seem to be attracted to this part of the city. Particularly since Zsasz started hunting for prey down in the Bowrey.”

“She’s not an addict though. Too pretty and put together. Maybe she’s new in town and doesn’t know the lay of the land? Probably had a little fallout with daddy and decided to try her luck in another city. That’s how they usually do it.”

Disgust welling within your chest, your eyes flick between the two men quickly, anxiety making your teeth gnaw roughly at the edge of the fabric gag between your lips.

“If you say so.”

Remaining as stoic as ever, the lack of genuine expression on Crane’s face soothes some small part of you; the part which is hoping that his absence of bite is to placate Sionis and mothing more.

Maybe he’s tired of you.

This would be a perfect opportunity to free himself.

“It’s a shame that you fell into the Scarecrow’s hands, sweetheart. I’d have loved to play more with that soft little body I can see peeking out from under those clothes. I would have treated you real nice too.”

Drawing your attention back to him, the open leer on Sionis’ features is punctuated by his hand ghosting over his crotch, the movement stoking your disgust to a new level and you cannot hide the look of revulsion which rolls across your face.

“Oh, she didn’t like that.” His laugh is unpleasant and familiarly sadistic in a terrible way. “This little bitch has some spirit left in her. I like it when they have a little bit of bite left, it makes breaking them in so much more fun.”

A subtle crack of his knuckle rings out as he presses his dark-gloved hands together.

“Bitches like that love to fight until there’s nothing left of them. And even when they’ve learned their lessons and give in they can always be taught to do better, to do as they’re told faster, to fuck exactly as their owner wants them to. Or the lessons start all over again.”

Sionis takes a step forward and instinct forces your head back against the headrest as horrible imagine, full of violence and cruelty inflicted without mercy, flit through your mind. He drops to one knee, maintaining eye-level with you as he speaks with an almost friendly tone, one which does not meet the vicious glee which radiates from his masked face.

“Maybe if you’re really nice, kitten, then the Scarecrow here will let you suck his cock to stay alive for an extra day or two. Would you do that for him? You look like you know your way around a man’s co-”

“Enough, Sionis.” Crane interjects lazily, the boredom lacing his tone clear. “I don’t play with my food.”

“Liar, You’re a bigger prick than any of us, Crane.” A pause. “Look here, you can see this bitch has been around the block a few times.”

His gloves are cool as they press against your cheek roughly, tilting your head to the side to expose more of your neck. The touch is repulsive and it takes every ounce of your self-control to not recoil from it.

“I know these kinda marks well, this bitch has been choked recently and I bet she liked it.” His hand disappears from your head with a playful flick. “Well, sweetheart? Nod for me to show that I’m right. Nod and tell us that you’re a whore who likes to be knocked around. We’re nice guys, we won’t judge.”

Your head remains stock still, eyes flicking to Crane who has the faintest furrow in his brow.

“Sionis.” The word rolls from his lips, the warning clear.

“Why bother pretending that you care what I say or do to the little bitch? She’ll end up on the slab like all the other ones. You might as well have some fun before that happens. It might loosen you up a bit.”

His hand appears before you once more and your breath hitches as it squeezes roughly at your left breast through your shirt.

Instinct takes over in a flash as you lash out with your unrestrained foot, the kick taking him by surprise as the bulk of your heel smashes off his clothed shin.

A hiss of pained surprise breaks free of his lips.

“Fucking whore!”

A sharp, sudden pain ricochets through your head as his gloved hand collides solidly with your left cheek and the quick movement makes bile rise in your throat as you swallow it down in panic. The shock of it stuns you for a moment as your vision swims dangerously and you rapidly blink away the fuzziness to see Sionis’ wrist gripped in Crane’s hand as he prevents a second blow.

“I will not warn you again, leave my subject alone.”

Crane’s voice is low, laced with danger, and the presence of it pairs with the adrenaline coursing through your system to make you feel light-headed.

“Stupid cunt kicked me.”

“And if you damage her then my experiment will be for nothing. I will not have days of research ruined for a petty act of violence.”

Snatching his hand free with a clear expression of rage, Sionis glares at you and you can feel the throb of your cheek as you stare back at him with a fearful defiance.

“I’ll give you 20 for her.”

“What?”

“20k. Cash. But only if you let me leave with her tonight before you fuck her mind up with that shit you like to inject them with.” Sionis explains, the black material of his lips twisted into a cruel smile. “It’s been a while since I had a fresh piece of bitch to play with and this one is pretty enough to keep me entertained for a while. Then, when the guys and I have broken her in fully she can be passed on. For a reasonable price, of course.”

A gloved hand snakes around your jaw once more, fingers digging in harshly to the fabric which is stretched across your cheek, and you snap your head away in a futile gesture as fresh panic makes your chest heave. Warm breath washes over your face and your wrists pull roughly at the restraints once more while you struggle in place.

“In fact, let me pull this gag off her and hear how pretty her screams are and I’ll make it up to 25k. Call it a favour between old friends.”

Eyes wide and vision blurring as tears threaten the edge of your vision, you focus past Sionis to land your sight on Crane as you silently beg him to help you, to pull this bastard off you or at least do something to help.

Anything.

You deserved that much.

“I will have to decline your generous offer. You’re not the only one who can see the value in a specimen who will not be missed by anyone. Her value to my research is high.”

Releasing you with a growl, Sionis takes a few steps back and Crane subtly slithers into the space he had just held, placing himself in the space between you both.

“You’ve lost your teeth, Crane.”

“As I said, I value my research above petty acts of violence, Sionis. Remember to whom you speak before I change my mind about our business.”

“To whom I speak, eh?” Roman hisses. “I tell you what then. I’ll give you 10k, right here and now, if you inject the bitch with that shit you produce. I want to hear her scream, one way or another.”

Silence rings throughout the basement and time seems to freeze as all present await Crane’s response.

“10k is agreeable.”

Shock washes over you like a dash of freezing water and your head snaps towards Crane’s position as a flurry of panicked thoughts filter through your head.

No.

This was just another part of his game.

He wouldn’t.

The fear which swirls in your chest as he turns his back to you and starts to do something at his work desk is intense, your wrists again pulling at the restraints which hold you in place in a way which is no longer an act on your part.

His feet sound heavy against the floor as he approaches you once more, filled syringe in his right hand, and you kick out at him roughly, unwilling to be a conspirator in your own betrayal.

“Bastard!” You scream at him, the word entirely muffled by the gag within your mouth.

He seems to understand though and a look of irritation tinged with something unreadable floods his gaze as he dodges your kicking legs to wrap a thin hand around your neck in a familiar grip. Again, time seems to freeze for a moment as you make one final incomprehensible plea.

Please, don’t. You beg with your expression as your breath hitches in your throat. Please.

His expression is unflinching as he holds your gaze and sinks the needle into your exposed neck, emptying the dose in one fluid gesture before pulling the syringe free and dropping it to the floor.

This was no hybrid toxin, that much was immediately clear as the delicious warmth which your previous experience with his toxin had afforded you was notably missing. Instead, a chill pierces your entire frame, spreading from the point of injection like a cancer as it sweeps through your bloodstream.

Your eyes land on Sionis and the sadistic joy within his gaze causes a sob to rise in your chest, the sound obscured by the gag as you instead glance to the ceiling. The shadows there seem to writhe and move, something dangerous lurking within them that you can’t see but you can feel it there, watching you, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Something scuttles up your arm and you scream into the gag as you glance down to see whatever nightmarish creature is dancing across you skin. However, as your panicked eyes dart around your vulnerable body you can see nothing there.

Hallucinations.

Crane’s voice reaches your ears but the words are muffled, almost like they were coming through an old radio, and your gaze flies to him as your body cowers away in position as a fresh scream is captured by the gag.

Crane is gone, replaced by some creature which is more teeth and claws than flesh. His mouth opens to showcase rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth which you can feel piercing your skin like a thousand tiny needles and the promise of the pain makes you recoil once more, your head tilting upwards as you slam your eyes shut.

The horrific visuals killed in the crib, you breathe out a stuttering sob as the aural hallucinations take hold of you. Tiny voices whispering promises of violence, of the fact that Crane had chosen to give you up to Sionis, of the things which both men would do to you now that you were defenceless.

Things which would make you wish that those men on the dock that night had killed you.

No! You scream within your head. He wouldn’t do that. He protec-

Once. He protected you once and now his patience has worn thin.

He enjoys me too much to kill me.

What you add to his life he can take from others.

That’s not true. I come to him willingly and he respects that. He helps me with work things too even whe-

He helps you because you fuck him. You amuse him like a pet.

He saved me from Tetch and killed those men.

You think his jealousy and bloodlust mean he cares? Silly mouse.

The use of the familiar petname is what breaks you and you feel the fat tears tickling your skin like an insect as they cascade along your cheeks.

The voice was right.

You meant nothing to him, save for being an amusement. A pretty bauble which he was just waiting for the right moment to break.

Whimpering into the gag, you lose yourself to the voices which seem determined to tear what remains of your bravado to shreds. Each wicked whisper punctuated by the ghostly sensation of hands on your body, every stroke cruel and threatening as they serve to deepen the chill which punctures your skin.

“The toxin will not kill her.”

Straining past the whispers, you can hear Crane speaking and his voice is closer to the modulated speech which filters through his mask.

“What a shame. For her. How many times will she get it while she’s down here?”

“The dosage depends on the individual. Some die after one dose, some take closer to four or five. Eventually the heart gives out due to the strain.”

“It’s a waste, Crane. I could have had use of her for much longer. She would have been great to break in and bring to heel.”

“Perhaps. Regardless, I have upheld my end of the bargain and our business here is done.”

“I’ll leave the cash by the briefcase. Your little bitch here has put me in the mood for some fun of my own, so I’ll leave you to yours.”

A sound, something like a grunt, answers him as your eyes remain clamped shut.

“See you in the obituaries, cunt.”

The words cut through the aural hallucinations like a knife and after a few moments you hear the vague slam of a metal door which signals that Sionis is gone.

And still you refuse to open your eyes.

You can hear Crane clattering around the basement as your hands ball into fists. Fear lances your heart as you wait for a final blow. Something to put you out of your misery, just as the voices promised.

It was not to come as a thin hand on your forearm makes you flinch in place, your head jerking to the side.

“This is an antidote. Stay still.”

As much as you hated him in that moment, the clinical voice possesses some comfort and you still your body as much as possible to allow him to manipulate you. Without making any further sound, you wince at the surprise of pain as he sinks the needle into your neck and administers the compound smoothly.

“This antidote was specifically curated for this particular toxin variant,” he mutters in the space above you, “so the effects should work almost instantaneously given that it was not a complete dose.”

As the antidote courses through your system, his hands move to undo the restraints which hold you in place; first focusing on the strap around your stomach before switching to the wrist straps and finishing with the gag which was now disgustingly damp with both tears and sweat.

Freed, you remain in place as you tentatively open your eyes.

His claims are true as you glance back at the threatening shadows only to find nothing within them. Head throbbing, a wave of nausea overtakes you and you jerk forward in one snappy movement as you reach around for something which you could vomit in.

Snatching up the small wastepaper bin which sits only a foot away from the chair, you bring it to your lips just as the bile which has been threatening you since Sionis’ appearance rises once again. You retch into the bin, the movement burning your chest like acid, and your throat convulses as you finish up and wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt.

Reclining once more, you focus on steadying your breathing as your shirt clings to your sweat-soaked skin with every slight movement until you feel ready to face him.

Tilting your head, your watery gaze meets his own and he has the gall to be standing before you with his arms crossing his chest.

“What do you feel?”

Moving with a speed which only serves to make the pounding of your head increase, you fly from the chair as your hands land on his chest in a glancing blow. Unfortunately, the quick dart proves too much for you and you fall past him to your knees; the hard ground hitting you like a truck as you flinch in pain.

“Bastard!” You throw at him, your head facing the floor to offset the dizziness. “You snake bastard.”

“The meeting with Sionis had slipped my mind and I had to act in the moment.”

His arm wraps around your waist and lifts you to your feet, setting you steadily to a standing position as he peers deeply into your face, searching for any signs of lingering toxin effect.

Adrenaline powers you, your body shaking like a leaf as you push yourself away from his chest and stand your ground against him; fear giving way to an anger which boils in your chest, just waiting to scald the first thing it came into contact with.

“Act in the moment?” You spit the words with venom. “By injecting me with your toxin? Letting Sionis hit me in the face? Grope me like-”

At the final statement, your words waver dangerously and you bite back the lump which forms in your throat as you cut yourself off.

Anger, honest in its intent, flashes in Crane’s face as his lips curl back into a snarl.

“I never thought that he would be so bold. Once his intentions were clear I intervened and prevented any further harm. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I liked seeing his hands on you.”

“Why? Because I’m yours? You don’t give a shit that he hurt me, you just care that he touched something that you think belongs to you.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice is flat, any previous emotion stripped from it in an instant.

“Ten thousand. That’s what my loyalty to you was worth.” You accuse with a shaky finger. “You sold me out for money.”

“It was not a full dose. I’m no fool.”

Hot rage floods you at the reasoning as you realise that an apology is not forthcoming.

He did what he had to, and he wasn’t sorry.

Not for any of it.

“You knew I hadn’t eaten. You know what we did earlier. A reduced dose, sure, I’ll believe that. But you knew that I wasn’t in a position to fight against it. Hell, you were even taking me to dinner because you knew that my body was worn out.”

Crane stands like a statue, his expression as blank as ever even as his eyes flash dangerously. He’s coiled like a snake and ready to lash out but you are too blinded by your feelings to care.

Bundling the hem of your shirt in your hands, a sudden wave of melancholy envelops you and it guts you from the inside out.

“I would have given you it. The toxin. After all that shit with Tetch and those thugs,” you pause as a fresh shudder washes over you,” I would have let you do it. Tie me down and inject me with a real dose of toxin. No pheromones. No gimmicks. That’s how fucking stupid I am. That’s how much I trusted that you wouldn’t hurt me to the point where I would break.”

At the confession, you glance at him but his expression remains empty save for a slight twitch in his jaw.

“But you took that from me. You took something that I would have given you. And you did it to save face with a rapist. One of your old friends.”

“Sionis is no friend of m-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“My options in the moment were limite-”

Again, you cut him off.

“You agreed!” The words come out shrill and fresh pain stabs at your head. “Sionis didn’t even demand it. 10k and you accepted it with a smile.”

“He was asking too many questions.”

“And you gave him the answers that he wanted. Even at the cost of me.”

Finally, Crane’s features dissolve into open frustration; his lips curling back as his nose twitches in irritation.

“You know who I am. What I am.”

“I do know, but then I have also seen other small things. And it’s those small things which keep me coming back here even though it’s fucking madness on my part.”

“Whatever you think you know about me is wrong.” Crane spat.

You circle him to put your back to the stairs and he matches your movements like it were a twisted dance, his eyes showing that he was more than aware of your intentions.

Eyes darting around the room, they land on a thick stack of money which lays atop his work desk and renewed anger pulses through you. Your feet ring out against the flooring as you storm over to the money, snatching it up in your right hand and feeling it between your fingers for a moment.

Ten thousand dollars.

“It’s no bag of silver but here-”

Cutting yourself off, you throw the money at his feet with as much force as you can muster. It bounces off the floor once before stopping just behind him, laying on the filthy ground like it held a grudge.

“You feel betrayed.”

Incredulity cuts through the rage as you splutter in indignation; but your potential response is choked back as he continues to speak.

“Ten thousand dollars for an act which I knew would not kill you and also allow me to keep Sionis from growing suspicious of your presence. Why would I make any other choice when the benefits outweighed the risks so greatly? If you thought there was any other option that I would take then what you think you understand about me is wrong.”

“That night, when those men attacked me here, I saw it. I understood more than you might like.”

“You saw nothing of what I did to those men.”

“Not them.” You counter. “I don’t care about them. I’m talking about me. You wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t fuck me even though I was desperate. Told me no and to wait until I was more stable. A true monster wouldn’t have hesitated, they would have taken advantage and let me do something I would have regretted.”

Crane falls silent, unable to refute the point.

“You showed me a genuine kindness that night and I’ve never forgotten it. But I can’t live like this. Your life outside of whatever the hell this is will eventually get me killed. It was only your toxin today but how far will you go the next time to prove that I mean nothing to you?”

“Tonight was an unexpected occurrence. It won’t happe-”

“What if Sionis returned? How would you deal with that? What would I be worth to you then to save your reputation? For only 20k you wouldn’t ever have to see me again.”

Crane remains silent, his arms still crossed over his chest as you continue; your words growing more hysterical even as you fight to keep them level.

“What if it was Riddler? Would you let him put me in one of those death traps I see on the news? You save me from one monster only to allow another to sniff around me without care. If my safety is dependent on your whims then it’s a walking death and I can’t stand it.”

“What do you want from me?”

His question is a growl but you take note of the fact that he is unable to respond to any of your points and that knowledge makes the lump in your throat tighten.

“I want you to let me go. I want you to let me leave this basement without trying to stop me, knowing that I might not ever come back.”

“No.”

“Then you’ll need to kill me.” The words come out as a scream, tinged with rage and upset. “Or why don’t you take your friend Roman’s advice and keep me here as a piece of meat to abuse and fuck whenever you want? You certainly didn’t seem too put off by the idea. Maybe the Scarecrow really is the great and terrible monster that people think he is.”

He storms forward and you steel your spine as he pauses directly in the space before you, his presence enveloping you as his hand twitches suspiciously by his side as though he were holding it back.

“Do you want to hit me?” You ask, the words low and hoarse given the damage to your throat and you almost wished he would raise a hand, just to get something from him that wasn’t this fucking stoicism.

The lack of outburst is somehow more terrible than any alternative and it angers you in a way you can’t quite place as you repeat your question.

“Do you want to hit me, Dr. Crane?”

His jaw twitches once more.

“Right now? Yes.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” He mutters with a frustration which seems more internal than directed. “If it were anyone else-”

Browns knitting into a deep frown, he cut himself off.

The room falls silent aside from the light sound of the shared breathing; your own shaky and stuttering while his remains steady and measured.

“I don’t want to be near you.” You confess. “Not right now, not after this.”

Maybe it was the defeated sigh which served as a pause between your words, or maybe it was the brimming tears which threatened to fall free of your eyes, but the sag of his shoulders as he steps away from your position is all the encouragement you need.

Unsteady legs carry you to the base of the stairs and the lump in your throat chokes down any possible words which you could offer as you pause for only a moment. The anger boiling within your gut demands further retribution, but it is overshadowed by the betrayal which stings at your heart; a betrayal which feels all the more bitter given how peaceful your night had started and how stupid you had allowed yourself to become.

Still paused, you refuse to turn your head and instead swipe your thumb along your cheek to wipe off a stray tear as you quickly ascend the stairs, the creak of the old wood announcing your departure better than any speech could.

Slipping through the doorway into the frigid Gotham air, the metal door behind you clicks shut just as the sudden screech of smashing glass ushers you out and you try not to think about how much it sounds like a beaker colliding with a wall as you shakily make your way to your car.

Also posted to AO3

[srbachchan]

DAY 5459

Jalsa, Mumbai                 Jan 25/26,  2023                Wed/Thu  1:24 AM

❤️

Birthday Ef - Miten Lapsia .. Thursday, 26 January .. and the wishes of all the Ef on this honoured day of your birthday .. 💕

There is still that even feel of wanting to acquire something new , different , convenient despite the need being an extension of that which is already with you and in perhaps in excess .. 

So work continues on the new machine today the Mac2 Os Ventura .. ?? wonder if i have named it correctly .. 

Its speed is considered to be faster .. and generally an improvement on the previous .. but the absence of the bar at the top of the key pad, containing all the emoji’s is still not there and this is a problem when there is need for speed ..

So for the emoji its Control Command simultaneously for the window emojis to open .. and then too its no immediate .. clicking once gives just one of once , unlike the bar .. and this is most frustrating .. and the joy of writing this is that i am told many other users have felt the same .. 

Hurray ! at least there is someone who sides you and agrees ..

tomorrow be the Day of Republic and many memories pass by, which have in the past been narrated here often enough, so .. yaaa .. an avoid, I am afraid ..

But the unease is that for the sake of others a compromise is to be made and that is frustrating .. frustrating because of the work schedule .. with the uncertainty of the others , a shifting has caused several more days as a lay off .. and this is throwing all the efforts to be involved in so many other jobs, astray ..

Not having the continuity of work is indeed showing its colours .. the untimed unknown unconfirmed day in tune schedules are finding a way in the mind where , memory is failing rapidly .. 

So the employ of thoughts of how to remember are now in the primary stage .. and they have a very simple device, as far as I am concerned  - put the name and then add to it all other activities associated with it .. 

Eg., name of the individual , if in film, name of the film , the role he or she played , if there are any tell tale descriptions that may describe her or him, put it down .. locations where met, why , what was spoken , relatives , ... ohhh the approach is endless .. but so desired in the rapid world of today ..

And yes the cleaning up process .. mountains of stuff .. but now with time on our side .. err .. my side , efforts to resolve this is and shall be of immense help ..

And right now .. its  the desk .. the desk that is being used right now .. in time the stuff shall be garbaged and lost forever .. 

You know .. one forgets when what appeared in our possession and why this has slipped our mind .. 

But now no more .. the smart phone turns habitually smart and gives its abilities to us in abundance .. its just that we do not know how to use it .. well cannot say for the others , but for me its an issue .. a rather large issue .. 

I shall say my , shubhratri , shabba khair , GN  .. and may your night and nights be pleasant and rewarding in your soft dreams ..

Amitabh Bachchan

and apologies .. the signature has not been loaded on the comp M2 Ventura .. but by tomorrow there shall be a revolution within and the laptops and new laptops shall be having a battle of supremacy .. perhaps the results shall be able to resolve several issues now being faced  ...

hey I am just too smart .. genius in fact .. I copy pasted the sign from the Blog of yesterday ..🤣

[draconicsparkle]

This one has been on the list for a while. And I haven’t done it until now for a very special reason. I’m sure you will find out what that reason is very soon.

Edit: the reason.

But yeah, this one made my cold dead heart happy. Pets and snuggles galore! But who exactly is getting and giving these pets and snuggles? Read and find out!

Enough rambling, Naga time!

Nagito recalled all he had said the previous night with perfect clarity. He knew he had finally told Hajime verbally and explicitly that he ‘loved’ him. And because of previous reactions to his advances, he was sure that the brunette would need a little time to process this. Probably in his home on his own. So Nagito didn’t fret when morning came and Hajime was nowhere to be seen.

But that didn’t stop him from inquiring about him to his twin. “I trust he is doing alright in there. Flustered?”

Izuru had come out with a mug of tea, ready for the day with his hair tied back. “Correct. I suspect he didn’t expect your boldness. Though he really should have seen this coming.”

“Ah, so he told you? Do you approve?” the naga asked, tilting his head.

“I do. You are a good match for him. Though I might not feel those kinds of sensations myself, I understand that this makes my brother happy. And that’s all I want to see.”

Nagito smiled, his fangs in view. “I appreciate it. It means so much to hear that from you. I’ll do my best to ensure he continues to be happy.”

Izuru nodded. “See that you do.”

A few moments passed between them, Izuru taking a sip of his tea. Then Nagito backed up a bit to begin ascending. “I will need to go scent the border of my forest today. I shall be back by your lunchtime. Could you tell Hajime this? And tell him not to worry.”

The red eyed human hummed as he watched the giant creature rise above him. “Very well. I’ll inform him. I expect he will be anxiously awaiting your return. Travel safe.”

With a small wave, Nagito began slithering away to his forest. He kept his smile up even as he faced away and when he crossed the forest boundary. How could he not? He was so happy. And he didn’t think much could bring his mood down.

And he was correct. The hours he spent navigating through his woods were full of positive feelings as he accomplished his set task. He tried to be thorough in his scenting ever since the clash with the gray naga. And it seemed to have worked with keeping more potentially dangerous creatures at bay. Sonia was the exception, as she had proved to be a valuable friend. But he was fulfilling his promise to his beloved, making sure his territory was properly marked.

He had nearly finished by early afternoon, proud of himself for the speed and efficiency of his work. He couldn’t wait to boast to the humans of his good job and receive the well deserved praise. However, his premature celebration was interrupted by a strange scent. One he had never encountered before.

He lowered himself to the ground, silencing all movements as he observed. What could this creature be? And so close to the human road, too. Not many creatures dared to come this far, so he was perplexed by this creature’s choice in location. Although, the scent seemed to get stronger by the second, indicating that it was approaching. It smelled young, so most likely not a threat. So Nagito simply waited and watched.

Sure enough, the creature came bounding through the bushes, bumping into his face with a startled whimper.

Blinking in surprise, Nagito pulled back to observe what had run into him. It looked like… a dog? At least, that’s what he thought it was from Hajime’s previous descriptions of the species. It was light brown and quite small, so it was probably a puppy. It didn’t look to have any injuries and was walking just fine. In fact, it’s composure was fine as well. It barked excitedly, wagging its tail at a rapid pace as it looked at him.

“No fear, huh? You certainly are a brave little one,” Nagito whispered. His voice excited the puppy more, who ran up to him and placed its paws on his cheek. It reached forward and licked him over and over again. And just like that, Nagito found himself completely endeared to the young dog.

“You are… so adorable. I love you already. Hey, how about you come with me to Hajime’s house? There’s food and water there,” he asked the puppy, receiving a happy yap in response.

He was grateful that the forest edge wasn’t far away. Only a few minutes of traveling. The puppy wasn’t exhausted by the time they made it. The little one had eagerly followed him, keeping up while yipping. And soon, both the naga and the puppy were in the sunlight. Glancing over to the human’s home, he saw both of the twins out on the patio. And they had for sure noticed him.

Once he was close enough, he waved to them. “Please come over! I have someone for you to meet!”

This piqued their interests, so they put down their drinks and made their way over, though Izuru kept ahold of his yogurt container. Both widened their eyes in surprise when they saw the brown puppy running around the naga.

“Nagito, where did you find a puppy?” Hajime asked with bewilderment. It seemed like this event had overridden the possibility to be flustered.

“It was near the fence line that is close to the road! I’m not sure why. I couldn’t smell any more dogs. So I think it was on its own.”

Izuru and Hajime exchanged a very quick glance, as if they knew something. But Izuru returned his gaze to the puppy who was now at their feet. “May I do a quick examination? I would like to determine its health and overall condition.”

Nagito nodded, lowering himself onto his stomach again. “Please do! I want to make sure it’s okay.”

Thus, Izuru got to work. He looked over the puppy with a keen eye, petting it and allowing it to eat his yogurt while doing so. Hajime joined the naga while this was going on, leaning against the soft cheek. “What to do now? I didn’t think this would ever occur while living here.”

Nagito raised one of his hands to hug the human to his cheek. “Can we keep it? Please? It’s so cute and friendly! Can it stay with us? Please? Please?” he begged, doing his best to convince the human.

Hajime’s cheeks reddened at the closeness, which he would have teased about if he wasn’t pleading to keep the puppy. But his efforts paid off, as Hajime sighed. “I… guess we can. Izuru and I can go get supplies in a bit.” He looked over to his brother, who had allowed the puppy to run back over to them. “What’s the diagnosis?”

Izuru brushed the dirt off his knees before standing. “A wolf dog. Female. No sign of injuries or illnesses. A bit underweight, but not dangerously so. A good temperament, too. And she clearly feels comfortable around people, be it human or naga.”

“A little girl, huh? A precious sweetheart. Yes, you are,” Nagito cooed, carefully petting the soft fur with a finger. In response, the puppy flopped over onto her back, exposing her belly for more pets.

Hajime laughed a bit, joining him in petting the puppy. “So, now that she’s going to be living with us, what shall we call her?”

Nagito hummed as he pulled his hand back slightly to curl around the wolf dog. “I don’t know! Can you choose for me?”

“What? You’re making me choose. Ugh… I’m bad at this kinda stuff. But fine. Hmmm…” Hajime repositioned himself so that he was laying in the shawl, getting comfortable as he thought. The puppy rolled back onto her feet, jumping up to lick his face. The brunette laughed a bit as he pulled the dog off of him. “Huh, she has a clover sticking out of her fur. And it’s a four leaf clover. Man, she’s just as lucky as you. Oh wait. That’s an option. What about Clover as a name?”

“Clover. It’s very cute. Very fitting for our little girl,” Nagito said cheerfully. “You are now Clover, and this is your new home.”

The puppy barked and spun in a circle. She clearly was overjoyed.

Izuru cleared his throat from where he was standing. “The name is finalized, correct? Then I shall go procure the necessary items from the store. I have memorized her sizes and shall have a collar made for her. Hajime, you may stay here and bond with Clover. I shall head out now.” The raven haired human turned abruptly and headed to his car, getting in and driving off with no additional words.

The three watched his car disappear, a bit surprised, but not too shocked. This was typical Izuru behavior. So they settled back down, relaxing in the warm sun.

“Thank you, Hajime. I feel like we are building a little family now. It makes me so happy,” Nagito spoke quietly, watching as Clover wiggled her way under his hand and popped her little face up close to his nose.

“Y-yeah. I'm glad you are.” Hajime pet the neck near him tenderly, the motions so soft and full of care. “Hey, about what you said last night… I do feel the same. I just… can’t say it aloud as easily. Give me some time, I’ll try to work up to it, okay?”

Nagito’s smile grew so wide. “This moment could not be more perfect. I am truly the luckiest naga. And yes, I can wait forever. Please take your time. I’ll be here.”

Hajime pet his skin a final time before relaxing back into the shawl around him. He would likely fall asleep there, as he had in the past. Nagito was more than fine with this. He had his treasures here with him, both of which loved him back. He couldn’t possibly ask for more. So he too relaxed, closing his eyes as his family soaked up the sun’s warmth.

Masterpost

[lehdenlaulu]

your opinion on ghosts?

(Sorry, this got stuck in my drafts!)

Ooh, broad question!

Is this "Ghosts: Hot or Not?" or "Ghosts: Do They Exist?" 🤔

Jokes aside... Hmmm. I have never, to my knowledge, seen a ghost. 'Medium' is, apparently, not a part of my psychic toolkit and neither has any spook seen fit to make the effort to appear to me. Unless maybe you count half-asleep impressions of an old lady and a cat in my friend's old apartment, but unless those were just figments of my not-fully-awake imagination, I think those were more like echoes than actual hauntings.

I'm also not sure where I stand on the idea of one's consciousness being stuck hanging around after our body is gone. The idea is pretty awful, but that's part of the whole concept of ghosts, isn't it? Part of the horror.

Anyway, as much as I can't say I have experience in encountering a ghost per se, I definitely do have a couple of pretty interesting ouija board (homemade version, anyway) experiences, the latter of which had among other things the glass move on the board at a rapid speed without anyone touching it and directing clichéd horror movie threats at yours truly -- which kind of makes me suspect this one particular dude in the company present was somehow in control of the situation, which is honestly a scarier idea than a random ghost deciding to prank dumb teens. (Interestingly, in that other experience, which was remarkably more chill, the presumed spirit warned us about that specific dude, but he's pretty much a story in his own right.)

I have also felt things, which is more in line with how my particular bag of tricks works. All kinds of vibes and possible presences at some historical locations in particular. Once or twice I have basically legged it out of some particular spot because of an overwhelming feeling of This Is Not Good.

And don't get me wrong, first of all I'm really not the type to spook easily and I always try to rationalize it and rule out the mundane. Parapsychologist was one of my childhood dream careers precisely because I'm fascinated by how these things work. I mean, if anyone has room in their ghost-hunting group, sign me up (as long as we're respectful since I do approach the idea of ghosts with the attitude that these are, mostly anyway, people). 😂

Did that cover your question?

[rabbitcruiser]

World Sauntering Day 

Slow from a march to a saunter and give yourself time to enjoy your own time. Stop and smell the roses, take some extra time on your lunch break, and relax.

The world around us is moving at such a hectic pace that we often forget to slow down and smell the proverbial roses. Even our walk is at high speed, pushing every inch of haste we can get out of what is otherwise the most leisurely of modes of locomotion. It isn’t just an opportunity for us to remember to walk. It is, more importantly, an opportunity for us to take a genuinely relaxed tack to the day, and choose to saunter.

History of World Sauntering Day

This holiday was formed by W.T. Rabe (fun fact: his son, John Rabe, is the local host for All Things Considered at KPCC in Pasadena) in 1979 as a response to the sworn enemy of the Saunter, jogging. It is thought to have started at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island in Michigan, USA. The hotel has the longest porch in the world, measuring a lengthy 660 feet, or 200 meters if you work in metrics. The whole thinking behind the day was to get people to slow down a little and take more note of the world around them. He was also the press relations office for the Grand Hotel, making it a pretty good bit of publicity for them!

The definition of the term ‘saunter’ is ‘to walk along in a slow and relaxed manner.’ The likely source of the word is the Middle English word, santren, which means “to muse.”

In 2002, Rabe’s son told journalists, ‘Sauntering, as my father would say, is going from point X to point Z, which means you don’t care where you’re going, how you’re going or when you might get there.’ The idea, he said, was to smell the roses and to pay attention to the world around you.

Jogging, in his view, was a grueling attack on the body. Rapidity and effort drained all the joy out of movement by making each step as painful as possible. Sauntering – the art of free movement from one location to another – was, in his view, unquestionably superior.

Over the years, Rabe gained a significant following. Other people began to see that he was onto something. Jogging might be what heart health professionals recommended, but it was draining people’s lives of joy. Where was the fun in the activity? Where was the relaxation?

Sauntering doesn’t just mean walking how you might if you were on your way to work. It also encompasses the idea that the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. You walk free from stress and strain and can focus on the pure joy of the act. It is the antithesis of jogging – a painful act that robs you of your experience of the outside world. It is more meditative and contemplative. You have the opportunity to experience life to the full instead of feeling puffed out and tired.

World Sauntering Day is your opportunity to head out into the world and approach it with a deeply relaxed air, a moment of pure clarity and joy, all while enjoying the beautiful world around you and everything it has to offer.

How to celebrate World Sauntering Day

Give yourself plenty of time today, and do so with the intent of relaxing and truly enjoying your journey to wherever it is you have to go. Saunter casually with pure relaxation, and take in the scents and sights. Greet others, and don’t let their urge to move quickly infect yours. In fact, see if you can get them to slow down and join you on your happy little saunter. The world will be better for it, and you’ll be happier for it. World Sauntering Day is your opportunity to leave all the rush behind and just… Saunter… through your day.

Other things that you can do to celebrate World Sauntering Day include:

Taking a break at lunchtime and going for a stroll around your local neighborhood or through the park

Getting off the bus, train, or subway a stop or two early and taking a leisurely stroll the rest of the way to your destination.

Wander along to your local coffee store and chill out with a hot cup of Joe in hand, watching the world go by.

If you can’t get out for a walk, you can chill out at home too. The concept of sauntering melds with the Danish and Norweigan idea of Hygge. You are free to experience moments of contentment in your life without external pressures in whatever form they arrive.

DID YOU KNOW: It would take about 225 million years to walk one light-year at the pace of a 20-minute mile?

While you are away on your gentle walk on World Sauntering Day, consider the following:

Should being busy be your raison d’etre? Is running around all day, from one activity to another and never really pausing to take stock, really what you want from life? Probably not!

Celebrate World Sauntering Day by standing still for a moment or slowing down. Not only will you feel invigorated, but you may spot things you wouldn’t have noticed otherwise – the birds singing, the flowers blooming, or the love of your life brushing past you in the street.

Source

[absolute-flaming-trash]

“Well aren’t you adorable?” and Mahito?

Hi I didn't forget about these I swear!!

Warnings: Car crash (no injuries), Implied kidnapping. Not edited.

Word count: 1054 whoops

“There’s a starman waiting in the sky. He’d like to come and meet us, but he thinks he’d blow our minds.”

The rather unceremonious sound of your duet with Bowie rang out into the empty compartment of your car, spilling onto the highway through your driver's side window. Dim yellow splashed across your hood in waves as you passed each streetlamp, fingers tapping in rhythm with the 60’s classic.

Driving was one of your favourite things to do. Admittedly less so in the evenings, especially when you were losing light - an activity in which you would try to avoid at all costs - however a busted stove and a lack of delivery to your location meant dinner was going to be a pick-up endeavor.

But even with the fading light, your anxiety was temporarily dampened by the song lyrics coming from your speakers.

You knew the way from where you were already, but you still glanced over at your phone mounted on the dash to see your position on the GPS out of curiosity. The little blue dot indicating your position told you that you were only about a quarter of the way there, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

That didn’t seem right.

You glanced back up to the highway, checking the sides of the road for any discernible landmarks, but weren’t able to see any with how much the light had faded.

The app for the map was quickly refreshed only to bring up the same result, and your frown deepened as you switched your attention briefly back to the highway just in time to see your car rapidly approaching a figure in the road with terrifying speed.

All air was sucked from your body and you cranked the steering wheel hard to the right, the vehicle lurching in protest with the sudden change in direction, but it was too late.

The sound of shattering glass was quickly followed by the crumple of metal as the figure rolled over the hood of your car about halfway before sliding limply off the left side. You fishtailed horribly, tires screaming at the rapid deceleration before you spun out and came to an undignified halt partially off the side of the road.

It took a few seconds for you to reach down slowly and shut your stereo off, eyes widened in shock as you began to process the event in crushing silence.

Did… did that really just happen? To you?

You’d never had something like that happen. Ever. This was something that only happened in online videos and movies, you didn’t just…

You gradually brought your eyes to your rearview mirror, and your gut sank in horror at the human shaped lump in the middle of the road. You tore your gaze away quickly.

No. No, no, no, no, this was all wrong, this wasn’t real, this was all just a big mistake. God, it had to be.

When you looked again the lump was still there, and reality gradually began to sink in.

However the sensation of simultaneous relief and horror that followed when the lump moved was indescribable.

Your body seemed to move on autopilot as you scrambled out of your car and towards the person you had hit, “Oh my god, please don’t be dead, are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh my god.”

At a distance, you could see that they were trembling. Tears filled your eyes, both in guilt as well as in sympathy towards the unimaginable agony they must have been in, but when you got close enough to make out details, it didn’t seem like the type of movements that would have resulted from pain.

It… looked like they were laughing?

Curiosity killed the cat when you gently pulled on their shoulder to roll them onto their back, and your suspicions were confirmed.

The sound of genuine laughter was incredibly jarring to the point it didn’t exactly register for a minute as you watched him on the ground. His clothes and hair were a little out of place, unsurprisingly, but the rest of him was fine. Not even so much as a bit of road rash.

“Well,” The sound of his voice made you jump slightly and you looked back up at his face in time to see him open his eyes. “That was unexpected.”

All shock was quickly replaced with anger.

“Are you out of your MIND?! I could have killed you!”

Your outburst only garnered another fit of laughter.

“Well aren’t you adorable?” He grinned, sitting up. “It’ll take more than that just to scratch me, let alone kill me.”

You scoffed, hastily wiping at the tears in your eyes. “Whatever, Mr. God-complex, what the fuck were you doing in the middle of the road?!”

He shrugged, “Crossing it.”

The look you gave him was withering, but a late wave of guilt ran through your system since technically this was still your fault. You had been distracted.

“Are you okay?” You asked, trying to sound more calm. “I can call an ambulance if you want.”

He stood up with a small hop, and you took a small step backwards as he twisted his torso back and forth in what looked like minimal effort to crack his back. There was a low *crack* and he sighed in content.

“I told you, it’ll take more than that to do any real damage.”

Doubt weighed heavily in your gut, and you looked back towards your car - teeth worrying your bottom lip. One of your headlights was completely shattered, and the front hood and grill were pretty badly damaged, but your windshield was thankfully still intact.

 It would probably still run.

The words left you before you could think any better of it. “Can I at least take you to a doctor… or something?”

He stopped mid-stretch to eye you curiously, heterochromic eyes scanning over you and frankly making you incredibly uncomfortable. While on one hand it would be the least you could do considering what you had done, the longer you stayed in his presence the more something felt… wrong.

But it was too late to back out.

He stared at you for another moment before his face twisted into a smile that, while genuine, was enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“If you insist.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2022. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[yanderespamton78]

he is approaching my locations at rapid speeds

[tteokdoroki]

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut,  ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader,   heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing  her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips  while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned  on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,”  you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised  is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

[fanmoose12]

a little something for @bruciesnat :) i know i've promised it like a lifetime ago, sorry for the delay! oh, and i decided to combine it with a prompt i also received a long while ago <3

Mike doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't understand how he agreed to it, can't comprehend why Erwin would make him do it. Mike doesn't know what he had done to deserve this- this punishment.

He's- he's a good man. An honest one. He serves to ensure the future of humanity, he risks his life to give others a better one.

He's good at it too, he's excellent at fighting and slashing and scouting. He was the best one at it, before- before the annoying midget came.

The same annoying midget, who is insanely strong and easily irritated. The same annoying midget, who has a crush on their adorable Hange. Hange, who Mike has to seduce to test Erwin's theory that Levi, insanely strong, easily irritated Levi, truly has a crush on their Hange.

Mike swallows heavily as he sits next to Hange, just a little too close as Erwin instructed. He smells that it won't end well.

He cringes, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Mike likes Hange, a lot actually. Sometimes he feels like they're siblings that were torn apart by some bigger entity. So yeah, he likes Hange. But definitely not like that.

But, oh well, anything for the cause, right?

"Hey, Hans," he murmurs, adopting his most seducting tone. He hopes that his smile is charming enough to captivate their dear scientist. "Are you free tonight? I have two tickets to the theater perfomance," he leans in closer, lowering his voice to what could probably (Mike is an eternal optimist!) be called an enticing whisper. "They're showing the creation of the the Walls tonight."

Somewhere on his periphery, Mike can see a swift dark shadow that oozes the smell of detergent. That shadow, it grows closer, its aura becoming more menacing.

Mike can only hope that if Levi attempts to kill him, Erwin would intervene.

Although... knowing Erwin, he'd just write Mike's death off as a necessary sacrifice.

He takes his hand off Hange. The shadow retreats a few steps back.

"Sorry, Mike," Hange shrugs with a small, apologizing smile. "I showed that play to Levi a few weeks ago. I had my fill of religious propaganda for now. But if you're looking for someone to accompany you," she winks and turns around. Mike's heart sinks. "Levi really liked going to the theatre! He'll be happy to tag along, right, Levi?"

Mike meets Levi's eyes, and sees nothing but desire for murder inside.

Mike quickly scrambles to his feet. "You know, I'll just ask Gelgar to go with me. I'm sure he doesn't have anything better to do."

And they can get wasted afterwards. Mike really needs that after this conversation.

Just as he retreats, Levi takes his place, sitting down next to Hange, also just a little too close.

The mission had failed spectacularly, but, Mike consoles himself, at least he learned that Hange and Levi went to theatre together. And sometimes intel is more important than the victory, right?

Ah, if only Erwin would share his opinion on that.

***

Erwin's second attempt is even worse than the first one, but, at least, this time it doesn't directly involve Mike. Still, he's an unwilling spectator to it, and, just as the last time, he doesn't like where all of this is going.

He already feels bad for the poor guy Erwin hired to hit on Hange during the annual military ball. Where did Erwin get the money - did he take them from the Corps' funds or his own allowance, Mike doesn't know, and, frankly, he isn't sure which option is more disturbing.

At least, the actor is handsome, Mike doesn't know if Hange would like him, he doesn't know if she has a type, and if she does, he hopes it's not annoying midgets, but the guy is handsome, there is no denying that.

Hange has cleaned up fairly well too, the white suit looks excellent on her, bringing out all of her best assets, demonstrating her wide hips and lean, long legs. The hair, gathered in a neat bun, shows her long, gorgeous neck, and the light make-up make her even more gorgeous than usual.

When she and Erwin walked through the front door - him in his blue suit and Hange in her white, symbolising their Wings of Freedom, everyone had their breath taken away.

Even Mike was a little shocked to see Hange dressed up like this, and Levi, who stood right next to him, was completely blown away, staring at Hange with wide-eyed, lovestruck look.

Thanks to Levi's ridiculous expression, Mike now understands why Erwin goes to such length to bring their resident weirdos together. It is delightful to watch Levi behave like that, and Mike longs to see more of this side of him.

Soon after Hange and Erwin make their grand entrance, their guy makes the first move.

He approaches Hange, his eyes bright and smile so charming it makes Mike envious that Hange is at the receiving end of it. He kisses her hand, whispers something in her ear.

"He praises her recent experiment. I thought it was a good place to start," Erwin explains quietly to him.

"Ah," Mike nods. So Erwin thought every detail through? Not surprising at all. "Think this would have an effect on Levi?"

"It already does," Erwin says, pointing to a furious cloud of black hair and suit that is approaching them at a rapid speed.

"Has four-eyes lost all shame?" Levi practically growls, his eyes throwing flames. "Is she seriously flirting with a fucker from the MP?"

"He's not a soldier," Mike answers, reciting a legend Erwin created. "He's actually a wealthy merchant from the South. Heard he sells apples to the King himself."

"And since when Hange is interested in someone like him," Levi crosses hands on his chest, his glare turning even darker, as Erwin's actor takes Hange by the hand and leads her to the dance floor.

"You know, you can ask Hange to a dance," Erwin advices with a pleased smile. "Then she won't be able to flirt with others."

Levi scoffs. "I would rather fight a horde of titans than dance with stinky four-eyes."

Maria, Rose and Sina, Mike thinks. They're worse than children.

"Hange has taken a bath before coming here," he tells Levi.

Levi rolls his eyes. "And now she looks even more awful than usual."

Mike shares a look with Erwin. Does Levi prefer usual Hange, when she doesn't bath for days and her eyes water from the lack of sleep? It almost sounds cute.

"This is the last time I'm attending this shitty ball," Levi swears to Erwin. "Even wine here is shitty."

He marches away immediately after that, heading to the table with wine. Mike can barely stop his laughter, as he watches Levi take a glass of wine, drink a few large gulps of it, and then wince, his mouth moving as he probably murmurs violent curses. He doesn't take his eyes off Hange and her dance partner, and relaxes only when the song ends.

Both Mike and Erwin watch intently as the actor kisses Hange's hand once again. Hange blushes, and Mike almost coos. Levi grabs another glass of wine.

When the actor starts leading Hange away, in the direction of the balcony, Levi starts moving too. He intercepts them just at the edge of the ballroom.

Mike knows he should have expected something like that, knows that Levi doesn't exactly possess the best of manners, but pouring wine over someone? Over his own colleague and friend? Mike certainly didn't expect that.

He's delighted to see what happens next, though.

What happens is that Hange's gorgeous white suit is ruined and Levi wraps his hand around her wrist and drags her to the bathroom. He sports a unusually pleased expression and Hange is laughing herself silly.

Not a bad ending to this endeavor, Mike thinks.

"Another disaster," Erwin sighs.

***

Third time is a charm, or so Mike hopes.

This time Erwin decides to take matter in his hands, and that another sign that this plan will succeed.

The plan is simple, yet, hopefully, effective. Erwin is to whisk Hange away to some remote location, create a scene that would look like a moment between lovers, and Mike is to call Levi there and make sure he witnesses it all.

Erwin is a brave man, Mike thinks, as his Commander explains the plan to him. He would never dare to do something like that to humanity's strongest. To awaken his jealous streak... Mike is glad he's not in Erwin's place.

One sunny afternoon, the plan is set in motion. Erwin takes Hange, and Mike goes to find Levi.

He finds him fairly quickly, in the middle of cleaning Hange's room. Man, he could at least try to make his crush be less discreet. But that's beside the point now, because Levi is cleaning Hange's room and not watching Erwin and Hange. Mike confidently strides up to him.

"Levi! I've just been looking for you."

"What do you need?" he asks boringly. "And have you seen four-eyes? I can't find her all day."

Erwin prepared some legend, a reason why Mike needs Levi, but in the heat of the moment, Mike can't remember a single word. So he just yells "Come with me!" and hope that Levi follows.

Thankfully, he does.

Mike leads him to the stables, where Erwin is already at it. His palm is on the wall, next to Hange's head, and from Mike's point of view, it certainly looks like they're in the middle of... something naughty.

Next to him, Levi tenses, and Mike can practically hear his teeth grinding.

Mike prepares for something very ugly, but then...

"I- I didn't know that Erwin and four-eyes-" oh, fuck, it sounds like Levi is genuinely sad, like he's heartbroken or something. Mike feels a strange desire to hug the little guy and pat his head. But then he remembers that he and Erwin are the reason for Levi's distress right now, and... remorse starts kicking in.

"Levi, listen, it's not-"

"Levi!"

As always, Hange is the one to save the day.

She breaks free from Erwin and sprints to Levi, a wide smile on her face. "You won't believe what Erwin had just told me! He gave me permission to go in the town's library and bring back all the books I want! I'm in dire need of your muscles, humanity's strongest, you'll go with me, right?"

Levi still seems grouchy, but under Hange's sunny grin, his angry facade crumbles. "I don't know if Commander will allow it..."

He doesn't even try to hide his bitterness and irration. Mike disguises his chuckle as a coughing fit.

"Erwin!" Hange turns to him, eyes pleading. "Can Levi go with me?"

"Sure," Erwin nods. "Take all the time you need."

Hange yells in triumph, loud enough to make Mike wince. She grabs Levi by the hand and drags him away. Erwin watches them with a wistful smile.

"I don't think we should get involved in their relationships," Mike says, as he approaches Erwin. He stands close to his Commander, their shoulders pressing against each other. "We should let them figure it out themselves."

"Agreed," Erwin says. "I'm sure they'll manage well enough even without us."

Mike watches Hange wrap her arm around Levi, and is inclined to agree. They will certainly manage without them both.

Or, at least, Hange is able to manage.

And that should be enough.

[candyopala]

Stuck in his ways, chapter 2

Chapter summary: Y/N has to prove herself to her new mentor, will she be able to beat Obito Uchiha in battle? Can she get over her annoyance with him and concentrate enough to do so?

Words: 1.4k

AO3

Please reblog or leave a like if you enjoy <3 

“What?!”

“Take these from me until noon and I’ll train you, fail to do so and you might as well leave Konoha.” He reaffirmed while dangling the pair of little bells in front of her. 

“Huh, like you have the power to get me kicked off-“

“You can either find out about that the easy or the hard way.”

“…”

Obito distances himself from her and shouts: 

“Begin!”

Y/N stands in place confused. She does not know if he is bluffing or not and at this point, after everything she went through to join the village, her best option is to entertain her rude mentor in this challenge. He also could use a beating to put him back in his place, no one should be so rude without any repercussions. 

She also starts thinking about how to approach this. He is an Uchiha and has one of those eyes, so any jutsu she tries he will copy instantly, not that she can do any jutsu that could be relevant in a fight, thanks to her low chakra level. Y/N also has heard about the clan’s proficiency with fire, but that is all she got, since the Uchihas tend to hide their clan secrets very well from any prying eyes.

“Hey dumbass! Are you going to be standing there until the time goes out? Come on, I’ll make sure to not use genjutsu on you to make things more fun” And again that smirk appears on his face. 

Fuck it, my blade it is. He is going to pay for this. 

“Kai!”

Y/N lunges at Obito at an incredible speed pointing her long blade at him, barely visible to any normal eyes. The man does not even flinch or move. When she thinks that she might have got him unprepared, her blade goes right through his abdomen without perforating anything or dealing any damage, as if he is a mere illusion. 

Is this genjutsu? No, I just did the release sign, it can’t be! A clone? No, not a clone…

She strikes again and is surprised to see her attack go right through Obito, who is still standing there with his hands on his hips. She strikes again, and again, and again for about four minutes straight… but to no avail. 

“Come on, stop playing with me Uchiha creep!”

A small noise is heard behind her, and as she shifts her eyes in that direction, she is surprised with a kick in the gut by Obito, who has not left his position yet. The kick throws her a couple meters back, making her hit a nearby tree with full force, not enough to take the air out of her lungs, but enough to surprise her. 

At first, she thinks her eyes might be tricking her, but she is sure she saw the man teleport himself away in a weird spiral. She will never admit it, but she has not been scared shitless like this in a while.

Retreating to a secure location and masking her chakra, she tries again to analyze the situation, but she still cannot fully comprehend this ability of his. His sharingan is active, so it has to have something to do with it. A hunch comes to her mind, more of a wild guess, but it’s all she has: if it has something to do with his eyes, it’s tied to his chakra, so it might run out eventually… right? The problem is: her reserves are already naturally low and the Uchiha are also famous for having loads of chakra, can she even compete with something like this? 

Fuck, you have defeated hundreds of nukenin worse than this, you have to try, for him. 

“Giving up already, Y/N?” he says while emerging again in the middle of the field. 

And with this, she emerges out of the bushes she was hiding in at rapid speed, throwing a fully charged chakra punch to the ground, which makes large chunks of rock fly out. In a matter of milliseconds, she uses each chunk as a platform to run around the Uchiha, swinging her sword at him in the expectation of catching the Uchiha off guard, but to no avail again. Every single attack go through him again and she is met with huge fireballs dancing around her, which cost even more stamina to dodge through. As she tries to manage to run away from the fire surrounding her, Y/N sees something interesting: dust accumulating in his vest while he performs his attack. 

She approaches Obito again and begins swinging her sword again, each attack useless one more time. 

 ~”~  

 I can’t believe she still insists on the same thing again and again, hasn’t she noticed that kamui makes me immune to this? What’s wrong with her?

 Obito has to give credit to Y/N though, she might be comparable to Minato sensei in speed, even faster if only raw speed is considered, since she does not seem to be using any teleportation techniques or jutsus to achieve this. Her ability with a sword is also not bad though, not bad for someone who never had any formal training. 

However, no natural talent can be enough if used by someone so… stubborn and irrational. He knows he might have went in a little bit too far with the dumbass, but he did not expect her to have such a reaction. Not to mention her clear problem with authority, she was able to disrespect him as a superior in so little time. 

The Uchiha decides to stop his reflection when he remembers that she is still lunging at him with full force and that his kamui is reaching, once again, its limit of five consecutive minutes, besides his chakra reserve that is getting dangerously low after using the dancing fireball jutsu so much. 

He notices that her left side defense is open during one more of her attacks, so he decides to go for it, trying to kick her away from him again so that he can recover himself. To be honest he is still quite lost in his thoughts, too distracted and bored, so much so that he is surprised when a leg meets his side and a hand touches one of the bells, so quickly that he is barely able to throw himself back and to prevent her from getting the bells. 

What the fuck?! Is the only thing that comes to mind. 

Time is almost over, since it is already 11:30 am. Obito considers teleporting away from her but is surprised again, by her approaching him at a great speed, and with her standing so close, she would be teleported with him making the whole thing useless. 

When he thinks that she might start her completely crazy restless attacks again he is once more caught off guard when she just stands near him, close enough that he can hear her labored breathing. The close proximity scares him and makes him insanely uncomfortable, so much that he forgets about attacking her in any way. He has not allowed anyone so close since… since… her. The sheer intensity in Y/N’s eyes also amaze him, it’s nothing like his old friend, but at the same time he can’t help to feel something in his stomach that reminds him of her. 

His back touches a tree, bringing him back to reality. He activates kamui again to dodge an incoming attack, but she just stands there completely still with her blade going through his stomach. 

She figured it out

Obito is once again stumped. She someway, somehow figured out how kamui works and is waiting for it to run out. He tries to dodge and run away in every possible way, but he is always met, once again, with her blade insistently on his stomach, not giving him enough time to recover himself. 

As the five minutes mark comes up, he once again tries to lunge himself away, as to not get himself stabbed. When he tries to move to the right, her blade makes a small cut on the side of his right arm and she kicks him away, finally reaching for the bells. 

While he gets himself off the ground all embarrassed, the newbie approaches him with the bells in hand, stumbling onto her own feet, clearly exhausted. It is true that he has become too reliant on kamui like Kakashi said, after all. He ended up underestimating her far too much. She reaches him with a smile on her face, one so big and genuine… he is even more embarrassed for being so mean to her. 

“Wh-Who’s the dumbass now, huh?” is all she says before collapsing beside him. 

Well, never mind. 

[eemamminy-art]

AYMERIC GOES TO THE ISHGARD GAY UNDERGROUND HELLO?????? alsooooooooo how abouttttttt number 14 because idk 7-11 speaks to me

The art was chosen so wisely... 😊

As for the fic, it was one of the first things I wrote in my lesbian AU but I just couldn'tttt get it to work out like I wanted it to and it all felt very ham-fisted and unnatural, unfortunately :c would like to go back to it someday!

━

The rumors would come and go in passing, of a place where the sinners of Ishgard congregate together to speak openly and practice their sins. Not the adulterous sinners, of course, those sorts hung about the pillars in their lavish manors without a care in the world for the bastards borne of their sins.

No, these were the sorts who had done nothing against the Fury’s will, and yet society cast them out: Men who laid with men, women who laid with women, people whose outward appearance didn’t match that of their bodies underneath. Aymeric had wondered if such a place was even real, or if it was a fantasy conjured up to give people like herself hope and to give the rest of Ishgard a boogeyman to whisper warnings about.

Its location was ironic— beneath the Forgotten Knight, a sort of purgatory caught between the cold bleak district known as the Brume below, and the pious yet harsh headquarters of the Temple Knights above. How many times had she drank with her fellow soldiers, not knowing of the hidden sanctuary just a few feet below?

A guard had stopped her at the door, asking for a secret passcode. She obliged, the door swinging open as she entered. A hush fell over the room as eyes were upon her, conversations being cut off as more than a few people recognized her. Aymeric had been used to whispers when she entered a room, but for conversation to stop? That troubled her.

“What’s a highborn doing down here?” A man asked, approaching her with rapid speed, “Even in that disguise I can tell what you are.”

The man glanced up and down the length of her, gesturing to her clothing. As much as she tried to dress plainly, her clothing being clean and of good quality surely gave her away. The elezen that stood before her dressed in worn clothes, obviously something that was in desperate need of mending.

Despite his disheveled attire, he carried himself with poise and confidence, and had a carefully painted face that showed passion for his appearance. This was someone who had little, but worked with what he had, that could be certain.

Aymeric held a confident gaze of her own, keeping her back straight in perfectly practiced posture. “A lesbian,” she said simply, though saying the word made her heart pound in her chest. Surely that was all that should have mattered here— highborn or lowborn, that mattered not in this place.

There was a pause before the man laughed, patting her shoulder affectionately before guiding her further into the hidden club.

WIP ask meme

(also you can find more of my AU here and also in my ffxiv writes entries)

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 3

3600 words, part three of a six seven part fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

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              The next morning, Dynamene rose reluctantly with a sigh. She was dreading the day, although she knew that Hera’s visit would be largely uneventful, at least as far as the Nereids were concerned. The weight in her chest that had dissolved along with her corporeal form in the ocean the night before had seemingly returned whilst she slept. She rubbed below her collarbone, trying to massage the feeling away. Actaea was right; there was nothing to worry about. The visit would go the same as the several dozen that had preceded it. Hera would arrive, trade smarting words with Poseidon, then leave a few hours later in a huff. No skin off their backs.

               She finished fastening her peplos with the pins gifted to her by Actaea before heading to the door. As she grasped the doorknob, she became aware of a strangely light feeling on her wrist. Looking down, Dynamene realized that she’d forgotten to put on the bracelet Poseidon had given her. She hesitantly looked back at her jewelry stand where the bracelet sat on top in a place of honor. Should she wear it? Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to wear such an exquisite accessory every day.

               But Dynamene was unable to resist the bracelet’s gleam, and she hurried back to slip it on with careful fingers before dashing back out the door.

               Most of her sisters were already present at the dining hall, yawning and chattering over their breakfast of fruit and cakes. “Dynamene!” Eione called, waving a bunch of grapes. “We were wondering where you were! Ianeira was just about to have me fetch you. Come sit, I saved you some grapes!”

               Dynamene flitted over and drew up a chair, allowing her sister to pile her plate for her. “And this,” Eione finished, plopping a pomegranate on top. “Last one. There you are; eat up.”

               Dynamene poked at the pomegranate with a sigh. Of course, it would be a pomegranate, one of Lady Hera’s symbols. She had just begun to pull it apart when Ianeira stood up at the head of the table.

               “Hera is due to arrive in an hour. We will greet her per usual at the deck and escort her to Lord Poseidon’s quarters. After that, they are to have complete privacy. Poseidon will send for us when Lady Hera is ready to be escorted back to her chariot.”

               “We never end up escorting her, anyhow,” Eione commented after a hearty gulp of wine. “She just storms out without warning.”

               “Ideally, we will escort her,” Ianeira amended plainly. “Until then, as we completed the cleaning last night, we have some time to ourselves. We will meet on the deck to await Hera’s arrival in forty-five minutes.”

               The rest of the sisters murmured in acknowledgment before turning back to their plates. Dynamene was eyeing the pomegranate’s innards with distaste when a familiar touch fell upon her shoulder. “Are you eating that with your mouth or your eyes, Dyna?” Actaea teased her.

               “Good morning, Actaea. It’s just that I could’ve done without another reminder of Hera,” Dynamene murmured.

               Eione’s sharp ears caught it anyways. “Sorry, Dynamene,” she cuffed her good-naturedly on the arm. “I didn’t know you were dreading her visit.”

               “That’s what I came to ask you about, actually, Dynamene,” Actaea ventured. “Are you feeling better this morning? I know you were… worried about today last night.”

               “I am,” Dynamene forced an optimistic smile. “I guess I’ve just been too tense recently. I know Hera’s visit will go over just fine.”

               “I’m glad to hear it,” Actaea said, hugging her. “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

               “Yes,” Dynamene nodded. Actaea took her leave, and she allowed her shoulders to fall once more.

               “Dynamene, can I talk to you for a moment?” Ianeira called from further down the table.

               “Of course,” Dynamene rose, glad to leave the pomegranate where it lay on her plate. “What is it?”

               “Now that you’re of age, you’ll be expected to be in the rest of the group when we escort Lady Hera,” Ianeira explained. “It’s nothing difficult, as you’ll recall. We just line up, greet her, and walk her to Poseidon’s sitting room. As the eldest sister, I’ll be doing the talking.”

               Dynamene stared in shock. She had forgotten that she’d gotten out of seeing Hera, at least close-up, in the past due to her young age. But Ianeira was right. Now that she was an adult in society’s eyes, she would be expected to join her older sisters in greeting Hera as a proper lady. “I see,” she said, unable to contain her reluctance.

               “It’ll be just fine,” Ianeira soothed her. “We’ll all be right there with you. It’ll only take a few minutes, and chances are Lady Hera won’t speak to anyone besides me. You’ll be alright.”

               Dynamene took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. That was right; she would be there among the rest of her sisters. Hera wouldn’t even interact with her. Surely she could handle something this simple.

               And yet, far too soon, she found herself back on the deck, just as spotless and luminescent as they’d left it the night before, along with her sisters. She had resumed twisting her peplos with nervous hands. They had formed two lines on either side of the luxurious red carpet that had been rolled out to the grand doors, with Ianeira at their head, as the eldest, to greet Hera.

               There was the faint sound of rushing wind in the distance, and all fifty sisters immediately positioned themselves, hands clasped and heads facing forward. A speck appeared in the distance, rapidly growing larger as it approached the palace at break-neck speed. It was quickly revealed to be a large golden chariot with intricate scenes of forests and flora carved into it. Pulling the chariot with all their might was four peacocks, each many times bigger than the peacocks typically found in the mortal world. They gave a loud cry to signal the arrival of their mistress, leading the chariot to a smooth and graceful descent towards the deck.

               Hera herself stood holding the reins firmly in one hand, lifting her free arm to signal the peacocks to further slowdown. Her long chestnut hair streamed loosely from a braided updo on her head, and her peplos decorated with gold and lavender embroidery billowed in the wind. The sisters immediately dropped into deep curtsies as the chariot slid to rapid halt before them.

               “Hail, Nereids,” Hera addressed them. She tied the reins to the chariot before dismounting with a graceful jump. Dynamene always forgot just how tall and strong Hera was between visits. The goddess stood at a rather imposing six feet, and her arms were well-toned. The features of her face were proud with full lips and defined cheekbones, every inch the image of a strong Greek matriarch.

               “Greetings, Lady Hera,” Ianeira spoke, head bowed. “We are glad to receive you on this beautiful day.”

               “Yes, it was fine weather for flying,” Hera replied, taking in the impressive sight of all fifty Nereid sisters lined up perfectly. “Zeus has been in a fine mood lately. We shouldn’t see a storm for quite a while, I say.”

               “Lord Poseidon awaits in his quarters, my lady. Shall we?”

               “Yes. My brother is not known for his patience, is he? Let us go.” Hera followed Ianeira down the carpet that led the way into the palace, and the rest of the Nereids proceeded after in their two lines.

               “Hm. Not much has changed since my last visit, I see,” Hera commented, taking in the palace’s interior. “Same marble, same furniture.”

               “I daresay Lord Poseidon’s tastes are very stalwart. We do admire his practical taste,” Ianeira replied dutifully.

               “There comes a point, in matters such as these, when practicality becomes monotony,” Hera scoffed. “Perhaps I could convince him to add a dash of color. Surely he wouldn’t find cerulean an offensive hue.”

               They had almost completed their ascent to the highest tower, where Poseidon’s quarters were located, when Hera came to a halt. “One moment,” she interjected, turning around to face the Nereids.

               “Yes, my lady?” Ianeira asked.

               “Hm,” Hera took them in with her sharp eyes. “The lines are uneven this time. I nearly missed it. You, and then forty-nine in the two lines… Who is the new maiden that makes the numbers uneven?”

               Dynamene’s heart froze, as she immediately knew Hera was talking about her. Oh, why did Hera have to take notice of her today?

               “Our youngest sister, Dynamene, has joined our ranks at last. She had her coming-of-age birthday just yesterday, in fact.”

               “Dynamene?” Hera replied, as if trying to remember the name.

               Dynamene knew she was expected to come forward so Hera could pick her out of the rest of the Nereids, and she did so with a reluctant step. “I am here, my lady.”

               “Dynamene.” Hera scrutinized her briefly. “Well, then…” Hera rose one mighty arm into the air, and there was a powerful clap reminiscent of thunder. When she lowered her hand again, she held something in it. “Step forward, maiden Dynamene,” she commanded, holding the object out towards her.

               Dynamene stepped quickly to her, eyes filled with curiosity. Hera handed her the object she had summoned.

               It was a gilded pomegranate, wrapped with a golden ribbon.

               “In celebration of your coming-of-age,” Hera declared, looking down at Dynamene. “Consider this my blessing; that whatever union you should desire, and whatever union you should find yourself in, will be one of immense joy. Embrace your femininity, little Nereid; be true and loyal, and your union will be fruitful.”

               Dynamene blushed, holding the pomegranate tight. “I… I will, Lady Hera. I have only my deepest thanks to offer. I will treasure your blessing always.” She bowed deeply.

               “Be humble always, young Dynamene,” Hera finished, dismissing her with a nod. “Now, let us continue. I’m sure my brother grows more impatient by the minute.”

               Ianeira continued to lead them on, and it was just a few more hallways until they had reached the bottom of the stairs leading to those majestic mahogany doors.

               “You may leave me here, Nereids,” Hera said. “I will take myself the rest of the way.”

               “We wish you a happy visit, Lady Hera,” Ianeira bid her. Hera strode up the stairs and pushed through the doors. How Dynamene longed to see what was past them. Surely Lord Poseidon was waiting at the table in the sitting room, head resting against one hand as always, cool eyes gazing into space.

               “Dynamene,” a sharp whisper brought her back to her senses. Her sisters were all gazing at her in awe; more precisely, at the pomegranate she held in her hands.

               “A blessing from Hera? What luck,” Callianassa sighed. “She may have quite the temper, but I suppose even she has her moments of generosity.”

               “How unfair,” Thoe pouted. “Some of us came-of-age before we even came to serve at this palace. Where’s our blessings?”

               Dynamene frowned. She did appreciate Hera’s words, but the idea of any union for her seemed unconceivably far away. She rose the pomegranate up to better appreciate its sleek golden surface, so smooth and glossy that she could make out her own reflection. “If only it did me any good,” she whispered back to herself.

               A few hours later, Dynamene was weaving on the balcony, doing her best to calm herself with the focus of her work and the warmth of the sunshine. The sound of a rather harsh melody coming from behind made her stop and turn around.

               “Sorry if I’m distracting you, Dyna,” Eione sighed, lowering a reed pipe from her mouth. “Callianassa’s been teaching me to play, but I guess I’m not quite there yet.”

               “No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t mind some company, actually,” Dynamene grinned as she turned back to her loom.

               Eione hopped atop the balcony’s edge, settling in for a good view of the ocean and the rocky mountains that made up the other side of the landscape. “Hera’s been in there talking to Poseidon for a while now, hasn’t she? Their visits almost never reach the three-hour mark.”

               “Has it been that long already?” Dynamene asked. Perhaps her anxiety had made the time go by faster rather than slower.

               “I suppose they’re actually having a good visit for once,” Eione quipped, cracking a mischievous grin.

               As if to contradict her, the distant sound of stone cracking somewhere above rang. The sisters tensed, waiting to see if another part of the palace would collapse this time. After several seconds, Eione sighed and leaned back against the wall again. “Ah, I had to say something,” she sighed, rising her pipe back to her mouth.

               But Dynamene’s eyes were still searching the palace above, her expression wrought with concern. “You don’t think they’re going to actually fight, do you?”

               “Them, fight? No,” Eione shook her frizzy locks. “Hera’d sooner lay a golden egg in front of all of Olympus than go toe-to-toe with Poseidon. The ocean is right there, after all.” She paused for a moment, seemingly considering the pipe in her hands. “And Poseidon would sooner do the same then come to blows with Hera. It’d require too much effort.” With that, she continued to practice the melody she’d been playing earlier.

               “Mm,” Dynamene responded. She still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the highest tower. A sudden, crazy idea sprang to her mind, one that she knew she should barely entertain. But she was anxious once again, and curious on top of it. She looked down at the loom, tentatively weighing her possible choices. She abruptly stood. “You know, I don’t think being at the palace is going to soothe my nerves any until Lady Hera leaves. I’m going to go for a walk along the shoreline.”

               “Aye,” Eione nodded assent. “Best thing for calming the nerves. Be safe!”

               “Don’t worry about me!” Dynamene called back as she left the balcony. “I’m never one for risky decisions!”

               Never, except for, perhaps, what she was going to do next.

               Some time later, Dynamene knelt before one of the vents that allowed the seawater they cleaned the floors with to exit the palace. The vents led to a system of large pipes that, although they were meant to only lead water down and away, connected every area of the palace. One of those pipes connected to a vent in Lord Poseidon’s quarters; more specifically, his sitting room. Dynamene removed the grate from the vent and peered cautiously inside. The pipes were still thoroughly wet from the cleaning that had been done the day before. Leaning in, she could hear the sound of water dripping from somewhere below.

               She drew in a shaky breath. Was she really about to do this? She couldn’t even imagine the consequences of getting caught. She shuddered at what punishment might await her if she was found out.

               But, far more than being scared, she desperately wanted to know what Lord Poseidon and Lady Hera were talking about. Their conversation must be getting heated if something had been broken, as the noise from earlier seemed to indicate.

               Knowing was the only thing that stood a chance of easing the anxiety in her head and the weight in her heart.

               Making sure that no one was nearby, she quickly stripped and stowed her clothes in a nearby table drawer. This time, she reluctantly left her bracelet too; it would do no good to lose it or get it caught somewhere now.

               She stood before the vent and closed her eyes in concentration. Her body began to drip into water, starting with her fingers and toes and slowly moving up her limbs and the trunk of her body. Having completely changed into liquid form, she entered the pipe and scaled the water inside the pipes up towards Poseidon’s rooms. It was pitch dark, and she could only guess at which way to go, flowing from one dead-end to the next. After a few claustrophobic minutes, she reached the last junction and rose upwards towards a block of light. This was surely the right vent; she could hear the familiar powerful cadences of Hera’s voice.

               Her sea spirit self was not accustomed to fighting gravity for so long, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until she had exhausted all of her energy. With no other option, she reverted back to her human form, curled up just out of sight from the opening of the vent. She took a moment to catch her breath, cold water dripping down her bare skin, before stilling herself as much as possible and listening in.

               “…thousand years and you have selected no one, not even a lover.” Hera’s shadow paced back and forth across the light of the vent. “I have introduced you to countless maidens. Goddesses and princesses alike have shown interest in becoming the lady of your house. And you say nothing.”

               As expected, Poseidon was silent. Dynamene crept forward just close enough to see into the room, and brushed her wet bangs away from her eyes. Poseidon remained seated at the table, still as always, while Hera paced and gestured before him. Her chair lay in pieces next to the far wall; its destruction was no doubt the source of the crash heard earlier.

               “You live here, with fifty eligible maidens! Sisters from a respected bloodline, and sea nymphs on top! But you choose none of them either. None of them! You live with fifty unmarried young women, and not one has tempted you, Poseidon? Have you wronged Aphrodite, that the concept completely escapes you?!”

               “The concept of marriage is well-known to me, by the example set by you and your husband, among others,” Poseidon replied lowly.

               Hera either hadn’t noticed the sly insult or chose to ignore it, because she continued on as if he’d never spoken. “Here I was, thinking that perhaps you were waiting for one of the Nereids to come-of-age! But the last of the fifty Nereids has finally become a woman, and you won’t have her either!”

               Dynamene stifled a gasp, biting her knuckle. The conversation had turned to include her.

               “The Nereids serve me, and in return, I shelter them. It is a transaction, not a relationship.” Poseidon’s cold words slapped Dynamene, and she swallowed back a growing lump in her throat. Dynamene knew Poseidon was close to no one and had nobody that he considered dear to him. But the fact that after a thousand years together he considered his relationship with the Nereids one of pure business stung.

               “Don’t act so sly,” Hera shouted back. “It was I who put it in old Proteus’s head that he ought to send his daughters to serve you. Did you think the fact that fifty eligible women came to serve you was a coincidence?”

               Dynamene’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth between the two angry gods. Proteus, Old Man of the Sea, was the father of the Nereids, kind and wise. Surely he must have seen through Hera’s suggestion to her ulterior motives.

               “My arrangement with Proteus regarding the servitude of his daughters is none of your concern,” Poseidon said with finality. Dynamene couldn’t see his face from where she hid beyond the grate, but she knew him well enough to know what expression he must be wearing. She shuddered, picturing his icy glare.

               “Mark my words, brother, this won’t be the last you hear from me on this,” Hera spat, pointing at Poseidon with an accusatory finger. “The other gods will look down on our family, whispering nonsense about the strange, solitary Olympian who won’t spare a single glance at a woman. I won’t stand for it. In one month’s time, the council of the Greek pantheon will be held once again. I will arrange for you to meet with a suitable goddess then. Woe betide you if you fail to show or embarrass me once more.” With that, Hera stormed towards the doors, throwing them open hard enough that they crashed against the walls behind them, and swept out.

               There was a heavy silence in the room. Poseidon didn’t move, not one inch, from where he sat in his chair. After several seconds, he rose and approached the destroyed chair. With a sweep of his arm, the chair was fixed and upright. He remained looking down at it for a moment before taking his trident from the rack on the wall and stepping out onto his balcony. A wave of water seemingly appeared from nowhere, enveloping his form. When it had dissolved, he was gone.

               Dynamene finally let out a ragged exhale. This one was not of relief, however, but of searing pain. A sharp, warm tingle came to her eyes, and despite all of her best efforts, she began to cry. Her lower lip trembling silently, she withdrew from the grate and melted back into the water, flowing back to the room she had come from.

               Why? Why do his words hurt me so much? None of this is unexpected. Of course he would say that. It is Lord Poseidon, after all. So close, and yet so distant. He was always this way. I know this. I’ve known this for a thousand years.

               But it hurts. It hurts so much.

               Her tears intermingled with the seawater until it was impossible to tell them apart.

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Author’s notes: Oh, Dynamene, what are you feeling? What are you thinking? And why Poseidon, of all people? Well, it’ll make a lot more sense in the next part as our leads have their first meaningful next interaction. Also teenagers am I right

I love writing Hera, she’s just such a forceful personality. She’s not a bad person, but she does have her own priorities, just like the other Olympians.

Also, the vents in the palace weren’t originally made for draining cleaning water. They were installed to prevent flooding in the palace in case of a storm coming in from the ocean. The Nereids have utilized them in their daily work rather creatively.