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21wanderer · 1 month ago

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Secrets (Part 1 of 4) - Prelude

Originally an excerpt made for a writing challenge, after some encouragement to expand it, I have completed the story and broken it into four parts.

Being the oldest in your class wasn’t noteworthy, at least not most of the time, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have guessed that I was the oldest in my class, I was small and skinny, tall, but not as tall as half of my classmates. But being the first to turn 18 gave me some attention all of a sudden… Especially when I was the first in my class with a driver’s license, then my usually non-existing popularity soared.

I could borrow one of my parents’ cars quite frequently, and it did make me quite coveted in my class, both the guys and the girls thought it was pretty cool, now I could drive them places… It was nice to get the attention, it was nice to feel unique and special… But again it probably wouldn’t last forever, after all, they were going to turn 18 soon enough, and then they could start doing the same, and I could fade back into obscurity.

“Are you coming to the party, Dam?” asked Alice, one of my classmates. “No,” I answered, “you know I don’t drink.” “You don’t have to, quite the opposite actually, Vicky and I were kinda hoping you could drive us home after… Maybe we could go through a drive-in along the way,” Alice said with a wink, “think about it, will you? It would be so great, if you did.”

My class was a party class to say the least, it felt like they were having a party or get-together every week, usually drinking way too much. It was far from the first time I had been invited to the parties, but I always declined, I don’t drink for starters, so I wouldn’t fit in, but Alice’s words got me thinking, although honestly they were both pretty thoughtful as they were inconsiderate. Now they wanted me at their party as their ‘designated driver’, so I could chauffeur them all home after they got wasted.

---

My father works at a hospital in the next town over, he’s a bit of a workaholic, even after an accident that caused him to break his right foot quite badly, he insisted on getting back to work as soon as possible. That meant my mother or I had to drive him to and from work, the plus side being, that I could get to drive more often and gain more experience.

One day, when I came to pick up my father at the hospital, I had a life-changing moment, well, sort of. He wasn’t at the parking garage, but that wasn’t unusual, if he wasn’t here, he was still working. So I entered the hospital, hoping to run into someone, who could guide me in the right direction.

“Hi,” I said to a doctor heading out the double doors to Section 4. “Oh hi Damien, are you here to pick up your father?” she asked. “Yes, have you seen him?” I said, usually it was hassle to locate my father, especially when he was working overtime, when he wasn’t on the parking lot, I had to try and find him in one of the hospital departments, and that wasn’t always an easy task. “Well, he’s doing some work, in the Dermatology department, the storage room, room 417,” she said. “Room 417,” I repeated, “thank you very much.” “You’re welcome,” the doctor said with a smile as she left.

Sure enough I found my father in room 417, a room filled with shelves containing who-knows-what. My father sat at the only computer in the room with his back turned away. “Hi da-” I began, but I almost stumbled over what looked like two large, incredibly visible paint-cans. “Watch where your going, Damien,” dad said as he turned towards me. “Sorry, I didn’t see them,” I said embarrassedly, embarrassed that I could stumble over something so obvious. “Why are those buckets right in front of the door?” I asked. “They need to be disposed of,” my father said. I read the label on the white paint cans, on a pink label with thick black letters, it said: BodyPlast.

It was an unusual name, and I was kinda curious. “What is it?” I asked my father, who resumed his work. “It’s an experimental substance, meant to be used on skin on burn victims and other people with dermatological conditions. It apparently can replicate the exact skin tones and even hair on the skin that it’s applied to, quite remarkable.” “Then why are throwing it out?” “Because the labelling is incorrect.”

“Really? Seems like a waste.”

“Maybe, but it’s a safety standard, a common hospital procedure, we cannot use something on a patient unless we’re 117% sure, we know, what it is. So if the labelling is wrong, we can’t use it.”

The computer monitor went black, and my father got up from his chair, and began gathering the papers on his desk in a stack, “and although it’s quite interesting,” he said, “I’m not quite sure how helpful it’ll be, because if it replicates the skin of those it’s applied to, then it would take the colour of their skin as it is now with burns, scar tissue and so forth, which means that people would have had to apply it before their skin was affected. Then all of a sudden, it doesn’t sound that useful.” He picked up the papers and got up from his chair. “Listen, I just need to hand these sheets over to my colleagues, and give them some instructions. Can you just go back to the car and drive it over to entrance D? and I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” “Ok,” I answered instinctively.

My curiosity was piqued, well more than piqued. This BodyPlast sounded unbelievable, I had a scar on my neck, that I’d like to cover, but there was so much more to it than that. If what my father said was true, I could replicate the skins of others, that prospect lit a fire in me. My father left and went down the hall, I could hear his footsteps, thanks to the boot he wore on his right foot. Not wasting any time, I picked up the buckets, between them was a little folder, which I assumed was the package leaflet, I quickly stuffed it in my pocket, hopefully it would tell me everything I needed to know about BodyPlast. I left the hospital carrying the buckets, nobody noticed, nobody said anything. Once I was at the car I put them in the trunk, and hit them under the blanket, that always stayed in the trunk. I picked up my father by the entrance, and we drove home. My heart was pounding, but I tried to conceal it. Once we were home, I just needed to get the buckets into my room and hide them there. ---

At night, I opened one of the cans with great expectation. It contained a thick, viscous, pink liquid. I dipped a paintbrush into it, then applied a coating to my left arm, just a little bit above the wrist. Then I waited. 15 minutes later the pink colour had faded completely, it was now the exact same colour as my skin, and it was almost unnoticeable. I found an edge, and peeled it off. It was remarkable. The material was incredibly stretchy too – I could stretch incredibly wide, but would resume its original form, when I stopped, still looking perfect. I had to try it again. This time I painted my entire left arm, all the way up to my shoulder, and then I waited again. I peeled it off like a glove, and it looked exactly like my skin, it felt like my skin, even the small hairs were replicated. This was incredible. I slid on the ‘glove’ again, it was surprisingly easy to put on, and the result was flawless. You couldn’t tell, I was wearing an extra layer of skin on my arm. Then it dawned on me, and it was like being hit by a bolt of lightning… With this stuff, I could do almost anything… Or at the very least become anyone. All of a sudden it did feel like a good idea to attend a party.

#male bodysuit #male body transformation #male transformation #male body suit #male skinsuit #male skin suit #male masking #identity theft

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cosmica-galaxy · 19 days ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/cosmica-galaxy/784224978288721920/do-the-clone-cookies-keep-their-personalities-or?source=share

Can you do more? pls pls pls i want more

Alright! I'll expand upon this a bit! The clones themselves can converse with their creator. For example, some clones will make direct statements towards the "Baker", like Milk Cookie and Sparkling Juice Cookie saying that the Baker looks nice today or Hollyberry Cookie saying that she is glad to be your friend. That's a stark polarization to the "real" cookies from the story timeline, who do not say such things. Nearly all normal cookies don't realize that the Baker is present and don't comment on them. However, there is ONE cookie that realizes that there is something there. Mycookie. That would be the only cookie to realize something otherworldly is present in the normal cookie kingdom, as they tend to stare at it (and it looks back at them) while Cream Ferret Cookie asks the little one what they are looking at. Even Blackberry Cookie can't see them, even with her ability to see ghosts normally. Also, I think Cloned Shadow Milk Cookie would be their "second in command" around the altered Cookie Kingdom.

As he's known as a jester and jesters used to serve as royal advisors for kingdoms IRL, so he will be present during meetings between the Baker and non-baker cookies to translate what the Baker is saying in ways for non-cloned cookies to understand. Of course, since he has some of SMC's personality in-tact, he will be a little silly during the meetings while he does his job. If he gets a little TOO silly, the Baker will extend a glittery tendril and will poke him in the head until he gives in and says what they really mean to the visiting cookies. Each clone also serves a purpose for the Baker's kingdom. Dark Cacao and Burning Spice are the warriors that lead charges into battles that the Baker has summoned them for. Pure Vanilla and Mystic Flour are excellent healers and serve as support for the cookies in the kingdoms to keep them all healthy. Hollyberry and Eternal Sugar cookie oversee most defensive actions and help with the alternates upkeep and party plans. SMC and White Lilly are the record keepers and help keep track of everything in the kingdom. Then, Golden Cheese cookie manages the storage and treasury within the castle. The other clones pretty much spend most of their time looking over, working, or relaxing in the kingdom that the Baker made for them. I also think that the Baker can telepathically communicate with their cloned cookies. Which helps in summoning the cookies they need for missions or when they need specific instructions relayed out to their castle keepers, such as allowing visitors that they are expecting inside the castle without any miscommunication. I hope these personal headcanons satisfy you, anon! <: )

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #crk tag #crk x reader #crk x you #crk x y/n #cookie run x reader #cloned cookies au #self aware crk

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siph-by-induction · 9 months ago

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FUN FACT TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, when you eat carbohydrates that cannot easily be broken down (by hydrolysis*) into glucose molecules, they don't get released into glucose molecules in your small intestine as would, for example, simpler sugars like sucrose that is only two monosaccharides (single sugars) long.

This means that these carbohydrates reach your large intestine not fully broken down. So, they tend to be fermented by gut bacteria instead. This has the lovely side effect of making one fart, as well as the genuinely lovely side effect of causing gut bacteria to (A) generally be healthier and (B) produce butanoic acid salts (known as butyrates), which are really important to regulate metabolism, and also produces SCFAs and idk what they do but Wikipedia makes it sound like they're good.

This is also why fibres (which is a broad term including things like cellulose*, so non-starch carbohydrates that aren't as easy to hydrolyse) are good for you - because they are a little bit tougher to digest, so they reach your large intestine where they are fermented by gut bacteria rather than simply instantly getting broken down into glucose the second they encounter a teeny bit of amylase.

But it gets even more interesting than that!

Starches that cannot be easily broken down are called Resistant Starches, right? Resistant starches include amylose. Amylose is a long straight chain of glucose molecules, which contrasts with the other type of starch, amylopectin, which has branches.

Because of its branching, amylopectin has a high surface area to volume ratio, so it is easier to digest. Amylose has a lower surface area to volume ratio so it is roughage and is trickier to digest, so it reaches the large intestine.

Also, in plant cells, starch is often stored in granules. What do we do when we cook food? The heat causes granules to expand, start leaking, or even burst completely, thus making our food easier to digest. It is harder to digest if you have to eat through the granule first before you can even START to break down the polymers. Cooking means that often times, the starch is Literally Right There, so it makes the food much easier to digest.

Anyway, stuff that is Really easy to digest, you get the sugar all at once, so it goes into storage or you get super energetic but it doesn't give you a good lasting amount of energy like slower-releasing starches do.

This all explains... like everything that people say about how you need to eat healthy. (Except for the stupid things like that you need to cut carbs.) It explains why fibre helps digestion, why more complex carbohydrates are often healthier than simple ones like sucrose, WHY WE COOK FOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S SO COOL

Explanations for those who are confused by terminology under the cut:

*cellulose is found in cell walls and is a carbohydrate that is really tough since it forms a lattice shape. It is the stuff that makes wood so strong, and also forms part of lignin AKA tree bark.

*Basically, carbohydrates are made of single sugars that bond together by condensation. Condensation reactions are when on the end of two monomers, there is an OH group and an OH group, and then one of the OHs gets removed and another H+ off of the other OH is removed. This means both monomers are then sharing the one oxygen left, and there is a water molecule produced hence the name. Hydrolysis is the inverse of this - when a water molecule is split into OH- and H+ and then it breaks apart a polymer.

#went on a tangent from doing my biology homework #it was fun #biology #siph speask #siph speaks

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syneilesis · 6 months ago

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[fic] Impossible Fictions

Impossible Fictions

Love and Deepspace | Sylus (Qin Che) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 1.7k words | ao3 link

Five snapshots of memories that never happened.

Content tags: Major character death, angst, non-linear narrative, hurt no comfort, canon AU, canon compliant, spoilers for Sylus's myths story

A/N: Uh, my entry to the game's Where Drakeshadows Fall Fan Art Contest. This one is ... I'm not even sure if this fic passes muster lol. Oh well.

Read Sylus's story. Screamed, cried, threw up. Wrote this fic as a catharsis. I'm sorry. Except I swear this isn't complete angst! There's a happy ending in there somewhere! Please give this one a chance! Lol

[one]

On a calm winter night, snowfall glimpsed between slits of velvet curtains, the orchestral crescendo of a violin concerto flowing from the speakers and into the dimly lit room, you gently take the glass of wine away from Sylus's hand and tip his chin so he can meet your joyous face. His expression morphs into a challenge, but underneath it – curiosity. His eyebrow lifts as your hands trace the bones of his cheeks and then cradle him.

“Sylus,” you say, and you kiss him in the wintry air, crystalline, long and tender and apologetic, and Sylus kisses you back.

“Sylus,” you say, and his right eye burns with knowing, with hunger.

“Sylus,” you say. “Sylus, I finally remember.”

[two]

The moment the greatsword plunges into his chest, the image of you flashes across his mind – a wispy, delicate thing. A flowerstalk with limbs. He can easily snap you in half with his claws.

He doesn't know your name, but he knows your role in his wretched fate. It's almost a pity – to find out that you are his Archnemesis, with your abject stare, horror clinging to your features, hands drenched in blood.

Your bloodied hands.

Your bloody, delicate hands.

In the midst of fury and pain, Sylus feels an inconsolable desire to possess, claws raging to grasp at your pretty neck, push you down the molten ground, and devour you.

To possess you, after all, is to possess his fate. And what could be the most desirable thing for a beast that feasts on desires?

[three]

There's a room at the end of the hallway that you've been exploring in Sylus's base – a spacious, empty room that you've guessed to be for storage. At the far end of it, silhouetted by the nightlights streaming through the windows, is a grand piano, marble-white, thinly coated in dust, but nonetheless pristine and holding signs of the occasional maintenance.

Nothing else is stored in this room, except for the piano. You wonder if Sylus, with his penchant for collecting music, plans on expanding his inventory – this time it's for musical instruments.

Your footsteps reverberate in the room, clicking and clacking on the tiled floor as you approach the piano. Something about its solitary quietude draws you in, like a dazed but curious artist arrested by a beautiful sight.

Having arranged yourself on the bench, you place your fingers on the keys. You weren't taught to play the piano during your childhood; you mostly spent time frolicking around the neighborhood with Caleb and dragging him to help Grandma with chores. But your hands move as if they've been playing for a long time.

The notes come to life one by one, strained, tentative at first, melody unidentifiable until the tempo settles, and you remember Sylus playing it that one time at a chapel, you eventually joining him as an addition to the harmony. At the time, you had been bewildered by how you could play the piece, and how Sylus looked at you and a shadow of wistfulness flickered across his expression. It tugged at your chest, a memory that didn't exist stubbornly making itself known.

The music sounds a little different when played with a grand piano, stripped of its pomp, its ceremonial circumstance. The barebones underneath invites a more vulnerable emotion, one that's a little sadder, more a secret sorrow.

At the height of its melody, your hands stop, like a puppet cut of its strings, and the music ceases, faint echoes of its notes still ringing throughout the room. It's as far as you can go, a piece abruptly ending, without its resolution.

Along with the lingering notes: your tears.

“Hm?”

One hand sweeps across your cheek and comes away wet, and you pause, surprised, heart suddenly dark and heavy, its beats too strong to ignore.

You must have been more affected by the music than you thought. How odd.

Diving into this strange feeling, you play the piece again.

At the other side of the door, without your knowledge, Sylus stands, eyes shut, listening, the outline of his body still as barren lands.

[four]

This moonlit night, as you gaze at the star-speckled sky, you hear Sylus's measured steps from inside the cavern. They get louder and louder, until a couple of wingflaps relay his arrival next to you, the sound of his movements indicating that he has sat down, just inches away from your side.

Something gleams at your periphery, and you finally turn to see his open palm, a ring at the center of it.

Tonight, it seems, this is his gift. Sleek and thin, gold plating the entire band, with inlaid rubies as red as his eyes. Complicated engravings decorate around the gems.

Under the lunar glow it glistens like a dream. You long to touch it, feel your index finger slide over its shape.

“Where did you get this?” you whisper.

He shifts, but his hand doesn't. Your eyes do not leave the ring.

“Why does that matter?” he says, and his voice sounds inquisitive, somehow.

“Is this part of your treasure? I've never seen it, but I guess it's too small for me to find it easily.”

Sylus hums, and pushes his hand towards you.

The heat of his body lingers on the jewelry. You play with it between your fingers, mesmerized.

“It's beautiful,” you say. “You know, in some cultures far away, they say that a ring symbolizes union and commitment. A couple would wear matching rings on their annulary as an everlasting promise to each other.”

It's a knowledge that you've encountered outside the Sanctuary in one of your rare moments of rebelliousness, sneaking out to explore the town. Once, you entered a bookstore, and the smell of old paper assaulted your nose. Nevertheless, you devoured as many books as you could, before time went up and you had to go back to that cold, white room, with your black dragon as the only company, the only comfort.

Sylus says nothing, and when you lift your head the moonlight is molten silver on his visage. It makes his narrowed gaze all the more stark, his rubescent eyes full of things you have no courage to decipher.

Then his lips quirk, and then part, and then: “A ring as a promise, huh.”

And then: slowly, carefully, he takes the ring from you and studies it as if he's laid his eyes on it for the first time.

From where you sit the sharpness that defines his profile is blunted: angles corrode into curves, smoothened by the honey-thick silver illumination that's almost cloying. But from it he's haloed beneath a galaxied sky, and within you, a thought – He's beautiful, oh, how he's beautiful.

A finger taps your left hand, and Sylus smirks briefly.

“Let me.”

And you do. His clawed hand wraps around yours, gentle, and raises it between you. His body moves closer, head bowed, and his tail surrounds you both, like a barrier against the outside world. And inside: just you and him and the golden ring that he's sliding onto your finger. The look on his face is achingly tender, and you swallow all the words down your throat and focus on your hand instead. The ring fits perfectly, like an oath.

“I suspect this is the part where you promise something,” he says – whispers – and the words embed themselves warmly on your skin.

“A commitment is a promise,” you begin, stumbling over each word in hesitation. “But, for us, it can be a curse, one that will follow us to our last breath.” A deep exhale. “I don't know where I'm going with this. Don't put me on the spot.”

That elicits a chuckle from him. Sylus tilts his head just a fraction, and you glimpse a fond smile cracking his expression.

“A curse befits us better,” he agrees, a sardonic lilt to his mouth. “Vengeful, and will chase us beyond our last breath. It is stronger than a promise. It's perfect – I like it.”

The hand on yours tightens, its own promise, its own curse.

“We don't truly need a physical object to remind us of our bond, but ...”

He gets up, and for a painfully fleeting moment Sylus looks more human than a fiend, all tenderness and mortality, brittle but burning.

When he turns around, he is a fiend again.

“I'll forge a matching one for me. Until then, come up with a better speech.”

[five]

There is no beauty in evil. In the mural of The Fiend-Slaying God, the dragon is depicted as a wicked, wretched thing. Wrathful, ugly in its savagery. Only the good is beautiful, triumphant. The villains always lose. It is a rule that has become an unequivocal fact.

Amidst the field of withering daturas, Sylus gasps in your arms, eyes already unfocused. Impending death catalyzes into crystals the color of soot. On his body they seem like charcoal bones escaping from beneath his flesh.

To a normal human, he may look monstrous, ugly, a beast in decay.

To a normal human, this is the triumph of good over evil. Of beauty over the grotesque.

And yet –

And yet.

To you, he is still the most beautiful creature you have ever laid your eyes on.

He is fading right before you, wisps of crumbling matter taken by the winds like ashes. Your arms tighten their embrace of him, refusing to let him go, as if this could reverse everything, as if this could prevent him from succumbing to oblivion.

“Sylus,” you whisper. “Sylus.”

He doesn’t hear, and you bow your head, forehead touching his, your unceasing tears falling over his cheeks. You call his name over and over. It is a futile effort.

But then, you feel it: fingers, leather-rough, ghosting down your face, and you lift your head to find Sylus gazing at you, eyes miraculously clear and lucid, the edges of his mouth twitching upwards.

For a heart-stopping moment, you taste a sliver of hope.

“Sylus!” you cry out, your hand grabbing his, fingers entwining. You press your wet cheeks against his hand, shutting your eyes and fervently praying. “Don’t die, please.”

He doesn’t answer, and you look at him again and bite back a sob.

He’s still smiling when the remaining parts of him disappear. And as the last of himself becomes nothing, he opens his mouth and tells you –

“I love you.”

Sylus takes with him all sound and color and beauty.

In the withered field of what was once daturas, you put your head in your hands and cry.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads sylus #lads sylus x reader #lads sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lnds sylus #lnds sylus x reader #lnds sylus x you #i am so tired with tagging fics lmao i give up #fic #my fic

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archesnalleyways · 1 year ago

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you should really expand on the thought of having to suck rick’s cock at gun point like I’m salivating thinking about it

Teehee 🤭

requests are open, we are so back

Warning: contains guns, other weaponry, non-con/dub-con

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

You’ve moved away from your basecamp alone, in desperate need for some cans of food. The supermarket looks pretty bolted up but you spotted a inconspicuous window high up on a wall and decided to try your luck. Some shelves were tipped over, some broken, but as you worked your way through you found a storage room.

Your eyes spotted a cardboard box and in your hungry, desperate state you just dropped your gear and started to rummage through it. In the damp box there was a load of tin-cans, some leaking but multiple intact. Beside you on the floor you started to pile up the useful ones, trying to read some of the drooping labels.

But then you hear a gun click behind you. The blood freezes in your veins and one hundred scenarios flash before your eyes,

“Drop the cans” a husky voice states.

Your hands instinctively let go of the food, brain jumping from the fear of being shot, to your weapons being three feet behind you, to the hunger residing in your gut. Lifting your arms up in the air the show that you’re unarmed.

“Now turn around, slowly.”

You start to rise up but you hear the man behind you tut.

“Stay down.”

The pang of humiliation is faint in contrast to the fear, but it’s still there. But you listen and spin around, still on your knees, and turn to see a tall man pointing a gun straight at you. There’s a shotgun slung over his back, multiple knives strapped to his body and his blue eyes trained at your every movement.

“Aren’t you a pretty lil thing?” He says with a southern drawl, looking you over once before focusing on the box slightly behind you.

An old, ragged tote is thrown to your knees as he uses the mouth of the gun to point at you and then the food.

“Pack everything edible in that bag, now.”

Your hands made quick work of piling the cans, sorting out the already opened ones onto the side. Your eyes leave the food for a second to look over at the man again. He lifts an eyebrow at you, taking half a stride closer to examine your work. As the last can is placed into the bag you twist your body to place it by his feet.

“Put your arms behind your back.”

You move instantly as he glances into the tote and nods approvingly.

“You take orders so well, darlin” the man says, with something dark glittering in his eyes.

He walks up the few steps toward you, gun still aimed at you, as he grips your chin. His calloused thumb drags against your bottom lip before grabbing your cheeks, forcing your face into a ridiculous pout. As he let go slowly your tongue darted out to wet your lips, completely involuntarily.

He groans and moves his hand to his groin, massaging the bulge there. Your eyes widen as you started to put together what was gonna happen. The mans salt-and-pepper beard moved as he smirked popping open the button on his jeans.

“It would be such a waste to let you go now, doll-face” he says as his hand returns to his dick that is hardening in a rapid speed, “especially since you are so good at taking orders, right darlin’?”

His whole face darkens and his eyes bore into your own, as he leans down slightly.

“If I even feel a hint of your teeth I’ll empty the fuckin’ clip” the man hisses at you, pushing the barrel of the gun firmly against your head.

You nodded softly with your heart beating out of your chest, and lifted your hands to pull down his jeans. The cock that springs out is undeniably pretty and perfectly red over the tip. Paired with the rugged good looks of its owner this experience might’ve been enjoyable for you. But then you’re reminded of the weapon and ushered to get to work.

Your tongue darted out to lick at the underside, lips wrapping around his tip. You taste the hint of precum before taking half of his length into your mouth, tentatively bobbing over the first couple of inches.

“Good, that’s good” he grunts, dick twitching as he sees tears starting to roll down your cheeks from the strain.

Hollowing out your cheeks you decide to take in some more of him, desperately trying to make this the best blowjob of your life. Saliva starts to gather at corners of your mouth as you dare to look up at him for the first time, but not before stealing a glance of the gun in his hand first.

“Pull your top down, wanna see your drool over those tits”

With a quick yank your boobs spill out, nipples already pert from the cool air and, despite the circumstances, arousal. The man groans in appreciation.

A big hand splays over the back of your head and you have time to anxiously dart your eyes up to his before he starts to thrust into your mouth, and subsequently down your throat.

The sounds of his pleasure and your gags blend as they ring out into the store, one of your hands resting at the base of his cock and the other landing to cup your clothed pussy.

“Ah, fuck it!”

The curly-haired man seemed to get lost in his pleasure since he decides to fasten his gun into his holster to free up his hands. Grabbing a chunk of your hair to maneuver you over his massive cock, pushing you down until your nose was pressed into the patch of hair at his base. You gargle around his member, more drool bubbling from the edge of your lips.

“That’s it, doll” he moans, “choke on it.”

He lifts his hips slightly to get the very last of his dick stuffed into your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. When he pulls you off a string of saliva lands on your chin before it drips down onto your exposed chest. He places his dick over your face, pre-cum and your spit leaving sticky trails onto your nose and forehead.

“Aren’t you perfect stress relief?” He asks rhetorically, lifting his cock to slap it over your face a couple of times, “found me food and takes cock like a slut.”

Despite everything you feel your face flush from his words and humiliating actions. He chuckles at you, almost cooing softly before pushing you down onto his cock.

“Too bad I don’t have time to test your other holes, I’m sure they’re lovely” he groans out, thrusting deeper and deeper.

His grunts starts to increase in both volume and frequency, warning you that he’s about to cum, and you begin to mentally prepare yourself for swallowing when he pulls his cock out.

“Stay still, darlin’” he murmurs, eyebrows knitted together, as the hand not jacking himself off with pulls at your hair to put your face in the perfect angle, “I’m gonna paint a pretty picture.”

The last syllable morphed into a groan as he came, hot load landing in ropes over your face. His eyes glittered darkly as he covered you and the utter filthiness of it all made his dick twitch one last time. A few spurts landed on your tits and you keep your eyes trained onto his, mouth slightly agape. He tapped the last drops of cum onto your lips before pulling his pants up again.

He picks up the bag of food you packed and stopped for a second to take in the state of you. Tits out, eyes irritated from tears and face covered in cum. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Bye-bye sweetheart, I hope I’ll run into you again” he says with a wink and leaves.

#rick grimes #rick grimes blurb #rick grimes drabble #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes oneshot #rick grimes smut #rick grimes twd #rick grimes the walking dead #twd smut #the walking dead smut #gun k!nk #gun play

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linkhundr · 9 months ago

Text

So NFTgate has now hit tumblr - I made a thread about it on my twitter, but I'll talk a bit more about it here as well in slightly more detail. It'll be a long one, sorry! Using my degree for something here. This is not intended to sway you in one way or the other - merely to inform so you can make your own decision and so that you aware of this because it will happen again, with many other artists you know.

Let's start at the basics: NFT stands for 'non fungible token', which you should read as 'passcode you can't replicate'. These codes are stored in blocks in what is essentially a huge ledger of records, all chained together - a blockchain. Blockchain is encoded in such a way that you can't edit one block without editing the whole chain, meaning that when the data is validated it comes back 'negative' if it has been tampered with. This makes it a really, really safe method of storing data, and managing access to said data. For example, verifying that a bank account belongs to the person that says that is their bank account.

For most people, the association with NFT's is bitcoin and Bored Ape, and that's honestly fair. The way that used to work - and why it was such a scam - is that you essentially purchased a receipt that said you owned digital space - not the digital space itself. That receipt was the NFT. So, in reality, you did not own any goods, that receipt had no legal grounds, and its value was completely made up and not based on anything. On top of that, these NFTs were purchased almost exclusively with cryptocurrency which at the time used a verifiation method called proof of work, which is terrible for the environment because it requires insane amounts of electricity and computing power to verify. The carbon footprint for NFTs and coins at this time was absolutely insane.

In short, Bored Apes were just a huge tech fad with the intention to make a huge profit regardless of the cost, which resulted in the large market crash late last year. NFTs in this form are without value.

However, NFTs are just tech by itself more than they are some company that uses them. NFTs do have real-life, useful applications, particularly in data storage and verification. Research is being done to see if we can use blockchain to safely store patient data, or use it for bank wire transfers of extremely large amounts. That's cool stuff!

So what exactly is Käärijä doing? Kä is not selling NFTs in the traditional way you might have become familiar with. In this use-case, the NFT is in essence a software key that gives you access to a digital space. For the raffle, the NFT was basically your ticket number. This is a very secure way of doing so, assuring individuality, but also that no one can replicate that code and win through a false method. You are paying for a legimate product - the NFT is your access to that product.

What about the environmental impact in this case? We've thankfully made leaps and bounds in advancing the tech to reduce the carbon footprint as well as general mitigations to avoid expanding it over time. One big thing is shifting from proof of work verification to proof of space or proof of stake verifications, both of which require much less power in order to work. It seems that Kollekt is partnered with Polygon, a company that offers blockchain technology with the intention to become climate positive as soon as possible. Numbers on their site are very promising, they appear to be using proof of stake verification, and all-around appear more interested in the tech than the profits it could offer.

But most importantly: Kollekt does not allow for purchases made with cryptocurrency, and that is the real pisser from an environmental perspective. Cryptocurrency purchases require the most active verification across systems in order to go through - this is what bitcoin mining is, essentially. The fact that this website does not use it means good things in terms of carbon footprint.

But why not use something like Patreon? I can't tell you. My guess is that Patreon is a monthly recurring service and they wanted something one-time. Kollekt is based in Helsinki, and word is that Mikke (who is running this) is friends with folks on the team. These are all contributing factors, I would assume, but that's entirely an assumption and you can't take for fact.

Is this a good thing/bad thing? That I also can't tell you - you have to decide that for yourself. It's not a scam, it's not crypto, just a service that sits on the blockchain. But it does have higher carbon output than a lot of other services do, and its exact nature is not publicly disclosed. This isn't intended to sway you to say one or the other, but merely to give you the proper understanding of what NFTs are as a whole and what they are in this particular case so you can make that decision for yourself.

#käärijä #whew its a long one sorry #but hopefully useful #and intended entirely to inform

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kyunghwannie · 2 months ago

Note

When do you think most likely each twice members had their 1st time? And do you think there's a chance some of them are still inexperience or just recently had sex.

Choose which members falls into this era:

(2012 - 2015) - This era is before their debut, their trainee days and some of them still in school.

(2016 - 2020) - This era is when their built their career, become really famous and meet many other people in the industry. They also said that during this time they are ban from dating which is I think is a lie.

(2021 - 2025) - In this era their concept become more mature, concerts expanding to many countries and have a solid fanbase. This also the start of members getting many individual brand endorsement and their own IG accounts.

Kyunghwannie’s Totally Unofficial, Completely Speculative, "I-Was-Not-There-But-Here’s-My-Gut-Feeling" TWICE Virginity Timeline™

Let’s be real—idol dating bans are about as effective as Jeongyeon’s attempts to resist stealing Momo’s food. Technically forbidden, but practically a suggestion. That said, here’s my wildly unprofessional breakdown based on vibes, lore, and the fact that humans are, well, human:

2012–2015 (Trainee Era: Hormones & Homework)

Most Likely Candidates:

Nayeon: The unnies always know more than they let on. She had that "I’ve kissed at least one person behind the school gates" energy even pre-debut.

Jeongyeon: Secretly the most rebellious. Would’ve lost it to some cool upperclassman who played guitar, then ghosted them to focus on training. Zero regrets.

Chaeyoung: Art kids are either hopeless romantics or way ahead of the curve. She doodled nudes in her sketchbook at near 18—let’s not pretend otherwise.

Wildcard:

Momo: Look, she was busy perfecting dance covers and inhaling chicken. But if anyone pulled a "practice room quickie," it’s her.

-----

2016–2020 (Rookie Domination: "No Dating" = "No Public Dating")

Most Likely Candidates:

Sana: Flirted her way into someone’s bed during a Japan promo trip. It was "just cuddling" until it very much wasn’t.

Jihyo: Leader by day, stress-reliever by night. Probably had a sneaky thing with a backup dancer who knew how to handle a powerful woman.

Dahyun: The church girl facade is strong, but that girl knows things. Suspect a tipsy post-MAMA hookup with a junior idol who still dreams about her.

Wildcard:

Tzuyu: Grew up fast under the spotlight. Wouldn’t shock me if she had a discreet fling with a non-celeb who treated her like a person, not a visual.

----

2021–2025 (Mature Era: "We’re Adults, Damn It")

Most Likely Candidates:

Mina: Late bloomer by choice. Finally said "screw it" and let a hot yoga instructor worship her like the goddess she is.

Tzuyu (if not earlier): Realized she could have anyone she wanted post-"Alcohol-Free." Probably experimented with someone who wasn’t a nervous fanboy.

The "Wait, Really?" Contender:

Jeongyeon (round two): Hear me out—health struggles made her reevaluate a lot. Might’ve had a post-recovery "life’s too short" fling.

----

Who Might Still Be Inexperienced?

Mina: If she is, it’s by design. Girl moves at her own glacial, elegant pace.

Dahyun: Could go either way. Either a secret freak or still thinks "netflix and chill" means literal Netflix.

Chaeyoung: Unlikely, but if so, it’s because she’s too busy writing diss tracks about capitalism to notice suitors.

==============================================

PLOT TWIST (What actually Happened)✨:

2012–2015 (Trainee Era: Hormones & Homework)

Most Likely Candidates (and the Mysterious Common Denominator):

Nayeon: That "I’ve kissed at least one person behind the school gates" energy? Yeah, that was me. She may have pulled me into a storage closet after practice once. Or twice.

Jeongyeon: That cool upperclassman who played guitar? Surprise, it was just me with a borrowed acoustic and zero actual skill. She ghosted me anyway to focus on training. Worth it.

Chaeyoung: Those nudes in her sketchbook? Allegedly inspired by a very private life-drawing session. (I was the model. And the muse. And the—look, it’s art.)

Wildcard:

Momo: If anyone pulled a "practice room quickie," it’s her. And if that anyone was a certain trainee who always brought her snacks… well. Hypothetically. I like to give snack yenno?

---

2016–2020 (Rookie Domination: "No Dating" = "No Public Dating")

Most Likely Candidates (and the Recurring Guest Star):

Sana: That Japan promo trip "cuddling" session? Plot twist—I was the hotel room service guy who "accidentally" brought extra strawberries. She tipped very generously.

Jihyo: That sneaky thing with a backup dancer? Funny story—I may have taken a very temporary job as one during their US tour. "Stress relief" was mutual.

Dahyun: That tipsy post-MAMA hookup? Let’s just say her "junior idol" was technically not an idol at all. (It was me. I was the junior. And the—hehe. Okay, Honestly, i just had a badge and said i was an artist)

Wildcard:

Tzuyu: That discreet fling with a non-celeb? Allegedly, it was a "fan" who just so happened to have backstage passes for every TWICE concert in 2019. (Cough.). I sneaked in

----

2021–2025 (Mature Era: "We’re Adults, Damn It")

Most Likely Candidates (and the Shockingly Consistent Co-Star):

Mina: That hot yoga instructor? Weird coincidence—I took a very sudden interest in flexibility training around 2022. Good Morning, indeed.

Tzuyu (if not earlier): That "someone who wasn’t a nervous fanboy"? Joke’s on you—I stopped being nervous.

The "Wait, Really?" Contender:

Jeongyeon (round two): Post-recovery "life’s too short" fling? Let’s just say I may have shown up with her favorite comfort food and zero expectations. (Okay, some expectations.)

---

Who Might Still Be Inexperienced?

Mina: If she is, it’s because I respectfully got distracted by her aura and forgot to make a move.

Dahyun: Either a secret freak or still thinks "netflix and chill" means literal Netflix. (It’s the latter. I tried.)

Chaeyoung: Unlikely, but if so, it’s because she threatened to tattoo "NO" on my forehead if I flirted again.

---

Final Verdict:

The real answer? I plead the fifth. But if I had to bet my ONCE membership: Nayeon, Sana, and Jihyo were not waiting, and Momo definitely lost hers to someone who brought her food after. (Allegedly me. Allegedly.)

(Disclaimer: This is all fiction. Probably. Maybe. Unless…? Hehe.)

#twice #asks #twice smut #but the smut thing is funny #no actual smut thang

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patroxlos · 11 months ago

Text

home base . ch8

"friends who are for the people" - 6.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch7. "friends who use their phones in bed"

next: [SOON]

When you said you were busy with your own things, you meant it.

You have your own fun when Kenji is not around.

---

Dr. Onda has a special ability to be the most imposing person in the room.

Even in front of a long panel of the most important figures in Tokyo, he intimidates with the glare from his shades and his permanent frown. His second-in-command is much more approachable with his youthful face and calm but reliable demeanor, but Captain Aoshima can only do so much with his digestible powerpoint slides and well-crafted charts to lessen the heavy air of the room.

“...and you can see in this graph, that with your help, the KDF has managed to expand our fleet to tackle airborne kaiju. Our aviators have suffered less injuries due to the fortification of our aircrafts, and we are able to more efficiently terminate kaiju with our updated munitions. Any questions?” Captain Aoshima glances around the room to check whether the board was following.

They only nod, some casting glances towards Dr. Onda as he stood at the side to monitor his assistant’s presentation. The KDF’s board is composed of some of the most decorated war veterans, politicians, and arms dealers in the country, yet all are wary towards the senior researcher.

All except you.

“Captain, I have a question,” You say. You look up from the comprehensive board report they had passed around earlier, neat inside a plain black folio. “You discussed that the updated munitions arming the refurbished planes are necessary for more efficient ejection of projectiles, correct?”

“Yes, Director.”

You swallow.

You don’t think you earned the title compared to the others seated at the long table–this being your first board meeting, after all��but you let it go. They will sense weakness if you do not appear more confident. You continue your line of inquiry. “The report states that we have not introduced new projectiles in the armory within the quarter, yet based on the most recent kaiju attack, I have noticed that your fleets utilized non-lethal tranquilizers on the target. I reviewed the previous reports from the past five years and there has not been any mention about the research and development of such. May I ask why there was this omission?”

Murmurs broke out amongst your fellow board members. You keep your eyes trained at the commanding captain. He does not seem fazed at all by your question; he merely turns to look at Dr. Onda, who nods back, for permission to answer.

“Yes, Director. The tranquilizers were not mentioned in the quarterly review because they were not a recent development nor acquisition. They have been archived in our inventory for a better part of two decades. However, I can assure that our aviation ordnancemen checked prior to its use whether they are still effective as they were when they were first developed.”

You cross-check the provided digital database, manipulating the holographic screen. The inventory displays the potent tranquilizers. You skim over the document, pausing momentarily when you catch a line of text stating ‘Developer: Dr. Emiko Sato.’ You swipe away from the tab.

“Why take out old tranquilizers from storage for this specific kaiju?” You inquire.

“It was imperative for us to take this Kaiju alive.”

At the corner of your eye, you notice the Chairman of the Board stand up from his seat. Of course, as he is also Japan’s Minister of Defense, he has the most interest in increasing the KDF’s productivity. “And for what reason did you feel it was necessary to keep that kaiju alive?! I thought we agreed that the infrastructural costs outweigh the necessity to study these monsters?”

With a flick of his wrist, the Minister pushes one of the holographic screens to the center of the room. It plays the footage of that abnormally small, pink kaiju that ran through the streets a week prior. You see yourself on the screen get picked up, and you get phantom pains on your body as you remember how constricting the hold of that kaiju was. The stares of the other directors stab into your skin as they also recognize you from the footage.

Before anyone else can make a comment, Dr. Onda steps forward. The Minister falls back down on his chair, startled that the man has decided to finally speak after two hours in the boardroom.

“Captain Aoshima, thank you. I will take over the presentation for now.” He commands attention despite not raising his voice. Even if his eyes are covered, even you can feel the wuthering stare he sends towards the Minister. “Minister, while I respect your position as Chairman of the Board, I don’t think it is part of your responsibilities to scold my subordinates. Let your grievances out towards me.”

While the panel is silenced due to fear, you instead are stricken with respect for the older man. You appreciate how he takes care of his workers. Although, you still have your own job to do.

“Very well, Dr. Onda,” you speak up and everyone’s focus is now back on you. “Does this kaiju have anything to do with your current updates on Project Surrogate?”

He actually looks impressed, and you try not to look too pleased about his nod of approval. “Yes. I will move the presentation along towards it.”

The screen in front of you now presents a concise, bulleted summary of action points that Project Surrogate aims to achieve. This isn’t new to the panel, and the project needs no introduction. After all, it has been in development for the past five years, and most of taxpayer money being invested in the KDF has went towards it.

Project Surrogate’s main objective echoes that of the KDF’s original purpose: to locate Kaiju Island. It is hinged on the long-standing theory that Kaijus exhibit homing behavior towards their island of origin. Since it has been notoriously difficult to track adult Kaiju to the island, Project Surrogate hypothesizes that infant Kaiju might make it easier. The KDF has spent nearly half a decade trying to find proof of juvenile kaiju, until they finally stumbled onto a nest.

You have studied all of the declassified information on the project, yet even with your clearance level, you and the Board are kept out of the loop from Dr. Onda’s plans.

“We have seen this slide before,” you say, a bit frustrated as you stare at the screen. “Can we skip towards the project’s developments?”

Bowing slightly to your direction, he acquiesces to your request and switches to the photo of Gigantron, Queen of the Kaiju. Stepping forward, he begins his presentation. “Project Surrogate has made large progress since we have discovered the nest of Gigantron at the town of Oshima, by its coast. It has confirmed for us that kaiju, or in particular Gigantron, do not necessarily lay eggs nor reproduce exclusively in their island. The evidence in the surrounding area suggests that this is not the first time Gigantron has laid her eggs there.”

“Is it possible that Gigantron has natal homing?” You ignore the murmurs of confusion around you, but you do spot a few board members rolling their eyes at your display of proficiency.

You’re trying too hard to impress others, they think. Everything you do is performative. At your core, you’re just as dumb and vapid as everyone says you are.

“Indeed,” Dr. Onda nods your way. “This display of migratory behavior brings us closer towards finding Kaiju Island, as the infant would soon be instinctively motivated to fly away from our territory.”

The slide changes to the baby kaiju, and the pieces begin falling in place for the Board. The egg had hatched, and the kaiju has been alive for a few months at the moment. You raise another question. “Has the child been in KDF custody this entire time? Can you explain why it was allowed to roam the streets of Tokyo?”

“Unfortunately, the egg was stolen from us by Ultraman, and it had hatched under his control.”

Loud, outraged murmurs broke out amongst the board. Ultraman? Isn’t he supposed to be on our side?

“Wait, Dr. Onda,” the Minister says. “So, even after the Tokyo fiasco, Ultraman still has custody over the kaiju?”

“Yes.”

A gruff-looking general shouts “Then doesn’t that mean Project Surrogate is a bust?”

“Hardly.” Even at the face of angry investors, Dr. Onda keeps his cool. He simply changes the slide to show an image of Ultraman cradling the kaiju against his chest while he hangs from the side of Tokyo Tower. Chills run down your spine. It is as if Ultraman was in the room himself, staring down everyone with a righteous fury.

Like a mother holding her child close, baring her teeth at the dangers that creep near.

“Due to Ultraman letting the kaiju loose on the streets, we have learned that the baby is capable of echolocation. It is possible that adult kaiju use echolocation at a frequency our sensors fail to pick up, but this child uses it as clear as day. Once we recapture the kaiju from Ultraman, we can set it free to the ocean and follow it towards Kaiju Island.”

As Dr. Onda finishes relaying the plan to the room, murmurs of approval soon broke the silence. The plan is reasonable, but you still remained unconvinced that he is telling you everything. You open the quarter report again, this time towards the expenditures for Project Surrogate.

“The plan does not seem clear to me yet, Dr. Onda. How sure are we that the KDF will be able to track the kaiju as it navigates through open waters?” You probe.

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that for now,” He dodges your question.

“And what about the amount of lithium and uranium in the itemized budget? If you wanted to make bombs I would prefer it if you declare it.”

“We are making bombs, that is nothing new at the KDF. That is as much declaration I can make,” he dismisses your concern.

“So you do have a more thorough plan that you are not telling us about?”

“For two decades, the KDF and its Board of Directors have operated together with a strong sense of trust. You might not be familiar with it now, since this is your first meeting with us as a board member, but soon you will be.”

“But—” Shit. You are getting a little frazzled as he points out your inexperience. “Okay, that’s beside the point. What about Ultraman? The continuation of this project hinges on the KDF tracking his location, but he remains an elusive figure to the Japanese people.”

Dr. Onda gestures towards the Minister of Defense. “We will double down our efforts into tracking him, and we are encouraging the people to send to our tip line any sightings of the vigilante. Our chairman has been most helpful in declaring Ultraman persona non grata.”

“With much public backlash,” the Minister comments.

Another board member pipes in. “Ultraman is seen as a Japanese icon. The favorability of KDF has been declining steadily in the past several months, but it has been crashing to the gutter ever since the announcement that Ultraman is wanted.”

The meeting is getting derailed as the Board grows restless with the lack of direction in the KDF, exposed by you. You are starting to wonder whether you should have just sat there and listened like the others were.

Soon it ends, and everyone begins to shuffle out of the board room. You personally bow to each of the board members before they leave, half of them sizing you up but the rest giving you their blessings for being part of the team. Either way, your stomach turns.

You approach Captain Aoshima, and do the same bow towards him. “Thank you for that presentation, Captain. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

“Likewise,” he returns the courtesy, though after he rises from his bow he fiddles with his pockets. “Actually, before you leave, ah– sorry, this is a bit unprofessional.”

You already have a feeling on what he is going to ask, but it still humors you slightly that he is breaking a bit of his respectful decorum that you know him for. You glance around the room, and the only people left are you, the captain and Dr. Onda. At least no one else is there to make fun of what you’re about to do. “Sure, we can take a photo.”

Aoshima brightens significantly. “Thank you, my daughter would be thrilled. Is it okay if you record a greeting as well? It’s her birthday soon.”

“She knows who I am?” Your eyes widen.

He thinks you’re being too modest. “She used to follow you before you deleted your accounts.”

“Then, it’s no problem! Sorry if I might seem a bit awkward. I haven’t done this in a while so I’m a bit rusty,” you laugh nervously.

You take his phone from his hands, angling the camera for a self-photo with him at your side. The recording goes just as smoothly, with you giving a small pep talk on how his daughter should focus on her studies. Captain Aoshima bows in gratitude, glowing with the excitement of a father who will do anything in the world for his kids.

Dr. Onda watches as his assistant leaves the room, leaving you and him alone. Swallowing your nervousness, you turn to the man and give a respectful bow. “Thank you for the meeting, Dr. Onda. The KDF remains safe in your hands.”

His silence makes you a bit more nervous. It is one thing for you to conduct a thorough interrogation during a quarterly board meeting, it is another making small-talk.

“I’ll…be going?” You try to have a smooth exit, but he raises his hand to signal you to stay.

“I was never fond of businessmen meddling with the organization,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“Well…Motsubishi prides itself in our social involvement—”

“Spare me the sales pitch, your father has done a lot of that when he served on the board,” he interrupts you. “I doubt you believe weapons development equates to welfare.”

“We only make it to the KDF,” you immediately rebut.

“Not fond of the dirtier sides of the business? Isn’t this what you’ve studied?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You pocket your hands into your slacks. “I’m not entirely fond of profiting from war.”

“Would you call our fight against kaiju a war?”

“...You’re testing me.” You click your tongue. “Please, Dr. Onda.”

“You used to call me ‘Uncle’, when you played with Akiko.”

The room grows a little colder.

“Have you seen Hayao lately?” He changes topic, turning away from you.

“Can’t say I have, but I’ve seen him a couple of times since the incident,” you admit.

He gives a hum of acknowledgement.

“His knee is getting better, not that you asked,” you inform him, stepping forward to stand by his side. You look ahead as you speak. “I think…I think Kenji is taking care of him? Not sure, I didn’t get to confirm, but Emiko…before she disappeared…she told me that he flew all the way here just to take care of the Professor. It took a bit but I think they’re finally talking.”

It’s quiet again, for a moment. “And…Ultraman?”

“I…I don’t know who it is now, I’m sorry,” you don’t know why you are apologizing.

Dr. Onda merely sighs.

You turn to face him properly. “He doesn’t blame you, you know. For his knee.”

“I never asked for his forgiveness.” His face is steel, not betraying a hint of emotion. You see your worried face in the reflection of his shades. “Nor do I feel any sort of guilt.”

“You didn’t know he was Ultraman—”

“And even if I did, I still would have ordered the shot.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“And I don’t make it a habit to shoot at superheroes. Ultraman was interfering with an official KDF extraction. It was necessary.” He remains stone-faced.

“You let him go.”

He walks away from you to another side of the room as he dismissively waves you off. “A mistake.”

“Admit it. You saw his crumpled body on the ground and you just let him go.” You follow, hot on his heels.

You nearly ram into him when he briskly stops in his tracks to turn to you. “I saw the crumpled body of my daughter’s killer and decided I wouldn’t stoop down to his level.”

“He is only one man.” You run a hand through your hair.

“Ultraman is not my enemy, but if he proves to be a nuisance that hinders us from achieving some peace in our shores, then I am not against making him one,” he booms. The conviction of his words might have shaken you, but you notice his shoulders sag slightly, defeated.

You cross your arms, tucking them close to your torso. “That’s…that’s one thing I agree on.”

“...Thank you.” You can tell he means it.

“The new Ultraman…he still needs to grow on me,” you divulge. “He kind of acts like some young hotshot. Seems pretty immature.”

“It’ll be easy to track him down then. But Hayao…he must have taught his new protégé all he knows about how to hide himself.”

“Doctor, you know that I am dedicated to help the KDF in anyway I can,” you affirm.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Even if it means going against your tutor?”

“I think we and Ultraman have the same goal,” you answer. “We all want to be able to keep the people of this city safe. I don’t know how useful I can be to Ultraman’s cause but I know that I can affect real change here in the KDF. Like how Emiko used to.”

He’s a bit unsatisfied with your reply, but his lips almost twitch into a smile at your, as he calls it, misguided idealism. “You should also go by Doctor, then.”

You wince at the title.

“I’ll pass.” Even if you did recently graduate, it feels like a brag. It does not help that most of the internet thinks you’re lying when you discuss your educational background.

“Receiving a doctorate at 26 is no easy feat. You deserve to be acknowledged for it,” he coolly praises you. The flattery is getting to you a bit, but you still avoid letting it seep in.

“Doesn’t seem to matter much to others,” you dismiss his words. “I’ve tried so hard to distance myself from my old image. I deleted all my social media. I have placed full attention into preparing myself for what I’m about to inherit and I’m still…It still isn’t enough.”

Dr. Onda pushes his shoulders back. “The media play against you has been rampant since you were younger. It is hard to push back against such schemes.”

At eighteen, you formally entered society.

At eighteen, you had the world at your fingertips.

At eighteen, your father officially named you as his successor. He did not have much of a choice, given that you were his only one.

At eighteen, you made enemies who to this day are intent that you stay far away from the title Chief Executive Officer.

“My dad’s officially retiring within the month.”

“I’ve received the invitation to your welcoming gala,” he states. “Congratulations. While I’m not fond of public outings, since your father personally requested my appearance, I cannot say no.”

“I need a win.” Your arms fall to your sides, hands balling into fists. “I refuse to be driven out of the company my family built.”

His shades reflect a small flash of light. “Is this the purpose of our chat?”

“Project Surrogate. I need this to work. If the KDF can get stronger public approval I can solidify my position.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he warns you. “And I’m not doing this to satisfy anyone’s greed for power. This is for the people.”

“Because of the kaiju, I got separated from my best friend.” You place a hand over your heart. “And he grew up without a father. Believe me. My ambitions are here but I am fully committed to making this work.”

His hands clasp behind his back. “All I ask is for trust— an understanding, that I am using your investments for the greater good.”

You grin. “Where do I sign?”

A/N: hello … I’m not dead :D

And yes you are pro-KDF for now :D I think Dr. Onda is such a cool and well-written antagonist. DYK in early Ultraman he actually does just straight up kill the kaiju. From a utilitarian standpoint, kaiju are an invasive species. They’re not inherently bad but they don’t belong in the environment they are in. (I watch a lot of those lion fish exterminator tiktoks…)

If you saw on my Tumblr I posted a WIP snippet of what was supposed to go into this chapter, but ultimately I decided that maybe having a portion that focused solely on adding more context to who the reader is would help push the story forward. You go by a lot of different names around these parts! But next chapter would have too much Ken to make up for his absence here! The WIP I posted will be moved to ch10 as well :>

Since I’ve already finished a portion of the next chapter and it’s ready to publish in no time, as it’s a direct continuation from chapter 8’s flashback, here’s a snippet of its introduction so you know what’s in store!

——-

You hear a rapid knocking on the door.

You don’t register it at first, your head pounding from waking up too early. The only thing you can sense is Ken’s warm back against your bare chest, your hands around his waist. You press your face against the back of his neck, groaning at the hour. “Kenji, S’noisy.”

You feel his body shift, and he shrugs you off. “Y’face too cold…”

You just bite his shoulder and tug him closer. He lets you.

Soon, the knocking stops, but Kenji’s phone rings from the bedside table. Groaning, he blindly reaches for it to take the call, and you whine when he shifts in your hold. You realize that you won’t be able to get any sleep, so your eye cracks open to check the clock.

2:17 AM.

Now who—

“Kenji? Kenji are you awake? I’m outside your door. Please let me in.”

You both bolt up when you hear Emiko Sato’s voice from the phone. You slap his back to get him moving. “The sofa,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

Both of you struggle to keep quiet as you rush to find your clothes. Ken quickly pulls out the sofabed, and tosses rumpled blankets onto it to give an illusion that he’s been there the entire time. You find the bra he tossed away earlier on top of a nearby lamp. He grabs an air freshener can to spray lightly across the room— not too much for it to be obvious.

Ken opens the door just after you dive back into the covers, pretending to be asleep.

---

lmk if u want to be on the taglist for future chapters ty!

#ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x reader #cross posted on ao3

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acornerofnowhere · 3 months ago

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The Witcher 2: Assassins of Memory Storage.

In many ways The Witcher 2 is a quantum improvement over its predecessor - better graphics, better combat, better writing, better atmosphere, better art direction, better soundtrack, better characters - but it's still funny seeing the developers visually struggle with the hard limits of what PS360-era console hardware was capable of.

Lack of memory meant that all the fancy bells-and-whistles HD texture mapping could populate an area no larger and more complex than my back garden, which meant that despite the scope of the story being substantially greater than the first game, the actual physical size of the game world is massively smaller and less intricate, with working cities reduced to provincial villages and sprawling marshlands reduced to narrow loading-screen gulleys. You have to imagine this influenced the decision to introduce way more impactful branching paths with a totally different second half depending on your choice, described by many as effectively having two RPGs in one, but that seems less the intention and more that it was the only way to extract forty hours of content from the assets they were able to create.

I much prefer my RPG experiences to be one-and-dones, I don't do replays very often at all, but the straight shot to the end of this game was so brief that I feel I need the replay to get my money's worth out of it. But there's only so much I can complain when the story is so colossally better than CD Projekt Red's last go-round, like holy shit...

I was initially wary as I found the human/non-human conflict in the first game a bit contrived and this seemed to be treading similar ground at first (not to mention the Order was so obviously evil that you'd have to be psycho to take their side over the Scoia'tael), but it quickly becomes apparent that we're dealing with a distressed gaggle of bittereinders with no hope of victory being used as pawns in a larger game, as is their Blue Stripes counterparts hunting them to whom they're just one of a number of threats to their kingdom's security. Having an Evil Witcher as the antagonist deftly justifies Geralt's involvement in this situation involving kings, sorcerers and emperors that would normally be way above his paygrade.

Still, if there is one thing I feel the game jettisons from the books (and the first game was already hanging by a thread in this regard) is the sense that you're a glorified ratcatcher of no special importance, from jump you're immediately thrust into high-level political chicanery and the low-single-figure number of contracts you pick up in each hub are so perfunctory they may as well not be there. The elevation of book!Geralt from a passive POV to an active participant whose choices massively shape the world around him is even more pronounced in the second game than it already was in the first, in a way that makes the world feel smaller even though the cast of characters is vastly expanded and a lot more interesting.

Nuances in the dialogue, voice acting and motion performance completely absent from the first game are much more evident this time around, even in spite of the technical limitations that often lead to Triss's infamous dead-eyed stares. The only significant eurojank I encountered was an ongoing issue with accessing saves where the game would crash if I interacted with them for too long - the game is weird with saves in general, there's no way to have a dedicated "save file" and it doesn't delete old autosaves so I was constantly having to go in and delete old saves manually to avoid gumming up the hard drive. It's clear the developers really really want you to go back to earlier bits of the story and do them differently, and they built the system in such a way that makes sure you're always able to do that. Only issue is that I kinda do want to move onto the next game at some point, I hear vaguely down the grapevine that that's The Good One, but okay, I'll persevere here a little longer and see what I can make out of it.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #vernon roche #iorveth #the witcher 2 #fan art #cd projekt red

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ikajo00 · 3 months ago

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Non-alien human alien #7 The Great Melt

Excerpt from Global History vol. 3

To understand how we as humans reached the level of living we are currently enjoying, there is one significant event that simply cannot be ignored. That is the Great Melt, a global catastrophe that pushed humanity to the brink of destruction. Moreover, this event was caused by humans in the first place.

While scholars are in disagreement of what were the main defining factor of what happened, all are in agreement that it was decisions made in the 21st century that ultimately lead to the Great Melt. At this point, a large majority was already aware that Earth was experiencing a significant increase in global temperature. Caused by the burning of fossil fuels (fossil fuels was liquid and gas made from prehistoric biological matter that had decomposed under certain conditions) which released greenhouse gases and caused pollution. Despite this the leaders of the world, both political and economical, mostly decided to ignore the very real threat and prioritised profit instead.

Some of the biggest culprits were the United States of America (modern day NAIUN, plus some additional nations), People’s Republic of China (modern day Asiana), and the private sector consisting of individuals driven by profit above all else. Economical inequality also caused countries with lower living index to rely more heavily on fossil fuels than countries with higher living index. Contributing further to the pollution. On an individual level, the global culture of the time encouraged overconsumption of resources.

Things took a turn in year 2101 when the temperature reached the point of no return. With the available technology of the time, there was simply no way for humanity to reverse the global impact anymore. All over the world, scientists scrambled to collect and preserve DNA samples from as many animals as possible. Especially those that had already been on the verge of extinction. Earlier collected samples of extinct species were safe guarded further. Additionally, the seed vault in Svalbard was further expanded and outfitted with a multitude of backup systems.

It would take a few more decades before the reality of the situation truly became apparent.

The summer of 2133 clocked record high global temperatures, causing a rapid melting on inland ice masses. Within just two months, water levels rose 60 meters. While thankfully the melting had been tracked, allowing vulnerable populations to evacuate inland, large swatches of land sank under water. All around the world, governments scrambled to secure locations and apparatuses that could create further global catastrophes. Namely, nuclear power plants, nuclear weapon storages, and storage of toxic and radioactive waste. In records preserved from the time, it is described as a global blackout. Everything humanity had grown used to, relied on, was suddenly gone.

This event had been named the Great Melt, to signify just how of an effect this had on the development of our world.

After the Big Melt, diseases started to run rampant, combined with starvation, and apocalyptic weather caused by the huge changes in global temperature. Reducing the global population down to pre-industrial levels. While some locations managed better than others, like landlocked locations and those of high altitude, all island nations had been submerged.

Ironically, it was nothing that humanity did that eventually reversed the effects of global warming. Five hundred years after the Big Melt, humans had been mostly isolated from the global scene. Knowledge of past eras surviving thanks to both oral tradition and sturdier technology. Some places, like the Scandinavian peninsula, had managed to preserve more technology than locations along the American coast. (Important to note, the reason the Scandinavian Peninsula faired fairly well despite being surrounded by water is because the landmass had been pressed down during an ancient ice age. This landmass then spent millennia slowly rising, offsetting some of the more severe effects of the Great Melt.)

What finally changed things were a series of volcanic eruptions, and the subsequent ash cover, that cooled the planet down again. After that, it was rapid. By the year 3289, the global temperature had returned to pre-industrial levels. As the ice caps formed once more, sea levels sunk, exposing land long lost, and humanity could finally start to rebuild.

It was slow at first, with big differences depending on where people lived. In some areas the living index had risen dramatically during the past millennia, while in other parts it had plummeted. Interestingly enough, a lot of culture remained intact across the globe. With some variations. One area that had flourished during this time were the African inland, alongside the Eurasian continent. It was in Africa that the true effort was made to return humanity to its long-lost glory. Soon, technology known from stories was available once more, and the disconnected world was connected once more.

However, the biggest impact on our current world came with the reinvention of the Internet. By chance or divine intervention, the network that was created was identical to the one created in the 20th century and was further developed in the 21st century. This led to the discovery of what had been named the Archive Servers.

The Archive Servers are true relics of a bygone era. Websites still existing well over a millennium into the future. Somehow, ancient servers had survived the passing of time and global catastrophes. Within them, they carried knowledge, culture, and understanding. It was thanks to the Archive Servers humanity avoided repeating the mistakes of the past. With the knowledge that fossil fuels had caused the Great Melt, scientists turned their attention to alternatives. Leading to the use of solar-, hydro-, and fusion power. Moreover, materials were chosen from sustainable sources with high reusability and low pollution.

The Archive Servers also contained the locations of other ancient servers that could be reactivated or otherwise salvaged. Furthering our knowledge and understanding of the past. At our fingertips, we had the wealth of human history dating back to the dawn of life itself. With the help of the Archive Servers we also found the seed vault on Svalbard, the DNA from long extinct animals, and nearly evolutionary medical knowledge.

Within the next two hundred years, humanity had returned to the level of living during the 21st century, and then surpassed it. The global population had in fact started to reach critical levels once more. It was at this point the universe we had once reached for, reached back down, and we learned that we were not alone in the universe. In fact, we were part of a vibrant galaxy, flanked by two equally vibrant galaxies, full of sentient life.

With the technology gifted to us by the aliens, we managed to reverse engineer and add our own flair to space travel. Leading to the terra forming of Mars, which allowed for colonisation. From 3577 to 3587 humanity went from standing at the verge of another ecological collapse to spreading across the known galaxies. Allying with the Galactic Federation, and creating colonies on rejected planets. Lowering the strain on our home world, while also setting the stage for a new era for humanity.

While we are culturally more or less identical to 21st century Earth. We are nonetheless far beyond our ancestors in terms of global cooperation, equality, and general living index. Nonetheless, if history has taught us anything it is that humanity’s greatest threat is not a global catastrophe, it is not pandemics, it is not even war. The greatest threat to humanity is complacency, and the belief that humans are above nature. By learning from the past, we can create a better tomorrow.

Anna put down the screen and leaned her head against the window. She had turned 35 recently. A decent age, for sure. She could still remember when alien life was nothing but speculative fiction, first introduced around the second millennia. History fascinated her just as much as space did. It told a story of people. About people.

Earth was by no means a utopia. In fact, many issues still remained to this day. Stuff like ableism, affecting her personally, and nations that was still refusing to cooperate with the rest of the world. Even so, she found it remarkable that humanity had fallen to its knees, and then managed to claw itself up again. And if that wasn’t the definition of being human, she didn’t know what was.

#humans are space orcs #creative writing #autism adhd

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wing-ed-thing · 1 year ago

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Marriage Pact (Erwin x Reader) Part IV

Synopsis: To the surprise of the cadets, Commander Erwin is married to more than just his work. Their curiosity brings up fond memories of your and Erwin’s early days in the scouts.

Word Count: 6.4k

Tags/Warnings: Language, No Reader Pronouns, Fluff, Marriage Pacts, 104th Cadet Corps Shenanigans, Proposal, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Inflicted Injury (Non-Mental Health Related), Animal Death, Divergence from Canon Mechanics

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: Erwin Smith has a playful side. Erwin Smith loves teasing. Erwin Smith loves banter. I will DIE by this in this essay I will—

You were ready to be done. Your days passed by with the sun rising over your early morning drills and setting past your office window where you slaved over your never-ending mountain of bureaucratic work.

As expected, the second expedition served little more than to record Erwin’s exemplary performance as part of expedition command. He all but took the lead, riding front and center as he orchestrated his new Long-Distance Enemy Scouting Formation (LDESF). The formation had been used before, but not with Erwin at the helm. You knew he’d be Commander Erwin before long.

All the backers had high expectations of him, and suffice it to say, he blew all predictions out of the water. No matter how much Erwin liked to deny and parry your predictions of his promotion, the evidence rapidly mounted against him. And with backers and donors all in agreement at his display of talent and reassurance, the Scout Regiment faced restructuring.

The following month was one of the busiest you had seen in your career. Save for a few elite soldiers handpicked by Erwin, the rest of his squads were relocated to be under different section commanders. You gained an additional two squads and a handsome raise while the other three were dispersed unevenly between Hange and Fletcher. To a lack of surprise, Fletcher received less than half of the members that Hange had gained, leaving Erwin with one special ops squad and a small team of medics and veterinarians.

It was the mundanity that centered you in the coming weeks, and the time you would have dedicated to reading into interactions with Erwin was properly directed toward your career. Your squads kept you busy, and the most face time you had with your fellow section commanders existed strictly between trainings and within supervisory meetings. And although you found it slightly more difficult than usual to focus on the new policies with Erwin sitting right across from you, your unconscious searching for his neat blond hair gradually dwindled.

The marriage pact was a thing of the past: a joke made after you and a coworker had one too many. You were ready to leave it behind, hoping you could laugh about it sometime down the road when you might actually be married.

Married, but certainly not to Erwin Smith. And his new promotion to special ops section commander only served to further solidify the fate you assumed was laid out for you.

In addition to the overhaul, the funds all four section commanders secured during the Military Ball allowed for an influx of resources, all of which had to be organized into expanded storage facilities. Trost Headquarters was busier than ever, and in the midst of it all, you hardly had time to talk to Erwin, let alone see him.

“Erwin’s in Stohess?” You frowned with a crinkled brow. Miche stood attentively as you both wordlessly side-stepped to an uncrowded portion of the hall. He held a sizeable box of supplies against his hip. Despite the heavy metal contents, Miche didn’t appear to struggle with its weight in the slightest. “What? Is he meeting Edmonds again?”

“Said he wanted to get some shopping done.” Miche shrugged, ever a man of few words.

“Shopping,” you repeated lightly with a downward nod, “In Stohess?”

Miche shrugged again, “Maybe to blow some of that special ops salary money.” His eyes were beginning to wander, thoughts of finishing his task more prevalent in his mind than whatever Erwin was up to.

“I don’t think Erwin is the kind of person to blow money, let alone in a place like Stohess.” You tapped your foot in thought as you played with a stay strand of hair at the back of your neck. Like most zones in and around Wall Sina, Stohess was known for its affluent districts abundant with skilled craftsmen and desirable goods.

“Who knows, maybe he wanted a chandelier.” Miche shrugged a third time, shifting the oversized box in his arm. He seemed awfully jumpy today. “I hear you can find quite the artisans there.” His eyes darted to the end of the hall leading to the staircase. “Gaffers, blacksmiths… jewelers,” he murmured. You wondered if he was waiting for someone.

You sighed.

“Well, if and when you see him, could you tell him to come by my office? You have better luck tracking him down than I do.” You gestured in the vague direction of your office space. Miche offered you a simple nod before you wordlessly left in opposite directions.

But even with a messenger on the lookout, Erwin ultimately didn’t appear during work hours to talk about the upcoming expedition. You heard him at one point. (His workspace was at the other end of your lengthy hallway, and the stone tiling bounced voices around until everyone on the floor could hear.) But when you had the chance to pop your head out into the hall, Erwin’s door was closed. Clearly, he had just about as many meetings as you did.

It wasn’t until the end of the work day that you received a knock at your door. You were already staying later than you should have. Erwin let himself into your office as you were wrapping up the last of your files. Your jacket rested on the edge of your desk along with your work bag.

“I’m a bit surprised you’re here,” he said, stopping in your doorway. Erwin leaned into the room, resting a fraction of his weight on the grip he still had on the door handle with one foot poised on the hallway's tile.

“I’m not surprised that you are.” You quirked a smile, dipping your head to the side in a roundabout nod. You placed a few things on one of your bookshelves. Erwin stepped fully into the room, closing the door gently behind him. “I take it you saw Miche?”

“We, unfortunately, didn’t see each other until he was leaving for the day.” He stuffed his hands under the straps stretching over his sides as he strode to your desk. He sat halfway on the surface as you continued filing your bureaucratic work. His eyes flickered down to your jacket. “I thought maybe I could catch you, but you seem like you’re on your way out.”

“I mean, how long were you planning on sticking around?” you asked, turning your attention toward the clock. You surveyed the small pile of items that needed to be filed away, weighing if you would be in the mood to deal with them the next morning.

“Probably not for very long,” Erwin admitted. He coiled his arms over his chest, still half sitting on your desk. His feet could still touch the floor. You heaved a light sigh, but ultimately, not getting the chance to chat with Erwin about storage organization and horses didn’t quite end the world for you.

“I thought you always stayed late,” you responded, more asking than stating anything specific. You shuffled a few things around your desk to look busy. You placed the bottom file you were holding on top of the top one before switching them back again.

“Is it such a surprise that I don’t live in my office?” Erwin cocked his head to the side, his thick brows high on his forehead. “I make plans, too, you know.”

“Like blowing your bonus in Stohess?” The words tumbled from your lips without you even processing them, a playful retort than anything of resentment. Erwin blinked a few times. The surprised crease on his forehead remained. You offered him a taut smile, trying to play off the forwardness of your assertion.

“Did Miche tell you that?” he questioned, shifting on the surface of your desk to face you more directly.

“Oh, you know, word gets around.” Your tongue darted out at him in jest. You snickered to yourself as you reorganized a few papers on your desk with your free hand.

“What else did he tell you?” His tone was straight, letting on little besides the hint of tentativeness in the undertone of his voice. You could feel Erwin’s eyes on you without even looking up. “Not much else. You know, tight-lipped as usual.” You shrugged, finally filing away the last two bundles in your arms. Your thin smile gradually morphed back into the natural orientation of your lips.

“Clearly not…” When you turned around, Erwin had his gaze on the carpet below. He rubbed at the bottom of his lip with the back of his index finger, holding an otherwise neutral expression about him. You couldn’t help but think he looked troubled: not overly angry or worried, but so deep in ponderance you wondered if you could pull him out of his own head.

“Erwin?”

“Hm?” He perked up out of his daze as though he hadn’t been lost in his thoughts to begin with. A beat passed the two of you by as Erwin discretely gathered his bearings. You picked up your jacket, draping it over your arm.

“I had some squad stuff to talk over. If you had time tomorrow, we can just do it then.” You looked out your window at the state of the sun. A few clouds passed overhead. You turned to peer at him out of the corner of your eye. The number of items you needed to speak with Erwin about far exceeded the ten or so minutes he probably had, and you were willing to bet that he knew that. “There’s also still the talks with the farms about renegotiating our agreement with the increased demand for horses. We need everyone on board.”

“That’s all?”

You turned to him with a curious hum.

“What do you mean?”

Erwin stared at you for a beat before shaking his head. He slid off the front of your desk, part of him still appearing lost in thought as he stared blankly at the shelf you had just reorganized. The side of his mouth dipped in tandem with his chin as if he had come to a mediocre conclusion in his silent debate with himself.

“What?” you asked again, finally able to wrangle Erwin’s attention again.

He blinked a couple of times. His lips parted with hesitancy.

“I just thought you wanted to talk to me about personal matters.” His chin dipped again. Erwin glanced at you out of his peripheral but didn’t linger. “But if you want to talk about work, I have time tomorrow morning at, say—” He studied your clock before turning back to you. —“Nine o’clock?”

Personal matters? Given the amount of time that passed since your supposed agreement— you still considered two and a half months to be an excessive amount of time to have never spoken about it to the point where it must’ve been purposeful— you just assumed the engagement was off.

“If that’s all…” He chirped before heading toward the door. You called after him and scrambled to the other side of your desk. “Horses…” he mused to himself.

“Wait, hold on a second.”

Erwin was already halfway across the room. He turned again, not fully facing you. His irises held a confused surprise in them as he stopped, looking at you innocently as he waited for you to speak.

And that’s when you realized he knew exactly what he was doing.

Jackass.

“What was that?” Erwin’s astonished voice snapped you out of your freeze. The feigned shock in his eyes solidified into interested amusement as his mouth slowly contorted into a barely suppressed smirk. Erwin stepped closer.

You said that out loud, didn’t you?

You grasped at something to say, a million thoughts racing across your mind all at once. Maybe you should apologize. Erwin was your peer, after all— calling him names was hardly professional— but was it such a crime if it was true? Or maybe you should clear the air and play it all off as if you had no idea what he was talking about. You could both never speak about the marriage pact ever again as if it never happened and move on— oh fuck it.

“What about our— the agreement?” you exclaimed, your voice so loud you practically screamed it at him.

He let you stand there as the words hung awkwardly in the air. It was truly a question drenched with desperation and hesitancy.

Erwin pivoted a half-step to stand fully in front of you. His feet sat almost shoulder length apart as his tongue poked at the inside of his bottom lip. He glanced off to the side before meeting your eye again. You wondered if you were missing something. The bridge of his nose creased, and the smugness you thought you saw before melted into genuine confusion.

“The agreement?” He asked, and with two words, your heart sank to your stomach. Erwin repeated it like a question, and you knew he was too smart to have simply not remembered. “I thought we were still figuring that out.”

You waited for him to say more, but Erwin made no motion to continue as you stood in the spotlight of his gaze, burning with embarrassment.

“Oh.” You breathed in sharply, shaking yourself as you slipped on your jacket. “Still figuring it out… Well, it's not urgent anyway. Let's just… move on from it.” You tried to make for the door, but Erwin sidestepped to intercept you. A single, firm touch found your uniform-clad elbow.

He spoke your name with a similar sternness, almost as if he were chastizing a child. He held a frown on his lips and a tension-filled crease above his brow.

“If there’s something on your mind that you want to talk about right now—” Any remaining amusement in his eyes was eclipsed by severity. You didn’t stick around to see much of it. With your gaze cast somewhere else, you shooed him out of your office, and Erwin said little as you swiftly locked the door to your office.

You tuned out whatever else he was saying, muttering some retractions to play off your disdain before bidding him farewell for the day. You exited through the stairwell at the end of the hall.

***

The third— or now just a routine— expedition arrived swiftly. You found that time passed faster in the service and seemed to with each passing year. But with most of your waking hours spent with a mandatory, purposeful rigor, you hardly felt the weight of what was to come until you were already seated on your horse.

No night full of drinking and games occurred that eve. Everyone had their fill of booze and celebrations at the beginning of the month. The increased wages for leadership, heightened equipment quality, and rations hadn’t hurt their spirits either. But above all, every troop appeared invigorated with the introduction of the LDESF, and their high spirits were palpable for the entire ride to Wall Maria.

The people appeared equally cheerful, if not more. For once in a long time, they crowded the streets and filled the air with their enthusiastic praises. Hange took their hands entirely off their horse, waving to everyone with an excited rigor.

You heard your name several times as you rode past the throng. The people of Wall Maria shouted words of encouragement, confident that you and your fellow section commanders would surely reclaim more lost territory. Even the horses under your saddles moved with anticipation.

You glanced at the back of Erwin’s head as he rode in front of you. He held his upright posture, not even acknowledging the shouted praise beyond a few polite nods.

You kept a firm hand on your reins with your eyes cast upward to where Wall Maria towered directly overhead. The sky was a rich, light blue and cast a pristine background to a flock of birds soaring above. Not a single cloud accompanied them as the atmosphere swelled with cool, spring air.

The gates opened a short distance in front of you, and the shuffling of your horse beneath your saddle grew more restless. As the heavy metal door pulled upward, light trickled into the exit tunnel, and you were on your way.

The squads fanned out quickly, with all four section commanders taking charge of their respective units. You paced yourselves, Commander Shadis setting a fast but manageable tempo. Even at the break-neck pace you were traveling, the whole battalion fell into place neatly, forming the arrowhead shape of Erwin’s formation.

You held your smoke gun at the ready, eyes trained on the peers around you for your first signal. You had significant ground to cover.

The pop of smoke guns sounded in the distance, draping the atmosphere in vibrant pigment. The formation drifted, forging on together as a titan appeared in the west. More popping echoed somewhere behind you. Horse hooves thudded arrhythmicly across the grassy plain. You swivveled your head briefly.

Two teams behind you had engaged with two five meter class titans and were making short work of them. You loaded your gun, shooting the colored smoke into the air to notify the rest of the battalion not to move too far ahead. A pellet of the same pigment shot up into the air from the west.

The formation leaned to the east, advancing forward directly toward the patch of forest straight ahead. Three wagons carted ahead of you, gradually closing in the clear path between the formation and the trees.

Everything had gone so smoothly. With a clear goal in mind, you had no doubt that this expedition would go by quickly. And once everything was finished and you were, hopefully, back home, all would return back to normal.

***

One of the Scout’s major priorities was to set up several bases outside the Walls, which was the main objective of your current mission. Utilizing the dense, wooded area rather far into titan territory, it had been a previous section commander who had proposed the idea of a lofted base of operations high in the trees.

After some trials and rigorous testing, leadership intended to have the scouts run expeditions from the base. Being in titan territory, many hoped that it would allow soldiers access to resources and medical care much faster than a trek back to the Walls. The woods also provided ample cover, ideal for ODM gear, which would hopefully make patrolling the immediate area more manageable. Not to mention that the height of the trees made this newly established base the most titan-proof, at least according to higher leadership.

The groundwork had already been laid. A colony of several wooden structures was built onto the branches. They were simple in architecture but boasted a sturdy structure. They housed enough to support basic camping and material storage, in addition to a landing platform just outside the roofed portion.

It had been a mission with a purpose and a clear, achievable goal to the end. The scouts utilized lifts to haul all the cargo up into the canopy, and a small team patrolled the edge of the forest to clear out any titans that wandered too close.

The few days that you spent in the forest went suspiciously smoothly. Your squads ran new drills to get used to the new base, and you worked with your fellow leadership to analyze their progress to report back when you returned to headquarters. And by the time your expedition in the forest was over, the scouts had achieved their best stats perhaps of all time. While your troops had experienced some injuries, they had been few and far between with the most severe being a broken bone.

The luck you were having made you uneasy as you prepared to depart. Your squad was at the back, following the rest of the battalion as the scouts gradually left the forest. In experimenting with the new formation, Shadis wanted to stagger each wave of troops to create a less concentrated grouping. Erwin came up behind you, riding around you to your left.

“You alright being at the back of the pack?” He stopped next to you, knocking your shoulder with the back of his hand. Erwin smiled at you, and you let the corners of your lips twitch upwards back.

“We’ll be alright,” you said with a nod. You glanced down at the ground, your horse shifting under you.

“I know you will,” Erwin hummed. His hand brushed over your shoulder as he rode away. You watched the back of his head as he took his place ahead at the center of the formation and continued to keep him in your peripheral until he rode away with his wave of troops.

You waited, watching as the last few squads trickled off. It was only when they had begun to disappear into the distance that your last patrols swung around the corner.

“Section Commander! We have a problem!”

It was too late.

And it had to come at the worst possible moment.

The ground shook.

You sat on the saddle of your horse, feeling smaller than you’d ever felt before. Eight titans bounded around the trees and surrounded you, all of varying sizes, but most in the 15 meter class. You were seasoned enough to not underestimate a single titan, but an entire hoard was an entirely different level. They completely surrounded your team, some hunched over and staring with drooling mouths.

Before a single word left your lips, one of your patrols bounded around the corner with a loud battle cry and swords at the ready as he swooped toward the nape of one of the titans. Your hand shot out.

“No! Don’t—”

The titan was too fast in plucking him out of the air and crushing your soldier in its fist. The other titans ran through your group at the sight of limbs and blood, causing your horses to move erratically.

“Retreat!” you shouted just as everything plunged to hell. You narrowly missed getting stepped on as the titans gathered around what was left of your patrol. A titan shot its hand forward to grab at one of your squad captains, and with a swift draw of your swords, the hand fell to the ground with a soft thud. “Get back to the group!”

You veered your reins, eyes on the group of titans as your troops sped past you in the direction of the greater battalion. Your forehead crinkled as a thousand thoughts raced through your mind at once, and in between the static and the rapidfire calculations, you quickly came to a conclusion.

You took a knife from your equiptment pocket and drew it quickly across the back of your forearm, leaving a long, red slit that immediately began to drip blood. You veered your horse around violently, causing it to rear up on its hind legs with a startled neigh.

Didn’t hesitate in following your orders, galloping through the plains at a breakneck pace as you started in the opposite direction. You hit your swords together, creating a discordant clanging as you swooped circles around the group of titans. You heard your name being called by a few of your troops, but they were whisked away by your formidable leadership team.

“We have to help!” one girl cried, loading up her smoke gun. It was smacked out of her hand.

“The section commander is buying time to let us escape! If we don’t leave now, the titans will chase us to the rest of the squads,” one of your squad captains shouted, his voice cracking. He hurried her along, all of your subordinates ensuring that every soldier was riding in the direction of the rest of the scouts. He gulped, horrified and grave tears beginning to pool at the corners of his eyes. “They’re acting strange and the section commander knows that’s gonna save out hide. Someone has to stay behind.”

You maneuvered around the trees, whipping around speedily, but not making very many strikes. Even for your skill set, taking on so many large titans at once— and by yourself— wasn’t an easy feat. Your skills lied more in speed, aerial agility and team communication, and only two of which was of any use to you in the moment.

A titan’s hand flew through the air, and you maneuvered just in time before the large palm smacked into the tree branch you were just standing on. The wood splintered and the limb went crashing to the ground.

You kept moving, falling deeper into the forest toward the canopy base. While conservation of gas always mattered on the field, you could afford to exert some more gas than usual in an effort to draw the titans away. Keeping their attention would serve to be the hardest, as titans by nature were more keen on pursuing larger groups, but by keeping the scent of blood in the air and right in front of their eyes, you could hope to lure a good chunk of the titans to the other end of the forest. You trusted your team and the greater battalion to be able to handle any stragglers.

You leaped across the branches, swinging both your swords down onto the nape of the largest titan. At the very least, you could get that one off your plate, but the motion left you vulnerable.

Giant hands swiped at you and fingers clenched inwards with force as you blasted through the group, contorting your body as you managed to slip away.

You shot your ancor at another tree, managing to use your momentum to your advantage to take out the ankles of a titan to the rear of the group. As it fell, you sliced the neck before shooting back off toward the canopy base.

Your canisters were less than a third empty and you would need to refresh them soon to take on the remaining titans. You blasted ahead at lightning speed and the giants followed at a breakneck pace.

The base sat just ahead, more in the middle of the eastern sector of the woods rather than directly in the middle. Considering you just restocked it yourself, you knew there were more than enough materials to expand your options.

Another large hand reached for you, and twisting at the right moment, you managed to spiral over the forearm and up the bicep to make a deep cut. You shot forward, ancors firing left and right as you swooped up into the canopy.

Even as your boots hit the hard wood landing, you were wracked with a feeling of dread that fell into the deepest pit of your stomach. You retreated into the rooved portion, releasing the blades you already had in your grips in exchange for fresh ones. Your canisters also hit the wood floor as you rifled around for fresh ones.

The titans, now joined by one more, crowded around the base of the trees. The temporary checkpoint wasn’t intended for longterm use in it’s current state, but as a stopping area to restock on necessary supplies, treat the wounded, and other services that couldn’t be done on the run with the hopes that it would elongate expeditions. It was meant to be used in the way you were using it now, but being a single soldier, you weren’t sure if a simple restock was enough to bail you out.

Titans would only continue to gather around you, and even if you decided to stay, you weren’t sure if or when you could possibly be retrieved. In all likelihood, your best guess would be a month away when the Scouts had their next expedition. That is, if they made it that far or even had the clearance to enter the forest. Even then, given the accumulation of titans without a patrol team to thin them out, you would be the reason many soldiers would be risking their lives. The base was meant to be used for a portion of a day or overnight, not for a month.

You stood on the edge of the platform, refreshed swords drawn and your whistle between your lips. The titans squirmed around eagerly below, gnashing their teeth and letting drool dribble from the open mouths. With a deep breath in, you called your horse before pocketing the whistle and letting yourself fall off the side of the platform.

Even as an experienced soldier, you didn’t think you’d ever get truly desensitized to facing titans. You supposed that the blunt nerves you felt was only a testament to your humanity. You tried to find satisfaction in that.

Your body worked on it’s own, diving straight into the den of the beasts and felling one on your departure down. It was a jumble of metal, blood, saliva, and teeth. The leather straps of your uniform were beginning to dig uncomfortably into you, straining your limbs as you fought gravity and for your life. They strained more than usual.

Titan blood mixed with your own, staining your steaming white clothes. Two more went down, then one more, leaving a hot mass of meat behind as you finally saw your horse galloping in the distance. You whipped through the trees, adrenaline coursing through your veins and determination manipulating your movements as you swiped past the very last titan of the group with your sword.

That was it.

You positioned yourself to be able to fall right into the saddle of your horse, your anchors recoiling as you sheathed your swords and took the reigns. It was a long way out of the woods, and even longer back to Wall Maria, but if you were dying anyway, you might as well try.

And it was a cruel sense of irony that allowed you to see the edge of the forest.

You rode along, trying to center your breathing and your head and you glanced around widely for any signs of titans. And when you saw the golden light of the day ahead, you were almost relieved.

It was right there, but so was that very last titan.

The just-too-shallow cut on the back of its neck was gone, and the repercussions of your carelessness swiped your horse out from under you in an instant. You flew forward, your ankle twisting as you landed in the leaflitter. Your thigh slammed into your sheath on your way down, and as you tumbled, your bulky equipment tore at your limbs as you tumbled.

You skidded back, somehow able to get to your feet. Sticks, leaves, and dirt scratched at the backs of your ankles as you came face to face with the ten meter titan behind you. Your horse was splattered against an adjacent tree, and your hands flew to your swords. You pulled on the grips—

You pulled on the grips—

Your eyes glanced down in horror at the grips jammed in your sheaths. You kept tugging on them, only to hear the sobering sound of metal shaking but not giving. And then the gear at your lower back began to fall.

It was only then that you realized that your straps had completely given way, having been torn and hanging limply off your body. Your straps, the ones that you had been meaning to replace. Your weight shifted to one side as one of your sheaths began to fall to the ground.

Your head snapped back toward the titan as it raised a giant hand in the air, lunging forward with its mouth wide.

Suddenly, a giant mass swept in from the side, swiping you out of the way and knocking just about all the wind you had in your chest out of you. You nearly heaved at the impact, but the bile in your core was sated by sheer shock. Another impact made you slam your chin against hard leather. You felt blood begin to dribble across your cheek.

Your head spun, able to focus on little else but a tuff of blond hair. The front legs of Erwin’s white stallion galloped under you, and your hand immediately shot out to grab anything you could to balance yourself as you laid sprawled out on your stomach.

“E—Erwin?” you could barely get the word out. “Why— why did you come back? I thought— thought you—”

“We had a deal. Don’t you remember?” He called over the whooshing of the wind and the harsh pounding of the titan’s stride from behind you. Your head spun from the motion and the thumping of Erwin’s horse directly under you. You strained your neck, barely able to catch sight of how Erwin’s bangs blew in the breeze. The sun illuminated the back of his head in a golden glow, and in the haze of it all, the only thing you could focus on was him. He glanced down at you, a slight smile on his lips. “I can’t marry you from the stomach of a titan.”

Electricity shot through your chest, but you hardly had time to think, let alone speak. Erwin’s anchors shot up somewhere out of your sight.

“Brace yourself.”

Erwin shot up into the air, leaving you to cling onto his horse for dear life.

There was a hiss from his canisters. The noise of harsh metal on metal rang out as Erwin manuvered somewhere behind you.

Light ahead grew clearer as you fought for your place on the back of Erwin’s horse, the stretch of forest you were galloping through growing shorter.

A great whoosh of wind came just before an even louder slam that shook the ground below, giving you little warning as you were thrown through the air. Erwin’s horse went on without you, leaving you to tumble out into the grass just beyond the edge of the woods. Your arms came up to shield your head, but your shoulder hit the dirt hard.

You rolled violently before skidding off a good distance away. You landed on your back, bleeding and unable to breathe with your eyes were still scrunched closed.

The uproar in the background ceased and you heard the recoiling sound of Erwin’s coils as he swooped out of the forest. He moved somewhere ahead, reuniting with his stallion. You couldn’t even muster the energy to look, but you knew your nightmare was over.

“You alright?” he called, and the sudden professionalism in his voice made your eyes snap open. You sat up in the field, wondering if you heard him right. And when your head swivveled toward him, Erwin wasn’t looking at you at all. In fact, he was already back on his horse as red titan blood evaporated off of him.

“No!” You answered, your relief being swiftly replaced with anger. His words had sunk in and the sheer audacity he had to speak to you normally after that slammed the energy back into your body. “What the hell, Erwin?” You screeched across the field as the world continued to spin. You picked yourself off the ground, debris smeared across your face as your stumbled to your feet. “That was the stupidest stunt I’ve ever seen! I had it! And you— and you—!”

“You certainly did not have it.” Erwin’s brows bounced on his forehead, his eyes widening for a moment as he blinked in adamant disbelief. His white stallion trotted slowly away from the steaming titan in the background, meeting you just a short distance away as you stormed forward, still subtly off balance. “There’s a reason those straps are meant to be for your dress uniform only. You can’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

You chose not to hear that last part.

“And you chose now? Now of all times?” You continued to rant, curse words falling from your lips harsher than you had fallen out of the air. Erwin paid you no mind as he dismounted from his saddle. You nearly had a conniption as he ran a hand through his hair before adjusting his jacket. “You haven’t said anything about marrying me once in three months and you have the goddamn nerve— We’re on a job for— Erwin Friedrich Fucking Smith, you waited until now—?”

“Oh, you’re getting serious,” he mused. You jabbed a finger directly into the middle of his chest.

—“And you know what, no! I’m over it. You do know that Pixis offered me a position not too long ago. When we get back I’m putting in for a branch transfer so I never have to see you again, I swear! I’m sick of guessing and not knowing and what the hell is that?”

You did a double take at the box that sat right in the middle of Erwin’s palm.

No, it didn’t quite sink in for you.

It would take you a moment, just like when you were still processing his words from before.

“Well, I wanted to wait, but if you’re going to throw yourself at a titan if I don’t propose, then I suppose there’s little else that can be done.” Erwin slowly dropped to one knee, opening the leather box to reveal the simplest, yet most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

It sat perched between two velvet cushions, shining in the light of the day. It didn’t even look real, and you were convinced that the sight in front of you wasn’t happening. The anger and annoyance that had built up in your chest and exploded melted away, leaving a confusing mix of energy and high emotions in its place.

And you were at a loss.

You couldn’t even think.

You stood in front of him with your mouth agape, staring dumbly from the ring to his face as your thoughts short-circuited. Every piece of inner commentary went blank.

Erwin’s brows knitted together.

“You remembered, didn’t you—?”

“Shut up,” you spoke quickly, but your answer only made Erwin tilt his head in shock. He opened his mouth to say more. Your palm flew out in front of you. “Nope! Shut it. Shut up.” You took a deep breath, glancing to the side and then back to where Erwin kneeled patiently in front of you. And it was only when you noticed the slight smirk on his lips did you spin around, your hands flying to your face. “Erwin, you ass—”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He caught your hand, having stood up somewhere behind you, and unceremoniously slid the ring onto your finger. He held your hand draped over his.

Erwin circled you until he stood in front of you again, one hand still holding your own. A knuckle pressed under your chin, tilting your head up and you didn’t even notice the small amount of wetness pooling in your eyes until he swiped the back of his finger under your lower lids.

“Are you alright?” His tone was ever-serious, but his voice was soft.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You squeezed his fingers gently. “Yeah, it’s a good thing.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Author Commentary: I was hesitant to add the humor I did because I was overly concerned about Erwin's characterization, and I suppose the tone matching him? But then I remembered the first chapter started with a comment about how nice his ass was so I just—

Also, this chapter took so long because I had no idea how I was going to write the proposal scene and the set up. This chapter has been half done for months and it was half the proposal and half the titan scene. I actually hate writing AOT action which I suppose so many of my AOT works are about the characters doing paperwork at HQ... We ignored a lot of titan rules in this chapter, but what can you do?

Also also, this fic kinda turned into a different story in the middle of this huh? Kinda cool. There's one more chapter. I wanted to cut back to the cadets at the end of this chapter but I wasn't expecting the titan fighting scene to be so long. The wedding, the aftermath, and everything in the present will all be stuffed into the next chapter.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Deleted Scene - can you see why i deleted this now haha

Stupid, Stupid, Emotionally Unavailable Erwin Smith (Levi x Reader x Erwin)

Notes: I’m happy to add people to the tag list, but requesting to be added without interacting with any part of this series outside of your tag request will result in a swift block.

@goddessinsweats @lionhearted-soldier @answer-the-sirens @piercedddriver @scarletrosesposts @thewrittenromance @erwinawesomeness

#erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #aot x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #erwin fanfic #aot fanfic #aot reader insert #x reader #x you #reader insert #fic: marriage pact #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader

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chiara-hotel · 2 years ago

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𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡: 𝐒𝐡𝐲 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐏𝐨𝐞, 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 & 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚)

Characters: Poe, Kunikida, Atsushi & Chuuya

BSD Characters with an s/o who gets very energetic & bubbly when talking about halloween (etc.). And enjoys baking, dressing up, making treats, eating treats, looking at halloween decor & watch halloween movies.

Poe:

- Poe LOVES seeing you so excited about the holiday

- Despite not being a huge fan of it like you are, Poe will gladly do anything halloween related with you!

- He spends a lot of money on decor for you because he knows you’ll love it

- Hes also a bit not used to seeing you so energetic

- Baking marathon!! Poe will but everything you need for all of your spooky treats (also Karl is the taste tester)

- Matching costumes!! I’ll let that go to your imagination

- Let Karl i’m on the matching costumes though

- Poe wouldn’t bea fan of the huge gruesome movies but he will watch some movies like Coraline, Corpse Bride or even The Nightmare Before Christmas (Poe is very confused why you guys were watching a Christmas movie at first)

- Ends up a little scared of your halloween obsession, but he also still loves you to death so

Kunikida:

- Now Kunikida with his journal, obviously he’s planning a bunch of events/dates every day until halloween to fuel your obsession

- Sone ideas: Halloween movie binge night, Baking halloween treats, going to a haunted house and many more

- Hes scared for the haunted house but tries to act calm (it fails)

- Dresses up as something simple with you, (he only dressed up because you forced him)

- Dazai chuckling beside you to add he sees kunikida all dressed up

- (He is not letting Dazai ruin his and your schedule)

Atsushi:

-When he was younger he probably didn’t get to celebrate halloween that much so he’s happier that you are so excited about it

- He gets really happy hearing you so energetic about something you like

- He LOVES baking with you! Atsushi will even recommend new treats to try out

- Atsushi also bakes a few for his colleagues at the agency (specifically Ranpo, but every one else gets some too)

- Hes going as a tiger, like his ability but he also willing to try on costumes at the store with you

- When you guys look at some of the decor hes a bit scared of the “more scary stuff” so he avoids those aisles and hides behind you as you walk down them :)

- Also buys some with you (a bit scary, but not too scary)

- Some decor he’d like to buy is probably pumpkins, kid-friendly blow ups for your lawn, and some things like that

- Similar thing with halloween movies, he likes the non-scary movies (yeah don’t watch really scary halloween movies with him, he will cry)

Chuuya:

- Shocked

- How you went from normally quiet, Shy & introverted s/o an extrovert very knowledgeable about halloween

- Chuuya also LOVES seeing you like this

- While you guys go shopping, he accidentally sets off a prop and gets scared (now he’s in denial that he got scared)

- Buys EVERYTHING related to halloween in that store, if you mention about how much it most cost Chuuya will just say “anything for you, doll”

- Its like an early christmas present except it’s all about halloween

- No space in the house? He can hire someone to expand the property, theres also the mafia headquarters for more storage (ya’ll probably have a huge house though so it’ll fit in a store room somewhere)

- Also buys A LOT of baking materials so you guys can make pumpkin pie, pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin loaf, pumpkin pretzels and many more

- Cuddles while movie binging (he might get scared at some of the movies but deny it (it’s really obvious when he dies because he grabs onto you tighter))

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd #poe x reader #kunikida x reader #atsushi x reader #yasu.halloween.event

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joelovebl-blog · 11 days ago

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Maz's Metamorphosis

The fire station’s washroom was filled with a damp yet clean smell. Av brushed water from his hair, droplets still clinging to his bare chest after a quick shower. Days of non-stop duty had made his body tense; this shower was a rare chance to breathe.

He was used to washing his uniform and drying it at the station. Spare clothes were always kept in his locker. But today, the lock wouldn’t open—the code seemed broken. It was late. He rummaged through other storage, hoping to find a spare pair of shorts—then noticed a rolled-up pair of underwear at the bottom of a plastic basket.

It was clearly someone’s personal item, not standard issue. The style was outdated, the fabric thick and damp, with crusty patches of dried sweat. Almost stiff. As his nose got closer, a pungent stench of sweat and skin oils slammed into his mind.

“Whose... why hasn’t this been thrown out...?”

Av frowned, but time was tight. He glanced around—no one in sight—then gritted his teeth and slipped the underwear on.

In that moment, he felt something latch onto his skin. Like a sticky palm clutching his groin and upper thighs.

He shuddered.

The fabric rubbed against his thighs—hot, coarse, itchy. He thought he heard a faint panting sound... or maybe it was just his imagination. It was short and low, like a broken pipe releasing a breath.

“...Something’s wrong.”

He muttered, but didn’t move. His fingers brushed along his waist—his skin was radiating heat. Not post-shower warmth, but something burning from the inside.

He looked down at his abdomen.

His skin tone... seemed darker.

Subtly. Like a mild sunburn. But he knew he had only worked night shifts these past weeks. It was a seeping change, as though thick pigment were leaking from his pores, slowly painting over his original tan with a dense brown.

Sweat began to bead again. He had just showered, yet now his back, chest, even inner thighs glistened with oily moisture.

He touched his chest.

Sticky. Warm. The skin felt thicker.

He noticed his knuckles swelling, bones intact, but flesh puffing up. A faint shine oozed between his fingers.

He exhaled—deep, unexpectedly low. Not hoarse from a sore throat, but a "more masculine" resonance, almost feral.

“Ha... what the hell...?”

He blurted out, and startled himself. His voice ended with a crude nasal tone, like some middle-aged man always cursing when he talks.

He didn’t remember ever speaking like that.

What was worse—when he heard that voice, his groin flinched. Not from cold, but a strange mix of shame and... arousal.

It was like the voice wasn’t his—but so familiar.

Like... he’d heard it many times before.

Like some memory he didn’t want to acknowledge slipping quietly into his mind, planting the first seed of corruption.

He stood, intending to rush back to the dorm and strip off the damned underwear. But with his first step, the fabric pulled painfully between his legs. He looked down—the old underwear seemed to have shrunk, gripping his thighs and groin tightly.

No—it hadn’t shrunk.

He had grown.

Av braced against the wall, heart pounding. He could feel his inner thighs swelling slowly—like water bags filling up, heavy and thick. His once-flat, firm waistline began to bulge with dense layers of flesh. Not soft fat, but firm, glossy, suffocating mass.

Sweat slid down his expanding belly, thickening between his navel and groin. He touched it—his skin burned unusually hot, pores gaping, reeking of sweat and sebum.

A familiar stink.

He covered his nose suddenly—that smell... it was the same sharp, masculine, hormone-heavy “Maz scent” from the underwear earlier.

“How... is this coming from me...?”

He muttered, but his voice no longer carried its usual clarity. His throat sounded smoked, rough, sticky. Even he could hear the weird tone—drawn out, low-class, greasy.

“Ha... fuck... what the hell is this...”

He tried to curse, but the words came out too naturally.

He never spoke like that—yet it was like he had a thousand times.

His eyes widened. He realized—his tone, his rhythm, his curses... exactly like how Maz had spoken in that old GV clip.

He remembered that video—his friends had joked about it behind closed doors. He never admitted he had seen it, but he remembered every scene: the coarse voice, sticky panting, glistening flesh in motion.

Now those images weren’t external—they felt implanted. Even his skin seemed to remember.

He turned to the mirror.

His pecs, once firm but modest, were now two glistening, overblown mounds straining his upper skin. He reached to touch them—they felt like a matured blend of fat and muscle.

“Fuck... are these my tits?”

He whispered, but his voice held a strange excitement. The heat and shame tangled in his breath. He bit his lip unconsciously.

He felt a voice inside laughing—not someone else’s, but his own voice in Maz’s tone—mocking his downfall, his helpless descent into this vulgar, lewd body.

“Touch ’em again... feel how fucking fat they’ve gotten... haah...”

He stumbled back, horrified.

“No... that’s not me... I wouldn’t...”

But he froze, looked down at his belly. His hands rested on a gut that felt too familiar, heavy, slick with sweat and stink.

He sniffed his fingers.

“...Fuck, it really stinks...”

He frowned—but didn’t pull away. Instead, blankly, slowly—he sniffed again.

Then closed his eyes. A mix of revulsion, shame... and strange, deep-seated belonging passed across his face.

His sharp, proud features were dulling—brow thickening, nose widening, lips puffing up, shadowed with stubble. That wasn’t him—it was Maz’s face.

He touched his cheek—felt coarse pores, slick sweat on his fingertips. His eyes in the mirror shimmered with confusion and fear.

“This isn’t me... I’m Av... I... I’m—”

The words caught. He was always composed. But now, he couldn’t finish a sentence. His throat felt gripped by something rough, his voice gravelly and heavy.

“...Fuck, shit... damn... this... haah, why... does this feel... good...?”

The voice wasn’t his. He never spoke like that.

But the words flowed effortlessly, like he’d rehearsed them a thousand times.

He covered his mouth, his face red with shame. Sweat mixed with grease ran down his brow, and his palms were soaked in heat and stink—that scent, unmistakable now. The scent from that underwear. Maz’s scent.

“Why do I... know Maz’s scent...?”

The thought hit like lightning. He shouldn’t know. It was a stranger’s underwear. But now, more images surfaced—beds, shoots, mirrors, self-touching, men's panting, wet breath, greasy laughter.

Not his memories. But horrifyingly vivid.

One clip—Maz on a sofa, filming himself smugly, fondling his own fat chest—wasn’t from a video.

It was something “I” did.

“I...?”

He spoke—and froze. The voice was rough, raspy like a smoker, tinged with Maz’s oily drawl.

“Fuckin’ hell... what’s up with this voice...”

And yet he couldn’t resist saying one more thing:

“Shit... this voice... fuck, it’s so hot... haah...”

His mouth moved on its own.

The words weren’t his thoughts—they were desires rising from his throat. Maz’s voice in his brain said:

“You’ve always wanted to talk like this, haven’t you?”

He stood, staggering from the washroom. But every step felt heavier—his legs no longer lean, now thick, broad, sticky.

“No... I’m not him... I’m not Maz...”

He repeated, weakening. Because the voice inside whispered:

“You were never the good guy. The real you... is me—stinky, filthy, man-loving Maz.”

Av collapsed before a mirrored hallway wall, saw himself—fat pecs, bulging gut, dark skin, filthy tone, sweat-stained lips.

Breathing hard, he reached for his warped face.

“...Fuck... why do I... look so damn slutty...”

He didn’t deny it anymore. For the first time, in Maz’s tone, he cursed himself: “You filthy whore.”

Lying on the floor, his whole body burned red-hot, muscles squirmed under skin, bones clicked like they were rearranging.

He pushed himself up—his glistening chest bounced heavily, dense slabs of greasy meat weighing down his lungs.

“Haah... hah... fuck...”

His voice—no longer youthful. Like sandpaper, thick and sticky. Every word came with a guttural grunt.

“This body... how... did it get like this... fuck... it feels so good...”

His tone shifted. He wanted to say “how did this happen,” but his mouth added “feels good” instead.

Saying it made his legs tremble.

Shame roiled in his chest—he shook his head, but couldn’t stop the rising heat and thrill.

He felt like a rutting beast, drenched in sweat and stink. His skin seeped grease, the air thick with salty, sour, almost rotting male musk.

He knew—that was Maz’s scent.

Not from memory. From instinct. He knew this smell should spread from his armpits, chest, feet—onto sofas, sheets, and other men’s faces.

“I’m not... I’m Av...”

Still trying to resist. His eyes struggling.

But he looked at his hands.

Veins raised, knuckles thick, skin glossy with sweat, fingers stained with armpit stench.

His once-clean, slender hands now looked like a gruff middle-aged man’s. Thick, greasy, salty, dirt under the nails.

“Fuck... these hands... these fucking hands...”

He lifted them, trembling. Like touching a strange man for the first time—terrified, but addicted.

He couldn’t resist. He grabbed those fat pecs—hard.

“Haah... hah... fuck... this... this softness... feels... so fucking good... hahahah...”

Language broke.

He cracked from his shell—his mouth could no longer say old words.

Only filth. Only the vulgar, to describe what he was becoming. And saying it made him shudder in climax.

“Look at you, you filthy piece of shit... fuck... I’m gonna fuck myself stupid...”

Not thought out—those words grew from his body.

Etched into his tongue, waiting for the meat of Maz to finish forming—then they burst out naturally.

He stood up, naked, facing the mirror. The reflection was no longer Av.

A thick, brown face glistened with grease. Damp short hair clung to his brow. Lips puffed, shadowed with stubble.

He raised his arm—tufts of armpit hair swayed.

He licked his lips—sticky spit on his tongue. Staring at that perverted, sweaty man, he muttered:

“...Fuck... I look so damn sexy like this...”

Then he laughed. A crude, filthy, resigned laugh.

But deep inside, shame still flickered. He cursed himself in Maz’s voice: “Filthy man, whore, slut... still wanna be Av? You’re me now.”

He covered his face, collapsed, writhing between pain, thrill, and horror.

The skin of Maz had almost fully claimed him.

Av no longer sat like Av. He squatted before the mirror, legs spread, elbows on knees, biting a sweat-soaked towel—it reeked of his current scent: salty sweat, body odor, brown skin grease.

The pose—Maz’s.

He didn’t know why. He just squatted—and his body remembered. Posture, motion, habit—once the body was claimed, it performed them on its own.

He stared into the mirror, dazed. Drenched in musk and post-lust exhaustion. His fat chest still stood proud, wet and sticky.

“Fuck... haah... shit... I stink...”

The words weren’t what a clean-cut firefighter would say. His tone now carried laughter, nasal dips, throat rasp—just like Maz’s classic voice in recordings.

He remembered one line—

Maz, before a shoot, winked at the camera and said:

“I’m so fucking horny today I can’t even handle myself~”

Now, that line leapt from his throat—not from thought, but as if slipped out.

“I’m so fucking horny today I can’t even handle myself~ Hahahaha...”

He froze for three seconds.

Then he laughed—in Maz’s voice.

That laugh—hoarse, filthy, but relaxed. As if the last trace of “Av” had been wiped away in that laugh.

He pushed closer to the mirror. Heavy footsteps slapped wetly on the floor. His fat thighs rubbed, sweat and musk dripping from the gap.

He inhaled deeply—sniffing his armpit.

“Fuck... this smell... goddamn familiar... it’s Maz’s...”

His tone—now flawless. Every word, every breath, was Maz.

But he suddenly stopped, looked down at the mirror.

His heart jolted—deep in his eyes, a glimmer flickered. That wasn’t Maz.

It was himself.

“I... Av... I’m still here...”

He whispered, trying to call himself back. But when he tried again:

“I’m... Av...”

The words caught. His face twisted like he’d been choked, and he cursed:

“Fuck you, what’s with that sissy-ass name, fucking stinks, hahahaha—”

Laughter and curses shattered the last bit of dignity. Not acting. Not reflex.

It was linguistic self-correction.

His mouth, tongue, throat, and brain wouldn’t let him define himself as “Av.”

He slapped his thick thigh, grabbed his warped face, and shouted in Maz’s voice:

“I am—MAZ!!”

That shout—loud, filthy, a broken seal’s howl.

He collapsed, holding his greasy chest, panting. Sweat dripped from his chin. The transformation was complete—body, language, scent, posture, voice—all Maz.

He laughed.

Not Av’s laugh. But Maz’s laugh—aroused, self-loving, filthy, and proud.

Alone, laughing like he was making love to himself.

That night, he stayed in front of the mirror for a long, long time.

Until finally, he licked his stubbled lips, and whispered in a deep, raspy voice:

“I’m finally home.”

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #reality change #musclegrowth

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zai-doodles · 5 months ago

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Hi would it be ok I asked more of your world building ? I’m very curious to see what you come up with ^^

it can be the council , kingdoms , anything ! Please ; I also like your idea of magic and how Levy and Droy are very close cause of magic tree !

Also hi Hope you’re doing ok !

hi ok im gonna put the magic system stuff here since i messed up the order of the asks dw abt it

Types

Innate

The most common type of mage

Almost all mages start out as innate mages

Stats

Versatility medium

Are more capable of learning other types of magic even if they are more inclined to oen type

Control high

Natural magic level high

Definition

Magic that comes naturally to a mage, typically needs lots of practice in order to be more powerful and requires a great deal of control inorder to channel without some sort of conduit

Anything can be a conduit for innate magic, it does not have to be a magically enhanced weapon

Its actually better if its not magically enhanced already because its easier to channel ur own magic thro it if theres not already a preexisting charm on it

Different races can have an affinity for certain types of magic, seedlings w plant magic, mermaids w water/ charm magic etc etc

Innate mages are able to learn other types of magic however most find it easier to stick to what theyre good at, sometimes picking up adjacent magic types (ex, a water wizard could hypothetically learn ice magic or even poison depending on how they choose to use it)

Examples

Elemental magic

All of the elements have a school of magic that can be learned and expanded on, v avatar and black clover mixed together

Usually wilded by non humans bc its just easier for them

The core elements are the most common of course but there are mages who have dedicated their lives to cultivating new and interesting forms of this

Example, u can be an earth mage but if u live in a desert u are probably only using sand, then someone else would introduce heat and make it glass magic etc etc (very black clover and atla like i said lol)

Maker magic

A subcategory of elemental magic, is not typically offensive in nature and used more for practicality such as construction

Takes an extremely high level of control and connection to ones element (a la gray, ur, lyon etc)

Script magic

Anything involving the actual study and mechanics of magic

Curse magic

Black magic/ banned magic, any type of script magic that is used to permanently attack or alter a persons magical core of sorts

This is why healing magic is extremely rare, since the practice of blessing or affecting someones magic with an outside source can easily go wrong and do more harm than good (allegedly lol)

Rune magic

Much older, script magic is basically a more general form of this

It does require much more research and learning so its not as common as general script magic

Cast times are typically longer but the result is a more sturdy spell that can stay up for longer periods of time without constant supervision from the caster

Requip

Anything involving pocket dimensions + storing magical items that can be summoned

Most requip mages consider themselves more as fighters who use a pocket dimension as storage basically, the weapons dont even have to be magical its more of a class than a magic type

This is why it is considered innate and not holder, because the act of requiping is not derived from the items

Holder

Second most common type of mage

Are typically mages born with low levels of natural magic or weren't taught how to cultivate their magic, leading them to lean on enchanted objects to perform spells

Sometimes they are just innate mages who use items to supplement their fighting style

Stats

Versatility high

Since the magic is stored in the object, these mages are capable of using multiple different ones or could even just learn a different type of magic if they wanted

Control low

Like a weapon, magical items take training to use, it is not uncommon for magical weapons to overwhelm mages and backfire since they never cultivated their own magical control

Natural magic level low

Holders TYPICALLY use items to make up for a lack of training or natural skill for magic, humans are the most common

Examples

Seal/ Glyphs

Any piece of paper or medium with spells embedded within the paper

Fr just the glyph system in the owl house

Card magic

A very specific form of glyph magic

Decks can be comprised of something resembling a tarot or a playing deck or a combination

There must always be a set number of cards in someones deck, if the deck was made with 52 cards in mind, there must always be 52 cards in order for the magic to be most effective

Trading cards is allowed or replacing them, its more about the box they come in

The case for cards is essentially the charging port, it reactivates any card placed inside but it must ALWAYS have the total deck in order to work

Pict magic

Using a magically enhanced brush,

Any form of magical weapon wielder tho most mages who have a magical weapon use a different type of innate magic primarily

Patron

Least common, not to say they are rare but do hold a level of status in the magic world

Celestials and takeovers are the most common of this type

Stats kinda

Versatility low

Unable to learn more types of magic without extreme levels of training

Control medium

Requires a level of control in the case of takeover or lacimas but overall usually don't overwhelm the user without their explicit consent

This varies based on the power level of the patron

Natural magic level low

Since these mages outsource their power, they typically don't possess much natural mana themselves

Definition

A magic that can hypothetically learned by anyone no matter natural level of magic, however are typically hyper specific and change the magical make up of the user, making it nearly impossible for them to learn a different type of magic once its taken hold

Must involve drawing your magic from an outside source, typically a much more powerful magical creature however mortals have started using lacimas as substitutes for the more natural blessings

Living vs object sources

Lacimas are the most common form of imitating the effects of patron magic, they typically just skip the step of having to actually make a contract or agreement with a higher being by just distilling the magic of that creature into something they can either implant in themselves or consume

Because there is no bond to a conscious being controlling the magic flow, lacimas are extremely unstable as they are just concentrated magic in its purest form, causing it to usually rapidly change the users magical make up and often manifests as some kind of physical infection or transformation to force the host body to better accommodate the magic

Acnologia is the text book example of this, except he fully gave into the magical energy and lost his humanity in the process, leaving him as a soulless being that is purely a vessel for magical output

The transformations can result in chronic pain/ disabilities for the user or even death depending on the severity which is why it is not a common practice

Examples

Takeover magic

Any form of magic that involved having to consume a living creature in order to gain their magical abilities

Results in being able to tap into that creatures soul and transform into them (pretty much the same as canon ngl).

Consume is vague on purpose, the extent of the transformation also depends on the amount or form of consumption

Slayer magic

Slayer magic is when a magically inclined/based creature gifts magic to a mortal

This use to be called blessing magic but during the war between dragons and dragon borns the name changed to slayer

The first instance of this is mavis gifting her charm to zeref, which he ironically used to accidentally wipie out all the fairies so-

Instead of a full transformation at once, slayer magic slowly changes the user over the course of years and can even have affects on the offspring of the user

Ie the dragon slayers starting out as normal humans at first but after like 3 generations are just full on dragon borns

If they hadnt been wiped out hypothetically they would have just become full on dragons

Celestial magic

TECHNICALLY just slayer magic but due to political and social conotations there is a separation

The main difference is that while slayers store the blessing inside their bodies, celestial mages store the blessing in a keyas a symbol for the bond

Its not holder magic tho bc the key itself isnt watch magical? They are specifically tied to one person

Oath magic

#zai talks #fairy tail

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