#effective hair fall treatment

[skintreatmentinindia]

What Role Does Dandruff Play in Hair Fall?

Dandruff is a common condition that affects millions of individuals every day. It is considered a leading cause of hair loss in most individuals. While both of them seem to be unrelated, there is a strong link between both the connections. This comprehensive post by Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a leading dermatologist offering the best hair fall treatment in Hyderabad, will detail dandruff's role in hair fall.

What is Dandruff?

White flakes that accumulate over the scalp are known as dandruff. This condition can usually affect any type of hair. Dandruff can worsen with time and lead to constant itching and inflammation of the scalp if not treated promptly. The different types of dandruff are mild dandruff and severe dandruff.

Role of Dandruff in Hair Fall

1. Hair Follicle Damage and Inflammation

Dandruff can cause inflammation, one of the main ways it leads to hair loss. If the scalp is inflamed due to chronic dandruff, it can affect the health of hair follicles. Inflammation can affect the normal hair growth cycle and weaken hair strands. With time, this can cause increased hair shedding and a reduction in overall hair density.

2. Yeast Overgrowth and Hair Loss

Dandruff is often associated with the overgrowth of a yeast-like fungus known as Malassezia. While this fungus naturally resides on the scalp, an imbalance can result in dandruff. Recent studies indicate that the presence of Malassezia may stimulate an inflammatory response, impacting the hair follicles and causing hair loss. It is essential to effectively control the overgrowth of this fungus to address both dandruff and the associated hair loss.

3. Psychological Impact and Stress

Dealing with dandruff can be emotionally disturbing, and it can lead to stress and anxiety. Stress is a known factor in both hair loss and dandruff. The release of stress hormones can affect the normal hair growth cycle and worsen the scalp's condition.

4. Hair Damage and Scratching

Dandruff can cause a lot of itching on the scalp, leading to scratching. This can result in physical damage to the scalp and hair. Scratching can also lead to split ends and inflammation and can result in breakage.

Get Effective Hair Fall Treatment at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic

If one loses a lot of hair because of dandruff, one can seek help from Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a leading dermatologist in Hyderabad, at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic to get an effective hair fall treatment. The expert dermatologist recommends several options for treating hair fall. The treatments include topical medications, mesotherapy, and microneedling with growth factors. 

Visit the clinic today to avail the benefits of these treatments and achieve healthy hair.

Original Source:- https://www.apsense.com/article/what-role-does-dandruff-play-in-hair-fall.html

[ink-asunder]

It always boggles my mind how in medical dramas, whenever a patient has a rare or undocumented reaction to a medication or whatever, the doctors are all scrambling to figure out WHY. But in real life doctors gaslight you when you say your birth control made you gain weight like come on

[mistletouchunderthetree]

.

[lamiadrowned]

*:･ﾟ✧ sweet like sugar venom

jinx x fem!reader | nsfw

there are many unexpectedly rewarding things about going out with a girl who is mostly seen as nothing but an enemy of the public– a menace to everybody that she doesn’t feel deserves her kindness.

of course, there are ways she expresses her fondness and respect for those who she deems deserving, like silco and sevika (and sometimes thieram, if he can talk to her long enough without becoming visibly uncomfortable by some of the things she says).

but, it seems you’ve been granted the most special treatment by jinx as she learns the ropes of affection and becomes acquainted with the idea of being loved, and showing love in return.

you’ve gotten used to finding trinkets made of scrap metal marked with a signature paint that is unmistakably done by her, or small music boxes that play an off-key rendition of a song she’d overheard you listening to. sometimes, you get to keep them. other times, they explode into a plume of colorful smoke with a reverberating bang.

you’ve also gotten used to her odd compliments. she may not be the best with her words, but one thing is for certain– she’s never been hesitant to say what’s on her mind, even if her idea of a compliment often leaves you bewildered more than anything.

regardless of how she shows her love, you’re often discovering new depths to how sweet she can be.

how sweet she is when she hugs you, as if it’s the last time she’ll ever see you every time she gets her arms around you.

how sweet she is when she kisses you, feeling the giddy smile on her lips as they intertwine with yours.

how sweet she tastes, melting like chocolate under your tongue, one hand gripping the sheets of your bed while the other holds a fistful of your hair.

if it were your choice, you’d stay like this forever– kneeling between her trembling thighs that fight against the tough grip your hands have on them, struggling to keep her legs spread for you while you work your magic. it’s a luxury that’s reserved especially for you, a rare showcase of vulnerability that nobody else gets to see.

it makes you feel worthy, and oddly possessive.

“just like that!” she cries out, fingers gripping your hair hard enough to make you groan. you love how vocal she is. how controlling she tries to be, even when you’re the one in control. “fuck, i’m– i’m gonna–”

you wrap your lips around her clit and snake one of your hands down her stomach, brushing over the goosebumps that follow, and slowly ease your middle finger inside of her. with a single curl upwards into that spot that makes her see stars every time, your hear her let out a long gasp, see her legs tense up as her back arches impossibly high off the bed, and wince at the feeling of her nearly pulling the hair out of your head with how hard she tugs it.

when she finally eases up, jinx’s body goes visibly limp, left in the silent bliss of a post-orgasmic daze. that is, until she gasps when you going back for more– ducking down further to lick up some of the sticky mess she made and moaning at the taste. the vibration makes her choke out a quiet whimper, throat awfully sore from all the screams you’d pulled from the depths of her bare chest.

you don’t let up until she uses a much more gentle, yet firm grip on your hair to pull you away. it isn’t surprising for her to see that signature look on your face; a mix between smugness and pure adoration.

you prop yourself up on your hands and lean down to press your lips to hers, ensuring she can taste herself, only because you know the effect it has on her. she uses the last bit of her otherwise endless stamina to grab your shoulders and flip you onto your back, quickly shuffling to lay herself on top of you with a low growl.

“don’t get overzealous on me, now,” you joke, looking up at her mischievous grin with a skeptical expression. “if you start something, you have to finish it.”

“finish you, you mean?” she tilts her head, frizzy blue hair falling like curtains around your face. one of her hands trails up to your throat, gently wrapping around it and applying enough pressure for you to go pliant beneath her. “you know i don’t like it when you underestimate me.”

you reach up and place your hand over hers, squeezing it as a notion for her to tighten her grip, and she gives you a toothy smile, her eyes wide and observant. so sweet. “i know.”

[milkloafy]

WE FIGHT AND MAKE UP — ALHAITHAM

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you and alhaitham get into a heated argument and give each other the cold shoulder. at night, you sleep on the couch and alhaitham comes out to find you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, kaveh cameo ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 0.9k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: this little drabble has made me fall in love with alhaitham i am currently commissioning some selfship art as we speak i love this man pls enjoy if ur a fellow alhaitham lover :>

It wasn’t often you and Alhaitham truly fought. But the few times you did, it usually started with abnormally raised voices and ended in silent treatment that lasted late into the night.

At a certain point in time, the silent treatment would go on for so long, it became more like a battle of perseverance— Who would cave and speak to the other first?

You were stubborn, you had to admit, but Alhaitham could take it to a whole new level. Even when you tried to extend an olive branch, he would continue to keep to himself and draw out the silence between you.

You huffed as you wrapped a blanket around you. Kaveh had passed by your sorry state bundled up on the couch and wordlessly brought you a spare pillow and blanket. If there was anyone who understood Alhaitham’s stubbornness even more than you, it would have to be his roommate for years and former friend since the Akademiya, Kaveh. 

There was no explanation needed as Kaven patted you on the head before going back into his own room. 

Sighing, you laid down on the couch in the cold living room while Alhaitham was likely warm and cozy, snuggled up in bed without you. 

Dejected, you turned to your side and hugged the pillow Kaven gave. At this point, you were no longer even mad at Alhaitham. Sure, the two of you blew up on each other, but the heat simmered out and you were ready to make up and move on. 

It was too bad Alhaitham wasn’t, you thought to yourself, glaring at the cushion in front of you. 

You tossed and turned into the late of night, unable to get comfortable when your thoughts were focused on your boyfriend you were apparently still fighting with. Just as you were about to give up on sleep for the rest of the night, you heard a door creak open and the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. 

Thinking it was only Kaveh again, you sat up and signed loudly, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“You’re still out here?”

Your spine straightened when you realized that voice was certainly not Kaveh. It was lower, deeper, much more familiar. Alhaitham.

Letting out an exhale, you shrugged without turning around to face him. “Where else would I go?”

Alhaitham sighed, walking around the sofa and taking a seat next to you, keeping a respectable distance away.

“You could go back to our bed,” he said quietly.

When you didn’t respond, he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You peered up at him with a look of reservation on your face.

“I’m sorry for letting you stay out here alone for so long,” he continued in a strained tone. 

You examined him, heart softening when you saw his tired and worn eyes, red skin at the edges. Although he hated showing it, you could easily see how much he was effected by this argument. 

“I’m really sorry. Won’t you come back to our room? I…miss you.”

Your resolve cracked after hearing those words. All you wanted for the past few hours was to make up. Now that he was the one holding up the peace flag, you toyed with the idea of making him grovel to make up for it. But a bigger part of you simply wanted to be in his arms again. 

“I miss you, too, Haith,” you said, moving closer to him. “I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

Alhaitham gently took your hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “Perhaps we were both a little obstinate. But I love you too much to allow this stalemate to continue on.”

You nodded in agreement, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck. Breathing in deeply, you took in his familiar scent and let it warm your heart. 

“I hate the silent treatment,” you proclaimed, sniffling haughtily. “Let’s never do it again. I’m sorry for being a meanie.”

Alhaitham chuckled before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I was mean, too. I’m sorry for that. And you are forgiven.” He leaned his chin against the top of your head, not applying his full weight. “Now, let’s go to bed?”

“Yes, please.” You stood up slowly beside him. “I’m so tired. I can’t believe we were fighting for this loong over the existence of aliens!” 

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Our debates can get heated at times. But I enjoy that about us. Always being agreeable is too…mundane.” 

“I second that. But I just still can’t believe you don’t think aliens are real! In a world where gods and dragons exist… Aliens of all things are too farfetched?”

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone.

You giggled, ruffling the top of his head with an exaggerated pat. “Okay, okay. Tonight, we make peace. I get it.”

“Mhm.” Alhaitham began walking to your room, holding your hand as you followed behind him. “Tonight, we make up. Tomorrow, we prepare our arguments and have a more structured debated.”

“Kaven can moderate the discussion,” you offered.

Alhaitham nodded. “I am agreeable to those terms. For now, please get in bed with me.”

You grinned at his pleas, closing the door behind you as you tackled him into a giant hug. “How about you kiss me first?”

Alhaitham smiled as he obliged, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “As you wish, my love.”

[arminsumi]

🔞 𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐓𝐨-𝐁𝐞 𝐄𝐱-𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝟐

<- 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯.

𝟑.𝟔𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 / 𝟕 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Gojo Satoru / (Geto Suguru)

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : your ex-boyfriend claims he isn't a playboy anymore, but is he being genuine? Another date with him leaves you a mess, and you end up asking his best friend out for coffee.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst, pining, drama, smut (cr**mpies, light degradation, name calling (sl*t and wh*re), c*nnilingus, bl*wjob in the backseat/risky), implied sexual relationship with Suguru

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞 : Heaven and Back | Often | Wine Pon You | New Rules

You walk out of your bedroom gussied up, lips painted in a very specific shade of red.

And Shoko, laid on the couch tiredly, gapes in disbelief at you.

"Oh my god." she groans, "Please don't tell me you're going on another date with that playboy."

You act dumb, nervously touching your neck as you style your hair in the mirror some more.

"What?"

"You're wearing the Gojo Satoru lipstick."

You continue acting, "This isn't the 'Gojo Satoru' lipstick, I love this lipstick! I always wear this shade!"

She looks at you, dumbfounded by your acting, nearly laughing.

"No, that's the Gojo Satoru lipstick. I can distinctly recall his words; "That's my baby's lipstick on me." and how you giggled on his shoulder."

"Shoko, that was five years ago." you say, "It's fine. I promised him only one more date. He needs closure."

"He's had five years of closure." Shoko replies, "Angel, you're too good for him."

"He's changed!" you insist.

"No, he hasn't; I saw that look in his eyes when I saw you two on the couch. He's still a playboy, and he'll prove it to you soon enough." she says.

"I have faith in him." you say.

"How many times have I heard that?" she shakes her head, getting ready to have a smoke. "You know, Gojo Satoru has always gotten what he wants. That's why he's so fascinated by the new you; you're not giving yourself to him like you did back then."

"I have faith in him!" you emphasize. "God, just tell me I look good."

"..."

"Please. I'm nervous. He's high-class, you know. I feel like I'm going on a date with the president of the world."

Shoko sighs and heads towards the balcony to smoke.

"You look too good." she says earnestly. "He was right about that shade of lipstick on you."

Her compliment makes you light up significantly.

You fuss as you wait. Since Shoko asks, you tell her; "He ordered for someone to chauffeur me."

"Oh my god." she groans, "He's really buttering you up."

"But isn't it such a gentleman move!"

"... more like a rich boy flex." she mutters under her breath, stubbing out the end of her cigarette.

"Okay. I've got to go. See you later... um, unless I overnight by him, of course." you giggle dreamily.

"Condoms." Shoko says simply.

"He's got some."

"Bring your own, always."

"But I'm on birth control, and we've already — " you begin.

Shoko cuts you off, "I know, but have you ever heard about the whole "creampies make you fall in love" thing?"

"What?" you look dumbly. "Isn't that a myth?"

"No. Coming inside is affectionate. You're going to feel connected to him and then he'll dip when you become "too serious" for him. Just keep him at bay."

You give her advice consideration, and nod. "Okay, alright. I won't let him do it inside."

*****

While being chauffeured, you rehearse in your head how to greet your ex-boyfriend — but it doesn't help, because as soon as you're actually in his presence again, your mind goes blank and you start nervously touching at your neck and giggling to cope with his charm.

From the moment Satoru takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant, you feel like a VIP. It's such a familiar feeling; in your early twenties, when you and him dated, he showed you what it meant to be really rich.

And he was excited to shower you in lavish treatment, he loved to see you decorated in his diamonds and to see your bright smile on foreign beaches.

The effect he has on you is even noticed by the waiter, who tends to your secluded table on the rooftop. You and Satoru feel like you're in your own bubble.

"I'm serious." he says honestly, looking into your eyes.

"... you break my heart, then disappear for five years, and then come back asking for marriage." you shake your head, "Doesn't that sound insane to you? Can't you understand why I'm rejecting you?"

"I've changed."

You hum skeptically.

"Really." he tilts his head, he flicks his brow giving his expression that sad little look that really sells it for you.

"If we got married, how long would it last?"

"What do you mean? We'd be wed 'till we're dead." he grins.

You shake your head and smile at him, poking at your plate. A long silence passes.

"... let me think about it."

"... okay." his spirits lift. "But don't make me wait too long; I'm impatient." he teases.

"Too bad. I'm gonna take my time." you sass, biting a piece of meat off your fork to make a statement.

He grins at you.

*****

Food all eaten, dessert long gone. The night air feels good. Not like old times, but new times with an old lover. He knows he messed up, right? So why hasn't he apologized yet? Maybe, you theorize to yourself to justify him, maybe he's still thinking up an apology.

He stares at you from across the table, eyes hungry like a starved wolf.

"You look so good tonight." he says for the third time.

You giggle in response, "Stop..."

"I swear that shade of lipstick looks familiar." he teases, leaning over the table.

You can smell his cologne, and it entrances your heart.

"... is it?" you ask softly, pretending like you don't know what he's talking about.

He knows you're pretending, he thinks it's cute.

"You think it would look good on me too?" he asks.

You shrug like a ditzy princess, "I dunno. Wanna find out...?"

He's so quick to call the waiter for the bill, like there's a pressing issue that needs his attention.

But the only pressing issue is his hard-on pressing hot against his thigh.

*****

Giving his cock all your attention in the backseat of the car, Satoru forces his moans down so that his poor chauffeur doesn't hear through the screen divider.

You stifle a slurping sound, sliding off the tip of his cock slowly, and it makes him shudder hard. He closes his eyes, like that helps any, and tries to keep from cumming in your mouth right there.

Gojo knows your lipstick stains are going all over his cock, it drives him crazy.

Before he cums, you pull off and he mutters a small "Just you wait..." under his breath that makes you smile wide.

****

Kissy marks lead up his abs. Of course, he wants to take a photo — to preserve the memory.

"Hand here, baby. Good girl." he instructs, and in his voice right then you can hear how mature he is now, in comparison to the squeakier voice he had when you two first met.

He's not a boy anymore, he's a man. But very far from being your man, which he's trying to change.

"Lay back." he murmurs. "Spread your legs. Wider. Good girl."

Without saying a thing about it, he noses in between your thighs and shows you heaven is real, and it exists on Gojo Satoru's tongue.

"Fuck!" you clamp your thighs around his head, making him hum while sliding his tongue inside.

When you two first dated, he wasn't inexperienced — but he didn't quite know how to eat a woman out.

Five years is a long time to practice, and he definitely did. You can feel his sloped nose nudging against your clit as he kisses and sucks, sometimes nibbling softly with his teeth at your puffy lips.

Making you cum on his tongue is almost too easy for Satoru, he nearly laughs as he pulls away and licks your slick off his lips. He thinks it's a pity that he's at the wrong angle to see your eyes rolling back. But at least he sees how you throw your head back for him, and how you sound for him — like a cat, he loves it.

"Nice and messy for me now, huh?" he hums, connecting his body with yours as he crawls upwards and devours your lips.

"Mhm!" you whine, still unsteady from your orgasm, breathing frantically. "Satoru, I need you in me right now."

"Aw, but I was gonna — "

"Nowww!" you beg.

He sighs, "Can't say no to that face."

You watch intently, licking your lips, as he whips his belt off and takes his cock out. It's red from the tip down to the middle, where that familiar thick vein always catches your attention.

By your request, even though it confuses him, he squeezes his cock into a condom.

"What do you need, baby?" he asks, lowering his cock onto your pussy and rubbing it between your slicked lips.

You squeal as he flicks at your clit, then pinches your folds around his cock, making you realize his size in comparison to little you.

"I need you."

"Need me how?"

"Satoru!" you hiss annoyedly.

"I don't want to have to tease you, baby just say it."

"I want your cock inside me."

"Not nearly slutty enough." he shakes his head, drawing his cock back and forth, rubbing over your soft pussy. "You said to me in the car that you were a total, fucking slut for me, didn't you say that? Or am I imagining things?"

You start babbling, "Yeah! I'm a slut for you, I want it so bad!" you whine, "C'mon fuck me stupid!"

"That's better." he grins.

Just like how he always does, he presses his tip inside you so politely but then pushes it in too deep, making you curl like you're about to cum.

Satoru's not one to go slow for long, he'd rather pound into you hard and fast right away, to bring out that slut in you as quick as he can. Because right now, you're not nearly slutty enough for him, as he said — and he needs to see that side of you.

"Baby, get loud for me, come on." he grunts, shoving himself as deep as he can, reaching the spot that you know isn't the G-spot or your cervix, but something in-between.

"Fuck!" you almost cry, "That's so good, fuck me harder please!"

He grins, cheeky fangs on display, and goes harder until you can hardly handle it. You don't care if it hurts just a little bit, because you want to know that every inch of your ex's cock is inside you. Not just eight, eight and a half — honestly, he doesn't know where you put all of that, but he delights in watching it disappear into your hole.

"Look at you." he purrs, "How deep are you trying to suck me?"

It feels like he's going to split you in two. Sweat pours out of the both of you, bodies getting slippery.

As Satoru continues pumping his cock back and forth, in and out of you, he starts furrowing his brows together in focus — playful edge dulling as it always does when it feels good good.

"That's it, you fucking take it." he grunts, "Good girl, you're a good little slut for me huh?"

"Yeahhh I'm a good little slut for you!"

"Let me take the condom off, baby."

You know you're gonna hear it from Shoko if she knows, but in the moment you're too drunk on sex to care, and even reach back to strip the condom off your ex's cock yourself as he watches with a smirk.

"Good girl. Now flip on your side, like this." he instructs.

He slides back inside slowly, filling you inch by inch with a low groan — like he's falling in love.

And the sounds he makes as his orgasm builds up make you want to cum again, too. Each time he hits that strange spot between your G-spot and cervix, your visions sparks a little.

Hard strokes tip you over, and you lay there letting Satoru degrade you and call you a filthy slut. You'd be his anything as long as it felt this good.

"I'm so close." he warns, trying to savor the buildup.

"Cum inside me." you mewl, "Please."

"Yeahhh I'm gonna — fuck. Take my cum, be a good girl."

The broken moan he lets out as he creampies you is almost obscene. Satoru slows his thrusts as he shoots everything he has into you.

His jaw slacks, and he groans, "... prettiest little slut, aren't you? So filthy and pretty."

"I'm gonna cum againnn..." you whine, reaching down to rub frantically on your sensitive clit.

He watches you through the haze of his post-orgasm, slowly grinding his cock inside to get you there.

"Good girl."

"C-call me a slut again, please."

He laughs naughtily, "Fucking slut. Come on, finish on me. Make that cute face again, 'cute lil' whore."

Satoru always surprises you during sex in some way, this time you're surprised when he caresses your cheek as you cum. You shake and spasm, feeling each shock of your orgasm.

Panting and coming down from your high, Satoru cracks a smile.

"You were so loud." he laughs.

Reality hits you, "Oh my god, I didn't know I liked being called a slut so much!" you cover your face embarrassedly.

He rings out with laughter.

*****

After sex. What happens after sex? He's a gentleman, and that makes you tear up — not because he's a gentleman, but because he never used to be quite like this.

No, he never used to be quite like this. Even kissing you afterwards? Why was it, you wonder, that back then he couldn't love you as deeply as now, when you needed it most?

"What's wrong?" he asks.

You try to stop your crying, but it gets worse.

"Satoru." you say, sniffling, eyes pointed downwards, "I know it's been five years, but I'm still hurt."

He doesn't reply. Just awkwardly wrings his hands and sits at the edge of the bed, soft duvet covering his lap.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't really help."

"Then what can I do?"

"I don't know." you sniffle, "Go back in time and love me. You know, I needed your love back then more than I do now." you admit to both him and yourself.

Satoru purses his lips, thinking before he speaks — but then he ends up not replying at all.

Instead, he goes to wipe your tears. Something he always did towards the end of your relationship, because you were always crying.

"I should go home."

He jolts a little. "Oh. I thought you were gonna stay the night?" he croaks. Inside, he's dreading sleeping alone again.

"No." you shake your head. "I've got to stop fooling myself. We're not getting back together, you're not more than a playboy, we're not getting married — and sex with you is better than with anyone else, but a relationship can't bank on that, Satoru."

"I'm being genuine. I told you earlier that I was."

"How can I trust you?" you ask.

"Playboys don't propose marriage." he replies.

"But you're just joking about that!"

"I'm not!" he stresses, "The last time you loved me, I was just a boy. I'm a man now and I know what I want." he says roughly.

You both go silent. Then he starts speaking again, voice softer than before.

"I love you more every time I see you."

You don't say anything back. He looks stricken and confused.

"I'm gonna go." you say.

He purses his lips tightly, looking frustrated that he can't get through to you.

"I'll take you home." he says quietly.

*****

Shoko is just digging around in the freezer for therapeutic ice cream when you come into the entry way.

"You look dreadful."

"Thanks."

"Bad date?"

"The worst..."

"Still love him?"

"... yeah."

"Marriage?"

"I'm in love, not stupid." you reply.

Shoko chuckles. "Come on. Let's catch up on that series. I'm not on-call." she cheers for herself. "We can binge the whole thing."

"Shoko, where would I be without you?" you sigh appreciatively, flopping on the couch next to her, mascara smudged off and all.

"Staying the night with a playboy, probably."

"Can't argue that." you sigh, "Shoko, I'm so dumb for him, what do I do?"

"Wait. Strike at the right moment."

"I'm not a cobra."

"Buy a cobra. Let it loose on him."

"Your humor is so dark, Shoko. I love you."

"Love you more."

*****

Meanwhile, Satoru is with Suguru; who is listening to his sulking best friend.

"I'm so dumb for her. What do I do?" he groans, "Shoko's probably poisoning her against me as we speak."

Suguru thinks deeply. "Shoko..."

"I know!" Satoru nearly starts crying again. He's being so dramatic, it's hard to take him seriously. But Satoru almost never cries. So Suguru seriously thinks about solutions to his problems.

"Shoko!" Suguru realizes.

"I knowww!"

"No, Satoru, Shoko!" Suguru emphasizes, like he's just made a breakthrough, "Shoko is the answer to all your problems!"

"Ew. I'd never date Shoko."

"You're so dense. I'm not suggesting that. Shoko's her best friend, and she listens to whatever she says, like you listen to me."

"You have a point... I'm listening."

"See?" Suguru chuckles, "Now, here's what I think you should do..."

*****

"You want me to talk to Suguru?" you shake your head. "How would that help?"

"He's his best friend. If you want to find out if Satoru's no-good, you go to the best friend."

"Suguru would rather die than expose Satoru. They're not like regular best friends, they're soulmate best friends." you say, nervously touching at your neck.

Shoko shakes her head. "Are you scared to talk to Suguru or something? What actually happened between you two back then? You never told me."

You go silent and wide-eyed. Shoko's jaw drops open.

"No way. Holy shit. Oh my god. You and him...?!"

"... it was just once."

"Holy shit! Was this before, after or during you and Satoru together?"

"I'm loyal as a dog! It was after... I was feeling, um, revengeful, and Suguru was feeling lonely one night... so..."

"Suguru actually did that?! Did Satoru find out?"

"We promised to never talk about it again. You know... Suguru was so nice about it. I remember he laid me down and said "Don't worry, just cum on my tongue" or something. Ugh, he was so hot. He fucked the life out of me — I could barely fucking see straight after."

"Too much information!" Shoko plugs her ears.

You look up at the ceiling dreamily. "He's thicker than Satoru."

"My best friend is a slut!" Shoko cries.

"I am!" you cry back dramatically.

The two of you burst out laughing wickedly.

"To sluts!" Shoko toasts with an ice cream spoon.

You toast with her, "To sluts! The sluttier the better!"

"Are you gonna talk to Suguru, then? Or are you scared of your inner slut coming out?" Shoko asks.

"I'll do it. It'll be fine. I'm sure Suguru doesn't look as good in real life as he does in photos..." you reply.

You exchange a look with her. Immediately, the two of you stalk Suguru's social medias and —

"Seriously? Who doesn't have a single social in this day and age?!" You curse, only finding photos of Suguru with Satoru.

"That's just like him."

"Maybe he has a Linkedin."

"You're desperate."

"Yeah!"

"Wait, here's something...?"

You investigate further.

"It's private?!"

Shoko bursts out laughing with ice cream melting on her tongue.

"Comedy!"

"This is seriously annoying. I'm gonna friend him." you say.

Shoko looks at you. You look at Shoko.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You're CRAZY."

"I am!"

"Let me watch, let me watch."

"Okay. I'm doing it."

*****

Satoru is mixing another over-sweetened, non-alcoholic cocktail to be sipped on as if he's drinking his sorrows away.

And Suguru? He's laying on the couch, ghosting social medias that he has no account with, happily enjoying a video of traditional cuisine when suddenly he sees the most outrageous, random, and bizarre notification from his mostly-dead private account.

He makes a suspicious side-eye, thinking it can't be real.

Friend request from @ 𝐘𝐍

@ 𝐘𝐍 wants to send you a message.

@ 𝐘𝐍 hey suguru 😊

"What the fuck." he whispers under his breath, blushing in a panicked kind of way.

Immediately, hot memories of you flood his mind. He sits more upright on the couch, glances nervously to check what Satoru was doing, then looks at your message again.

His heart races.

*****

"This is stupid. He's gonna leave me on read."

"Yeah. I forgot Suguru was notorious for that." Shoko sighs. "Operation: Suguru is a failure, then?"

"Yeah."

You set your phone down and continue binge watching a whole season of a trashy series on Netflix.

Your phone vibrates thirty minutes later. You check it without thinking, then scream so loud it startles Shoko right out of her zen-like Netflix mood.

"NO WAY."

"Is it him? What did he say?"

"He said 'hey'. He's online."

"Well say something!"

You panic, "What do I say?"

"Ask him for coffee! In a non-romantic way!"

"Okay."

wanna go for coffee sometime?

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 is this about satoru or us?

it's about satoru

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 riiight

i'm serious 😠

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 because i wouldn't mind if it's about us

"WHAT." you scream with Shoko.

"REPLY TO HIM."

"I DON'T KNOW HOW."

"GIVE ME YOUR PHONE."

Shoko clacks her nails against the screen viciously, replying to him as you watch her type.

"That doesn't sound like I wrote it."

"Well sorry for being grammatically correct."

"Make it sound sillier."

"There."

Shoko sends it. You watch and wait with bated breath, ignoring the climactic scene on the TV because Suguru Geto was far more attention-grabbing.

"Oh my god." you clap your hand over your mouth. "Is that sexual? Is he being sexual?"

"I have no idea, Suguru's an enigma."

"Do you think Satoru is sitting with him? Are they playing us?"

Shoko shrugs. "I don't know, but I'd read that message if I were you."

You look back to your phone.

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sooo coffee where and when?

"SHOKO WHAT DO I DO."

"I don't know."

"SHOKO."

"I DON'T KNOW. I'M STUNNED."

"ME TOO."

"I bet Satoru is cackling next to Suguru right now."

"I bet not. Listen to how sultry he is! That's three o's in there!"

Shoko thinks. "Yeah, but Suguru is always sultry. I think they're pulling a joke on us."

*****

Satoru is dozing off while his best friend texts you. Suguru's not resisting his smirk; it's plastered on his face.

@ 𝐘𝐍 tomorrow? 2pm sound ok? 🙈

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sounds perfect.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: helloo!! hope you’re well hehe. i thought i should share this so we all can bond over our love for sylus, and in the near future for other characters too!! enjoy <33

when you’re way too into your nightly mindless scrolling through social media on your phone you don’t mind sylus getting a little affectionate with you.

braiding your hair or just running his fingers through it as he watches you or converses with you; caressing your arm or back while you lean onto him, resting comfortably against his sturdy body, sometimes even going as far as giving your tense feet a little treatment too. so of course you don’t mind it when he takes your hand, previously resting on your thigh, and starts playing with it.

gently, almost hesitantly touching your fingers, gliding along the length of them, rubbing the round edges of your neatly filed nails, and it’s sweet, it feels great.

then sylus captures your palm with both of his, fingers threading through your until locked together in a gentle grip, with his thumbs settling onto the soft heels of them. your eyes wander away from your phone, missing his face and curious about his movements, and the phone slips away from your hand as soon as you see his face.

the soft thud of the device falling onto the cushions doesn’t seem to bother him at all as sylus continues to firmly push the pads of his thumbs onto the surface of your palm, massaging it in a way so unfamiliar yet gentle you can stop yourself from focusing all of your attention on him. and when his maroon gaze, tilted and tantalising, meets yours you find yourself enamoured by the tenderness seeping from it, your heartbeat speeding up and spreading the oh so pleasant warmth in your chest that only ever appears with sylus.

the curled corners of his pinkish lips indicate that the man knows exactly what he’s doing; the pressure of his thumbs is just right, the way he moves them, the way he caresses your palm, the way he knows where to touch more firmly and where to go softly. it’s such a simple thing, but you can clearly sense yourself getting dizzier, your mind letting go of its usual train of never ending thoughts and your breathing pattern changing into a different one. slow and deep and uncontrolled.

“do you like it, sweetie?”

sylus is affected too. you can distinguish that with the fuzziness that’s starting to encapsulate your consciousness; he gulps down roughly as soon as the words come out and he leans closer, eager to see, to observe anything that you let him see.

you nod dumbly, mouth opening and closing uselessly before you glance down at the shortening distance between your two. the sensation of him touching your hand so nicely, massaging it and taking care of it in his own way: it’s so foreign yet so him for whatever reason, and you can’t help but crave for more when he stops his movements.

sylus tilts his head to the side curiously, eyeing your expression carefully, attentively, and you feel nervous because you have no idea what your face is conveying at the moment. you can certainly feel the heat of your cheeks and your mouth hanging slightly agape, and it seems he is certainly pleased with the effect that he has on you, his smile widening as he recaptures your hand and brings it closer to his face.

the tips of your fingers graze against his cheek and he lets you cradle it, nuzzling into your palm, eager, hungry for your affection and love and ready to accept anything you give him. your breath hitches when he grabs your wrist and places a gentle kiss on the inside of it, red eyes never leaving yours even for a second and you feel him swallowing you whole with just that, making you gravitate towards him with ease.

“can i– can i kiss you?” you whisper, breaths mingling with his as you wait for his answer.

the words that come out of your mouth make you cringe, probably better off as a thought, but the shift in sylus’s expression is such a pleasant sight; the way his brows knit together ever so slightly and his stare becomes harder, surer, and his whole aura turns darker. he leans in, rests his forehead against yours, breathing in deeply and basking in the warmth emitting from you.

the moment is so intense yet so tender and the desperation that he’s managed to build in you throughout the last few minutes clouds your mind as you anticipate his next move. you never know what’s really going through his head despite how much you desire to understand, but right now

there’s prominence in his voice when he whispers back,

“you can do whatever you want to me.”

[dolloie]

“girlfriend effects” ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

habits that they develop from dating you.

pairing. bf!riize x fem!reader. warnings. insane usage amount of the word 'like' mentions of food, dizzy, cursing, kissing and marking (not heavy though!) marriage on anton one! rara's letter. giggled to much on the seunghan's one..

— shotaro & buying things that remind him of you.

he would buy everything that reminded him of you.

and prolly would update you even when you're asleep.

taroro <3: look what i got :D this kinda reminds me of you!!

he would buy literally ANYTHING even when it's so expensive that out of his budget.

especially when he's on vacation in his hometown.

having a bunch of plushies and keychains that look exactly like you.

keychain on his bag, sticker on his laptop, plushies all over his room.

then he'll buy a keychain that looks like him for you!!

you MUST hang it on your bag or wherever you want just, please, show it off.

he loves it sm.

this boy will giggle all day until you're tired.

— eunseok & bringing your essentials with him everytime.

like i said on my previous bf headcanons!

he would, and he has everything!!

your hair tie was missing? don't worry, he has one on his wrist.

your lips dry? he'll pass the chapstick, lip balm or any lip treatment without you asking.

omg what if your keys are gone somewhere??? bae he has your keys all the time in his bag.

you're just clumsy, but luckily your perfect boyfriend would come to the rescue everytime!

you felt dizzy all of a sudden? girl, he has a whole bottle of water and the medicine prepared.

the members would probably ask why he has a hair tie on his wrist.

all of them are just like they didn't believe that the song eunseok. carrying your items everywhere?? unbelievable.

and, no. he wouldn't take it off, even though the members were teasing him to death.

it's important for you!! why would he take it off?

— sungchan & kissing you everytime he got a chance.

this man has an obsession with your lips.

trust me when i say he has, he has.

i might throw the "chance" aside..

bcs BOY, HE WOULD KISS YOU EVEN IF YOU WERE TALKING WITH HIS MEMBERS.

bro is that down bad 😭🙏🏻

he doesn't give a fuck, even when his members are teasing him for being too clingy.

he just loves you too much, and maybe that counts for your lips too.

wouldn't be ashamed if your lipstick stuck on his lips.

it's the other way, he absolutely loves when your lipstick marks him and would be proud of himself.

he can't stand the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet.

like everytime, i mean everyday, at least three kisses before he can go on with his day perfectly.

even when he's far away from you, a virtual kiss would do.

bro has a whole album of kissing memes.

— wonbin & doing your hair.

he loves it when you talk about how your day went.

bcs those faces that you make when focusing are just so cute.

but then a hair piece falls in front.

he will tuck it behind with a school girl in love kind of smile 🥹

like he's felt like falling in love all over again.

it felt like a romantic movie that he never expected to have.

everything is like a slow motion to him.

he loves it when you decide to tie up your hair!!

then he loves to braid, wash, dry, and brush your hair.

especially when you had a busy week and had no time to wash or do your hair.

he'll let you rest and let him do your hair.

everything is on him, don't worry!!

— seunghan & back hugging you.

this mann T^T

okay now imagine you're in the same house as him.

when you wake up just to see this fine man hugging you from behind.

legs and hands all entangled with you.

buttt if you're not next to him when he wakes up.

be prepared to get the tightest hug from behind.

yeah, the kdrama scene.

which the female lead is cooking or preparing breakfast for the male lead.

then boom, back hugs.

place kisses all over you. neck, cheeks, forehead, and the temple of your head. hair. the back of your hands.

"i'm expecting you to be by my side when i wake up.."

so whinyy

how much you love him for this, but he gotta let go!!

or else no breakfast for the day.

— sohee & everyday text with you.

it's a must for him.

you're asleep? good.

bcs you'll wake up with a whole ass paragraph from him.

really really love sending you pictures of him doing almost everything.

eating, practicing, even before sleeping.

he'll update you everytime he gets the chance!!

absolutely adore when you decide to send him the pictures of you back to him.

asking how your day went.

when you say it was suck, he will go straight to your house without warning.

he's far away from you? not a problem.

face timing is the solution, so go!

would never end the call, even when you've already fallen asleep after telling him your whole day.

screenshots of your pictures and put them as his new wallpaper ^3^

— anton & planning almost everything.

you know, how was this man obsessed with planning everything??

like he has everything organized.

so you don't need to worry that your date is on the same day and at the same time as your work or school.

bcs that would never happen!!

try to think of anything that you would never think of happening.

marriage ‼️

like yeah, he would have a whole note about the wedding theme.

what types of or where would you both go for the honeymoon

man is so delusional.

he's so in love with you that he has already planned everything, even though there's still a long way to go :(

it's the summer time for him!!

your favorite snacks? check. your favorite place to go? check. your favorite activities? check.

you just need to pay him back with a lot of kisses and cuddles.

© CALLANTON. all right reserved. do not copy, use, steal my work and post. ౨ৎ

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.

[pinkmirth]

nfl reiner braun tears his alc and requests the best surgeon to work on it. he gets, youuuu, sweet smelling pink doctor coat wearing you and he can’t even take you serious when you’re going over his chart or requesting to feel the muscle with those pink gloves on. you even look younger than him and he’s telling you: “darlin’, listen… im a big deal around here and i need someone to help fix me not give me a boner.” or something like that and you almost don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re the best that there’s ever been at this hospital.

RECOVERY, reiner braun !

୨୧ — pairing: footballer!reiner braun x fem!reader

୨୧ — synopsis: this doctor’s got a hardheaded patient! it’ll take some effort to convince him of your effectiveness . . .

୨୧ — contains: ( 1.4k words of . . . ) modern au, slight nsfw (more like suggestive!), footballer!reiner, surgeon!reader, fem!reader (black coded), reiner has an ACL tear, reiner’s touch-deprived/sexually frustrated, rei’s kindaaa conceited (just a little bit!), palming, minors shoo!

୨୧ — mira’s note: ramona, my love! i adore all your reiner concepts, they’re always sooo perfect 🎀 thank youuu for sharing your rei-rei thoughts with me :) now here’s a lil drabble for my gorgeous man! (not really proofread thoroughly, i apologize for any typos or mistakes!)

isopropyl.

it’s all that reiner can smell. he’s a healthy man, he hardly belongs here— in this chilled surgeon office with the most pale, unflattering lighting. the parchment-like exam table paper rustles beneath him with every stretch and maneuver he makes, and his weight is enough to pry a creak out of the treatment table every now and again.

a recurring clack of footsteps and the whine of the door lets reiner know that you, the ‘sexy doctor lady from earlier’ has returned from reading his screenings. he wasn’t able to catch your name amidst the splitting pain from his acl tear, so that’ll make do in the meantime.

you set down your clipboard and turn to face him. your dear patient appears a bit mussed from the big game that took place earlier— his golden hair’s all fluffy and wild, that red football uniform of his is streaked with the green of the field, and his left cheekbone got a little scratch somehow. you’ll make sure to dab that with rubbing alcohol later.

“your vitals are well above average.” you commend. his reply’s a mere grunt. he can’t bring himself to take you seriously. just fucking look at you; pink latex gloves pulled over manicured hands, welcoming eyes all doe and shiny, with a sweet glossed smile that he won’t forget for days to come. he hates having to meet such a beauty under these grim circumstances– after all, you’re the kind of woman he’d take out on a date.

“lucky for you, mister braun, your injury isn’t a complete tear . . . so your recovery time shouldn’t be too long. it’ll last about six months, give or take.”

he isn’t listening.

reiner isn’t even sure of when he began to space out; your lips are just so plush, so alluring. his surname sounds sweeter than it should when falling from your mouth. before long, you clear your throat. it’s enough to snap him out of it. “i’d appreciate your undivided attention, sir. we’re currently going over your healing plan— ”

“lemme ask you, sugar,” he interjects with a low rasp. reiner braun’s well known around these parts, and you can only assume that being such a big deal has gotten to his head. what he says next throws you off, “when’s the real doctor comin’ in, hm?” it’s hard to remain professional, but you do. no furrowed brows, no scrunched up face— nothing but a tight, forced smile.

you suck in a breath through your nose, maintaining composure. “what makes you think it isn’t me, mister braun?” he can hear the tinge of vexation in your voice. clearly, this footballer has struck a chord or two.

“you’ve got pink gloves on, barbie.” he snarks out a laugh, just a bit mean. he’s much too handsome for such a condescending tone.

you bring a gloved hand flat to his chest, pushing reiner back into the examination table. his breath catches in his throat when you knead your fingers into his thigh, right where the tear resides beneath firm muscle. you’re assertive, and goddamn, does he love it.

“i’m your doctor.” you assure, voice firm. he groans out at the calculated pressure; it feels good. makes the throb of pain fade, just a bit.

“you’ll have to put some faith in me, hm?” your tone is warm, words soft and patient in a way he doesn’t deserve. reiner can’t lie, it was crass of him to have undermined you that way.

“my apologies, doc.” he addresses you in the rightest way he can. it’s his tiny little way of making amends.

“so, how long— fuck, how long did ‘ya study for?” reiner tries for small talk, voice low and shaken. you’d like to believe that whatever left his lips just now wasn’t a moan. no, it was more like . . . a groan of pain, perhaps?

“about six years. graduated early,” no wonder you look just about his age, if not younger. all his previous doctors were just as old as his parents.

“smart and pretty, huh?” he graces you with a feeble grin, a white gleam of teeth surrounded by neatly trimmed stubble. it’s safe to say that he’s your hottest patient up to date.

you continue on with prodding into the thick meat of his left thigh, and those throaty whines of his make you feel a way you simply shouldn’t.

it’s been a while since reiner’s been touched this way. he knows it’s just a regular inspection for his stupid injury, but he can’t recall the last time a woman’s splayed their hands on his body. he’s always busy with football this, training that. there’s never any time remaining for hook-ups, talkless of a relationship. that being said, it isn’t long before he begins to grow excited.

“m— mister braun,” you call out, voice airy, “you seem a little, um . . . worked up.”

“huh?” his eyes flit up to meet yours. you lock onto his honey-brown pools of desperation.

nothing else is uttered. you wordlessly direct your gaze towards his crotch, and give him a knowing look. reiner finally catches on— he fucking knew he felt his bottoms getting tight. hesitantly, the blonde lifts his head to peer down at his pants. surely enough, a boner’s prodding at the centering cloth of his football shorts.

“goddamn,” he drops his head back onto the examination table, bashfully throwing his forearm over his eyes. humiliation eats at the proud man, reducing him to a jumble of hormones.

you can hardly bring yourself to contain your chuckle, which makes his reddened cheeks burn further. it seems that his bodily reaction to your skilled hands has given him a sense of humility at best, and embarrassment at worst.

“i’ve never been appointed to a lady before . . .” is his hushed excuse. he’s still got his eyes shielded with his arm— he can’t even fucking bear to look at you. it’ll only spur him on further.

‘i turn you on?’ is what you’re just longing to question him. you know that you do— he’s been looking at your lips with bated breath since he got here. not to mention the peeks he’d taken at your ass whenever you turned around to read his chart or grab a cotton ball.

it’s quite bold of you— more like dangerous— to bring your ministrations upwards, closer to the ache under his pants. you’d tell yourself to stay on task, but professionalism has long been thrown out the window.

your gloved hands trail mischievously, placed directly atop reiner’s hard-on. warmth radiates from your palm, and you squeeze. his eyes blink shut, hips gently bucking upwards. his tear burns from beneath his skin, but he doesn’t fucking care. he bets he could cum from your hands alone.

reiner eventually manages to pull his arm away from blocking his viewpoint, chest heaving with every passing second. if you were to use your stethoscope on him, his heartbeat would be nothing short of erratic.

“trust me, mister braun,” is your reassuring whisper, “you’re in good hands.”

[hxltic]

imagine having an attitude w miguel o’hara

Even though he’s quick to anger, and very easily irritated, he’s never had that problem with you. You were his treatment in a way. You always dealt with people in a more kind manner, so he just lets you speak until you’ve given him permission, but today it seems as though the roles have reversed.

It’s even more angering with the fact that he just can’t seem to take you seriously, your cheeks bursting red with anger and fists unconsciously clenching, but he just leans against the wall, staring at you. Through you, almost. To be fair, whatever you were mad at you would probably get over later. But that wasn’t the point. You were angry and pissed off.

And you also hadn’t seen him in a relative amount of time; Spiderman work wasn’t easy. This was something you’d come to accept when you got with him, and you don’t mind being alone, but somehow it’s brought itself to matter in this very moment.

So how did you end up bent over as he plowed into you from behind? His brain pieced together that you just needed some dick. Whenever you two were intimate in any way, the next day he’d see you extra happy, beaming even, and the memories would flash in your head every now and then.

Of course, when he kissed you the first time, you pushed him off and said he was deflecting.

He doesn’t really run away from his problems, but this one could wait.

“You’re givin’ me the silent treatment, you can’t still be mad at me amor?”

Truth be told, you were quiet because you couldn’t speak. Your neck was upright, your throat dragging back and forth on the bed sheets, and your arms were forced back into his large, calloused hands. Your eyes fall closed when you grunt in response.

If he was being honest, this wasn’t even his favorite part. It was watching the scowl on your face dissipate into ecstasy and the irritated deep sighs transform into moans each time you came.

He rectifies his position by adjusting his foot placement and dropping his tight hold to your wrists, effectively finding a deeper way into you. It was messy and rough, the stickiness around where the two of you meet and the reddening skin pure evidence. Miguel bent his body over yours so your back was flush with his carved chest.

A muffled sound fell into the bed with every snap of his hips. His hair slightly stuck to his face when he forced his mouth into your right shoulder, digging his sharp canines past your skin. Not enough to draw blood, but it hurt and left a mark nonetheless. He sucked the skin and kissed it as if soothing. The senses were too much combined with your low pain tolerance, compelling tears to swell in buds.

He groans, “Not so upset now are you? If it was dick you wanted, you could’ve just said so.” He adds, “fuck, eres una belleza.”

You couldn’t even snap back. With this he flipped you over and spread your legs wide. Before you had the time to look down, his pink tongue was sliding through your folds eagerly.

“Miguel wait-“ you attempt breathlessly, but it was no good. He ate like he’s never eaten before: pushing his face between your thighs and wrapping the plush of them over his shoulders to press both palms on your abdomen. He shook his head sloppily, continuing regardless of your pleas.

The man wasn’t satisfied until the slick of you was dripping down his chin and coating his nose. Your back arched off the bed as you came, allowing those tears to fall in streams to your ears. Of course, he continued to slurp and suck and moan as you twist your hips in an escape to shake him off, but those muscles weren’t just for show. He only moved with you and gripped harder, almost taunting you, or giving you permission to try and escape from him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t until you were pleading for him that he considered giving you mercy.

“MiguelMiguelMiguel- fuck! c-come off please,” you’d beg, accompanied by a futile effort to push his arms away. Like he was shaking his head no, he’d shake into you.

“mmphh.”

©️hxltic

i don’t speak spanish spare me

[arc-misadventures]

The Sorcerer’s Dark Magic

Bruised, battered, and bloody.

This was the sorry state of, Cinder Fall.

A member of, Salem’s inner circle had been identified whilst she was in, Vale. Beacon sent several of its highly trained, Hunter’s, and Atlas had also sent in members of its elite team of, Specialists to bring her in.

They had found her, and her cronies in the midst of a pack of, White Fang members lead by the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus.

The fight had been long, and bloody, costing the lives of several Hunters, Specialist, and many members of, Cinder’s entourage, along with scores of members of the, White Fang. Even the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus’s life was taken in the fight.

But, they won, and they had taken, Cinder Fall in alive. And, now it was time for her interrogation to begin.

An event that would scar many who whiteness the horrors about to be unleashed.

~~~

The door opened to reveal a trio standing before a one way mirror, they all turned, and nodded their greetings at the duo as they entered the room. Within the room there was the headmaster of, Beacon Academy, Ozpin. The deputy headmistress, Glynda Goodwitch. And, lastly there was a seasoned huntsman, and a drunkard named, Qrow Branwen.

Entering the room was, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and General of the Atlas Military, James Ironwood, followed closely by his aide, Specialist, Winter Schnee. They joined the trio at the mirror to stare at the bloody, and bruised body of, Cinder Fall.

Ironwood: So, what’s the plan?

Ozpin; Hello to you too, James. Right now the plan is to wait.

Ironwood: Wait, wait for what?

Qrow: The Sorcerer is finishing up his treatment of the wounded.

Ironwood: The Sorcerer? You have a magic user; why didn’t you notify me that you found a maiden?

Ozpin shook his head as he watched, Cinder pull at her aura suppressing restrains that binded her hands in a vain attempt to escape.

Ozpin: I would have if we did, but no. The Sorcerer is just a nickname he picked up.

Ironwood: He? So it’s a male. Hmmm… Who is this, Sorcerer you’re talking about?

Glynda: His name is, Jaune Arc; He is an experienced, Hunter who is a teacher here at, Beacon Academy, and he doubles as an assistant school nurse when the need arises.

Glynda’s brief rundown gave, Ironwood a simple understanding of who he was, and considering how normal he sounded, he understood why, Ozpin never brought him up before. But, why would he need someone so plain to interrogate her?

Winter: Arc…? Does he have blond hair, and blue eyes?

Glynda: Yes.

Winter: I believe I met him. He seems like a kind, and caring individual who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his students. Why are you having him interrogate the prisoner?

Ozpin: We need her to talk; We need to know what, Salem’s plans are, and who is working with her. If we try doing so ourselves we will get nowhere. But, if we let, Mr. Arc do it himself, we will get all the answers, and more that we are looking for.

Ironwood: Are you sure about this, Ozpin?

Ozpin: Honestly, James if I was being ‘interrogated’ by, Mr. Arc. I’m not sure what secrets I wouldn’t spill to get him to stop.

Ozpin shuddered as he remember the last time he sat on, Jaune interrogating someone. It was effective, but disturbing.

Qrow: Wait, you made that sound like he wasn’t going to talk with her, but more like he’s going to ‘talk’ with her.

Ozpin: …

Ozpin: It must be done…

Qrow: Seriously?! You’re gonna make, Tai 2.0 go in there, and torture her?

Ironwood: What?!

James looked to, Ozpin as he held his head in defeat. He had no other options left. And, considering what, Cinder, and her associates were planning, and how they barely caught it, and just managed to stop it. They needed her to talk to prevent anything else from coming.

Ironwood: You can’t possibly have forced him to do this?!

Glynda: Jaune agreed to do it! He lost several of his friends in the raid to get her, this is his own way of avenging them. And, you know how effect his methods are, we both have seen what he can, and will do to someone.

Qrow looked away before taking another drink from his flask. He knew what, Jaune could do, he knew exactly what he could do. That didn’t mean he liked what he saw.

Qrow: Fuck…

Qrow took a swig from his flask as he turned back to look at the girl in cuffs. Ironwood gave the drunk one fleeting glance before turning to face his friend.

Ironwood: How will this, Arc fellow make her talk?

Ozpin: He will no doubt try, and talk to her at first. But, when that inevitably fails, he will use his semblance instead.

Ironwood: And, what is his semblance?

Ozpin: It’s… Oh, he’s here.

~~~

The door opened, and closed with a heavy click of steel. A blond haired man entered the room. Cinder eyes him warningly as he walked over to the table, and took the seat across from her. He put down a notebook, and a pen, before brushing some unseen dust from the desk before he turned to face her.

: Hello, Ms. Cinder Fall. My name is, Jaune Arc. May I call you, Cinder?

Cinder said nothing, and just stared him down. They stared each other down for a while before, Jaune shrugged his shoulders, and opened his notebook to start taking notes.

Jaune: Not much of a talker, eh? No matter, we’ll get you talking soon enough.

Jaune: Now then, Ms. Fall, let’s summarize the past days events: A team of, Beacon students stumbled upon your little operation going on in, Mount Glenn. A team of veteran, Hunters from, Vale, as well as a team of, Atlasian Specialists came in to prevent you from colliding a train into the old train house in downtown, Vale thus releasing a horde of, Grimm into the city. Did I make a mistake in any of that, Ms. Fall?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Still not talking, eh? No matter, I’ll get you talking sooner, or later. So, pray tell what were you planning to do?

Cinder glared daggers at the man who radiated golden retriever energy, but said nothing.

Jaune: Twas a rhetorical question, since you won’t answer me after all. So, let us speculate then shall we?

Jaune: Hmm… you wanted to launch a horde of, Grimm into the city… but, why?

Jaune: Since the White Fang were involved was it to act as a protest against the mistreatment of faunas?

Cinder: …

Jaune: I expect that was the, White Fang’s plan, at least what they thought the plan was. So logically they would do this to kill people, both human, and faunas as a means of retribution for past, and future wrongs.

Cinder continued to glare at him, but within those burning eyes, Jaune could see her asking him a simple question.

Jaune: What the hell am I talking about? That’s what you’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes. But, well, extremists all ways take the simplest things, that often have the simplest solutions to the extreme. Hence the name: extremists. But, what’s your angle in all of this?

Jaune leaned closer, and stared, Cinder down. Their eyes locked on one another in a staring contest that made, Cinder’s blood burn. And, yet this feeling in her blood wasn’t from rage.

Jaune: We asked your associates what you game in all of this was… And, what were their names again…?

Jaune flipped through his notebook, before pulling out two photos, attached to slips of paper.

Jaune: Ahh yes… Mercury Black, and… Emerald Sustrai, that’s their names. The didn’t snitch on you, they never would. But, as they say… ‘Dead man tells no tale~!’

Jaune could see her eyes flash wider for the briefest of moments. She seemed to not care about her associates, at least, she seemingly didn’t care that much.

Jaune: But, your pal, Roman Torchwik. He sung like a song bird, and told me all of your dastardly deeds, after receiving some proper… motivation~!

~~~

Ironwood watched carefully as he listened to, Mr. Arc as he interrogate the prisoner.

Ironwood: Did you also ‘interrogate’ this, Torchwik fellow?

Ozpin: There was no need to, we offered him a plea deal for all the information he had on her, and he was rather forthcoming coming. Although his information as to what, Ms. Fall’s plans are, were rather limited.

Ironwood: I see, hopefully this, Arc fellow can make use of it. Now, I don’t mean to sound… disturbed. But, when is this supposed… ‘interrogation’ meant to begin.

Glynda: It already begun. As soon as, Jaune entered the room the ‘interrogation’ started.

Winter: How can you be sure of that? All they’ve done is talk, nothing that hints towards torture has started.

Glynda: She’s sweating…

Everyone looked over to see a bead if sweat drip down, Cinder’s forehead as cold air escaped her lips.

Ironwood: What? That rooms kept cold to stop her from using her fire semblance, why is she sweating?

Ozpin: Good question…

~~~

Jaune: Now… Roman told us all about your evil plans. Well… that of which he was privy to that is…

Jaune put on a show, Cinder could tell he was trying to put her off guard, and it wasn’t working. The sweat falling down her head was getting on her nerves though, the room was freezing cold, and yet she was sweating. She could help, but wonder why.

Jaune: You hired him to steal large quantities of, Dust. Though he says you threatened him. Now, I am curious as to why you needed that much, Dust? You weren’t selling it, and you did make several bombs on that train, but the quantity of, Dust that was used in those bombs is no where near the amount that was stolen. Are you trying to artificially inflate the price of, Dust?

Cinder glared daggers at the man, hoping to burn a hole through this golden retriever of a human being. But, still refused to answer.

Jaune: That would mean you’re working for, Jacques Schnee! I knew you were a heartless bitch, but I couldn’t believe you were that heartless to work with that Grimm spawn bastard son of a bitch!

Cinder: I don’t work for that, Dust whore… Ahh?!

Jaune relished the sound of her little outburst as a vicious grin crept from the corner of his mouth as he stared down the prisoner as she pulled back from him.

Jaune: You spoke~! Ah-hahahaaa~!

~~~

Winter: Calling my sperm donour a, ‘Dust whore;’ I best remember that.

Qrow: Oh, you’re not upset that people are making fun of daddy?

Winter: The majority of the people of, Atlas, and Mantle despise my father, I among the top three individuals that despise the man. I’ve been using photos of the mans face for target practice for the new recruits.

Ozpin: Really now? And, how is that going, Specialist Schnee?

Winter: Better than I expected; Atlas’s military personnel’s average accuracy when handling firearms has gone up by 27%, and is still climbing.

Ironwood: Oh really? I was wondering how that increased happened. Well done, Specialist Schnee. Start implementing that in, Atlas Academy, I’m curious to see how the students will improve if we implement such a… policy.

Winter: I will see it done, Sir.

Ozpin: Should we implement such a policy here as well, Glynda?

Glynda: We shall discuss that later, Ozpin. The Sorcerer is at work.

~~~

Jaune: So tell me… what was your plan…?

Jaune’s smile sent shivers down, Cinder’s; it was a calculated smile, its intent was to unnerve, and put one’s foe on the backfoot.

Cinder: …

Jaune: …

Cinder: …

Jaune: Hmm?

Jaune: Still no talky?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Okay then… So you don’t work for that dust whore. You obviously don’t work with the, White Fang, you’re obviously not a faunas. Unless…?

Jaune was giving her the once over, as if to find some hidden faunas trait that was hidden behind her clothes.

Cinder: I am not a faunas…

Jaune: No…?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I would have guessed you were some sort of snake faunas; Hidden fangs in your mouth, elongated tongue those kind of things. Nothing?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: Well, then you’re obviously working for some sort of hidden secret organization that’s bent on the total, and complete destruction of the world!

Cinder: …

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Hmm… you’re quite good at hiding your emotions, but your eyes keep giving things away.

Cinder’s eyes flashed for a moment before she looked away. She cursed herself for letting her emotions escape her harsh grasp. She had done plenty of research on the staff at, Beacon Academy, but, Jaune Arc was one she couldn’t find much information on. At most it was common knowledge that if you asked anyone anything about him they would tell you the same thing. Jaune tended to keep his personal life like that, personal. At most it was know that he was single, and the only son if his family.

Well, as secretive as he may be, it was no where near as…?!

Jaune: Why does the witch want to destroy the world?

~~~

Ironwood: Wait, what?! Ozpin, how does he know about, Salem?

Ozpin: One of, Mr. Arc’s greatest skills is his observational awareness. I thought I was being subtle with any information retaining to, Salem, but he picked up on my… unsaid words. And, forced me to talk…

Ironwood: Forced? Did he use his semblance on you?

Ozpin: Possibly…? I am not sure.

Ironwood: Can’t you tell when he’s using his semblance?

Glynda: It depends on how, Jaune’s using it. It can be very subtle, subtle enough that you don’t even realize he’s using it. Subtle enough that even he doesn’t realize he’s using it at times.

Ozpin: But, when it’s obvious he’s using his semblance you become painfully aware that he’s using it. To say it’s blood curdling in its usage is an understatement of the extreme of extremes.

Qrow: Ughh… I remember when I saw him use it to its fullest extent; Can’t say the guy didn’t have it coming, but throwing up my lunch wasn’t what I had in mind that day…

Ironwood: …?

Winter: What the hell is his semblance?

~~~

Cinder: What witch?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Oh come on now… I know all about, Salem, and Ozpin’s stupid little shadow war going on behind the scenes. So if you plan on playing dumb well…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Let’s just say it won’t work well for you.

Cinder could feel sweat dripping down her head in a freezing cold room, his words caused dread to slowly build up in her heart.

Cinder knew that playing dumb wouldn’t work any longer. At best she could deflect, and feed him bread crumps to cause him to look away from her true objective.

Cinder: I was trying to… trying to cause a, Grimm stampede in the hopes of destroying, Vale.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: Spread the seeds of chaos, and show, Ozpin, and his allies that his precious little cities are not as safe as they think they are.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: I just told you; To destroy, Vale.

Jaune: Don’t play dumb with me my dear, I’m not an idiot like, Ozpin, or General Ironwood. They would take you words at face value, but I can tell you’re hiding something…

Cinder: What is there to hide; you already know everything I planned to do, you’re just trying to confirm what happened for you reports, aren’t you?

Jaune: Well…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: You could say that… but, your goal wasn’t to destroy, Vale… No, no, no. Your goal may be quite well thought out, but you don’t care if, Vale fell. No, no, I recon your plan wasn’t to destroy, Vale… A definitive bonus if your plan succeed, but no. Your true goal was to distract, Ozpin… but, to distract him from what tis the question…

Cinder’s heart was beating erratically as this interrogation continued on. She had read, Mercury’s, and Emerald’s reports on the man; they read of a kind, and caring man who would lay his life down for his students without a moment’s hesitation. But, the man currently before her, was not that man.

He exuded an aura of cold, calculating indifference, and a predatory smile that sent shivers down her spine, the exact same smile he was giving her right now. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he came to a simple conclusion; the an answer to a riddle that answers everything he wanted to know, and more.

Jaune: You’re after the, Fall Maiden, aren’t you…?

~~~

Ozpin: The Fall Maiden…?

The answer to a question unasked escaped, Ozpin’s throat in a ragged whisper. It made sense, too much sense that this was, Cinder’s goal, she was after the, Maiden’s powers, and she was willing to destroy, Vale to get it.

Qrow: So it was her, and her cronies that attacked, Amber! Why didn’t I see that…?

Ironwood: She never did finish off, Amber because, Qrow came to the rescue, this is all an elaborate plot to get the, Fall Maiden’s power… I amazed that, Mr. Arc was able to come to such a conclusion.

Glynda: But, to go to such extents to acquire the, Fall Maidens powers seems a bit over the top.

Winter: Couldn’t she have just killed her when she first had the chance, and acquired her powers that way? Why did she plan to destroy, Vale in the process?

~~~

Jaune: Oh? Now isn’t that an interesting reaction!

An involuntary, sharp gasp escaped, Cinder’s lips as he effortlessly hit the nail on the head. Arc, knew about the, Maiden’s, in the case what else did he know! She looked away from him, daring to hope he would not find anymore clues in her broken mask.

Jaune: Excuse me, we’re talking; tis quite rude to look away from someone while we’re talking.

Cinder couldn’t look at this man, there was something off about him…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Excuse me, don’t turn awaywe’re still talking here.

Something that could make the skin crawl…

Jaune: Oi, look at me.

Something that was deemed unnatural…

Jaune: We’re not done speaking, Cinder.

Something that was indescribable to the senses…

Jaune: Cinder… Look at me.

But, it was something completely explainable.

Jaune: Haaa…

Something so obvious, and simple, that it was often overlooked as an item of irrelevance.

Jaune: I said…

A semblance.

Jaune: Look at me.

Cinder could feel her entire body being wrenched forward, her muscles screaming in pain as they were forced to move in what felt like an unnatural, but completely natural manner. Her body was set straight in her chair, her head forced to stare at, Jaune face, making her stare into those calm, uncaring cerulean eyes of his. She tried to turn her body, to squirm in defiance as he stared her down, but she could not move her body by a hairs breath.

Jaune: Now, shall we continue our discussion?

Cinder: A-A semblance…

Jaune: Hmm…?

Cinder: A semblance! Y-You’ve been using your semblance on me this whole time! From the moment you entered this room, you’ve been using a semblance on me to make me talk, haven’t you!

Jaune: CorrrrecT!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, telekinesis!

Winter: He’s a telepath? That would most certainly explain how he was able to get, Miss Fall to talk.

Qrow: Nope.

Ironwood: What?

Qrow: The kids not telepathic.

Ironwood: He isn’t?

Winter: But, the way he forced her body to move, that’s clearly a telekinesis based semblance.

Qrow: It may look that way, but his semblance is nothing like that. If it was, I would be better at holding my stomachs contents when he decides to… let loose.

Glynda: I’d doubt that.

Qrow: Well… it wouldn’t be as bad… hopefully?

Ironwood: Then what is it?

Ozpin: It would be best to let, Mr. Arc explain it…

~~~

Cinder: Y-You’ve been using your semblance to extract information from me! Haven’t you!

Jaune: Mmmm… In a manner of speaking… I’ve mostly been connecting dots, and what not from what clues you’ve given me. That, and reading your facial expressions, any little bodily ticks you are showing off. I’ve mostly been using my semblance to make you feel a sense of unease. It’s been quite effective if I do say so.

Cinder: What is it; Telekinesis?! Are you some sort of psychic?! What is your semblance?

Jaune: Oh, nothing so… civilized as those…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Nothing like that…

Cinder: That tapping! You’ve been doing that ever since you came here… why?!

Jaune: As I said, ‘To make you feel unease.’

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I take it that it has been working.

Cinder: How does tapping your fingers make me feel unease?! Do you have some sort of telekinesis based semblance?! I demand to know!

Jaune: As I said: It may seem liked that, but no. I don’t have a physic, telekinesis, and sort of moving stuff with my mind based semblance.

Cinder: THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IT!!!

Jaune calmly stared at, Cinder as her rugged gasps of breath slowly tapered out. Before he calmly responded to her question.

Jaune: I’ll answer your question: How is that I am making you feel unease, why the tapping, how I forced your body to turn to face me. I’ll explain it all. But, in exchange you have to answer something for me.

Cinder: And, what is that?!

Jaune: What does, Salem want with the keys to the vault, and what does she intend to do with its contents when they are emptied?

Cinder: W-What…? H-How did you figure it out…?

Cinder’s rage, the blazing inferno that burned within her body was suddenly snuffed out as if it was a match struck in the midst of a typhoon. What was replaced was stunned fear. She hadn’t mentioned a single thing, no clues, no hints, but this freak had managed to put together every piece of her plan, and managed to figure out what her true goal really was!

And, all he did was calmly look at her with a cocky smirk forming from the bottom of his lip.

Jaune: Oh I just managed to connect the dots that others leave unseen. Four kingdoms. Four Academies. Four Maidens, and lastly, Four Relics. My educated guess tells me that one of the four relics is hidden in one of the four kingdoms academies. And, that they are kept behind in a secret, hidden vault that requires a key to unlock them. And, that key, is a maiden. Am, I wrong?

Cinder: …

Cinder: You’re correct…

Jaune: Am I know~?

~~~

The group all stood back as, Jaune turned to give them a dark smile as he managed to make, Cinder spill all her information on why she was going to attack, Beacon Academy.

And, it had only been ten minutes.

Glynda: Salem’s after the, Relics? I can only imagine the destruction she could wrought across, Remnant if she had even one of those…

Ironwood: We need to tighten security back in, Atlas. And, in all the other academies at that! In all the kingdoms! We cannot allow her to gain access to any, Relics!

Qrow: What is she even planning to do with those things? They aren’t all that dangerous no are they?

Ozpin: She not after any one, Relic for its individual capabilities… she wants all four of them.

Ironwood: What is the difference is she has one, Relic, or all of them? The destruction she could wreak across, Remnant could be unimaginable!

Ozpin: Not if those two came back…

Ironwood: What?

~~~

Jaune: Excellent! Now that we have all the speculation as to why you are doing this out of the way. Now I must ask who your other accomplices are, and what they are doing, and we can finish everything up once, and for all. Alright?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: No…?

Cinder: You said you would tell me what your semblance was… I answered your question… But, unless you tell me the truth… I won’t tell you anything! It doesn’t matter if you torture me… I will never talk!

Jaune: No, that’s fair… You answered my question, tis only fair that I answer yours in kind. Tell me… I assume you’ve done your research on all of the staff at, Beacon, myself included. So, I can assume you heard about my nickname?

Cinder: Yes… The staff here call you, ‘The Sorcerer.’ But, none of the students know why.

Jaune: That’s because, ‘The Sorcerer,’ isn’t really what my nickname is all about. And, I can assure you, a few students know what the story behind my nickname is, and my semblance is as a result of that. And, the reason why no one knows that start is simply because they just don’t like talking about it.

Jaune: You see… I can use magic…

Cinder: Impossible… Only five people in the world can use magic, and they all happen to be female… which you clearly are not.

Jaune: True… I just like to referring my semblance as magic, helps others… comprehend my semblance, and its abilities.

Cinder: Then what is your semblance…?

Cinder leaned in and scowled at, Jaune as he returned her scowl with a devious and, all knowing smirk as he softly replied.

Jaune: Blood Magic~!

Cinder: What…?

Jaune: Blood Magic! That’s what my semblance is! I can freely manipulate the blood of any living being! Making them my puppet…

Cinder could feel her eyes darting to the right, and lefr, then back to, Jaune, and yet she had no intention in her mind to move her eyes.

Cinder: M-M-My eyes?! You’re moving my eyes?!

Jaune: I can also regulate your heart beat! Why do you think I kept on tapping my finger?

(Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…)

Cinder focused on her body, slowly she started to feel the controlled beating of her heart as, Jaune tapped his finger to a steady beat.

Cinder: You made my heart race at an unnatural beat… causing my body to go into shock because of my blood wasn’t flowing properly, causing me to…

Jaune: Panic. Yes, tis a very effective way at making people nervous. I have to tap the beat though… I could hold out my hand, and flex my fingers inward, like so…

Jaune held his hand before, Cinder, and simply made a closed fist that lasted, but a hairs breath. However…

Cinder: AHHHHHHH?!!?!

It caused, Cinder to collapse in pain as her breath came in hard, and laboured gasps like a drowning man struggling for air as water filled their lunga. Her eyes widened in horror at the stunning realization of what he had just done to her.

Cinder: You… Y-You… haaahaha… you were crushing my heart?!

Jaune: Correct… My semblance is no doubt among the most powerful there is. I can tell precisely where a person is based upon feeling a persons circulatory systems. I can even tell people apart to some extent.

Jaune turned behind him to look at the one way mirror, and pointed at it.

Jaune: Right there is, Qrow Branwen. I can feel the alcohol in his veins, don’t ask me how, I can’t explain it. Next to, Qrow right there should be, Glynda Goodwitch. I can tell it’s her because the blood flows differently in woman than it does in men.

Jaune: I can also tell it’s her because I can sense more blood in the… front.

Jaune turned back to look at, Cinder; his face etched into a look filled with self loathing, and disscontempt.

Jaune: There are many things I despise about my semblance.

He shook his head in disgust as he pointed back at the mirror.

Jaune: Ahem… right next to her is, Ozpin; I can tell because I can feel his body posture that indicates he is resting on a cane, and that he is holding a bug in his hand. And, all the caffeine in his veins. Guy seriously needs to cut back on the joe…

Jaune: Next to, Ozpin is another woman. I have no idea who she is, but I know she’s there.

Jaune: And, right there is, General James Ironwood. I can only sense half a man partly floating in the air… such a perverse feeling… I can feel the blood flowing to his toes on one leg, but on the other it stops when it reaches his hip. The same on his arms; I can feel it reach his finger tips one one hand, and yet on the other I feel it stop at the shoulder joint… Such a ghastly feeling…

~~~

Winter: B-Blood magic?! That’s his semblance: Blood Magic?!

Ozpin: It is as he says… he can sense, and manipulate the blood in a persons body. To say it’s ghastly is a understatement of a lifetime.

Qrow: He can tell it’s me based on my blood alcohol levels? I better cut back a bit…

Glynda: He knew it was me because of my bust…?

Winter: At least he takes no pleasure in knowing that.

Glynda: Haaa… A gentleman to the end…

Ozpin: James? Are you alright?

James Ironwood gaze was dead stead at staring at his right hand, his robotic hand. It was a terrifying thought, that, Mr. Arc could feel precisely where his body ended, and where his cybernetics began without even touching at him. He understood the pains wrought upon his body in ways no others could, not even the victim of such mutilations could feel.

Ironwood: I can… speculate why I haven’t seen, Mr. Arc until now… Such a semblance must bare heavily on its user…

Ozpin: Jaune tends to keep to himself out of necessity, rather than a desire to be left alone. To many people around is like listening to a thousand voices all at once. Simply put; it’s overwhelming to the senses.

Ironwood: I take it then that, Mr. Arc is done with the interrogations? At least…using his semblance?

Ozpin stared at, Cinder as she managed to regain her breathing, and steadied her heart beat as she stared defiantly at, Jaune. Ozpin shook his head at the notion.

Ozpin: I’m afraid, James… the worse is about to begin…

~~~

Cinder: Haa haaa… Hahahaha!

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Cinder: You told me what your semblance is… I now know what you can do with that semblance of yours… it doesn’t matter what you do now! It doesn’t matter what! I will not tell you anything! You’ll crush my heart before I let anything spill! Come on, Arc! Do your worst!

Jaune: Pfff! Haha… hahaha… Aaaahahahahahaha!

Terror filled, Cinder veins as, Jaune let loose a laugh that found everything, down to most minute of details, in, Cinder’s attempt to show her bravado, her arrogant pride absolutely, unequivocally hilarious.

Jaune: Haha-ha-haaaa…

Jaune: My worst? You think me grasping your heart is the worst I can do…? My dear sweet summers child… I can do so much worser things than that, that honestly; I’m not sure what my worst is!

Jaune: I can bend every bone in your body till it shatters, then put them back together! I can stop your heart, kill you, and then bring you back to life! I can cause a brain aneurysm, and kill you on the spot! Cure you, and again I could bring you back to life! I could crush your entire body, turn every muscle in your body in on yourself until your body is nothing more than a meat cube! And, I know I can do this, because I’ve already done it before, and I will do it again!

Jaune: So tell me, Cinder Fall… Do you want to just tell me who else you are working with, and what are your other plans. Or, shall I torment you with pain unimaginable that I may break your mind from the pain?

Cinder could understand that he was just saying this to scare her, that he wouldn’t got that far to break her. But, she knew deep in her heart, that he could do it. But, she knew he couldn’t kill her, he needed her alive, otherwise all her secrets would go with her to her grave. She resolved her, and she would grin, and bare what was to come.

Cinder: Do your worst asshole! Hak-sptoo!

And, with that she spat on, Jaune’s who merely rubbed it off, and shook his head in disappointment.

Jaune: Haa… very well… I did warn you…

Jaune leaned back in his chair, and held his hand up, before he turned to gaze at, Cinder one last time.

Jaune: You know… They say there are different ways one gains their semblance; Personality, or circumstances… I believe the later one is applicable for me. Cause you see… everyone thinks I’m an only child. When in reality, I’m the only son in my family, when I actually have seven sisters. So, I think I developed my semblance, just to shut them up, because I swear…

Jaune leaned forward, and gave, Cinder one more predatory smile.

Jaune: That seemed to happen at least once a week!

Cinder pondered for a moment what he meant by, ‘once a week.’ Until it dawned on her, and a terrifying thought appeared across her mind. If he knew how to deal with that, then he knew how it was cause, and if he knew how it was cause…?!

“Snap~!”

Cinder:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Then she would know what true pain felt like.

~~~

Haaa…

To think I went through all of that just for that last bit…

[ashleyrowanthewriter]

Porcelain Doll HRT Observation Report

Part I - WTO Foreword

The report is based on studies and observations performed by Dr. Pierre Oupée, Dr. Kotomi Abuki and Dr. Pirkko Osliini. The team studied 25 participants who underwent therapy including Dr. Osliini.

The therapy has been approved by the World Transhumanism Association, but every licensed physician administering the treatment has to report the course of therapy of at least 50% of patients for clarity of data. The therapy is to be submitted for reapproval once reports of at least 1000 patients are collected.

Part II - Recommended Psychological Evaluation

Before undergoing the therapy it is recommended to evaluate the patients psychologically. The evaluation should take three sessions, which should be performed in intervals of 14 days. The process of evaluation prioritises informed consent and letting the patient consider their decision.

The first session is focused on discussing the desired effects with the patient. During the second session the patient is to be explained about the effects of the therapy. During the third session the patient signs the informed consent file after which they can undergo an endocrinological evaluation and get prescribed the medications.

Part III - Required Medications

All medications are available in oral and epidermal form. It is important to note that the exact dosage differs from patient to patient.

Antihomogen (0,5-2 mg/week) - Humanity removal agent. Due to the anthropomorphic nature of the therapy it is important to keep the dosage low unless cross administering multiple therapies.

Antisomatotropin (10-17 mg/week) - Somatotropin halting agent.

Contostropin (13-22 mg/week) - Shrinking hormone. Due to the rate of influence the final dose should be taken when the patient reaches the height of 5-7 cm higher than desired. Further research is advised.

Tsichirone (17,5-32 mg/week) - Porcelanising agent.

Part IV - Course of Therapy

Phase 1 (onset on week 4-8) - Somatotropin in the patient’s body stops influencing it and constopropin causes it to start shrinking.

Phase 2 (onset on week 7-14) - Tsichirone starts turning the patient’s skin into soft porcelain. The effects of constotropine become amplified causing rapid decrease in height. The patient’s hair starts falling out. It is not understood what causes this effect, but it is observed that it doesn’t affect scalp hair. Further research is required.

Phase 3 (onset on week 20-30) - Tsichirone might cause the patient’s body to spontaneously freeze for a short time. The effect first affects small parts of the body such as single fingers to later spread to entire limbs and near the onset of phase 4 even the entire body. The patient’s scalp hair stops growing. It is not understood what causes this effect. Further research is required. The patient’s body hair falls out entirely midway through this phase. Tsichirone causes the patient’s skin to become more brittle. The patient’s hearing becomes more sensitive to high sounds. It is not understood what causes this effect. Further research is required.

Phase 4 (onset on week 40-56) - The patient’s body is completely turned into soft porcelain. While the patient retains muscle control for some time, tsichirone starts causing muscle atrophy and conversion of movable soft porcelain into immovable hard porcelain.

Phase 4A (10 weeks after the onset of phase 4) - The patient has to register in a surgery clinic licensed to perform dollification surgeries.

Phase 5 (onset on week 55-70) - Tsichirone causes complete conversion of soft porcelain into hard porcelain and complete muscle atrophy. The patient loses control over their body. Dollification surgeries become possible. The medication process is deemed completed.

Part V - Course of Surgeries

All the surgeries become possible after the patient reaches phase 5 of therapy. 

Articuplasty involves cutting the patient’s body and shaping new joints out of kintsugine. The joints become integrated with the patient's body after two to three weeks of auxiliary tsichirone therapy after which the patient is to undergo physical rehabilitation. Articuplasty is to be performed on shoulder joints, elbows, wrists, finger joints, hips, knees and ankles. If the patient expresses such desire, articuplasty can also be performed on toe joints, neck and some regions of the torso. The patients are able to use their joints despite muscle atrophy.

Voice box transplantation is not necessary for transition, but if the patient wishes not to undergo it, it is advised they learn sign language. The surgery involves cutting a hole in the body region chosen by the patient, inserting an artificial voice box and sealing the hole using kintsugine. The seal gets healed after one to two weeks of auxiliary tsichirone therapy. Although the voice box can be transplanted to any part of the body that is big enough to store it, it is highly recommended to transplant it into the neck or the torso.

Some patients express a desire for their post-transition forms to possess winding keys. In such cases it is possible for them to undergo winding key transplantation. The transplantation consists of drilling a hole in the patient’s body, constructing a key rail out of kintsugine, inserting the key and sealing the rail. The key becomes integrated into the patient’s body after two to three weeks of auxiliary tsichirone therapy, during which it is absolutely necessary not to touch the key. Touching the key during the auxiliary therapy may result in damage which may render the key unusable or require repeating the surgery. Winding the key seems to have no effect on the patient's physical state. It is however understood to cause feelings of relaxation. Further research is required.

Some patients express a desire for their post-transition forms to possess movable eyelids. In such cases it is possible for them to undergo palpebraplasty. The surgery involves cutting the eyelid rails into the patient’s eye sockets and shaping the eyelids out of kintsugine. The eyelids become integrated with the patient’s body after four to eight days of auxiliary tsichirone therapy. To ensure proper shape of the eyelids they are to be shaped in the closed position.

Part VI - Reversibility

The effects of the therapy are currently understood to be irreversible once the patient’s body enters phase 4 of the transition process. Further research is required.

Part VII - Contraindications

The therapy is not to be administered to patients with calcium deficiency until the deficiency is treated.

To prevent damage to the organism the therapy is not to be administered to patients with brittle bone disease.

Patients with any health conditions causing muscle atrophy are to be thoroughly observed by their physician.

The physician has the right to alter or completely halt therapy if it poses danger to the patient’s life.

Part VIII - WTO Approval

The World Transhumanism Organisation approved the therapy on August 2nd 20XX.

*************

Sorry, but I like the otherkin HRT genre too much. And while it will feel weird to self-insert myself into such a story as a receiver (because it seems my disability prevents me from gender HRT IRL), I thought I could write some lore bits to contribute to the community. It might not even be the only report I decide to write.

Of course, feel free to base your own story on that report. I'd be excited to read it!

[bussyyeukie]

Call of the Sea

(poly!141x siren!reader)

part one. part two.

You were cold. Colder than you’d ever been before. It was weird, you didn’t get this cold. It felt like your eyelids were glued shut, the uncomfortable mess of your hair sticking to your skin, to your face. The side of your head hurts, your stomach hurts. Your tail hurts. God did your fucking tail hurt. Taking a shaky breath in, you peeled your eyes open. The light burning them. It was bright, too bright for your eyes. 

“What…” your voice rasped as you spoke, groaning as you looked around. You were in shallow water.

Events flashed in your mind, the events of that morning. Was it that morning? How long had you been asleep, how far had you floated out? Where had the sea taken you? Where had it washed you up?

Shallow water was dangerous, especially when you were wounded. You glanced down at your tail. The wound was not bleeding anymore, but it didn’t look good. It had barely scabbed over. The blood around your scales causing a shadowed effect under them. What looked like burns had left lines along your tail, probably from the rope.

“Oh,” you pressed a hand to your face, pushing your hair your of your face, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your sides and back ached. Glad you were at least in water. You had gotten away. A little worse for wear, but alive.

You were concerned about your sisters. A larger ship was waiting, hunters were in your waters. You laid back into the sand. There were no rocks, no shells, no creature scurrying about. Just you, the white sand, the bright sun, and the clear water.

You let your eyes fall shut, a heavy rest weighing down on you just wanting to sleep.

The water tasted different here. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it didn’t taste like the sea you had made your home.

Opening your eyes again, you nearly had a heart attack, a ship's dark hull forming a shadow over you. You flinched up, wincing at your aching body and burning in your tail. Nothing to hide you. No choppy waters, dark shadows, kelp beds. 

You flicked your tail, gritting your teeth at the full body burn it seemed to bring on, rising slowly to the ship, positioning yourself under it. Hidden in the shadow of the hull.

A lingering sense of dread bubbled in your stomach. This close to a ship again, it felt like your wounds flared up at the thought.

Your hand raised, pressing lightly to the hull of the ship, following along with the steady pace it made forward. As much as you didn’t like the idea, it was the best option. If you darted out from under it you could be spotted, and if you were spotted you would die. Too injured to out swim them, or fight back if challenged.

You hooked your hand into a small hole in the hull, which seemed to be sloppily plugged up from the inside. Letting your body be dragged along with the ship, your eyes regaining the heavy weight to them now that the shock of the ship had left you. 

“Don’t fall asleep…” you muttered, rubbing your eyes with the free hand, “Don’t….”

But you couldn’t help the way your eyes fell, lashes fluttering shut as your tail flicked lazily behind you. Head lolling forward as the sweet feeling of sleep sank over you yet again.

The sound of a town was unfamiliar to you. The loudness of male voices and, animals? You'd heard tales of certain creatures on land, but the cries of these were vastly unfamiliar to you.

Your hand ached, and you opened your eyes. The water was different, murkier, it tasted bad. Like mud and something spicy.

It was not the clean water of the sea you grew up in. Or even the clear blue of the water you were just in.

You looked around, fear freezing your heart as you saw the amount of ships creaking in the water. The ropes and anchors littering the water. Large posts of wood stuck into the murky ground.

You almost felt like your lungs were burning with the state of the water, rage building at the treatment of your waters.

Looking to your hand, still wedged in the ship, you pressed against the hull to pull it free, stinging as your pearly skin ripped, dark blood blooming in the water around you.

Frowning as you clenched and unclenched your fist, a cut on the meat of your thumb throbbing as it oozed blood into the water.

Sighing, you looked around more. There was a dock about ten feet out, it was shaded underneath, it looked to be sunny out. Bright under the water. 

The loud footsteps on the dock seemed to rattle the wood, booming voices traveling through the muddied water. It scared you. So many humans.

So many dangerous humans.

Shame filled you. How could you let this happen to you? How could get so out-manned and so overpowered by snotty pirates? 

You pulled yourself to the surface, face a few inches from breaching it, hands pressed against the hull of the ship, trying to see out of the waters.

Smacking your forehead against the wood as you couldn't see anything, just bare glimpses of figures above water. Looking down you sighed, pushing hair out of your face, gliding away from the hull. 

You moved as fast as you could, grasping onto the thick pole that held up the bridge, the shadows of man slinking through the cracks in it. Your eyes wide as you looked up at them. You could almost see them, the pants, the boot, the glistening metal at their hips.

Eyes falling down, you sank against the pole.

“What am I going to do?” the question seemed to spook you, “What do I do…?”

Glimpsing movement out of the corner of your eye, you froze up, snapping your head to the side. Spotting a crate jerk in the water, it looked full of something. A sweet smell drifting through the murky water as it found its way to you. Before it tumbled down, and around the side of a rock.

Glancing up at the dock, the shadows had gone, it wasn't silent, but there was no movement overhead.

Looking back to the crate, you sank down, almost to the floor of the ocean, about ten feet off, far enough down that you wouldn't be spotted, snaking your way over to the crate. Curving the rock, which dipped into a cove of sorts. 

It looked like some of what fishermen would use, only smaller. To catch crabs, lobster, crawling creatures that didn't know better.

The thought of food made your stomach cramp on itself. 

Swallowing, you shot a hand out and grabbed the crate, peeking in, your eyes widening as you spotted the three lobsters inside of it.

Blue, brown and plump.

You trilled at the back of your throat, ripping a hole in the crate, you shot a hand in and your nails grew sharp as you grasped at one of them.

The shell cracked and your mouth watered. 

Ripping it to your mouth as you pulled the shell from it, sharp teeth biting into it with such vigor that you got shards of the shell. Not that you cared, the inside of your mouth was tough, and your teeth were strong. The sweet meat almost brought a tear to your eye.

Shoving handfuls of it into your mouth as you chewed and crunched.

So wrapped up you didn't notice the crate jerking, pulling up. You glanced at it moving, and in fear of losing your meal you grabbed at it, reaching in for another lobster. Only stopping it slightly before it jerked up.

Swimming up with it to fully reach your hand in, not paying attention to how close the surface was getting. On that note, you weren’t entirely sure how those traps worked, so to your knowledge it just moved like that.

Only when the surface was bright, and you heard a sharp gasp muffled through the water, and you saw the rocks slide and trickle into the water did you look up. Your pupils turning to slits as you barred your teeth at the sudden (rippled) image of a man standing above you. Your hair, a mess floating around your head, almost creating a silhouette of your face as your skin shone opal under the water.

“Holy…”

The man reached for something, but you didn’t have time to see it.

Dashing off to your side, heart pounding, in all honesty, your tail had gone numb, just a lingering soreness throbbing throughout it. Not noticing as it smacked against the steadily narrowing rock canal you were caging yourself in. Only really noticing when you couldn’t move. In about a foot of water, and the end of your tail pinched on the rock. Stinging when you would pull. 

“No, no no,” you looked behind you, twisting, and sitting up so your top half out of the water, the air chilling your chin as your hair stuck to your shoulders, and neck and breasts. Not that you cared, modesty was different with sirens, or mermaids, a lot looser than humans. Drenched in fabrics and leathers, “please, please…”

You shot your head up, spotting the man approaching, your vision almost blurry with panic. 

Your heart had never in its life beat so fast, so erratic.

Pulling, yanking at your tail, only seeming to lodge itself further into the crevice you’d smacking it into. Resorting to smacking the rock with the butt of your palms, fear surging as the sound of footsteps approached.

“Haud on!” a male voice echoed through the silence, killing the sound of the waves, “Please, wait!”

As he got closer, you gave up on trying to run, and opted for hide. Which was hard to do, so you just curled into yourself the best you could in the water, completely submerged.

As he got closer, the man slowed down his run, panting, a wide eyed look on his face, and a stupid hair-cut. Cropped to the skull on the sides and a stripe of messed up hair down the middle.

You pinched your brows together, chest rising and falling fast with your breathing.

“Fuckin’ yaldy,” a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, running a hand over his forehead and hair. Kneeling down onto a knee. Resulting in you flinching violently, and trying to snap your tail out. Wincing as it pinched between the rocks.

The man glanced down, noticing your tail caught.

“Oh, shite, uh,” he looked to you, then to your tail, “I-I can help ya’, but, you’d have ta’ let me touch ya’, ok?”

You gulped, raising yourself slightly, pushing your head out of the water till it just lapped at your collar bone, arms tucked into your chest. A wide, frightened look on your face. Hair slick,stuck to your forehead and jaw.

Looking to your tail, then quickly back to the man, who licked his lips slightly, his brows pinched together. A look of, concern, on his face. It was strange to you. But being stuck wouldn’t do you any good. The man looked over your tail, and your abdomen, frowning.

“What,” he muttered, looking up at your face, leaning in a bit closer, and in turn you pressed your back farther against the rock, “Wha’ happened to ya’?”

You kept your mouth shut.

The man sat, waiting for an answer.

You refused to blink, not wanting to take your eyes off him for one second. He was bigger than you, and you were hurt in an unknown, dangerous area. He could be tricking you. He could be…if he was tricking you, why would he help you first? He easily could’ve snatched you up by now.

“...Man.”

Your voice fell from your throat, spilling out your mouth. It felt like it was dripping into the water around you.

The man clenched his jaw, rubbing his palms on his knees, squeezing them.

“I’ll free yer tail,” he said, looking back at your face. It felt strange how intense his blue eyes were, how easily he stared into yours despite the inhuman expression you were dawning, “if you let me help ya’.”

Everything in you told you no, say No.

But, you didn’t have a choice. You were trapped. Hurt. Didn’t know where you were.

You nodded, voice quiet, “Ok.”

He moved forward, carefully eyeing you, then stepped a foot into the water, going about to his knee. His pants tucked into his boots, which were now drinking up the water that was darkening the fabric.

The gun on his hip startled you, causing you to flinch back into the rock again, a few other items clinking along with it. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, looking back at you.

The size of him standing over you made your stomach turn, it was horrifying.

He leaned down, “A’ight then, stay still, I don’t wanna hurt ya’.”

He glanced back at you again, then situated himself, grabbing onto the rock, he tugged, barely getting it to move. He grumbled. Trying it again, placing a firm hand on your tail, causing you to shriek and squirm.

“Ach, sorry bonnie, sorry,” he looked back at you after quickly pulling his hand away, “I have’ta touch ya’ at least a wee bit…”

Your breath was shaky, and you nearly whined when you tried to move your tail, “O-Ok, fine.”

He looked back to his work, and gripped the rock at a different angle, pulling, you gasped when you felt the pressure lift off of you.

“Yes!” you pushed yourself up onto your hands, “Yes, keep doing that!”

He nodded and pulled harder, the rock crunching till it finally broke apart, the man stumbling back slightly and you quickly whipping your tail around and darting off out of the canal. Able to swim freer in the open water. The man shouting behind you. 

“Goddamn,” he tossed the hunk of rock clasped in his hand to the side. The relief you felt had you smiling, floating up to the surface of the water, and peeking your head out, seeing the man perk up, “Hey!”

You sank down a bit at the raise in voice.

He stumbled forward, climbing over rock, wetting his pants and the front of his shirt.

“Wait!”

You looked at him in silence, his eyes wide as he looked at you, almost desperate it seemed. 

“Please…” he took a step forward, almost falling into the water, not that he seemed to really care about getting wet, “I need yer help, my crew, we can help ya’, clean ya’ up, keep ya’ safe till you get home. But please, I need ya’ ta’ help me…”

The way his voice strained, and the way his eyes held a type of pleading you’d only seen in drowning men. It swayed you. Not like you had anywhere to go, and protection was something you needed at the moment.

Thinking for a second, and finally blowing a huff of air through your nose, which bubbled the water under it, you answered, “Fine. But you have to swear, that no harm will come to me by your crew.”

The strange man grinned, cheeks rosy and eyes lighting up, “Yes! Yes, I promise ya’ lass, nothin’ but pure brilliance!”

He jumped his way back to the steady shore, you staying put in the water, you couldn’t make yourself move. The man looked back, hands on his hips.

“Ma names Johnny by the wey, you can call me Soap,” he pulled a watch from his pocket and glanced at it, tisking, “Stay here, I’ll be back wit’ a ship, we’ll load yous’ up thare ok?”

You blinked at him, “Why would you tell me your name…?”

“Huh?” he looked confused, “Well, why not? I mean, we’re gonna be helpin’ each other out one wey or another so, might as well.”

Looking him up and down. He must've been stupid. But you nodded, “Ok. Just get the ship.”

The man–Johnny, nodded his head, and bounced off around the corner. You watched him unblinking the whole way, till he was out of sight, and you slowly glided over to the rocky area, resting yourself against it, worn and sore and tired. It must’ve been days that you were just floating. The food in your stomach set heavy as lead, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

Putting your head in your hands, you looked to the cut on your palm, then to your tail. Your beautiful tail, so disfigured and torn. It would heal, you knew that, but the spear wound was sure to leave a scar. You noticed the few scales missing No one else would have, but you did.

A few minutes passed, and the increasingly familiar sound of a ship creaking found its way into your ears. Your heart hadn’t slowed its beating since you woke up, ready to pop out of your chest. It made your breathing almost ragged as you watched a large ship round the rocks barrier.

The brief thought of, “This is a mistake,” itched at your head, pressing against the front of your skull.

But it was too late, you either died in this disgusting murky water, or you died on that ship.

Both options caused your stomach to twist up.

Fuck you wished you'd just passed the little boat and took a nap. You'd be on a rock, with your sisters, hands braiding hair and throats humming with enchanted song. Soft smiles and giggles floating in the air.

The creak of the ship and lapping of water drew you out of your daydream, slinking back into the water till only the top of your head was out. Eyes wide and jumping from one thing to the next.

The ship itself wasn't anything special, an old brown wooden one, creamy sails and lights graded into rope swooped over the sides. Masts high and pointed. 

It stopped in the open water in front of the lagoon forced by the rock. The sails changed their shape. You didn't see any flags, nothing like some of the larger ships you'd seen with large swords and bones hoisted high into the air.

You heard movement on the ship, and spotted three men standing on deck, against the railing. Recognizing one of them as Johnny.

He waved wildly, grinning. The light basking them in golden hues. It almost made your eyes hurt.

“Bonnie!” he shouted, voice carrying over the still water easily.

“Come! Swim over! We’ll hoist you up when you get close!” 

Never before had you felt anxiety this horrid, striking your body with fear, this was a trap. You knew it, your blood jelly in their veins. 

This was a bad idea.

But your tail flicked, diving under and you made your way over slowly, till you reached the hull, still under the water, looking up you saw the blurry image of a head leaning over the railing.

Then looked behind him to say something, nothing you could hear clearly. 

Then a rope splashed into the water.

Pinching your brows, you popped your head out of the water.

“Aye! There ya’ are!” the man grinned, “Tie that around her waist! We’ll hoist ya' up!”

Sighing you looked at the rope, then grabbed it gingerly, tying it the best you could around yourself, and gripping it tightly, looking up to the man.

“Don't drop me!”

The man laughed, beckoning someone behind him, your heart dropping as a behemoth of a man made himself shown. Face covered by cloth with a skull painted on it. Shoulders lumbering and blocking the sun under him. 

“Dinnae worry about tha’, Simon wouldn't dream'a it!”

Your mouth curled, and you looked down to your tail again, floating in the water.

“I-I’m tied!” you shouted up at them. Clenching the rope tighter as the first tug jostled you.

Near panting as you were raised out of the water, rope digging into your skin, raising up from your waist to under your breasts and armpits. Hurting your shoulders. Hair slick on your skin, water dripping off of you.

You could hear the grunting above you. Your tail now fully out of the water. In all honesty you were surprised one man was able to do this, you were heavy. Your tail was thick and long and all muscle. 

When your head reached the railing, Johnny was already there, leaning over the railing and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“Ach we gotcha bonnie dinnae fret,” his arms were solid around you, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, his skin prickling under your cold hands, “Lift her tail…”

The masked man assisted in grabbing your tail–gentler than you had imagined–and lifted in over the railing. Both men gently set you down on the deck. Which was warm and slick under you, heated by the overhead sun. Your muscles ached, breath heavy on your lips.

As much as you tried to stay upright, you ended up laying on your side, arms slumped in front of you and hair fanned around your head. 

“Wha’ she fuckin’ dead?” a deep voice broke the silence, causing a snort from Johnny.

“Nah, poor wee thangs all beat up, look at ‘er,” he tisked and you heard the thumping of his boots along the wood. Your eyes creaked open and followed them as they stopped by your head. Body shivering and you pushed yourself up, brows pinched and gulping, throat dry.

“Get those away from me,” you snapped. Looking down at his boots, then back up to his eyes. 

“So she speaks,” you looked over, and saw the large, masked man leaning against the railing. Arms crossed over his chest. Looking him up and down, noting how covered he was, even in the heat of the sun, knives littered his body. Filling your already empty feeling stomach with unease.

“We can get ya’ water,” Johnny was now crouched down, level with you, “Dinnae ken if ya’ need’a be submerged ta’ live.”

You pressed your lips together, “I, I’ll be fine…”

“Good,” with a grunt and a heavy clomp of his boots, the masked man pushed himself off the railing, “Then you’ll be easy ta’ keep.”

You noticed his boots were much thicker than the other mans–than Johnnys.

“Ach,” Johnny chuckled, “Dinnae mind the brute, he means well, his name’s–”

“Don’t.”

The sharp tone shut the brunette up quickly, almost like he was willing the words out of existence. Goosebumps rose on your arms and you swear if you had hackles they’d be risen.

“Do not tell ‘er my name,” he sneered, looking at you then to the male kneeling, who threw his hands up in the air and snorted.

“Christ fine,” he looked back to you, “He’s a grumpy bastard, dinnae worry yer wee head.”

“I’m assumin’ you already tol’ the siren yer name?” the brute asked, stopping at a flight of descending stairs.

“Course, s’only polite,” Johnny said, winking at you. 

“Bloody dumb fuck,” the masked man muttered, shaking his head, “Get ‘er to a cell, I’m tellin’ the cap’n she’s ‘ere…and that yo ‘aven’t been seein’ things just yet.”

With one last sharp look to you over his shoulder, he grumbled as he descended the stairs.

Leaving you alone on the warm deck with Johnny. Who was grinning wide. Your arms shook as they held up your weight, freezing and damp, hair plastered to your shoulders and neck, curling up to your jaw, and waving down your back. Skin shining in the sun, and your eyes taken on a near cloudy look to them–like breaking whitewash. Sunken and hollowed into your face. Brows forever pinched in worry and your tail thumped with your heart beat.

Johnny smiled softly, “Lemme ‘elp ya’ up lass, get ya’ to a bed and clean up. Poor things shiverin’ worse than a wet dog.”

He stood, walking around you and scooping you up, a mix between a croak and a rattle rolling in the back of your throat as you grabbed tightly to the collar of his shirt. His strong arms wrapped around your back, fingers conscious of your chest, and one arm wrapped around the crook of your tail, which still managed to drag on the ground behind the both of you.

Your eyes narrowing and head falling to his chest in defeat as you saw how lifeless your scales looked. Dull, not reflective or enchanting as days previous. It pained you. They were your peoples pride, besides your voices they were the most defining part of your character, of your species. The patterns on your tail muddied in your eyes as you stared at it. 

“Quite long ain’t it?”

There was a moment of silence, before you frowned, “What?”

“Yer tail?”

“Oh, yes it is long,” you glanced up at him, the stubble on his jaw scratching your nose before you scrunched it and pulled your head away, “It’s not as long as some…”

Johnny laughed, rumbling in his chest, “Christ! Can’t imagine swingin’ that thang around all the time! Must be pretty strong to swing that the way ya do.”

“Yes.”

Your head fell back against his chest as he walked into a hallway, significantly darker, and you think it was descending, you also think you’d gone down stairs at some point. Not quite remembering. The hall was cold, with lanterns snuffed out on the walls. Cell doors facing you. He stepped besides the second one down (out of four) and booted it open with a kick. The door opening slowly as it creaked and groaned, screaming at him for opening it.

“Nicest one, hope ya’ understand lass,” he looked to you, pleadingly almost, “Safety for all of us, you can lock yer-self in if you feel the need, and we can lock you in if ya’ try ta’ eat us!”

He ended with a smile.

The thought of flesh made your throat clench and mouth water. 

It sounded good. His thick bicep, plump and sweaty next to your head. His thick, firm pec under your cheek…but you could control yourself. Eating a crew member would do you no good. Not yet anyway. Licking your teeth under your lips you looked up at him as well.

“Thank you.”

“No sweat! Got the nicest bed, right there, and I'll bring down more blankets and pillows, really get ya’ comfy,” he set you down on the bed. Which was low to the ground, and groaned under your weight, tail curled on it, dripping off the side. The thin blanket was scratchy and thin.

You didn’t really ever sleep with any of this, but some of your people had scavenged them to make other items. You were unsure what a pillow was though.

Johnny placed his hands on his hips, proud of himself, clothes still soaked.

“Make yer-self at home!” He spread his arms to the small cell. A bucket in the corner, and a small circular window-like hole in the hull side of the cell, occasional salt water spraying in, in a light mist, “I could move ya’ down two if ya’ like, that cells shittier, but it’s nearly flooded with water.”

You shook your head, “No.”

He nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment. You continued to stare at him. In silence. 

“Thank you…” the thanks was short and quiet, but it rang like honey in Johnny’s ears.

“Of course bonnie! We’ll get’cha right in no time!”

You nodded, looking out the flat white object at the top of the bed, pushing at it softly.

“Oh, that’s a pillow,” Johnny walked over, grabbing it and smacking it, ‘fluffing it’ he called it, “I’ll bring more, these aren’t the best on the ship honestly.”

Did he forget you were both in a cell?

“It’s ok,” you said, watching as he set it down in its original place, “I won’t use it I don’t think.”

Johnny shrugged, “Well, never ‘urts to have options, plus it gets cold down ‘ere at night, can’t have our siren freezing to death!”

You nodded, freezing to death did not sound ideal. You weren’t a cold water siren with more thermally equipped skin and padding, though you wished at the moment, your body continuously shaking.

Johnny sprang into action again, “I got’cha bonnie, must be cold.”

He wrapped the blanket around you, and you stayed sitting up, he wrapped it gingerly around your shoulders, tucking it under your tail in places.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Huh?” the question seemed to shock him, his eyes wide as he straightened up, “Doin’ wha’?”

“Being…nice,” you frowned, “I could kill you.”

Johnny laughed, patting your shoulder, “No’ like tha’ you ain’t lass! You’re beat to shit!”

With a purse of your lips, you felt your eyes droop, muscles still tense and shaking.

“When does it stop?”

“What stop?”

“The shaking?”

“Oh, well when you’re warm,” Johnny said, sitting at the end of your bed, by your tail, which you pulled further to yourself.

“When is that?”

“When you’re warm?” Johnny chuckled again, rubbing the back of his head, “I’ll bring you more blankets, get ya’ good in no time. Got some thick ones.”

He stood up and walked to the door, pausing as his hand lingered on it, glancing back to you subtly, then continuing to close the door. Pausing again when he was outside the cell.

“Behave yer-self now, i’ll be back in a moment got it?”

You nodded, The darkness shadowing you further, eyes bright and teeth looking almost glowing if you flashed them. Hunched in the dark on a bed.

The sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall came as a relief, letting out a rattly breath as you relaxed your body. SLumping down into a curled position on your side. Hugging the blanket closer. It was scratchy, thin, and smelled of smoke and old boots. But it was better than nothing. Your eyes fixed on a small puddle on the floor, a steady drip, drip, drip plinking onto the floor into the puddle. Maybe one day it would drown this ship, but thankfully you won’t be around to see that day. As you thought of drowning sailors and wrecked ships, your head grew heavy, and your eyelids closed before you even knew it.

Breaths shallow and slow as you fell into the bed, sinking through the old wood of the ship's hull, and cradled back into the beautiful sea. 

(word count: 5092)

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[therandomartmaker]

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?