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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 month

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Top Shelf Love: Chapter One

A/N: yeah, yeah, I know! This is super exposition-y, but we have to set it all up, besties! I promise Cassian and Nesta actually interact again in the next chapter 🫡 Also, for anyone who's nerdy like me, the Athletic has a really great article about just how complicated things get when a player gets traded. It's a fun read!

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian

Cassian groans, tossing his phone on the coffee table, the device skittering across the wood without a care. He drops his head against the back of the sofa, digging his hands into his hair and dragging his fingers against the curly strands. He still can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and he half wonders if he’s imagining this entire phone call, but the tinny voice continues through the speaker even if he’s no longer listening.

Seattle.

He got traded to the Seattle Kraken.

The words continue to crash and echo in his mind, even as his agent goes through the usual spiel when trades happen. Expect a call from the coach, maybe even a few players will reach out once the news breaks. The Kraken’s director of team services will reach out with the finer details for a smooth transition. Reminders of the CBA mandates. Meetings with the trainers, the equipment team, and the coaching staff to look forward to. Practice schedule. It’s like information overload, a hurricane swirling through his head with hundred mile per hour winds.

It doesn’t help that his phone has already started to vibrate against the table, almost excessively. With a quiet huff that thankfully his agent doesn’t pick up on, already plowing forward into the exciting potential for re-signing with Seattle, Cassian snatches his phone back up. He minimizes the call screen and looks at his notifications. Of course. The news has already broken on Twitter. Damn ‘insiders.’

“Any questions for me, Cassian? Anything I can do for you?”

Cassian has to shake his head, clearing his still spiraling thoughts, before he finds his voice. “All good, Eris. That’s how the off season goes, right?”

Eris is quiet for a moment. “I’ll send a car to take you to the airport. A nicer one than the team would send.”

With that, the line clicks, and Cassian tosses his phone away again, this time face down. He doesn’t even want to look at what’s being said, at the speculation. Sure, the Rangers hadn’t had the best season, the ending more heartbreak than anything else. Sure, he only has one year left on his contract. Sure, the front office wants draft picks to help build up the farm system with young blood.

But still, Cassian never expected this. Never expected this was how his time with the team would end. Never expected this was how his time in New York City would end.

Sighing softly, he glances around his apartment. The high ceilings, the modern, open kitchen, the tall windows and the amazing skyline view that the thirty-first floor offers. He really did love this place, a far cry from the streets he’d grown up on, and a reminder of how far he'd come from those very streets. He supposes he’ll have to sell it now. Is it worth keeping just for the off season?

The sound of Cassian’s phone ringing is loud in his otherwise quiet apartment. It seems to echo off the walls as though taunting him. He’s half tempted to ignore it all together, but despite the unknown number displayed on the screen when he checks, the location is listed as Seattle. Not the best first impression to send his new team to voicemail. Another sigh and Cassian squares his shoulders, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer.

The man on the other end of the line introduces himself and exchanges a few pleasantries, but then he’s diving right in to more specifics. The nitty gritty of a trade. Flight details. Financials and reimbursements. Rental car when he lands. Taxes.

Cassian only half listens, making sure he makes the affirmative sounds at the appropriate breaks in conversation. This isn’t his first rodeo. Although, he had still been in the farm system when his last trade happened. This is certainly different, but Cassian knows he thankfully won’t have to deal with most of this. He’ll give the director of team services Eris’s number, and let him deal with all the numbers and everything. It’s why he pays him the big bucks after all.

As soon as the call ends, Cassian’s phone lights up and starts ringing again. He wants to pull his own hair out as that incessant sound fills his apartment. He knows how this goes, but he’d give anything for just a moment of peace, a moment to really sit with his thoughts and everything that’s just happened. He considers turning his phone off, letting all the calls go to voicemail, at least for a few hours, but then he sees the name displayed on the screen.

“I take it you saw the news?” Cassian says by way of greeting.

“Need a drink?” Rhysand’s voice carries down the line.

Cassian chuckles, already pushing up to his feet. “You have no idea. But you better be breaking out the good shit from your fancy cellar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass over here.”

Just the short conversation, the teasing tone of his chosen brother, has Cassian feeling lighter already. He grabs his wallet and shoves it into his pocket, tugging a ball cap down over his curls. Summer still clings to the city despite the first day of fall barely a few days away, but the breeze that dances between the buildings promises cooler temperatures to come. Cassian takes the subway up toward Central Park, the rocking of the car over the tracks strangely a lulling balm over his nerves.

The doorman offers Cassian a nod and a friendly hello in greeting when he arrives at the building, holding the door open for him to stroll inside. The receptionist at the front desk does the same, barely casting Cassian a cursory glance as he heads for the elevators. He quickly punches in the code and steps inside, riding up and up and up, all the way to the penthouse.

Feyre is waiting for Cassian as soon as the elevator doors open, stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian chuckles but he wraps his own arms around Feyre’s shoulders nonetheless. “I’m not dying, Fey. I just got traded.”

“I know, but traded across the country,” Feyre continues, pulling back enough that she can peer up at Cassian with an overdramatic pout. “I’m losing my partner in crime. Who will join me in bullying Rhys now?”

“You’re right,” Cassian tells her, nodding his head with faux solemness. “I’m so sorry you’ll be stuck on the east coast all alone with Rhys’s stupid face.”

“Stupid face? And here I broke out the good wine for your sorry ass.”

Cassian tosses his head back and laughs. He steps away from Feyre and walks over to Rhys, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “I expect nothing less.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but he leads the way into the kitchen, three wine glasses and a bottle already arranged on the large kitchen island. He pours the wine into each glass, but Cassian grabs the bottle, examining the label with an appreciative hum.

“I don’t know why you’re making that sound,” Rhys comments dryly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who cares about that?” Feyre cuts in, waving a dismissive hand at her fiancé and leaning against the kitchen island, her attention solely on Cassian. “Are you excited for Seattle?”

Cassian hums, swirling his wine around the glass. “They’re definitely building a good team out there. Strong top line. And I’ve heard good things about playing under Miller.”

“But…?”

“There’s no but, it’s just…” Cassian sighs softly, pulling his cap off to run his fingers through his hair. “It just sucks because everyone’s here, out east. You guys are always here or in Montreal. Mor’s here in New York. Even Az isn’t that far in Nashville. I won’t know anyone out west.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have the guys on the team. You know they’ll have all the best spots in town to recommend,” Rhys reminds him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My sister lives out in Seattle!” Feyre jumps in to add, blue eyes bright.

Cassian frowns. “Doesn’t Elain live in Toronto with Lucien?”

“Not Elain. My other sister. Nesta. You’ve met her.”

Nesta.

Cassian is sure he’d remember if he met Nesta Archeron. He still remembers when Feyre had posted the photos from Elain’s wedding last month to her Instagram, the way his mouth had slackened at the sight of who he was sure was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. With the purple, silky fabric of the bridesmaid dress clinging perfectly to her every curve, golden brown strands of hair swept away from her face in an intricate updo, she was breathtaking.

But it was her expression in the photos that had really drawn Cassian in. There was something about it. Something about her. Something about the way that even though she was smiling in the photo, there was still a challenge, a dare, burning in her stormy blue eyes and the pinch of her brow. And Cassian had never backed down from a dare. He was sure one look from her had sent many men to their knees, sent them fleeing for the hills before she could cut them down where they stood, but Cassian? Cassian wanted to drive head first into that fire.

“I don’t think I’ve met her,” Cassian offers, but he doesn’t tell Feyre just how much he wishes he had.

“But she was at our engagement party in May,” Feyre continues, but when Cassian only shrugs in response, she merely sighs. “Whatever. The point is that she lives in Seattle. I can give you her number if you want. Then, you’ll at least know someone out there when you get there. And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to show you around.”

Cassian thinks about it. He thinks back to those photos on Feyre’s Instagram, thinks about the photos he had seen when he stalked Nesta’s own Instagram after he clicked the tagged account. Thinks of those stormy blue eyes and the tilt of her lips in a smirk behind the rim of a wine glass. Thinks of the stories Feyre has told him, of the stubborn and fierce older sister who all but eviscerated Feyre’s ex, Tamlin.

“Yeah… yeah, that’d be good. Just so I know someone out there.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, but she reaches down, fingers curling beneath cardboard. Her arms protest at the weight, but she hefts the box up, shuffling the few steps to add it to the organized chaos that’s their backroom. For a moment, her attention dances back toward her phone where she left it on another box, but she pointedly left it face down for a reason. She doesn’t need to look at the text messages waiting for her again.

Feyre 1:18pm Remember Cassian? Rhys’ brother that I told you all about? 😉 He’s coming to Seattle! I gave him your number. Show him around for me? Please?

Unknown number 4:43pm Hey, Nesta. This is Cassian. Feyre gave me your number. I’m moving out to Seattle soon. Maybe we can meet up?

“So, let me get this straight. The Cassian is moving to Seattle?”

Nesta snorts softly, peering toward where Gwyn is sprawled across the floor, iPad balanced against her knees. “We’re calling him the Cassian now?”

“I prefer to call him the douchey hockey player,” Emerie comments idly, placing the box in her own arms down. She swipes up the box cutter from the metal shelf to her left, making quick, efficient work of the tape keeping the box closed.

“And are you imagining douchey hockey player’s balls there?” Gwyn teases, looking meaningfully toward the box cutter in Emerie’s grip.

“So what if I am?” Emerie fires back, leaning forward to open Nesta’s box too. “He’d deserve it.”

“I never said he didn’t,” Gwyn laughs, turning her attention back to Nesta. “So, what are you going to do?”

Nesta sighs softly. “I don’t know. Feyre asked me to show him around the city.”

“Doesn’t he have teammates to do that?”

“Ignore him and the request,” Emerie suggests dryly.

Nesta snorts quietly but it quickly turns into a sigh, even as she keeps her hands busy pulling books out of her box. “I didn’t exactly tell Feyre what happened that night.”

She hadn’t told anyone about that night, save her two best friends. She still cringes sometimes when she thinks back to it, the embarrassment burning bright low in her gut, twisting and squeezing between her ribs uncomfortably. She’d sworn that night that she would never give a single thought about Cassian Valdarez ever again, and until today, she’d kept true to that.

She’d spent her remaining days in New York City solely with her sisters, even doing one of the touristy bus tours with Elain to see all the classic sights. And thankfully, Feyre had been more interested in excitedly talking about wedding plans and ideas than continuing her busybody meddling. If either of her sisters noticed anything different with Nesta, they didn’t say anything.

After Nesta had flown back home to Seattle, Emerie and Gwyn came over to her apartment. Drinking a bottle of wine between the three of them, it all had come spilling out of her. Her friends had allowed her to pace and rage, and then that was that. Nesta had washed her hands of the whole thing. Never again did she dare to check the sports news out of curiosity. Never again did she dare to stalk his Instagram. Never again did she think of the stupid face and the stupid smirk of a smile of that hockey player.

“What if you give him a tour of all the worst places in the city?” Emerie suggests, brown eyes practically lighting up at the idea. “Then, maybe he’ll want to leave the city.”

Gwyn’s laugh is bright, red hair tumbling down her back when she tosses her head back. “That is definitely not how sports teams operate.”

“Worth a shot,” Emerie mutters, tossing aside the box packaging in her hands and reaching back in for the books hiding beneath. “Holy shit. We got the new Sellyn Drake novel already?”

Emerie holds up the book in her hand excitedly, showing off the cover. Like so many romance novels these days, it features a faceless, cartoon style couple. The man is shirtless, though, rocking a kilt, while the woman is drawn with a yellow sundress. Looping script above the cartoon characters declares the title, The Scottish High Lord and Me.

“It’s official release date is…” Gwyn starts, squinting down at the iPad and scrolling through whatever is on the screen. “Tuesday, so we’ll want to put them out Monday night after we close.”

Gwyn reaches over toward the metal shelves, swiping up the sticky notes and sharpie sitting there. She scrawls out a note, a reminder of when they’ll need to stock the books, and peels the sticky note free. She slaps it right over the cover of the book in Emerie’s hands, but Emerie is quick to peel it right back off, placing it instead on one of the other copies still in the box.

“Hey!” Gwyn chastises, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Emerie asks, her tone overly innocent. “This is my copy.”

“Gwyn just said the book doesn’t technically release until Tuesday,” Nesta points out, snorting softly.

“What’s the point of owning a bookstore if we don’t get to read all the best releases early? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be posting all the spoilers online or anything.”

“Good point,” Nesta agrees, reaching forward as well to grab another of the Sellyn Drake books.

“You both are terrible.”

“Oh, come on,” Emerie teases with a roll of her eyes. “You know you want to read it too.”

“Seriously, Gwyn,” Nesta adds, not even bothering to bite back her smirk as she points to the cover. “It’s a Scottish love interest.”

Gwyn huffs, seemingly determined to hold her ground with her crossed arms and narrowed gaze, but it barely lasts a few seconds. Not quite meeting either of her friends' eyes, the barest hint of a blush beginning to pool in her cheeks, she reaches forward into the box, plucking out another of the books.

Nesta and Emerie glance toward each other, sharing a knowing look, before they both burst out laughing. It feels good to laugh, to have that lightness twining around her limbs and swelling through her chest. It feels good to be squeezed back in this tiny stockroom with her best friends, her chosen sisters. She doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

They were there for her when she hit the lowest point of her life, when she well and truly felt like she hit rock bottom. They were right there beside her in the trenches, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to rage and scream at, a voice of reason and comfort. They didn’t flinch when Nesta snapped and released that swirling storm of emotion within her. They didn’t balk from her every scar, every dark crevice of her soul.

And when Nesta was ready, they helped pull her out.

“And what books are in your box?” Gwyn asks Nesta, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

Nesta shakes her head before peering into the box at her feet, pushing aside the packaging. “It looks like it’s our restock of that baseball romance that went viral.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Gwyn comments, tapping away at the iPad screen. “We should definitely put those out tonight so they’re ready for tomorrow.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slumps back against the blankets and pillows of her bed with a soft sigh. She sinks back into the mattress, letting her arm fall over her eyes. There’s definitely a soreness lingering in her biceps from lifting all those boxes, but it was worth it.

When they finished inventory of the latest deliveries, the three of them had moved back into the main shop. Emerie had taken to restocking the shelves while Gwyn took to rearranging the table displays at the front. Nesta had taken to the registers. Math had always been a strong point for her, even when she was back in school, so it was always her job to balance their books. They all worked in perfect tandem until everything was good to go, finally closing up the shop and heading their separate ways back to their respective apartments.

Nesta allows herself another moment to simply lay in bed before hauling herself back up. She grabs the newest Sellyn Drake novel, resituating her pillows and settling back comfortably against them. Her fingers skate along the cover, down over the spine. There’s always been something about holding a fresh book in her hands. The crisp pages, the scent of parchment and ink.

Sliding her palm down the cover once more, Nesta turns to the first page, but her gaze dances away from the words and over to her nightstand. To her phone sitting there. She knows she shouldn’t, but her fingers itch with the urge all the same. With an annoyed huff, Nesta snatches up the device, navigating to her message app and the unread texts there.

Unknown number 7:12pm Did I type in the wrong number? This is Nesta, right?

Unknown number 7:37pm Feyre says this is the right number. Did she tell you I’m moving to the Seattle area? It would be really great if we could meet up!

Unknown number 9:21pm I guess you’re just really busy. My flight gets in Saturday morning, but the team is picking me up to show me around the practice facilities and locker rooms and introduce me to everyone. Maybe we could meet up in the afternoon? I’d be more than happy to buy you dinner 😏

The last message has Nesta rolling her eyes hard. It’s exactly the sort of response she expects from someone like Cassian. All the arrogance and presumptuousness that comes from being a professional athlete. She half wonders how he even fits his ego inside the locker rooms.

Nesta tosses her phone aside and returns to her book. She hasn’t broken her promise yet, and she has no intention of breaking it now. Besides, who needs a hockey player when she has a fictional Scotsman, anyways?

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #top shelf love #hockey Cassian #my fic

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raindduks · 1 year

Text

earned it

p a i r i n g :: toji x reader

g e n r e :: smut, pwp, afab reader

w a r n i n g s :: slight primal play, slight dub-con, being robbed, mentions of gun violence, minimal police, toji likes to bite

s u m m a r y :: It was supposed to be a normal day. A normal day, with a normal, boring trip to the bank.

How the hell did you end up in the back of a bank robbers car with his head between your thighs?

w o r d c o u n t :: 5.2k

a / n :: cross posted on ao3, ive never written smut before so please go easy on me. if you've seen a fic similar to this, a friend and i used the same idea to create two fics (tho i think hers is only on ao3).

m i n o r s d n i

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You were just supposed to grab some money from the bank to pay a couple bills, head home, maybe grab yourself an iced coffee on the way back. Work a bit. Shower? Hell, maybe you’d finally open that nice bottle of Pinot Noir you got for your birthday.

“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.”

The cold tip of a gun presses harder against your ribcage, its owner leaning over you in such a fashion to hide it. His arm drapes over your shoulder, whispers falling in hot breaths on your ear. The pair of you take a step forward. The teller is focused on another customer currently; you don’t think she’s noticed your predicament quite yet.

“You gotta look at least somewhat happy about this, or else the teller won’t cough up the cash.” He leans in further, squeezing you to his side. “If that happens, well.. You certainly won’t be leaving here alive.”

Deep breaths. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, threatening to destroy this whole charade in an instant. You don’t doubt the credibility of his threat. This man is clearly confident that this ridiculous idea for a robbery would work to begin with - seriously, in broad daylight, no mask, in a skin-tight black t-shirt and baggy jacket - why wouldn’t he be willing to cut down a few people in his way? No need to ponder it further as your ‘companion’ wipes at your eye. A surprisingly tender gesture, all things considered.

“Awh, am I really that bad?”

Does he want an actual answer?

It doesn’t matter now, it’s your turn at the desk.

“Hi, how can I help you today?”

You force on the best smile you can manage, trying to keep your voice light and gentle.

“I’d like to make a withdrawal, please.” The teller doesn’t make any indication that anything is awry.

“Certainly. I’ll need your card and ID please. Which account did you want to withdraw from?”

Your companion steps in as you pull out your ID and card to hand over. “Savings please. We’re headed out on our honeymoon and wanted to make sure we had everything for the trip.” You nod, sliding the cards across the countertop.

The teller’s smile falters just a bit, but you’re hoping he sees it as some sort of surprise at being addressed by someone else, rather than the obvious. She continues with a small huff, “Well, I will need confirmation from the account holder after I make a copy of the ID. It seems the ID we have on file has expired, so I’ll have to make a new one for our system. It shouldn’t take more than a moment. ” Before either of you can protest, she’s turned away and headed for the scanner behind her.

Toji - you think that’s his name, he mentioned it briefly when he cornered you outside and threatened you - leans in. The gun presses almost under your rib cage at this angle. “You’re gonna have to ask about the unmarked bills. I don’t think she’s buying this whole honeymoon bit.” The teller still has her back to you, working on scanning your ID. You can’t see her hands at all.

She’s all smiles when she returns to the counter. She hands you your ID and card, but keeps her hands on the countertop. She makes eye-contact with Toji.

“Alright, how much would you like to withdraw?”

He answers before you can. “All of it.”

“Please.” You chime in - “And can we, uh, can we get that in unmarked bills? The vacation is…international.”

You hesitated in your lie. The smile falters - both hers and yours.

“Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

The teller leaves again, this time to grab the cash presumably. She’s gone off to another part of the bank. You want to relax, but you aren’t alone here. Toji keeps the gun pressed against your ribs - he must be practiced at this, considering how long he’s kept it up - and lets his lips ghost the outer shell of your ear.

“Be more confident next time. We gotta look like a normal, happy couple here.”

You don’t tell him that most normal people don’t ask for unmarked bills in any situation. It’s practically the biggest red flag you could give at a bank besides actually pointing a gun at the teller.

“Ya know, I don’t really like one-sided conversations doll. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is light as ever, casual even. Conversing with the person robbing you of all you have isn’t exactly what most normal people do either. Maybe you aren’t destined to have a normal day. Who are you kidding, any chance of that disappeared when you decided to go to the bank.

“There’s not… a lot going on in my head right now. Besides the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Not dying.” You don’t know what gave you the gall to say some stupid shit like that until he chuckles. It’s not loud, but it sits deep enough in his chest to make him ease up on the pressure of the gun against you.

“‘Course. The obvious. Anything else? I’m looking forward to our ‘honeymoon’.”

This time you turn to actually look at him. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when you first encountered him, a little too preoccupied by the gun pointed in your face. He’s quite attractive, with green eyes and shaggy black hair. The scar over his lip is still somehow eye-catching, and you aren’t sure you want to know where he got it from.

You ask anyway.

“Where’d you get that scar from?”

He seems almost surprised, which is fair. You aren’t sure you have any sense of self-preservation left. He considers your question for a second before just smirking and responding - “It’s a long story.”

The teller re-enters your line of sight.

“Looks like our friend is back.” He whispers, continuing much louder when the teller returns to the counter. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but still you feel like she’s been gone much longer. “All done? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

She hands you at least four envelopes filled to the brim with bills. “Of course sir. I hope the two of you have a lovely honeymoon.” You are actually kinda impressed your savings managed to fill up such space. Simultaneously, it hurts knowing all that work will be gone as soon as you walk out of the building. Toji grabs the money from you, stuffing it in the pockets in his oversized pants.

“Thanks, you’ve been a big help doll.”

You can’t tell who he’s addressing.

The pair of you walk out of the bank, and towards the parked cars.

“You did good back there sweetheart. Now you know the rules, you can’t tell anyone about what happened here tonight, clear?”

“Crystal.”

It’s almost over. This nightmare can end.

And then you hear the sirens.

They’re far enough off to not be an immediate threat, but you’re working ona very limited time frame now. Toji doesn’t hesitate as he practically throws you into the backseat of his car. “Guess you and I are goin’ for a little ride.”

“Wait-!” The doors are closed before you can get a word in edgewise. He’s inserted himself in the front seat and started reversing out as you right yourself in the backseat. The sirens sound closer and he speeds off towards the highway as a couple of cop cars round the corner.

The chase is on. Toji doesn’t seem phased, weaving in and out of traffic with practiced ease. You, on the other hand, are being tossed around in the backseat as he swerves, struggling to get your seatbelt on. The two of you make it to the service road unscathed, four cars hot on your tail. The sirens have made traffic practically grind to a halt, drastically slowing your progress. Groups of cars block your path, and road spikes make entering the highway nearly impossible.

“Hold on princess, we’re taking a shortcut.”

You frantically grab the door handle, trying to keep yourself stationary as he jumps the curb to get around a roadblock. A car comes barrelling straight at you as you finally manage to secure your seatbelt. It’s not a direct collision - barely knicks the back bumper - but it’s enough to smack your head against the window.

Hard.

By the time you come to, it’s dark outside and you’re far, far out of town.

“What the hell… Hey, where are we? Weren’t we being chased by cops?”

Toji looks at you in the rearview mirror, a smirk pulling at the edges of his scar.

“Have a nice nap sweetheart?” He immediately pulls off onto the side of the road. You suppose you’re lucky he didn’t dump you sooner. He opens the driver door and hauls himself out of the front seat.

“Stellar, thanks for... asking. Hey. Hey! Where the hell are we? What’s going on?” Unfastening your seatbelt, you try to scramble away as he walks around the car to the far door - the one facing away from the street. A hand closes around your ankle, and with a hard yank, you are flat on your back staring up at the man now blocking your best route for escape.

“Does it really matter? I have no more use of you. So your time is up.” He’s planted one forearm on the top of the doorframe. Moonlight spills in behind him, highlighting the outer corners of his face. Radiant light from the tail lights leaves his left side illuminated in red.

“You’re just going to leave me here?!” You pull yourself onto your elbows, slightly ashamed of the heat that spiked in your gut from being manhandled.

“What’d you expect, doll?” He holds onto the edge of the frame as he leans in, planting an arm right next to your head. “Didja think you’d that I’d just drop ya off somewhere you’d be sure to get back safely? Leave a witness behind?” His eyes are wide open, opposed to the somewhat droopy look they’ve had up until this point. You can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I-I-No-I just -” Your face flushes at his proximity. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it a long time ago. He’s had ample chances - shooting you after he got the money or throwing you out of the car while possibly concussed, just to name a couple. If he truly wanted to kill you, and he waited until you thought you were safe to do so - then he would be truly evil. The idea of accidentally smartass-ing your way into an early grave has you tongue-tied.

Toji laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound, full of malice and mockery. He leans back a bit, eyes returning to their normal, aloof state as he takes a slow, considering look down your body. Your skin burns wherever his gaze passes over. You’re acutely aware of how this position makes your chest more prominent, how your legs are spread on either side of his on the outside of the car, how the heat from before never really went away but has instead continued to grow throughout this interaction.

“Well, since you’ve been so good this far, I’ll be nice. Leave you a little somethin’ to remember me by.”

He lets go of the hood, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you upright into a brutal kiss. He bites at your lower lip, and you gasp. His tongue is long and presses into your mouth at the opportunity. He tastes like mint gum - he must’ve had some while you were out. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, digging your fingers into his hair. Toji’s hand is warm on your lower back, pressing you up against his chest.

Toji pulls away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting the two of you for a second before he dives towards the crook of your neck. His lips press against your pulse, teeth briefly nicking the skin there, a spark of electricity settling just beneath the area. His tongue flattens against your cheek as he licks one broad stripe from your jaw down to your collarbone. Again, he nips at you before retreating just enough to blow on the wet skin. The sudden chill sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying the heat pooling at your core.

You instinctively attempt to clench your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction or relief, only to be stopped by his legs between yours. He bites at the base of your throat, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. Nothing about Toji is gentle, and despite the alarm bells sounding in your head at this whole situation - you can’t help the strangled yelp that escapes you.

You feel his devilish grin before you see it, the air sucked out of the car as he pulls away from his position marking up your neck. You can’t even pretend to ignore the flash of heat running through you at the dangerous spark in his eyes. Fuck the wine at home, you think you could get drunk off the feeling of him looking at you like a predator closing in on their poor, helpless prey. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth.

He runs those hungry eyes over every inch of you, moving his hands to your waist. In one swift motion, Toji yanks you to the edge of the backseat - your lower half almost entirely out of the car. He wastes no time hauling your legs over his shoulders and begins to leave wet, open mouthed kisses up towards your aching cunt, heat from his breath doing nothing to cool down the fire burning in your gut. He mouths over your clothed core a couple of times, piercing eyes not leaving yours for an instant. Running his fingers along the waistline of your pants, he hooks his fingers under just enough to find purchase on both your pants and panties and practically rips them down your legs.

Toji hovers over you for just a second. The cool night air settling over your exposed sex makes you squirm in his hold, his eyes more chilling than the night itself. In the soft red glow of the tail lights, he makes one more command.

“Be as loud as you can. There’s no one out here to hear you but me. I don’t want you to hold back.”

He settles further between your legs, elbows on the seat and forearms thrown across your thighs as he positions himself in front of your cunt. Rather than give you what he knows you want just yet, he turns his head and sinks his teeth into the plush skin of your thigh. It hurts - the bite, the chill, the sensation of him sucking at your skin - and you arch up instinctively. Slamming your hands into the seat, you just about scream. Eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back tears. After the initial bite you fall back onto the seat, panting and whining at the continued sensation. You frantically try to tug at his hair, to pull him off of you, while attempting to move out of his iron grip. Truly, those muscles aren’t just for show. He seems almost emboldened by your attempts.

Satisfied with the dark, defined bite mark on your thigh and the tear trails adorning your cheeks - he turns his attention to your forgotten cunt and buries his face in your pussy, the bridge of his nose nudging at your sensitive bud. It’s sloppy, it’s rough, it’s messy in a sort of perfected, practiced way. Every minute movement sends jolts of arousal up your spine that bury themselves in your stomach. You rock your hips against him as best you can with his arms still pinning you down. He licks a long hot stripe up your cunt, flicking his tongue at the top of the motion. Always one step away from truly sending you over that cliff.

You think he’s trying to drive you crazy.

“Please…”

A pathetic whine. You don’t even know what you’re pleading for - more? For him to stop playing around with you? For him to touch you? To play with your empty, empty cunt? More, more, always more. It might be the headache, it might be the man between your thighs, either way you can’t think straight anymore. You need something more. There’s a deep ache twisting inside you - and you’re pretty sure only the dark haired man in front of you can unwind it.

“Please what? You know how I feel about one-sided conversations sweetheart.”

The words are muffled as he speaks them against your clit. He punctuates by wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking on it for a brief moment. Your body jolts with each one, hips bucking.

“I need - I need more… Please…”

“More? Like…” One arm lays across your lower stomach, elbow under one hip and fingers splayed out across the other. He maintains his iron grip as he runs a single finger down your slit - collecting the juices before dipping one finger into your heat. He pushes up to the third knuckle, taking just a moment before retreating and slowly circling your clit.

“Like that?”

You nod furiously, propping yourself up on your arms again. “Yes, yes, please more…” You can’t even bother with shame anymore.

He huffs out a chuckle, “Greedy little thing.” Toji returns his mouth to your clit, roughly plunging his finger back into your cunt. Pleasure blossoms through your body, unfurling its flaming tendrils into your muscles. Moans, whines, breathy half-sounds tumble out of your mouth, your cunt clenching around his finger as he works you open with one finger, and then another that presses upwards to find that small spongy spot that would bring the stars into the backseat with you.

Toji fucks his fingers into you as he suctions his lips around your sensitive bud. The heat building in your stomach is on the verge of bursting.

“A-ah, I’m s’close…” You struggle against his hold again, aching to ride his face and fingers to completion.

But it seems Toji has other plans.

Almost as soon as those words leave your lips, the black-haired man quickly removes his fingers from your core. The night air hits your sopping cunt, clenching around nothing. You whine - what the hell?! You start to complain about your denied orgasm, but one look at Toji has any frustrated words dying on your lips.

He looks positively feral.

The scar over his lips glistens with the combination of spit and your juices. Teeth bared in a manic grin, his canines catching the light ever so slightly before a long, pointed tongue slips out to gather all remnants of you from his lips and fingers. His pupils are blown wide, hair mussed on the sides where it pressed against your thighs. Toji rises back up to his full height, towering over you in the car. You’d forgotten for a moment you should be scared of him. He doesn’t break eye contact.

Your heart rate picks up significantly, the adrenaline that should’ve been present since he first grabbed you outside the bank finally making its debut. It must show on your face because the crazed look on his face only seems to intensify. What the hell were you doing? This was ridiculous! This man just robbed you of your life savings and here you are letting him eat you out! He could kill you - he still might after he’s finished with you!

None of these revelations have remotely tempered the sheer arousal coursing through you.

You start to move away from him. Prey realizing too late that they’re already trapped in the predator's jaws.

“Oh no ya don’t.” He yanks you back towards him by your ankle. “Can’t back out now, doll. That wouldn’t be fun for either of us.” He grabs your arm, hauling you out of the vehicle into the night. You stumble a little as your feet hit the ground. You spot your pants laying a few feet away, acutely aware of your current state of undress compared to his. Toji hardly gives you time to find your footing before pressing his lips against yours once more. You’re more prepared for this kiss this time- pushing your chest against his and winding your arm around his waist. Teeth clashing, lips bruising at the intensity. Before was messy, full of spit and the slightest gentleness. This? This was no less than Toji claiming you as his own. Another treasure to be had, rich lands to be conquered. He towers over you, placing one hand up under your jaw to tilt your head upwards for ease of access.

He puppets you in the kiss, pushing and pulling as he moves you away from the open door towards the side of the trunk. You chase his lips, trying to keep an idea of where the car is with a hand following the frame. He pulls away once he’s got you up against a more solid section, and with a hand on either hip he spins you to face the car. You don’t have much time to process the sudden move before he presses himself against your back, warmth radiating through the fabric of your top a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath you.

One thick, calloused hand runs up under your shirt towards your chest - the other slowly moving over your hip towards your slick pussy. Toji presses his face against the crook of your neck, breathing over the exposed skin. You feel fully encased in him, a thought both comforting and terrifying. As with everything else, he doesn’t wait. One finger runs up and down your slit, playing once more with your clit while the hand under your shirt pinches your nipples through your bra. It doesn’t take long for small pants and whimpers to fall from your lips again as he works you back up towards that high.

He presses two fingers back into your velvet cunt, surprisingly gentle as he works you open once more. His other hand unclasps your bra, allowing it to fall forward enough to comfortably take your breast into his hand. His teeth graze your neck and he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whine, rolling your hips forward against his palm.

The superheated knot in your core hardly has time to redevelop before he again leaves you empty and aching. You throw your head back, resting the side of your face against his hair. You try to press back against him, whining at the loss of his fingers.

“Please….”

“Please what? Do you know how to say anything else?” He nips at your jaw, his voice positively dripping with the amusement plastered over his features.

“Please stop playing and just fuck me already!”

This may not count as smart-assing your way to an early grave but it is certainly close.

Toji grins against your skin - “Greedy.” - and bites at your ear. His hands disappear from your body, but his mouth remains glued to the side of your neck. He sucks a small mark in the skin under your ear. You hear the rustle of fabric as his tongue traces over the bruise and down the curve of your jaw. The next moment he’s pressed back against you, obvious bulge pressed squarely against your ass. You try to reach behind, return just a bit of what he’s given you tonight - but Toji’s hands are already pressing your front down into the side of the trunk. One hooks under your thigh just slightly, spreading your feet apart just so. The cold air brushes like hot fire against your skin as he moves away.

You turn your head to the side, not wanting to take your eyes off of him.

One hand lazily strokes his cock, tall and proud, precum catching the light from the tail lights. He’s immersed in their red glow, raven hair mussed against the night sky.

“This is what you wanted, right doll?”

You wet your lips ever so slightly. You nod. He tuts.

“We talked about this.”

“Yes! Yes I-ah-I want this.”

He smirks and presses himself back against you. You feel the head of his cock nudging at your folds, dragging through your slit to gather some of the wetness there. His left hand grips your hip, fingers digging into the plush skin. The head catches ever so slightly on your seeping hole on each drag. Toji continues for only a moment more before positioning himself right against your entrance.

With a small kiss to the nape of your neck, he pushes in.

You feel like you’re being split open. He’s much longer than you realized - pressing against your cervix before he’s even bottomed out. The girth is just enough to stretch, filling you so deliciously. You hardly get a moment to adjust before he snaps his hips up into you. He presses his length fully into you with each thrust, pushing you forward with the sheer force behind them. As with everything tonight, his thrusts are rough and calculated. Bruising. Even when he’s mostly out of you, the throbbing sensation of your cervix being battered remains. It takes everything in you to remain upright. You cry out with each thrust, hands frantically trying to keep you steady on the smooth metal. You rock back against him as best you can, further amplifying his already bruising speed.

The pace steals the air from your lungs, tightening around your core and leaving you panting against the car frame. Every inch of you burns with a passion and intensity you could hardly even fantasize before. The feeling of him stretching you open, the stars faintly twinkling in the distance, the mild ache from your now neglected clit, all burns their way into your muscles, taking up home in your memories. You want to close your eyes. You don’t want to miss the slight contortions of his face as he thrusts up into your slick heat. You need to focus on what you’re feeling. You want to lick at the sweat building at his brow, to inhale him into you.

God, you are one depraved individual.

A baser side of you takes over, finally letting your head fall to rest against the metal. A litany of incoherent, half-baked thoughts cross your mind and tumble out of your mouth. The knot in your stomach returns. He repeatedly snaps you back against him, the iron grip on your hips guaranteeing a new set of finger-shaped bruises in the morning. Toji readjusts his angle just slightly - enough to find that spot deep inside that steals your vision from you with each thrust. You choke out a garbled moan, and you miss the unsettling grin of a hunter that’s found its mark.

He pushes you fully against the car, front resting nearly on top of the trunk with his body pressed firmly against your back. One hand snakes down towards your clit, while the other hooks up under your thigh to allow him full access to your poor abused pussy. He rests his head on your back, right at the curve of your shoulder blade.

“Come on sweetheart, you’ve been so good for me this far.”

A calloused finger rubs circles on your clit. He nails your g-spot with nearly perfect precision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, the knot building and tightening with his attention.

“Give this to me. Remember this - ” a particularly rough thrust draws a cry from you “ - and who it was that made you feel like this.” He bites down onto the skin at the back of your neck, and combined with the finger on your clit and the thrusts against your cervix you can’t find it in yourself to hold on any longer. You’ve already given so much to him - your money, your body, your self-respect - you might as well give him a permanent home in your mind and fantasies. You think you’d probably give him anything if he asked for it. The tension building in your core finally bursts, flooding your senses with its white hot pleasure. You scream, shaking and clenching around him as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. You lean into the overstimulation, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure wracks through you in bursts. At the top of one of those bursts, Toji groans and snaps your hips back one last time to fully seat himself within you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, so much that it begins to leak out around the base of his cock.

The two of you don’t move for a moment, allowing the heat to settle and dissipate. Toji rests against you, one hand idly rubbing your side. If you weren’t almost entirely on the trunk you probably would’ve fallen to the ground by now. Every inch of you feels light and unreal. You start to focus on bringing yourself back down to reality; Toji pulls out and moves away from you. The night air on your back is refreshing, giving you something real to grab onto. Once you start thinking too hard about what just happened, you’re flooded with abject shame.

This man just robbed you of your life savings and… you had (mind-blowing) sex with him?!

You roll onto your back, groaning at the realization. You are quite possibly the stupidest person to ever exist. Or at least the stupidest one at this exact moment. How the hell were you going to get home? He already said he wasn’t just going to drop you off! Fuck -

Toji pulls you out of your shame spiral, pressing a bundle of cloth - your pants probably - into your arms.

“Ah, t-thanks.”

He’s fully dressed already, though it wasn’t like he took off much of his clothing to begin with. There’s a small piece of fabric hanging from his pocket, and you realize with increasing shame that it’s your panties. He notices you eyeing it and only smirks before fully hiding it in his pocket.

“A souvenir. From our little… honeymoon.” You aren’t willing to focus on that any longer, instead electing to get your own pants on - sans proper undergarments. “Well doll. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck - he’s actually going to kill you now. Your heart races and you brace yourself against the car. You open your mouth, fully prepared to plead your case - I won’t say a word, this never happened, please just let me go - as Toji reaches into his other pocket. You want to cry. This has all been too much. He pulls out an envelope - one of the ones the teller at the bank gave you with your savings inside - and takes out a couple of bills.

Toji wrenches your hand away from the car, and presses the bills firmly into your palm. He even makes sure to close your fingers around them.

“Get a cab or somethin’. Don’t want ya wandering around too late. ”

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, staring dumbly after his figure as he walks around to the driver’s side. You try to process the absolute rollercoaster of emotions that was the past couple of minutes, but by the time you realize what’s happening Toji is already starting the car. You frantically feel your pockets -

“Hey! W-Wait!”

He doesn’t.

“Wait, jackass! My phone’s in there!”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji scenarios #toji thirst #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x you #toji fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fics #this was mortifying to write

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softquietsteadylove · 9 months

Note

For the bodyguard AU:

A crazy Fan attacks Thena with a knife on stage. Luckily Gil is there to protect her👀

The crowd was roaring with enthusiasm for her performance. She was coming off the high of a few straight shows that had gone well. The audience was feeling excited, and it had even spread to Thena, penetrating her pessimistic shell.

Thena waved to them as they applauded her efforts. She swallowed, feeling the fatigue in her vocal cords after the full set she had performed. Nothing like a full concert, but evident none the less. She backed up from the microphone.

"Athena! Athena, you're my goddess!"

Gil looked out from backstage, trying to find where the voice had come from.

Thena also scanned the crowd, but couldn't find anyone who might have been able to be heard so above and beyond everyone else. She tried not to let it show on her face.

"Athena, I love you!"

She looked closer to the front, wondering who possessed that voice. It was male, deep, rough. Everyone close to the barricades seemed to be younger fans jumping and waving.

"Athena, be mine!"

Her chest rose and fell more quickly. This was becoming more of a situation by the second, but she couldn't pinpoint the source. She took a few more steps back, her hand subconsciously reaching behind her for a comforting presence.

Gil emerged from backstage to meet her halfway. Usually his code of conduct - per the label's insistence - was to be present but not seen. But this was an exception, "come on."

"I said you're mine, you bitch!"

Gil pulled Thena behind him, holding out his arms and making his surface area replace Thena's tiny frame behind him. He searched the crowd for himself, with eyes trained to detect problems like this.

Security dove for the man, but he must have had training in something. Because all they did was provide him with a staircase of bodies he could use to launch himself onto the stage.

"Athena!"

Gil's eyes focused in on the knife in his hand. There were worse weapons to face, but the best one to disarm was none. He held out his hand, "put it down!"

The assailant charged at them, fuelled by either delusion or a more powerful, more tangible substance. He came in swinging, "she's mine!"

Thena curled up behind Gil, not able to do much else in the given situation.

Gil moved only as close as needed to grab the assailant's hands by the wrists. So long as he could overpower him, he could keep the threat minimal. "Don't even think about it!"

Gil was stronger than the freak jumping impossible distances up onto the stage. He raised their hands above their heads, not leaving much room to get stabbed in the crosshairs. "Let it go!"

Bodies in yellow and black polo shirts came rushing out; better late than never, at least. The venue security rushed the assailant, enough of them piling on the threat that it didn't matter what was in his system, he went down hard.

The knife clattered away across the stage. The crowd screamed.

Gil didn't wait to see what would become of the animal, or deliver any last words. He turned around, pulling Thena into his arms and rushing her off stage, "come on."

Thena clung to him.

"Move, move, out of the way!" Gil barked at anyone who so much as came near them. This was his job, this was his protectee, his client: this was Thena. "Make some room!"

He led them straight through the backstage and out of the building. He wasn't making any stops in any dressing rooms, Kingo would bring them anything they had left behind. His priority now was getting Thena alone and safe with him.

She followed him silently, clinging to him.

Gil held his jacket up and in front of her face as they made their way to the car waiting for them. As always, no matter how they tried, there were still fans clambering to get a glimpse of the Goddess of War in her human form. "Back up!"

Thena climbed into the SUV, immediately sliding over in the backseat so Gil could slide in after her, no need to go around to the other door. He jumped in, nearly cracking his head on the frame in his haste. He slammed it closed and leaned forward, "drive!"

The ride service didn't ask questions.

Gil put the divider up immediately, looking over at Thena, "hey."

"I'm okay," she exhaled, with only some trembling in it. She pushed her hair out of her face.

"Thena," he repeated, moving until their legs were squished together on the hard and uncomfortable leather seats. "Look at me."

"I'm okay, she repeated before he held her cheeks, guiding her gently to meet his eyes. Her face crumbled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her into his shoulder as he rubbed her back. No matter how expected or calculated a risk it was, it was still someone threatening her safety and life. He never blamed her for feeling rattled by the actions of those obsessed with her persona.

Thena shook her head against him, still pressing her eyes into his suit jacket. She was dismissing herself.

"Hey, no one would blame you," he said gently, holding the trembling songstress. "He came at you with a knife, Thena. It never should have happened."

She let out a breath, even more shuddery than the last. "You shouldn't have to keep doing this."

Protecting her? "Thena, it's my job to do this. I'm certainly not gonna let you fight these creeps by yourself."

"I mean it!" she lifted her head, pursing her lips in that stubborn way she had.

He brushed away some of her tears, careful of the eye makeup she had on that was admirably still in place. "I do too, Thena. I'm not going to let anyone get away with shit like that."

Thena pulled back, brushing more of her tears off his lapel and clearing her throat, which any vocalist usually did their best to avoid doing. She sniffled, "this seems to keep happening."

Gil let her fuss over him, if it made her feel better about it, "a couple times in a year is a pretty bad streak."

Thena looked at him in the dim light of the back of the limo. "I know you're saying it's not a big deal, but I've watched you had to fight a few too many psychos for my liking. And I still haven't forgotten when that mob of Eros' little fan-children mobbed you."

Gil chuckled, "that was a pretty bizarre fight to have."

"I wouldn't call it a fight," Thena grumbled but sat back again with a sigh. She flicked some hair over her shoulder, "at least the show was good. Although I'm sure Kingo is already bursting a blood vessel over the coverage of that attack."

"It was pretty open to see that the guy was nuts," Gil shrugged, already reaching into his suit jacket for both their phones. "Limo's taking us straight home. Do you want delivery?"

She looked up from her phone as he handed it to her, giving him the saddest, greenest eyes, like a kitten in the rain. She nodded.

How could he ever say no to that? He opened the app, "mood?"

"Surprise me," she sighed, looking down at her phone to check what Kingo was saying.

"Okay," Gil chuckled, already knowing to order her a comforting bowl of ramen with some dumplings on the side. He claimed one of her hands with his, even though it hindered her texting greatly.

She did visibly have trouble texting Kingo back with only her left thumb and a phone wider than her slim hand's width. But she gave him a squeeze back, grateful for the comfort.

#Thenamesh Bodyguard AU #it always feels nice to revisit these #because I never feel out of practice with these two #hopefully they always feel in character in this universe for you guys #Gil really does have a lot to deal with #but he's made for this #this is the job #and he takes it very seriously #Kingo does text them like wtf was that?#Gil tells him to look it up he's sure all the fans caught footage of it #also please bring Thena's stuff to her place for them #he's not leaving her side because obviously #They're both exhausted from the adrenaline #she walked into the building in costume and everything #door guy is like hey Thena hey Gil normal thursday night huh?#Gil does get delivery and basically feeds her all night #runs her a back #rubs her feet for her #the ultimate malewife #but he's your security guard #what is this booktok?#just kidding I don't read books I write this instead

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daisybellejpeg · 1 year

Note

Hello, Daisy. I have a few questions. They are related to the Dr. Bright debacle, so feel free to delete this if that makes you uncomfortable.

First of all, are you okay with people making posts linking to your testimony? I've made some posts containing the Google Doc titled "Skeletons in the Amulet", and if this makes you uncomfortable, I will delete them.

Second of all, there are people with DID that have fictives (alternate personalities that take the form of a fictional character) of Doctor Jack Bright. Many of these people are not comfortable with the use of Elias Shaw, and some have outright stated that Shaw is triggering. What would you suggest for these people in this situation?

Honestly feel free to ask me about adminbright anytime. This goes for anyone who has questions about my testimony or the situation in general. The bastard has me blocked on Facebook but I still have the logs— that and I’ve figured out that being extremely detailed with receipts makes it harder for bright apologist squealers to cry “Political Corectness” or “Buzzkill” without looking like they’re backing up a nonce lol. I’m not a stranger to giving testimony on trauma in general and am more than happy to put on a brave face if it means others can stay safe and informed.

Now onto the two parter:

1. Fuck. Yes. Say no more. It puts AB on edge to hell and back. Actually, Mx. Peters has gone on two Facebook tyrades regarding my testimony before nuking their Facebook to private. They have other victims even irl that they’ve met at faires n cons, I still keep in touch with one actually.

The more this gets out alongside the aht message and Cimm’s video, the more impact it might have in fandom spaces they frequent. As of now they’re banned from two events due to the mountain of evidence that’s now levied against them. More awareness=less future victims. Use my doc as many times as your little heart desires.

2. Imma be real with you chief I am not a licensed shrink nor do I have full knowledge of DID aside from having three really good friends who have it. Actually it worries me quite a bit that there’s bright fictives given the whole possession fetish aspect of the character and how it enticed the sicko who created him. Only advice I can give is that you are in mostly full control to curate your personal experience online. Make use of the tag system here, mute words on Twitter, the works if you’re really that bothered by Shaw.

(Edit to add given that it’s been brought to my attention that this part can be confused for me still talking about people with DID, I’m talking about fully neurotypical people who use the character) I have several people who still use bright despite the trove of info on how that can be potentially dangerous blocked on here. It’s so weird to flex stanning some 40 year olds possession fetish character that they used (along with their position of power) to actively predate on minors and young adults but go off I guess?

If anyone gives me shit about Shaw tho? I bite back. I won’t tolerate being heckled about taking steps to minimize and prevent further damage from my groomer in this community in an attempt to heal from the shit I went through with Peters.

I was taken advantage of as a child when I was 9, once again when I was 16, and finally by bright when I was 20. The latter will be the last time I let it slide. I made a promise to myself that I will protect not only the past victims, some of whom I’m friends with, but also young impressionable fans from this lowlife coomer and their undeserved legacy. I will cyber bully (in Minecraft) anyone who tries to slam me for it. I will be the ultimate buzzkill for any indignant bright stan and call them out for indirectly sheltering the legacy of a predator. I’m not the only person tired of the character either. Many people on the wiki are and will side eye you at best if you complain about the overdue action being taken regarding bright the character.

I hope this answers your ask! Feel free to ask any additional questions if there’s anything I missed.

#elias shaw #scp fandom #scp doctors #bright scp #scp 963 #adminbright #Shaw scp #scp foundation #scp #dr bright #bright family #no seriously I will dunk on you for nonvictimsplaning me ask the last poor bastard who tried me

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diliwriter · 6 days

Text

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Alugrow Trading

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quillsandcrows · 3 months

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Love Letter of the Day. 12

You know what? You're acting more and more lovingly in service to yourself lately.

I see you assessing your needs. I see you questioning what is best. I notice if you do things out of habit or stay in check-out/numbing mode. And I see you fight against doing this. It tends to coincide with symptom flares, specifically the tinnitus and migraine aftermaths.

I notice when you suddenly slide into an activated spin. It can be when you communicate with others about unmet survival needs. Or if you have the experience of not being heard. Repeatedly chasing people down and feeling dismissed or disempowered sidetracks your calm. Confusion (without the ability to get clarity) can be an unsettling space. Certain things make it hard for you to maintain your center. Overwhelm causes internal freakout, even if the outward expression is minimal.

Stay curious about how your body and nervous system respond. Commit to showing up for yourself (and others) as best you can. Remain present even when you wanna retreat or slam the door.

It's like having a wobbly toddler, a frustrated child, an angsty, insecure teenager, and a parent inside. Managing a whole family! I get why the term IFS (Internal Family Systems) is used. Parts work. I get why we need to check which part responds to what. It can devolve quickly if the inner "baby" cries and no one holds it.

I'm proud of you for trying to love yourself more. I am glad you woke up clearheaded today as far as no migraine. I'm sorry you're physically struggling. I'm here for you!

XOXO.

March 14, 2024 Lisa Byrne @ 2024

#self love #love #healing #wellness #love letter of the day #chronic pain #migraine

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trekkele · 3 months

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"# i think If you want a genuine critique of Batman then Leslie and her pacifism is far more interesting"

So true. Unfortunately nobody's been writing her well since the 90s or '00s. At least, I didn't come across anything featuring her in a well thought out way.

I'm split on counting War Games because 'she would not fucking do that' as people say. However, it is her position on morality taken to the twisted extreme. Still, intentionally killing or faking it, is very emotionally hurtful, like trauma inducing hurtful. Both for Steph and the Batfam and her mother.

Looked up the exact definition of pacifism and, well:

"Pacifism is a policy or doctrine of rejecting war and violence in solving disputes"

She kinda did use violence (emotional and body violating and zero consent from removing Steph from her life) to solve a dispute. Or to "free" Steph of her bat-duties, but it still counts.

Would love for Leslie to go after other batfam members and not just Bruce and argue with them about their methods.

Actually i think Stephanies death, either by medical negligence or a failure of her support system, is a natural consequence of Leslies brand of pacifism and while “She, personally, might not fucking do that” her philosophy might so its not as ooc as id like it to be.

So to discuss Leslie i think i have to establish two things 1. She suffers from being a (mostly) anti Batman character in a Batman comic* and

2. She and Jason are actually on two ends of a spectrum, with Leslie being “it is better to be the victim of violence then the perpetrator of it” and Jason being “it is better to enact unspeakable violence then be the victim of it”. With Bruce in the middle like “can we please get some nuance in here can we please get some fucking nuance” which is. Very funny actually.

(Its funny because Bruce, by being Batman, has basically decided to become the nuance - he will be violent for you, and by being so good at violence he can minimize the amount of actual violence needed)

So by letting Steph die, Leslie is essentially saying “no amount of violence can save us, isnt it better to die then without having inflicted it upon others?” Which is so very Ghandi of her, but also fucking insane and yeah Bruce was 100% right to never trust her again after that.

She is also - ok so the thing is, in-universe, being a teenage vigilante is. It’s basically like being a dance kid. Its going to have a profound and everlasting effect on the kids mental and physical health, there are side effects we still don’t entirely understand, but for the most part its just. Something some kids do!! Some of them insist on doing it (dick, damian (<-i have thoughts about why Bruce didnt want to give Damian robin ok) some of them realize it isnt good for them but cant really give it up (jason, maybe tim?) some of them are in it just for their stage moms (cissie king-jones) and some of them suffer long term consequences due to insufficient parental supervision (kon, pre-nu52) etc etc. Leslie is the mom in the corner who thinks allowing her kid to perform or even learn ballet in a studio is a slippery slide to abuse. She thinks no kid should ever be in that environment, and by Bruce allowing Dick to do so, despite Bruces reluctance in the matter and almost oppressive supervision, he has doomed an entire generation of kids.

She is never going to criticize anyone else in the batfam, because to do so would be admitting that kids have agency beyond what adults believe is best for them, and admitting that means being unable to push her “correct” views upon them.

Leslie is actually a pretty good stand in for fandom in that way; refuses to allow anyone but Bruce agency and independent thought, refuses to place blame anywhere but Bruce, insists a difference of opinion is grounds for dismissal of personhood and respect, and believes Gotham would be better off if Batman never existed.

(Once again i have no idea if i answered your question/addressed your ask. Sorry)

#asks #leslie as the real world stand in actually works really well #i do have to clarify that i like her!! irl i would probably agree with her #but this is a power fantasy not irl

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 4 months

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because i am sad, don't have my nina meds and have the personality of tissue paper rn, will you take pity on me, pretty girl, and pray tell what the locations look like in ur fics? like how you imagine south park looks, maybe stan and kyle's old bed rooms, the sp survivor haus? starks pond, the vibes and stuff -- you can be as hyper specific as you want i really like detail and visualizing things <3 also you

Melda Tâe I sincerely hope this is a bright spot in the Sadsack!!! This is such a great ask too like what does the HWB elven palace look like? The train station in WGSIES? The Broken Bottle Quartet apt complex? Heidi’s coffee shop in ATLCTS? The bistro where ojv Craig and Kyle have Nerd Boy Time? The TWITR bunkhouse?

And I’ve said on multiple occasions that I suck an unfathomable amount of ass at actually putting setting descriptions into my fics. Not because I’m picturing scenes playing out in a blank void, or bc I’m not picturing things clearly, but 1) I fully convince myself that no one wants to read my boring drawn out descriptions, which is stupid and I’m aware of that bc I LOVEEEEE vivid imagery when I’m reading 2) I often forget that no one is envisioning what I am without visual explanations lmfao it’s just so There to me I forget my readers don’t live in my cursed brain 3) I have such a habit of getting too into Witty Banter™️ and I’ll write so much dialogue with the occasional action and realize I haven’t said shit about what the setting looks like

But boy oh boy do I have specific pictures in mind! Especially regarding settings. (God I need to make a fuckin Pinterest omg the OJV board alone would go stupid)

I’m gonna be so fuckin fr right now, I have way too many AU’s and I will be unhinged abt a lot of them, so, below the cut!

So, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I’m starting with the OrangeJuiceVerse!

That bizarre town our kids grew up in is very typical suburbia, with neatly arranged near identical houses and blacktop roads that the snow plow goes through the same time every morning. Downtown holds the major businesses and across the tracks, not even a block over from the main neighborhoods, is the handful of “ghetto” houses, right by the woods. And through those woods, with a small single lane street that is far too narrow and winding to be safe? Stark’s Pond. The clearing in the tree canopy that the parking lot provides is the best stargazing spot, far enough away from the minimal light pollution that a tiny mountain town emits. It’s not just a pond, more of a park, with a field next to the water that’s a well traversed snowball fight battleground and a single bench under an ancient oak tree. The pond freezes and that’s how you know winter is truly underway. Kids slipping and sliding on the ice with no adult supervision is the standard here. In the summer, the water is still so cold, fed by mountain runoff. The surrounding shore is rocky and the m5 regularly compete to see who can find the coolest stone in the gravel.

There’s an elementary school, middle school, and high school, all in the same block and sharing a parking lot. Makes it easy for bus drivers and parents dropping off their kids. The high school is WAY bigger than is warranted for how small the town is, and there’s a separate building for band and av club. The football “stadium” isn’t much, the bleachers are only a few rows high and the field house is little more than a locker room, the concession stand is tiny and only run by student council members, and the cow painted into the turf over the 50 yrd line is lopsided. The gym where pep rallies and volleyball and basketball games are held has better seating, but football is a big damn deal in sp and the whole town is crowded around the track fence if they don’t get a seat, cheering on the hometown boys on cold October nights with nothing but fireball and ridiculous amounts of school spirit in their systems.

Stan and Kyle practically live at each others houses growing up. They each have a “Super Best Sleepover Drawer” in the others rooms and when they were younger and still the same size? No one could tell who actually owned what clothing. Like, y’all dear god you are more intertwined than your fingers holding hands. Stan’s room is a messsssss! Especially when he’s not doing well mentally. And he holds on to every stray item so his dusty shelves are cluttered as hell. His pillows are flat as shit. Nothing in his closet has been folded properly in years. The only organized thing in that room is the record collection, the sheet music folder, and the dnd character breakdown. Kyle has stress cleaned Stan’s room before. And (think You Belong With Me music video) THEIR WINDOWS FACE EACH OTHER!!! Kyle’s room has so much of the same kind of decor as Stan’s, with the posters and the figurines and the wall of nostalgic Polaroids, but he’s so much more organized. Both the boys have Kenny Paintings, (Stan is the one mentioned in this and Kyle’s is one of him as the elf king when they’d play as youngsters) and Kyle’s is hung level on the wall and Stan has his propped on his desk.

Ohhhh man the SP Survivor Safehouse, I described it some here and it really is such a College Kid House!!! They found the cheapest place to rent close to campus that would fit the 5, and it’s a SHITHOLE! It’s old as fuck and falling apart, the foundation is crooked, the blueprint must’ve been drawn by someone with severe distraction problems because for a place that’s not all that big, it’s labyrinthine in its random layout and the out of place way too high to reach ledges and the fireplace but no chimney and the ridiculousness of the narrow backyard, doing laundry in that house is a NIGHTMARE like the washer is downstairs and the dryer is in a separate room upstairs that logistically should be a bathroom. The kitchen tile is so old and cracked, and there’s this weird half wall facing the living room with a window? Also the walls are thin as hell and that staircase? Good god. Steep as fuck, tilted to the left, no railing, everyone has fallen on the Widowmakers multiple times. The garage door doesn’t work. The water heater is older than god. But this is their house, and they make it work.

I also want to describe the waterfall from How We Began, as specific and random as that is lmao. Think Multinoma Falls in Oregon, with a long trail to the top and no man made bridge over it. And it freezes like that one waterfall in narnia. Completely solid, snow and frosted trees on both sides at the summit, just the perfect place to meditate and reflect, because the reflection off the ice is like a rippled mirror. (Actually and so fr I need art of chapter 12 so bad rip) that place is BEAUTIFUL with the mountains in the background, the icicles refracting light, pine trees with needles dusted with snow, large rocks overlooking the edge of the cliff and the forest surrounding it!!!

Oh damn also the Big House in The Webs In The Rafters is the most eerie looking house of all time. At the end of that twisting gravel drive, to the left of the western pasture, sits this giant black mansion. It looks wayyyy too gothic to be on a ranch. And most of the rooms are unused, that place feels cold and dark even when the farmhands are in for dinner at that huge table in the dining room. The upstairs office has all these strange carvings in the wooden walls, Craig’s massive granite desk is right in front of the window that sees the whole front part of the land. And both that house and the bunkhouse are ancient as the “haven” itself. The walls have crawlspaces big enough for a full grown person to fit in. Like there’s a maze in the walls. The upper pasture isn’t visible from the master bedroom at the back of the top floor, and there’s a tree by the pond that Butters’ ducks live in that’s the first thing the morning light touches. That spot, where Ken and butters had their first kiss in chapter 16, is the only place that doesn’t feel stifling on the entire land.

Dude the haunted house in In The Truly Gruesome! It is legit the most cheesy haunted house of all time, set up in what is essentially a double wide trailer, no bathroom, no kitchen, barely a tiny breakroom at the back, the decor is the cheapest spirit Halloween shit imaginable and just lame shit like a bowl of peeled grapes that are supposed to feel like eyeballs in the mad scientist area. That front office with its plywood walls and plastic door is the most unromantic setting for a love confession, but Stan and Kyle made it work. The breakroom “furniture” is a random hodgepodge of booths from a closed McDonald’s and tables someone found on the side of the street. The mini fridge has nothing in there but a moldy jar of pizza sauce and a single half drank mellow yellow. This place is absurd. I love it.

AND I loved this ask! You always send me such great things my beloved omg never stop! <3

#this took longer than it should have #because I thought about Hades!Craig and got distracted reading WGSIES #and then i cried #because that fic is sad as hell #also I’m a pussy #but yeah #asks #south park #headcanon #fic writing #au’s #scene descriptions #my shit #OrangeJuiceVerse #other works #style #them

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rudolf-mackenzie · 1 month

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How to Speed Up Your Windows 11 PC

1. Manage autostart programs-disable unnecessary startup program.

Here is how to stop a program from starting automatically

Select the Start button, then select Settings > Apps > Startup .In the Startup Apps area, find the program you want to stop from starting automatically and set it to Off.

2. Clear memory via disk cleanup

To delete temporary files:

In the search box on the taskbar, type disk cleanup, and select Disk Cleanup from the list of results.

Select the drive you want to clean up, and then select OK.

Under Files to delete, select the file types to get rid of. To get a description of the file type, select it.

Select OK.

If you need to free up more space, you can also delete system files:

In Disk Cleanup, select Clean up system files.

Select the file types to get rid of. To get a description of the file type, select it.

Select OK.

3. Uninstall obsolete programs

Select the Start button, then select Settings > Apps.

Find the programs you don’t need, click on it and then select “uninstall”

4. Turn off shadows, animations, and visual effects

In the Windows 11 search box, type sysdm.cpl, press Enter, and then click the sysdm.cpl icon. That launches the Control Panel’s System Properties dialog box. Click the Advanced tab and click Settings in the Performance section. That brings you to the Performance Options dialog box. (Make sure you’re on the Visual Effects tab of the dialog box.) You’ll see a varied list of animations and special effects.

These are the animations and special effects you’ll probably want to turn off, because they have the greatest effect on system performance:

Animate controls and elements inside windows

Animate windows when minimizing and maximizing

Animations in the taskbar

Fade or slide menus into view

Fade or slide ToolTips into view

Fade out menu items after clicking

Show shadows under windows

However, it’s a lot easier to just select the Adjust for best performance option at the top of the screen and click OK. Windows 11 will then turn off the effects that slow down your system.

5. Turn off background apps

Select the Start button, then select Settings > Apps .

Scroll to the entry of the background app you wish to adjust settings for.

Click on the three-dot icon and then on “Advanced options”.

In the “Background apps permissions” section, select “Never”.

6. Turn off app notifications

Select the Start button, then select Settings > System> Notifications, and move the slider to “Off”.

7. Make sure you have the latest updates for Windows and device driver

Select the Start button, then select Settings > Windows Update > Check for updates.

Select the updates you want to install, then select Install.

Restart your PC and see if it seems to run better.

8. Check for low disk space and free up space

You may improve performance if you free some disk space on your PC.

To check for low disk space

Select the Start button, then select Settings > System > Storage . Open Storage settings

Your drives will be listed in the Storage area. Note the amount of free space and total size for each drive.

9. Pause OneDrive Syncing

On the taskbar, look for OneDrive near the notification area.

Select OneDrive > Help & Settings > Pause syncing,and then choose how long you want to pause syncing your files.

10. Check for and remove viruses and malware

Running a system scan to find viruses and malware. If you’ve already installed a security suite such as Norton Security or McAfee LiveSafe, you can use that. Windows 11’s built-in anti-malware app, Windows Defender, also does a great job.

Just type Windows Defender in the search box, press Enter, and click Scan Now. Windows Defender will look for malware and remove any it finds.

11. Last but not the least , if your have a non-genuine Windows 11 on your computer , please activate it with a genuine Windows 11 Key from the Microsfot partner store keyingo.com

#How to Speed Up Your Windows 11 PC #Speed Up Your Windows 11 PC

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spinningbuster98 · 11 months

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youtube

Picking Burn Rooster's stage first is certainly an unpopular choice but in order to get the armor parts I want as soon as possible without backtracking it's necessary.

And honestly? I actually don't mind this level

Yeah it's an autoscroller, but unlike Duff McWhalen's stage in X5 it's a FAST autoscroller where you have to make split second decisions and platforming in order to stay alive.

Yeah it can get irritating, and that last section after you've beaten the boss is wholly unnecessary, but I can't call it boring

The middle part is a bit eh, mostly because the camera really doesn't help you to see incoming spikes as you're climbing or sliding down but overall I think it's a decent level!

Earthrock Trilobyte's stage is fine, although a bit too simple in structure. It's actually this game's main farming spot for currency,a s that robot drops Metals every time you shoot it.

Gigabolt Man O' War is the first of this game's 2 Ride Chaser levels and it's....eh?

Its main issue is that it's a bit messy in design and on your first playthrough you'll probably not even know what it is you're even supposed to do.

In reality though you can end this stage in less than a minute by constantly boosting, collecting energy capsules to keep your boost meter full and shooting at Gigabolt as much as possible. So not a particularily good level but at least you can get it done very quickly

Gameplay wise X is the same as always, and I'll talk about his armor system at a later time

Axl has seen an enormous improvement: now not only does he have a rapid fire by default but he can also shoot in multiple directions.

His hover has also been improved, now he stays locked in place in midair for a bit whenever you jump and shoot which really helps with positioning

His rapid fire is also the best and safest way to knock away enemy barriers

His copy shot is back as well and....it's still far from the best thing in the world but at least it's been given a couple of cool niche uses which I'll show in the next video

Zero is also much better than in X7...but he has issues

I don't know whether it's his animations being a bit slower or maybe enemies' hitboxes being larger but I always get hit when trying to fight enemies as Zero, much more than in previous games (except X7).

I think part of the reason is the controls: X8 has good controls overall but they generally feel a bit...looser than previously? Like the characters have much less weight to their jumps which, coupled with the taller character models, makes precise positioning trickier, with precise positioning being key to Zero's playstyle

I'm not saying he's bad here, just that he's my least favorite of the 3 starting off

Keywords: starting off

If you're good at exploring you can get a certain something for Zero which completely turns all these issues on their heads. You'll see

So X8 has some new designs! And they tend to be pretty devisive between fans

Personally I think that the designs themelves are fine enough, they're generally pretty minimal with the characters just looking slimmer overall. Some fans like to se this as a connection to the Zero series, as a way of showing that technology is starting to get closer to that of that series. It's a nice thought but as far as I'm aware the only reasoning behind these designs that's ever been is that they wanted the characters to look somewhat like action figures, maybe in order to make them easier to animate in-game.

I think the main issue is the artstyle, the way the characters' faces and eyes are drawn looks a bit...off? Like it's clearly trying to be the usual X series artstyle while also being different

I guess that Alia's got the most substantial redesign, with loose and longer hair (which is a reference to a flashback scene of her in X6) and....well bigger boobs.

Not as big as Layer's though XD. Ok look, far be it for me to criticise a female character for looking conventionally attractive but I...kinda wanna know what was the thought process behind those underboobs XD

I mean I guess the design is fine on its own, but when you consider that Layer is supposed to be this super serious and professional navigator who is also very shy and timid...I dunno I get the impression that the design and characterization came from two completely different places if you catch my drift?

...aw who am I kidding this was probably the artist's little fetish

Also yeah Axl is a prototype for these New Generation Reploids

You might have missed that and I don't blame you

Axl's origins were never touched upon in X7

X8 just decides to drop this info in a way that the characters, Axl included, always knew about this matter of factly

No explanation for why Axl was on his own in X7 before meeting Red of for why he wasn't even aware of his powers' origins in that game

I guess it was all resolved off screen between games?

I guess they probably didn't wanna dwell too much on X7's leftovers? But at the same time by making Axl a Prototype for these new villains, and especially due to how this game ends, he should be pretty damn important and yet the plot doesn't really focus on him in any way even when that hanging plot point from X7 gave them the perfect excuse to do so.

Mah

#mega man #mega man x8 #my gameplay #Youtube

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lorata · 2 years

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Obviously they are all awful but did Nero have a worst “client”?

Mm-hmm, Lina Davenport. Chief sponsor, the most influential, and also the most long-lived (she's into gene therapy, a muttation designer who very probably mucked with herself a bit to give herself a few extra years). She's the one Adessa saves for last in her murder spree in the canon divergence universe. Most of the others basically played out trashy romance novel covers with Nero as stand-in for their imaginary hero, Lina was way more twisted.

Murder scene excerpt below (warnings for gore):

The streets stretch out ahead, eerie and empty, the various signs and billboards and outdoor fountains and holographic art displays shut down for the duration of the war. Adessa curls her lip as she pass them, empty shells that mark the Capitol’s extravagance, monuments to the colossal waste of power it could no longer afford to keep up following the destruction of the primary hydroelectric plant.

Far away from this quiet, ridiculously opulent residential quarters, the main battle rages, but Adessa pays it no attention. She has her own quarry to stalk today, and her blades have already tasted blood today.

It sings in her veins, the old song, filling her like perfume, like the heady scent of lilacs on a warm spring night, like hot blood spilled on a sultry evening when the air sticks close and the sweat lingers. Adessa feels every beat of her heart like a pulse of fire in her chest, and she draws her briefcase close and strokes one finger over the silver clasp.

The house she seeks sits at the end of the cul-de-sac, overwhelming and ornate to the point of obscenity. Four stories, three pools, marble columns, holographic glass walls and a backyard mutt menagerie: the mansion of Lina Davenport, premier muttation designer, first-tier supporter of Coriolanus Snow, and Nero’s number-one sponsor and self-styled “true love”. A true love who had sunk her claws into Nero’s shoulder on his Tour and used her influence to make Adessa’s perfect, obedient Victor into the closest thing District 2 had to a sex slave.

All of Nero’s other “lovers”, all odious, love-struck, ludicrously wealthy women twice his age who’d preyed on him as soon as he was placed on the market, now lay dead in their homes, dismembered or dissected or any number of personalized horrors. Adessa had saved the best for last.

She’d been half afraid the old instincts would have rusted after so many years. It’s been decades since Adessa’s Arena, and unlike some of her more undisciplined colleagues, Adessa never took another life since stepping onto the hovercraft the day the trumpets played. But as it turns out, no matter how out of practice she feared she might have been, with the first slide of steel into skin, it all came rushing back.

She makes short work of Lina’s outer security, using the codes she’d borrowed from Nero’s files in the Victor Affairs office months ago. No minimalism here, Lina’s house is as tacky and nausea-inducing inside as it is out: a disgusting, cacophonous display of wealth that ignores every rule of taste and class because Lina, like most of the Capitol, believes in overt shows of power and prosperity.

Adessa finds Lina downstairs, hiding in a panic room. This is a surprise, and breaking in affords Adessa with a pleasant mental challenge that actually distracts her from the low, rolling thoughts of murder as she matches wits with the state of the art system. If she hadn’t been training for this for the past few years, ordering in various door locks and alarm systems and teaching herself how to master them in an elaborate fantasy sequence designed to maintain her sanity and burn off her rage, her revenge might well have stopped here.

But at last the door swings open, and Adessa sweeps through. Lina cowers in her richly decorated saferoom, clinging to her ridiculous custom designer mutt-hound and gasping for air behind several layers of cosmetic surgery. “Hello, Lina,” Adessa says. She doesn’t bother with speeches, only sets the briefcase on a low table and clicks it open in short, precise movements, allowing Lina to get a good look at the rows and rows of sharp, shining daggers nestled inside — and the blood-stained cleaning cloth tucked along with them.

To her credit, Lina doesn’t scream, or shout, or try to run. She stares at Adessa with hatred burning in her eyes even as the fear locks her in place, as Adessa traces her fingers along her daggers and selects a few choice candidates. “You were always jealous,” Lina spits out. “You never could accept what Nero and I have! You always wanted him to yourself! You could never admit that he loved me. That we had something special! You’re going to try to make me admit it isn’t true, that he never loved me, but I won’t. I don’t care what you do to me, I’ll always know the truth!”

Adessa pauses, tilting her head to one side. She did indeed take that tack with a few of Nero’s sillier, more fatuous abusers, the ones who weren’t cruel so much as they were foolish and romantic. She’d enjoyed the moment of realization in their eyes, right before she slit their throats, the crushing defeat and horror as it sank in that Nero had not been a joyful, willing participant in their adventures. But no, Adessa thinks, watching Lina cuddle the chimeric monstrosity to her chest, she made her mark by supporting Coriolanus Snow in his rise to power, by rooting out his enemies and helping destroy their reputations, and her fortune by supplying first Gamemakers and then ordinary citizens with her unnatural creations.

No, Lina’s delusion was of a different sort. She had convinced herself that she and Nero were one of a kind, but not because she thought it innocent and pure — but because she believed Nero to be like her.

“May it bring you comfort,” Adessa says simply, and steps forward.

The only compliment Adessa will ever pay Lina Davenport is that it takes her much longer to die than Adessa would have given her credit for.

When it’s over, Adessa cleans her knives on one of Lina’s plush throws, packs everything away, and slips back out into the street, ignoring the distressed whining of the mutt-creature as the door closes behind her. It will have plenty to eat once it gets over itself, and pampered luxury creation or no, baser instincts are never far away.

#lorata answers #mihrsuri #oc: nero

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electrasev5nwrites · 1 year

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Ninja Daily: Vapors 13

"Buuuurn!" Anko's long coat flapped around her shins from the explosive force she had just released in training ground 44. She all but cackled, her fingers curled into claws and arms raised above her head in a V shape. "Burn baby, burn!"

A small figure stood on the other side of the clearing, eyes widening at the wall of fire traveling her way at high speed.

"Oh holy hell."

Aiko did her best to ignore the smoke in her face, flashing through the hand-signs for a truly epic water jutsu. The resultant wave splashed over the burning patch of forest in a sizzling tidal force. The other kunoichi leapt straight up, over the cresting water and flipped mid-air with panache before landing silently on top of the moving water in a theatrical pose.

"I had it under control, kid," Anko growled. "That was deliberate."

'Sure it was.'

Aiko shrugged apologetically. "I can't help but find open flames in the middle of Konoha a bit unnerving, Anko-sempai."

"Eh." The curvy brunette ('Does it count as brunette even though it has purple tints?', Aiko wondered) shrugged away the implications of that statement. "So, you're my new minion?" She spat a short wooden stick out from between her lips, letting it slide into the charred ground. "Hope you're ready to do a whole load of shit work." She gifted the chuunin with a feral grin. "Because we got a lot to do. Starting with remodeling this training ground to be suitable for the chuunin exams."

Slowly, deliberately Aiko turned to survey the area. She hadn't trained in the 'Forest of Death' before, but it looked like any other training ground- thick forested areas cut by occasional streams. Then she raised an eyebrow at her supervisor.

The older girl scowled. "It wouldn't be much fun to herd the brats through a plain, boring set up. We're going to wire this place up for surveillance, plant the motherload of traps, and spruce up the wildlife."

"Is it for a survival exercise, then?" That made sense. As it was now, traveling through the forest would be little challenge even for a group of genin. It was likely that when she designed the second task, Anko had the twin concerns of wanting to intimidate foreign ninja (making a lasting impression that would keep them from underestimating Konoha) and wanting to ensure the general safety of the participants. It would be a waste to kill off more promising ninja than they had to. As this exam was going to be flooded with clan heirs and other genin of interest, the council was probably more invested in keeping them alive than in other years.

Her own chuunin exam had been in Sand, where they apparently weren't as big on teamwork as Konoha was. She had been allowed to compete alone, which had been both a curse and a blessing.

That would never happen in Konoha, though. In only a few hours they blazed trails through the forest, creating clearings and minimizing water supplies according to a map Anko had dreamed up. By changing the layout, even ninja who had trained in the area would be at a loss.

Plus it was a marvelous opportunity to destroy a whole lot of the environment. Aiko couldn't help but wince when hundred-year old trees were crisped and her new supervisor enthusiastically used earth jutsu to creatively add hills, holes and artfully shaped outcroppings. Her job was mainly the water system- they were redirecting entire streams into just two water pathways in order to create conflict by forcing teams together.

The whole thing was exhausting, and Aiko was about ready to collapse when they had finally altered the landscape to Anko's specifications. A nap was not in the cards, however.

"Get your lazy ass up, minion. How are you with summoning scrolls?"

Aiko blinked. "Using them?"

The older kunoichi gave her a disparaging look that was enhanced by the severely singed state of her clothes. "Don't be thick. I hope your calligraphy is good, because you are going to be making up scrolls and copying a lot of fancy poetry." She grimaced and scraped her tongue out over her teeth as if to get rid of a bad taste. "Better you than me. Just remember, failure on your part will end in the maiming of your fellow shinobi. No pressure."

For some reason it hadn't occurred to her that her home village was shamefully cheap. Instead of just paying a real seal maker to produce the dual scrolls to summon chuunin at the end of the task, it had been included as one of many items that had to be done by the two of them before the exams. That meant that she was essentially learning an entirely new skill set for B-class compensation that also included a host of other duties, a prospect that she was a little bitter about.

In a strangely domestic turn of events, they went together to pick up the supplies for her next task. Aiko was not surprised in the least to see that shopkeepers bowed anxiously and hurried to get her adult companion out of their stores.

She quite liked Anko and had for all the time she had known her. That didn't change the fact that it was easy to see Anko had a huge personality and verbally abusive tendencies when she got impatient.

Since her brother was probably going to be in the exam, for confidentiality reasons Aiko could only work on that project at Anko's home, a traditional styled house with a completely dead garden out front. The black vines and crunchy leaves had hinted at the state of the place, but it was only clear once she stepped inside that said dwelling place was a terrifying pit. She knew intellectually that many powerful shinobi had coping mechanisms. Apparently, one of Anko's was hoarding. The front room had artfully stacked piles of boxes of chocolate up to her waist, what appeared to be every dvd available in the fire nation and an entire wall of bookshelves full of everything from Jiraiya's porn series to ghost stories to a glittery red tome with the somewhat ominous title 'The Art of the Bitch'.

The twelve (almost thirteen!) year old carefully stepped into the room around piles of mission reports and identical pairs of sandals ("I can only ever find the left ones," Anko had explained contemplatively when she noticed Aiko's incredulous expression), clutching her supplies carefully. She had taken the academy classes on introductory level seal work, but they had never actually made seals. Knowing the symbols and having a keen eye for detail would probably get her through this exercise, however. She hoped.

At Anko's direction, she gingerly piled the fancy scrolls onto the central table next to what appeared to be a naked painting of Anko generously splattered in blood, signed 'from a fan'. The older kunoichi grinned at the sight, helping Aiko set out the bottles of special ink without breaking or spilling anything.

"Open those up and bleed in them," she commanded, as casually imperious as any queen could hope to speak. The redhead dutifully followed directions while Anko flickered out of the room to rustle around. She winced when something shattered. The voice that called back sounded a little distant. "I have plenty of brushes around here somewhere… Did I give you the scroll you'll be copying already?"

Aiko rolled her eyes and pulled a short bandage out from her thigh pouch to wrap around her bleeding palm, swiping up the droplets she'd accidentally gotten on the table's surface before they dried. "Not yet." With a chink, the now-closed bottles were shoved into a wide wooden box in order to keep them all in one place.

"Here." A scroll landed on the couch beside Aiko, on top of a purple decorative pillow. Her companion's aesthetic tastes seemed to run to purple, red, and tan, though the walls were traditional rice paper. "And this is the sissy fucking poem you'll be writing out. Let me check your work once you've copied one of each. I'm going to do a food run. Have any requests?"

Working on the preparations for the Chuunin exams was long, boring, and occasionally ended in hand cramps or mild electrical shocks from those sketchy surveillance units they planted in the forest at strategic locations. It also had the unpleasant side effect of completely disrupting her usual schedule- she hadn't had so much as a spar with Ino or morning conditioning with Team 7 since she had gotten reassigned.

More than once, Aiko found herself wondering how her genin were doing—and wasn't that a funny way for her to think of a group of kids her age? Still, she couldn't help but feel protective. If her foreknowledge was worth half a damn, shit was going to get serious soon.

The thought made her glum. Through sheer luck (and the fact that someone had tattled on her for having a decent working relationship with the occasionally terrifying Mitarashi Anko) she had gotten the one assignment that would place her sort-of close to team 7 when they encountered Orochimaru, but there was likely jack shit that she could do. There would be serious diplomatic repercussions if there was any hint of favoritism on her part—her career would pretty much be over. No one would trust her on a mission above C-class importance.

Besides all that, there was approximately zero chance that she could help fight off a sannin anyways. The one thing she kept wondering:

'Are they really in danger anyways?'

As far as she knew, Orochimaru wouldn't kill any of them. That was largely out of selfishness. He wanted Sasuke alive, and that meant someone had to watch out for him while he was assimilating the curse seal. There was absolutely zero chance that any of them would have escaped if he really wanted them dead.

She could only conclude that if things went predictably, her otouto and her team would not be in life-threatening danger. That was a pretty big 'if' to work with, however.

The issue was further complicated by the fact that she was starting to like Sasuke. It was hard to cold-bloodedly choose not to interfere in an attack on his person that would irrevocably change his personality, body, and put him in danger when she actually knew the kid. He was actually sweet underneath all the prickles—he would have done well in his family's police force. Sasuke seemed to want to protect people. The obsession with power wasn't really present yet.

Sakura, on the other hand, Aiko wouldn't have minded throwing to the wolves. Whatever potential the girl had was still invisible at this point, obscured behind her obnoxious personality, simpering mannerisms, and hair-trigger temper.

Feeling snippy, Aiko closed the tub of wax she had been rubbing into her boots and moodily tossed it aside. She was thoroughly sick of being responsible, but she dutifully trudged off to the kitchen and pulled out rubber gloves, a white sanitary face mask and the herbs and agents she used for her paralytic. She started the non-toxic base in the pot reserved for this task before slipping on the mask and hanging the "Mixing chemicals, do not disturb" sign on her front door. Naruto would probably still be at training for several hours and she didn't often get other visitors, but it was better to be safe than be stuck paying someone's hospital bills.

While she worked, Aiko turned on the radio (a new and expensive acquisition she never would have been able to purchase on a genin salary). Then she turned it off. "I fucking hate the koto," she muttered bitterly, stirring a little more vigorously than was necessarily wise. The process was intimately familiar and incredibly boring. Measure, pour. Stir, simmer, adjust heat. Prepare ingredient and measure, stir, turn up heat until roiling boil.

The last of the concoction was being carefully funneled into glass vials when enthusiastic thudding on the staircase alerted her that her otouto was barreling up. Aiko rolled her eyes, wondering if it was even worth it to scold him when the door burst open. The dangerous chemicals were put away, yes, but she had literally just finished and hadn't taken down the sign yet. For all he could have known, he was walking into thick clouds of lethal poison.

"Don't you read?"

Aiko slipped the first two vials into her equipment pouch and tucked the others safely away in the cupboard before her otouto wandered into the kitchen looking cheerfully disheveled.

"Whatcha mean, oneesan?" She heard the sound of porcelain and turned to smack his hand just as it escaped from the jar, cookie in hand. He flopped down into his chair, stretching back with both hands over his head so that the front legs came off the ground.

She sighed, rinsing her pot and setting it in the sink. "I had a note on the door that you shouldn't come in. Naruto, you need to pay attention. I was working with dangerous chemicals." She pulled the door open and ripped off her note before locking back up, setting down a quick genjutsu and kunai trap while she was at it. It was a little early to set up the nightly traps, but she might as well since they were both home early. It wasn't quite eight pm.

Frankly, she was tired of her current assignment and just wanted to get the stupid exam over with. It was now nine days until it started, which meant that the final preparations were being done in the next couple of days before foreigners started to arrive. She completely anticipated getting bit at least once by the rest of the exotic animals they were herding around in the forest.

"Why does it matter? I'm fine, aren't I?" Despite the pout she heard in his voice, Aiko wasn't willing to let it go. She rather frivolously used shunshin to position herself behind him and gave him a nougie, refusing to let go even when he shrieked and wiggled. "Hey, cut it out!"

"Then don't be such a butt!" A downright shocking amount of dirt and assorted filth fell out of his hair and gently drifted to the ground. She grimaced. "Oh, that's gross. Go wash yourself, stinky."

"Am not!"

"How would you know?" She slipped her hands to the back of his chair and pushed forward so that all four feet were on the ground. "I bet you can't even smell yourself over the sound of how loud you are."

"…wait, what?"

"You heard me."

"Who are you?"

Aiko narrowed her eyes at her idiot of a teacher. "Oh sorry, I forgot about your late-stage Alzheimers. I take it the treatment isn't going well."

"I suppose I wouldn't know." Kakashi calmly scanned his book.

Aiko, Sasuke and Sakura rolled their eyes in unison, getting to their feet/ jumping down from his tree. The wait for their sensei had been especially long today, which was more than a little annoying. Naruto had already lost interest in the conversation and was fidgeting, ready to get to work. It was the day before the exam—the culmination of what both groups had been working towards. Anko had laughed at Aiko when she showed up at her house that morning ("Idiot, take the day off").

"Well?" Sakura demanded, looking at her teacher. "How are you going to torment us today?"

Mildly surprised, Aiko gave the girl a once-over. Kakashi must have been especially mean in the month she'd been too busy to come to team practices in order to put her in the kind of mood where she'd abandon her thin veneer of politeness without provocation.

"Yeah, old man." Naruto bounded over, practically vibrating with excess energy. "A race or a free-for-all or maybe we can do that jutsu competition again! I'll kick the bastard's ass this time, 'ttbayo!"

If she hadn't been looking, she might have missed the twitch Sasuke suppressed.

"Mah," the man sighed, still not looking at any of them. "Actually, I just wanted to tell you we have no practice today."

The field was completely silent.

As if he was alone, Kakashi quietly mused, "Why does everyone call me old?"

"You made us wait four hours to tell us that there was no practice today," Sakura said, tone somewhere between incredulous and calm rage, ignoring his rumination.

Naruto's eye twitched rapidly and his cheeks started to fill with color. Sasuke and Aiko merely exchanged tired glances- why were those two so surprised? The enormous overreactions had ceased to be cute a long time ago.

"Mmhm. I just wanted to be sure you three had a nice, relaxing day before your test tomorrow." He casually raised a hand. "Bye." In a poof of foul-smelling smoke (and he could totally control that, he didn't have to make it so unpleasant) the figure that she now knew had been a clone dispersed. He was probably giggling miles away.

'Maybe that's what the giggles usually mean,' she thought crabbily. 'When he laughs it's because he's tormenting someone from a distance. It would explain a lot.'

Then Aiko sighed. 'If he isn't going to be an adult and make sure they're ready for the test, I'll do it.'

The three genin turned with varying levels of excitement when she clapped her hands decisively. "Alright then. We're going to hang out at my apartment."

Sakura's eyes flickered to Sasuke and she started to open her mouth—doubtlessly to make excuses and ask Sasuke to hang out alone. She stopped when Aiko turned a glare on her, then scanned the other two just as sternly. "We are having fun time," she said calmly. "Fun time is mandatory. I want the two of you to pack everything you think you will need for your tests tomorrow and meet in front of the red apartment complex on Tobirama and sixth in fifteen minutes, twenty for Sakura since she lives further away. If you aren't there, I will come and get you. Go now."

All three genin dashed away. Alone in the field, Aiko gave a yawn and slowly sauntered home. 'Why do they seem to think I have authority over them?' Her field authority ended when they weren't interacting in an official capacity.

Even Sakura made it within the allotted fifteen minutes, toting a heavy bag and a short stack of hair ties on her thing wrist. Aiko gave that concession a nod of approval—it was unusually practical for her, but still appreciated. The boys had packed lighter. They settled into the living room for Aiko to check it over. While Sakura pretended not to look at the pictures on the walls (all either photographs of the two of them, Kakashi or Ino or sketches) Sasuke slinked in looking spectacularly uncomfortable in the domestic setting.

"Naruto, make tea please." Aiko unzipped the first pack, checking the contents by feel.

"Uh, yeah." He picked his way to the kitchen and uncertainly rustled through the tins of tea. "Any preferences?"

Sasuke remained silent, so Naruto shrugged and made Sakura's pick. With her legs curled under the table and her back to the couch, Aiko bit her lower lip in thought. "Sasuke, did you intentionally leave out smoke pellets?"

"I've never used them,' he pointed out. Aiko tilted her head in thought, counting his soldier pills.

"Yes, but it's always good to be able to make a quick escape if a fight isn't worth your time and you're on a schedule."

He slowly cocked his head. "Is that a hint," he asked dryly, the slightest tinge of humor in his voice.

Aiko felt her face flushing. 'Oh, crap. I guess it was a little bit of a giveaway.'

"Definitely not," she said a little too weakly to be convincing, leaning her head forward to hide behind a curtain of hair. The follow-up huff of amusement let her know that he didn't buy it, but he dropped the topic. He wasn't very chatty anyways.

Sakura and Naruto fell into their usual bumbling comedy act, shouting, whining, and shaking fists (Sakura, Naruto and then Sakura again, respectively) while the tea steeped and Aiko supplemented Naruto's pack with some really nasty explosive tags. Then she thought better of that and handed them to Sasuke.

"Here you go." Naruto clanked down four cups of tea and collapsed to the floor criss-cross applesauce. Sakura leaned forward for a cup and gingerly settled onto a corner of the couch, looking uncertain and shy.

With a sigh, Aiko closed the last pack and set them by the door. "You're all good to go for tomorrow. I just wanted to be sure. Alright." She beamed at the three genin in her front room. "We're going to spend the night together so no one is late. Can't hurt to do some last-minute bonding, right? Anyone hungry?"

Naruto semi-frantically cleaned up the restroom while Sakura went on a run for fresh vegetables clutching a wad of Aiko's money. She set a sullen-faced brunette to work cutting and seasoning meat while she hummed, clearing the table of all seal ink and other assorted mess.

"Sasuke… you're going to make a great housewife for some guy."

The brunette made a violent jab for Naruto with his chopsticks, missing only because the blonde leaned back to pat his belly in a satisfied manner.

"Take it as a compliment," Sakura advised. "This is amazing!" The pink-haired girl practically had stars in her eyes.

'She would have thought it was amazing no matter what,' Aiko thought dryly. 'It was made by her precious Sasuke-kun. Can't help but notice that I'm getting no credit.'

There was some truth to Sakura's claim, however. "If only I had known you could cook like this earlier…" Aiko gave a long, luxurious stretch. The brunette turned his face away abruptly, but both girls could see the flush on his neck. They exchanged a rare, smug smile. "Hey Naruto, take care of the dishes."

"Why me?" he protested crossly, swinging back up.

The three kids who had worked on dinner simultaneously raised one eyebrow- the left for Sasuke and Sakura, the right on Aiko.

He scoffed. "Ugh, fine." With a clatter he gathered up the dirty plates and trudged off to the kitchen.

The room was momentarily awkward. Aiko felt like rolling her eyes- none of them knew how to interact outside of training and missions. 'How did Sakura get stuck with an entire team of socially awkward weirdoes?' Unfortunately, that category included herself, so she didn't really know how to break up the tension.

The girl might have been wondering the same thing.

"Ah, Aiko-san, thank you for helping us get ready." She inclined her head politely, and when the light caught green eyes on the way back up and glittered Aiko suddenly saw just what her otouto found so appealing about this girl.

"You're welcome, Sakura-chan. I'm really hoping all goes well for you three tomorrow." Her tone was a little wistful when she added, "I'm really hoping to get some good missions again. This last month has kind of been a bummer."

Sasuke snorted indelicately. "Couldn't possibly have been much worse than what Kakashi put us through." If anyone else had said that, Sakura would probably have protested. As it was, she merely looked a little uncomfortable.

"Sasuke-kun is right!" she declared. "I think he gets way too much fun out of tormenting us."

"You wanna bet?" Aiko asked jokingly. "I bet I have worse Sensei stories than you do."

Even Sakura looked skeptical. Aiko waved a hand sincerely. "No, really, it's true. You guys are benefitting from him having two years experience training a subordinate. When he first became my teacher… It was bad. Has he had you break into other ninja's houses yet?"

Big green eyes went even wider. "Isn't that illegal," Sakura asked, sounding scandalized.

Aiko curled and uncurled her toes inside her nice, warm boots, cursing the chilly morning air that raised goosebumps along her uncovered arms. She was the only one stationed in the central tower. Anko was likely running last minute preparations before she went to collect the ducklings from Ibiki.

Static hissed in her headset and she grimaced, pulling it slightly away from her ear. Not so much that she couldn't hear if someone else got on the frequency, however. She was one of only a few on that channel for the day, along with Anko and a squad that would be circling the training ground to make sure nothing got out of hand. Hours passed. Her headset clicked on and Anko's voice filtered through, sounding tinny.

"Midgets are on the move."

A male voice crackled on. "Mitarashi-san, you are supposed to say 'over' when you are finished transmitting. Over."

"Suck some big hairy balls, over."

Aiko snorted, and then gave a quick look around to make sure no one had heard. She was still alone. The sun had crawled along the skyline and at least an hour had passed before she heard signs of human life in person (the occasional reports on her headset didn't count. It was a mostly boring, methodical 'check in-check out' deal). Curious at who had made it to the tower so early, Aiko swung her legs over the railing of the curved staircase that lead all the way up to the top of the tower and allowed herself to go into a free falls head first, appreciating the feeling of air whipping over her face. She flipped midair to kick off of the wall and jump under the partial ceiling into the entry way.

Two of the three kids standing there looked at her curiously. Aiko grinned, leaning forward cheekily. "Hey, Kunoichi-san, shinobi-san! I remember you from Suna, two years ago. Whose your cute friend?"

The blonde who could only be Temari turned a thoroughly unbecoming shade of red.

'This is probably a really stupid idea,' she thought happily. 'Teasing Gaara is a downright awful idea.' It was awful… and she loved it.

Her fellow redhead turned to look at her for the first time (and he was REALLY a redhead, not like Kankuro's reddish brown). Well. It was more of a 'glare' than a 'look', she decided, popping her gum. Semantics.

"You're the first team in. I take it this was no trouble, then?"

"Mitarashi-san, we have trouble. Over."

Aiko stiffened, missing whatever Kankuro was saying. "Just a minute," she said distractedly, holding one hand to her ear to better position the headset. Temari gave her a rude look, turning away to confer with Kankuro about the scrolls. She heard the summoning go off, but didn't feel the urge to check her work.

"What is it, shitstain?"

"Bodies by the fifth gate, but they're like nothing I've ever seen. Their faces are just gone, like they melted off. I don't know who could do something like this. Over."

There was a long moment of silence on the headset and distracting chatter from whatever idiot chuunin had come to tell the sand kids they had passed. She crossed the room, listening intently, all but holding her breath.

"I do," Anko said, sounding more serious than Aiko had ever heard. She shivered. 'It's starting.' Aiko had been waiting anxiously, half-expecting that nothing would happen and the exam would go fine. "I want a full ANBU team. I'm heading in. That's Orochimaru's work, I bet anything. That fucker is in the forest."

Aiko clicked on her headset. "Permission to rendezvous, Mitarashi-san? Over."

"Fuck no," came the irritated reply. There was a short pause. Aiko found with mild surprise that her fingers were actually shaking where they were pressed against her fingers. "Actually, you can help. Soak the whole fucking forest and direct me to the biggest, baddest chakra signature in it."

"Understood, over."

She decisively turned her attention from the headset, surveying the room again. Kankuro was giving her a wary look as he trudged up the stairs behind his siblings. "Kunoichi-san!" Temari turned, a sneer on her face. "You and your team should be careful. We have an S-class criminal in the forest killing genin for some kami-forsaken reason." As the girl blanched, Aiko leapt ahead of the group, taking the stairs at a sprint, planning on going to the very top level. "Could I get your help for a moment?"

"You need my help in the shower room," Temari said flatly, looking almost literally deflated. It apparently wasn't the action she'd hoped for. Aiko ignored the attitude, leaping to the window and drawing her fist back to punch once, twice, and it shattered on the third blow, exploding mostly out into the forest. "Hey, what the hell-"

"Turn on all the faucets. Now." Aiko kicked the last bit of glass out from the edges and grabbed the sides, ignoring how it cut into her hands. "I'm going to siphon it outside. Leave it on and try to prevent flooding in the tower until I ask you to turn it off, okay?"

The other girl reluctantly followed directions, letting the water build up. Aiko flipped out onto the roof, landing on the roof like some kind of gargoyle. She took a long breath, and held, finding her center and preparing for a sustained technique. Then she reached for all the water below her, ripping it from the showers, drains, and speeding it out of the pipes. Something broke, but she calmly ignored Temari's shriek and subsequent cursing. She whipped her arms out to the sides, sweat forming as she accumulated a massive glob of liquid in front of her and infused it with her chakra.

Then she made it rain, all the way out to the gates and stretching into Konoha proper for good measure. Chakra signatures ping-ping-pinged on her radar- familiar and unfamiliar, ANBU, Anko, a veritable fuck ton of weak little genin, her brother… and.

"Holy shit."

Aiko clicked on her headset. "Anko, thirty degrees west of your position, about a mile out." Her voice cracked. "He's with my brother's team."

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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