vortexting

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I’m sure you’ve seen this before but it’s a really cool reference for how freaking big whales are. Obviously the whole “almost eating diver” thing is bs but it’s still a pretty cool video.

That’s a great size comparison. I can’t confidently tell what species these whales are, but uh… that’s why you don’t get in the water with whales. They’re eating the school of small fish, and the surface gape-and-swallow is a totally normal feeding strategy. That’s not something you want to be in the water with. They’d likely avoid ‘eating’ you because they’re filter feeders and you’d get stuck and be uncomfortable, but they’re still huge and covered in barnacles and able to stun you with a bump, and their mouths closing like that create quite a vortext of water that could knock a diver around. 

(I’m not immediately inclined to condemn this video because something about their setup makes me think this might be a research team, although I can’t say quite what. However, it’s still a really risky thing to be doing even if there’s a legitimate reason). 

enchanterpentaghast  asked:

Missy/Clara (obviously). Number 5 - hard to pick just one. ;)

Clara couldn’t believe she had let her mates talk her into this. 

Sure, they’d been badgering her to ‘get back on that horse’ now it had been eighteen months since Danny’s death, (Laura had been spending far too much time in Texas, hence the awful cowboy-Western platitudes constantly escaping her vocal chords), but in-between work, her travels with the Doctor and well…other things, dating again was the furthest thing from her mind.

As if she even could. She hadn’t been lying when she told the Doctor there was only two men for her. As much as she missed Danny, for five minutes a day just like he told- ordered- her to do, she was truly content and fulfilled in the platonic but intensely loving relationship she had with the Doctor.

Of course, she had needs, like most people, but she didn’t need to date for that. Especially not right now…

Clara pulled her thoughts away from that particular avenue, just in case she started blushing and her date for the night mistook it for encouragement. Or, heaven forbid, a sign that she actually liked him!

He was a decent enough bloke, handsome in that ordinary way, steady job, good prospects. Sweet, attentive, interested. But just so boring.

She supposed an ex-soldier turned Maths teacher and intergalactic punk rocker/rebel Time Lord had ruined her for normal men. That, and the other thing…

Clara sighed, cupping her chin in one hand as Mr. Decent-And-Boring droned on and on about his gap year spent backpacking around Asia. He’d taken her to a very proper, high-class establishment in the City. It wasn’t a patch on robbing a bank. She supposed it was a sign of her decaying sanity, that that thought didn’t even worry her anymore.

She was staunchly refusing to give in to the urge to take a very large swig of her wine - pinot grigio, serviceable but bland, she’d been rather spoiled lately - and let her eyes roam around the restaurant.

She glimpsed a flash of madcap purple and dark curl, and sat upright from her lethargic slump. Oh God, not here…

“Hey, you okay?” Mr. Decent-And-Boring asked, concernedly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Clara muttered, finally giving in to the urge to take a big gulp of wine. She practically drained the glass. “I think I just need to use the ladies’ room!”

She didn’t give her date time to reply, eyes tracking that flash of purple through the crowd of diners towards the bathrooms. She knew she’d hear her. Gallifreyan hearing, God she hated it.

Clara found herself self-consciously tugging down the skirt of her dress as she skipped between tables, feeling the admiring glances of both male and female diners as she passed. She was wearing a particularly form-fitting dress that ended just above her knees, not too daring but hardly something her Granny would wear. She didn’t want to give the poor man false hope, after all.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to encourage this either. This, the other thing in her life, the thing she couldn’t entirely explain or justify, this twisted parody of an actual relationship.

Her thing with Missy.

Just as Clara went to turn down the corridor to the toilets, she felt her arm snatched in a tight, icy hold. She was dragged sideways into a supply cupboard, dark and claustrophobic. After that terrifying experience in the Dalek, thanks to Missy, she’d been having issues with small, dark, enclosed spaces in recent weeks.

Just as Clara felt her heart rate start to rise, her eyes blindly searching the impenetrable darkness surrounding her, she felt lips pressing hungrily against her own. 

Gladly, Clara pushed aside her panic and fell into the kiss. A distinctly feminine moan welled up against her lips, as Clara blindly groped in the dark, feeling her way across a shoulder, then a neck, fabric giving way to soft, cool skin and then into familiar silken, tightly bound curls. The other hand she used to search for the light switch.

Clara felt herself pressed back into something hard and cold, uncomfortably digging into her shoulder blades and thighs. A hand slid up Clara’s thigh, her hand pausing in its search for the lights as a shiver raced down her spine. The lips accosting hers abruptly left, but Clara could barely manage more than a moan as the hand on her thigh disappeared, to be replaced by a skirted leg roughly pressing between hers, a hand materialising around the nape of her neck, tipping it back. Teeth rasped against her jaw, before trailing lower, an achingly familiar voice echoing in the sultry darkness.

“Have you ever fantasised about being dragged into a cupboard for a steamy liasion with a complete stranger?” the voice asked, as Clara frantically searched for that light switch with urgent fingers. She found it, and flicked it.

Doe brown met icy blue, as a familiar, predatory smile spread across scarlet-painted lips. “Well, maybe not a stranger…” Missy murmured seductively.

“Missy,” Clara gasped, half in relief, half in exasperation. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl drop in for a quickie with her lover?” the Time Lady replied, snaring Clara’s hands and pinning them to the metal shelving behind her. Clara felt her pulse quicken to a sprint, her heart pounding.

“We’re not lovers,” she gasped as Missy rocked her hips into Clara. Whatver they were, love didn’t come into it. “Why are you really here?”

“Oh poppet, you wound these tender hearts of mine,” Missy replied mockingly. 

“I thought we agreed to meet later,” Clara continued, trying hard to think clearly through the morass of lust Missy was quickly immersing her in. Her teeth were nipping at the sensitive skin under Clara’s jaw, and she fought to hold in a moan.

“Boring,” Missy whined, pouting as she raised her head to stare at Clara. “Aren’t you glad I came along to save you from Mr. Dull-And-Boring?”

Her thoughts eerily echoed Clara’s own. “He’s not dull, he’s…decent,” she protested weakly. “And glad’s not exactly the way I’d phrase it.”

“Whatever,” Missy replied, returning her attention to Clara’s neck, laying a trail of biting kisses down its length. “Is that why you’re so…fetchingly dressed?”

“I like to look good,” Clara scoffed. “I only went out with him to get my friends off my back.”

A thought occurred to her then, and it was both disquieting and rather amusing. “Wait, are you jealous?” she asked, incredulous. 

“Hah! Jealous, me?” Missy snorted. “Over what? A pudding-brained ape attempting one of your bizarre mating rituals? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all century.”

But Clara had become distinctly better at reading the Mistress since those hectic hours on Skaro. She could recognise when she was angry, afraid, calculating, suspicious. When she was happy, sad, or lonely.

A particularly hard bite to her neck reinforced Clara’s suspicions. Missy was jealous, and a jealous Missy didn’t bode well for anyone in the restaurant. God knows, Clara barely survived her jealousy when it was turned on her after they’d saved the Doctor on Skaro. 

That Missy had nothing to be jealous about was beside the point. She wasn’t remotely interested in Mr. Dull-Boring-And-Decent. Also the fact that Clara should be either running screaming from the building, or seeking therapy, at the thought that Missy’s jealousy was actually rather amusing and slightly adorable was beside the point too.

Luckily Clara knew the most expedient way out of this too. She leant her head down, so her lips brushed Missy’s ear and moaned. She felt a shudder rush through the Time Lady, and did it again, adding a nip to her ear for good measure. It worked.

Missy’s lips were on hers again a second later, and although she wouldn’t let her have her hands, Clara took full advantage, pressing herself wantonly against Missy, moaning into their kiss. Every single gesture, every kiss and caress from Missy screamed ‘Mine, mine, mine’, and although they needed to have a talk about that - Clara belonged to no one, she wasn’t a toy to be owned - it was also making her hotter and wetter than she’d been in her life before.

When Missy finally deigned to let Clara breathe, she let her head fall back to rest against the metal shelving. “Mistress,” she gasped, almost choking down air. The things that woman could do with her tongue…

“This place is a drag,” Missy smirked, somewhat placated by how helpless Clara was in her arms. But the flush in her cold skin and the reciprocal dampness Clara could feel against her thigh betrayed her own arousal. “Let’s go somewhere else for dessert.”

Clara both wanted to groan in despair at that innuendo - seriously?- and moan in anticipation. She settled for something between the two, reaching up to kiss Missy one last time before she forced their lips to part. “Fine. Meet you at home in twenty?” she asked. “You’re going to have to let my hands go if you want me to ditch my date.”

Missy smirked, satisfied. “But you do look so delicious like that,” she purred, releasing Clara’s hands only to trail her nails down the soft skin of Clara’s forearms. Clara had a sneaking position she knew what horrendously decadent and sensual position she’d be forced into tonight to placate Missy.

She could hardly wait.

Clara bolted from the cupboard as soon as Missy stepped back, lest she give in to the temptation to just stay in that cupboard with her, and finish what they started. But it had no lock, and while Clara liked experimenting, exhibitionism was still a bit outside her comfort zone.

She charmed and cajoled her way through ditching Mr. Dull-Decent-And-Boring, smiling prettily and making up a simple lie about a family emergency and needing to rush home. She even distracted him long enough to slip her half of the bill onto the table and left him smiling. Not bad, Oswald.

As Clara turned away from him, her coat draped over one arm, she spotted the familiar flare of a vortext manipulator’s dematerialisation and a flash of purple, in the corridor where the cupboard had been. She smiled as she walked outside into the chilly night air, not regretting dumping her date for even a nanosecond, however nice he’d been.

She had far more tantalising prospects for dessert.