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girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

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hephaestus cabin headcanons

children of hephaestus

• OIL, SOOT, and GREASE STAINS EVERYWHERE.

• the have the most intense games of hide-and-seek in bunker 9.

• a lot of them lose limbs, become disabled in some way, or are born that way, and they often use it as a reason to build themselves cool robot prostheses and other tools to help them get around.

• along with the athena cabin, they come up with weapons and armory specifically for disabled demigods.

• they build advanced prosthetics for campers who have lost limbs in battle.

• they’re warmer than most demigods, even if they don’t have fire powers.

• they always know when someone is in need of a weapon and they just create it without thinking about it. like they just know when someone needs a weapon before they ask for it.

• they're the only ones who can pick out stuff from hephaestus's junkyard without getting hurt.

• everything, the cabin, the forge, the bunker, is 100% handicap accessible.

• they worked with the athena and hecate cabins to upgrade bunker 9 to allow better lighting, safer rooms, new areas to test weapons, etc. they wanted it to feel like an underground space station.

• they name each of their tools and inventions.

• on birthdays, they give each other personalized gadgets that solve everyday problems, like a self-tying shoelace or a self-stirring spoon.

• they design and wear fireproof clothing.

• they actually have numerous secret hideouts and mini-workshops hidden around camp half-blood (bunker 9 is the only one we know about).

• they keep detailed journals filled with sketches, ideas, and notes about their inventions, passing them down through generations of hephaestus kids.

• they build small, mechanical pets or companions that help them with tasks around the forge, each one with a unique personality programmed in.

• they all have a set of personalized tools that they've crafted themselves, often with special engravings or modifications to suit their style.

• they have made so many modifications to their cabin over the years that none of the original material is still there, and there’s a constant debate at camp as to weather it’s still the same cabin.

cabin exterior

• the cabin has an industrial look, with a mix of metals like iron, copper, and steel. rivets, bolts, and exposed beams are prominent features.

• life-sized metal automatons, resembling ancient greek warriors and mythical creatures, stand guard at the entrance.

• they have created intricate metal sculptures that decorate the cabin’s exterior. these range from small, detailed pieces to larger, more abstract art.

• the entrance has large, reinforced double doors, that are automated.

• these doors swing open smoothly despite their weight.

• they have a pulley system for lifting heavy materials, a retractable awning for shade, and a mechanical clock tower that chimes periodically.

cabin interior

• the floor is covered in spare parts and tools that never get picked up (unless somebody wants to use them for something).

• they have underground bunkers for bedrooms.

• the walls are adorned with gears, cogs, and blueprints of various inventions. some of the gears are part of intricate mechanisms that move or serve as storage spaces.

• their cabin has several fire extinguishers and a state-of-the-art ventilation system to manage the smoke and fumes from the forges.

• emergency buttons are strategically placed around the cabin to shut down all machinery in case of accidents.

cabin traditions

• every month they hold a competition to see who can make a device that fits a certain theme.

• they’re judged by a panel of five consisting of the head counselors of hephaestus, athena, hecate, and a volunteer counselor, as well as chiron.

• each judge judges something different on a scale of 1-5: safety and usefulness, ease of use and functionality, utilization of magic, presentation/looks, and on-theme-ness. chiron calculates and delivers the final score, which is the total points given by the counselors.

• the winner receives a medal and bragging rights (until the next competition), as well as first pick when it comes to tools each morning.

• anyone in camp is allowed to participate (though it’s mostly just the hephaestus and athena kids) and contestants have a week to create their contraptions, during which they have access to all the tools and spare materials in the hephaestus workshop (and later bunker 9) that nobody has yet claimed (whether for the competition or not).

• the event is taken very seriously by everyone involved, and even athena and hephaestus have been known to show up from time to time to watch from the shadows, but they always watch from olympus.

divider by @anitalenia

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #pjo series #hoo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #hephaestus #vulcan #hephaestus cabin #cabin nine #cabin 9 #children of hephaestus

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littlesweetchurro · 2 months ago

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Malfunctioned

Chapter Four

Bakugou's eye twitched as he followed the receptionist down yet another winding hallway. How fucking big was this place? And why did it smell like burnt coffee and desperation?

"Here we are, sir," the woman chirped, gesturing to a door at the end of the hall. "Your technician will be with you shortly."

He grunted in response, shouldering past her into the workshop. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click, leaving him alone in the chaos.

And chaos it was. Workbenches overflowed with half-finished projects and scattered tools. Blueprints and schematics papered the walls, covered in scribbled notes and calculations. The air hummed with the buzz of machinery and the faint scent of ozone.

Bakugou's lip curled. Looked like a fucking tornado had hit the place. How the hell was anyone supposed to work in this mess?

But as he looked closer, he started to see a method to the madness. Each workbench seemed dedicated to a specific project, the tools arranged for easy access. The blueprints on the walls were grouped by hero, their notes color-coded and organized.

It was chaos, yeah, but it was efficient chaos.

Things were better cleanly organized.

He prowled the perimeter of the room, eyes sharp for any sign of incompetence. A half-assembled gauntlet caught his attention, its inner workings exposed. He leaned in for a closer look. The design was intricate, the craftsmanship precise. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

A loud crash from the hallway made him whip around. The door flew open, revealing a woman struggling with an armful of equipment.

"Sorry about that!" she called over her shoulder to someone out of sight. "I've got it under control!"

She kicked the door shut behind her and turned, freezing when she saw him. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her face settled into a professional mask.

"Dynamight," she said, nodding in greeting as she dumped her load onto a nearby workbench. "I'm your assigned technician. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bakugou sized her up. She wasn't what he'd expected. No starry-eyed hero worship, no cowering at his reputation. Just cool professionalism.

"'Bout fucking time," he growled, crossing his arms. "You always keep your clients waiting?"

She didn't flinch at his tone, just raised an eyebrow. "Only the ones who show up early," she replied smoothly. "Now, I understand you're having issues with your gauntlets?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit. He was early.

"Yeah," he said, recovering quickly. He reached into his bag and pulled out the malfunctioning gear, tossing it onto the workbench. "Firing mechanism's fucked. Blasts are weak, misfiring all over the place. Fix it."

The technician's eyes lit up at the sight of the gauntlets, her hands already reaching for them. She tried to suppress a smile, but failed. Fucking nerd. "I see. And when did you first notice the issue? Was it a gradual decline in performance or a sudden malfunction?"

That was... actually a good question.

"Gradual," he admitted grudgingly. "Started about a month ago. Thought it was just wear and tear at first, but it kept getting worse."

She nodded, her fingers delicately dancing over the gauntlets as she examined them. "Any recent impacts or exposure to extreme temperatures? And how often do you clean the nitroglycerin storage system?"

"No impacts. Been careful with the temp since the last fuck-up. And I clean it after every patrol, what do you take me for, an amateur?"

The technician looked up, meeting his glare with a level gaze. "I take you for a professional who knows the importance of proper maintenance," she said. "Now, have you noticed any changes in the viscosity of your sweat when using the gauntlets?"

Who the fuck was this woman?

"Yeah, actually," he said slowly. "It's been thicker lately. Harder to ignite."

She nodded, her fingers moving to the ignition mechanism. "That could be part of the problem. The viscosity change might be throwing off the calibration. When was the last time you had the storage system's coating replaced?"

Bakugou scowled. "Coating? What fucking coating?"

The technician looked up, surprise flashed across her face, then vanished. "The hydrophobic coating on the interior of the storage system," she explained. "It prevents your sweat from adhering to the walls, ensuring smooth flow to the ignition point. It needs to be replaced periodically, especially with quirks as potent as yours."

Bakugou felt his face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and anger churning in his gut. How the fuck did he not know about this? And how did she know so much about his quirk?

"No one ever mentioned a fucking coating," he growled, his hands sparking.

The technician didn't even flinch at the small explosions. Instead, she just nodded, her focus already back on the gauntlets. "That explains a lot. The degradation of the coating would cause exactly the kind of issues you're experiencing. We'll need to strip it down, reapply the coating, and recalibrate the entire system."

She looked up at him, and smiled. "I can fix this, Dynamight. But it's going to take time, and I'm going to need your cooperation. Think you can handle that?"

Bakugou bristled at her tone, ready to snap back. But something in her steady gaze and confident posture made him pause. This wasn't some simpering fan or cowering technician. This was someone who knew her shit and wasn't afraid to call him on his.

Fucking finally someone competent.

"Fine," he growled, uncrossing his arms. "What do you need?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "First, I need you to tell me everything about how these gauntlets interact with your quirk. Leave nothing out, no matter how small it might seem. Can you do that?"

Bakugou scanned the tech's face. "Oh, I can do that. Question is, can you keep up?"

The technician's smile widened. "Try me."

You carefully lifted the gauntlet, cradling it like a newborn as your eyes drink in every detail. They were beautiful.

It was heavier than you had originally suspected— not good.

Your fingers traced the simple yet effective mechanisms.

"So, when you activate your quirk, does the nitroglycerin flow evenly through all channels, or do you notice any variance?" you asked, not taking your eyes off the equipment.

Dynamight scowled, his arms crossed tightly over his rather toned chest. "It's supposed to be even, but lately the left side's been weaker. And don't fucking manhandle it like that!"

"Relax. I'm not going to break it." You turned the gauntlet over, examining the ignition mechanism. "Though from the looks of it, someone's already done a number on these beauties."

His scowl deepened, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Just an observation. These modifications here," you pointed to a series of adjustments near the wrist, "they're not part of the original design, are they?"

His chest puffed out. "No," he growled, "but they improved the response time."

"Ah," you nodded, your tone dry. "That explains a lot."

His eyes narrowed dangerously and for a second you thought you fucked up. You were provoking a beast. A beast that easily blow up your measly quirkless, weak self. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You set the gauntlet down gently, meeting his glare with a level gaze. No use backing down now.

He wasn't about to intimate you in your space. "It means, Dynamight , that while your modifications are... creative, they've compromised the integrity of the original design. See here?" You pointed to a hairline crack in the casing. "And here? These stress points are weakening the entire structure."

The hero gritted his teeth, his hands clenching at his sides. "It fucking improved them!"

"You certainly tried ," you smirked. "But unless your goal was to turn these into wearable pipe bombs, I'd say you missed the mark."

He looked at you like you had just murdered his puppy. You darted your eyes to avoid looking at him. He literally was the embodiment of the expression if looks could kill.

"Who exactly did these modifications? Because whoever it was, they clearly didn't understand the delicate balance of the original design." You quickly added.

His scowl deepened, if that was even possible. He looked like he was about to explode - figuratively and possibly literally. "It was the head of my support department, Haruto. He said he could improve them."

You couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. "Well, Haruto did a horrible job. These alterations are amateur at best, dangerous at worst."

"The fuck did you just say?"

You met his glare head-on, you reminded yourself that you had not hurt his puppy nor were you responsible for this shitty job. "I said Haruto did a horrible job. Look," you pointed to the gauntlet, "he's compromised the structural integrity here and here. The flow regulators are completely off-balance, which explains why your left side feels weaker. And don't even get me started on the ignition timing."

You shook your head, genuinely appalled. This Haruto character should be embarrassed to have a hero wear this kind of crap. "Whoever this Haruto is, he clearly doesn't understand the complexities of your quirk or the precision required for this level of support gear. These modifications aren't just ineffective, they're potentially hazardous. One wrong move and these things could backfire spectacularly."

"So what the fuck are you saying? That I've been using fucked up gear this whole time?"

You nodded grimly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And frankly, it's a miracle you haven't had a serious malfunction yet."

For a moment, you thought he might actually explode and that this would the end to your short career. ' Death by being a smart ass', your headstone would read. His whole body tensed, small pops emanating from his palms. But then, to your surprise, he deflated, much like a balloon that had been sitting on the sun for a day too long.

"Just... fix the damn things," he growled.

And you lived another day.

You nodded, turning back to the gauntlets. As you bend over the workbench, you could feel his crimson eyes on you. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes tracked every moment, every time you touched something he leaned in a bit closer. It was… unnerving, it made you feel like a common criminal.

You cleared your throat. "So, about that left side weakness. When did you first notice it?"

As Dynamight launched into a detailed explanation, you let your eyes flick over to him. He was gesticulating wildly, his muscular arms flexing with each movement. Your gaze trailed down his body, taking in the way his hero costume clings to every defined muscle.

He definitely did not look like Rubber Man. Not that did that matter of course. All heroes were the same.

You shook your head, forcing your attention back to the task at hand. Focus, dammit. You're a professional not an ogling fan.

"...and then it just fucking sputtered out," Dynamight finished, glaring at the offending gauntlet.

You nodded, processing the information you did manage to get. "Alright, I think I see the problem. Or rather, problems. Plural."

His eyebrow twitched. "The fuck does that mean?"

You took a deep breath, no backing down, you reminded yourself. "It means, Dynamight, that these gauntlets are a mess. A beautiful, complex mess, but a mess nonetheless."

His hands spark dangerously. "Watch it, nerd."

You ignored the threat and the jab. "First off, the coating issue we discussed earlier? That's just the tip of the iceberg. The storage system is completely gunked up, which is throwing off the flow dynamics. Your modifications to the ignition system have created micro-fissures in the casing, which are letting in moisture and compromising the nitroglycerin's stability."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you plowed on. "The left side weakness? That's because your 'improvements' have put uneven stress on the firing mechanism. And don't even get me started on the calibration issues."

You paused meeting his furious red gaze. "Simply put, Dynamight, these gauntlets are accidents waiting to happen. You're lucky they haven't blown up in your face yet."

For a long moment, he didn't speak and all you could do was hold your breath. The explosion hero's face cycled through emotions, one quickly following the other. His anger was a wildfire, consuming his face. It was quickly replaced by a look of shock, indignation and finally disgust.

"So what the fuck do we do about it?" he demanded.

You grinned. "We fix it. More than that, we improve it. I've got some ideas that could take these from potential pipe bombs to precision instruments."

Dynamight leaned in and crossed his arms across his broad, hard chest. "Like what?"

"We can redesign the storage system to be more efficient, allowing for larger blasts without increasing the overall size. A new alloy for the casing would improve durability while reducing weight. And if we reconfigure the ignition mechanism, we could give you finer control over your explosions, maybe even allow for different types of blasts."

As you spoke, his anger faded, replaced by his brows furrowing together. He was following every word, occasionally nodding or frowning.

Good at least he had the brains to follow along.

"And the best part," you finished, slightly breathless, "is that we can incorporate some of your ideas too. That response time improvement? With a few tweaks, we can make it work without compromising the structural integrity."

He was quiet for a long moment, something you thought was impossible, his red eyes boring into you. You met his gaze steadily, even if you were sure he could explode you with his eyes.

People couldn't just get new quirks right? He couldn't blow you up with his eyes, right?

"How long?"

"Excuse me?"

"How long to make all these fucking changes?" he snapped.

Good question but God did he need to be so snappy about it?

"Given the extent of the work... two weeks, minimum. Probably closer to three."

Bakugo scowled. "Too fucking long. I need them for patrol."

You shook your head. "Sorry, not happening, Dynamight. These gauntlets aren't safe in their current condition. I won't rush the job and risk your safety."

He eyed you like you just kicked an old lady. "The fuck did you say?"

Fuck this guy and that tone of his.

"You heard me. I won't half-ass this job just because you're impatient. You want these gauntlets fixed and improved? Then you'll give me the time I need to do it right."

Hold your ground, damn it! Don't you dare give in!

For a tense moment, you though he might actually attack you. He could probably get away with murder, that is if there was still a body behind. But then, to your surprise, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Fine," he growled. "Three weeks. But they better be fucking perfect when you're done."

And you live another day.

"Trust me, Dynamight. When I'm done with these, they'll be more than perfect. They'll be explosive."

#fanfic #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #pro heroes #fem reader #reader insert #boku no hero academia

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Over the past few years, the United States has become the go-to location for companies seeking to suck carbon dioxide out of the sky. There are a handful of demonstration-scale direct air capture (DAC) plants dotted across the globe, but the facilities planned in Louisiana and Texas are of a different scale: They aim to capture millions of tons of carbon dioxide each year, rather than the dozens of tons or less captured by existing systems.

The US has a few things going for it when it comes to DAC: It has the right kind of geological formations that can store carbon dioxide pumped underground, it has an oil and gas industry that knows a lot about drilling into that ground, and it has federal grants and subsidies for the carbon capture industry. The projects in Louisiana and Texas are supported by up to $1.05 billion in Department of Energy (DOE) funds, and the projects will be eligible for tax credits of up to $180 per ton of carbon dioxide stored.

“It’s quite clear that the United States is the leader in policy to support this nascent sector,” says Jason Hochman, executive director at the Direct Air Capture Coalition, a nonprofit that works to accelerate the deployment of DAC technology. “At the same time, it’s nowhere near where it needs to be to get on track—to the scale we need to get to net zero.”

But support for carbon storage is far from guaranteed. Project 2025, the nearly thousand-page Heritage Foundation policy blueprint for a second Trump presidency, would dramatically roll back policies that support the DAC industry and carbon capture more generally. The Project 2025 Mandate for Leadership document proposes eliminating the DOE’s Office for Clean Energy Demonstrations, which provides funds for DAC facilities and carbon capture projects, and also calls out the 45Q tax credit that supports DAC as well as carbon capture, usage, and storage—filtering and storing carbon dioxide emitted by power plants and heavy industry. (The Heritage Foundation did not respond to WIRED’s request for comment.)

Sucking carbon out of the sky is not uncontroversial—not least because of the oil and gas industry’s involvement in the sector—but the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s Sixth Assessment Report says that using carbon dioxide removal to balance emissions from sectors like aviation and agriculture is unavoidable if we want to achieve net zero. Carbon dioxide removal can mean planting trees and sequestering carbon in soil, but a technology like DAC is attractive because it’s easy to measure how much carbon you’re sequestering, and stored carbon should stay locked up for a very long time, which isn’t necessarily the case with forests and soil.

As DAC technology is so new, and the facilities constructed so far are small, it’s still extremely expensive to remove carbon from the atmosphere this way. Estimated costs for extracting carbon go from hundreds of dollars per ton to in excess of $1,000—although Google just announced it is paying $100 for DAC removal credits for carbon that will be sequestered in the early 2030s. On top of that, large-scale DAC plants are likely to cost hundreds of millions to billions of dollars to build.

That’s why government support like the DOE Regional DAC Hubs program is so important, says Jack Andreasen at Breakthrough Energy, the Bill Gates–founded initiative to accelerate technology to reach net zero. “This gets projects built,” he says. The Bipartisan Infrastructure Law signed in 2021 set aside $3.5 billion in federal funds to help the construction of four regional DAC hubs. This is the money that is going into the Louisiana and Texas projects.

Climeworks is one of the companies working on the Louisiana DAC hub, which is eligible for up to $550 million in federal funding. Eventually, the facility aims to capture more than 1 million tons of carbon dioxide each year and store it underground. “If you do want to build an industry, you cannot do it with demo projects. You have to put your money where your mouth is and say there are certain projects that should be eligible for a larger share of funding,” says Daniel Nathan, chief project development officer at Climeworks. When the hub starts sequestering carbon, it will be eligible to claim up to $180 for each ton of carbon stored, under tax credit 45Q, which was extended under the Inflation Reduction Act.

These tax credits are important because they provide long-term support for companies actually sequestering carbon from the atmosphere. “What you have is a guaranteed revenue stream of $180 per ton for a minimum of 12 years,” says Andreasen. It’s particularly critical given that the costs of capturing and storing a ton of carbon dioxide are likely to exceed the market rate of carbon credits for a long time. Other forms of carbon removal, notably planting forests, are much cheaper than DAC, and removal offsets also compete with offsets for renewable energy, which avoid emitting new emissions. Without a top-up from the government, it’s unlikely that a market for DAC sequestration would be able to sustain itself.

Most of the DAC industry experts WIRED spoke to thought there was little political appetite to reverse the 45Q tax credit—not least because it also allows firms to claim a tax credit for using carbon dioxide to physically extract more oil from existing reservoirs. They were more worried, however, about the prospect that existing DOE funds set aside for DAC and other projects might not be allocated under a future administration.

“I do think a slowing down of the DOE is a possibility,” says Andreasen. “That just means the money takes longer to get out, and that is not great.” Katie Lebling at the World Resources Institute, a sustainability nonprofit, agrees, saying there is a risk that unallocated funds could be slowed down and stalled if a new administration looked less favorably on carbon removal.

The Heritage Foundation doesn’t just doubt the carbon removal industry—it is openly skeptical about climate change, writing in one report that observed warming could only “theoretically” be due to the burning of fossil fuels, and that “this claim cannot be demonstrated through science.” In its Project 2025 plan, the foundation says the “government should not be picking winners and losers and should not be subsidizing the private sector to bring resources to market.”

But without government support, the private sector would never develop technologies like DAC, says Jonas Meckling, an associate professor at UC Berkeley and climate fellow at Harvard Business School. The same was true of the solar industry, Meckling says. “You cannot start an industry with a societal good in mind unless you get governments to take an active role,” says Nathan of Climeworks.

While there are some question marks over the future of DOE grants for DAC, the industry appeals to legislators on both sides of the aisle. The Texas DAC hub is being built by 1PointFive, a subsidiary of Occidental Petroleum, and both DOE projects are located in firmly red states. When it was announced that DOE DAC hubs funding would be spent in Louisiana, Senator Bill Cassidy said: “Carbon capture opens a new era of energy and manufacturing dominance for Louisiana. It is the future of job creation and economic development for our state.”

In the long run, Nathan says, the aim is for DAC to be viable on its own economic terms. In time, he says, that will mean regulation that requires industries to pay for carbon removal—a stricter version of emissions-trading schemes that already exist in places like California and the European Union. Eventually, that should lead to a place where the direct air industry no longer requires government support to remove carbon from the atmosphere at scale. “I’m looking at the fundamentals, and those aren’t driven by who’s in office,” Nathan says.

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not-so-local-lesbian · 19 days ago

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I know the chances of people seeing this are slim to none, but would anyone be interested in an elaborate, color-coded, graphed, and screenshotted shed layout for Stardew?

(most of the organization systems I found a while back were split up by general categories, so I made one that was way more detailed because I’m autistic and I have specific ways of doing things)

If you wanna be updated please reply your user and/or DM me, so I can @ you later !

If you put yes, immeidately, please DM me, and I'll give you the blueprints, graph, and screenshotted version :)

I have my blueprints, graph, screenshot, etc, but since this is vaguely popular, I’m gonna convert it into a PDF, so it’s more concise and accessible 🤍

#stardew valley #sdv #Stardew valley organization #stardew valley organization system #stardew valley chest organization #stardew valley chest room #Stardew valley shed ideas #Stardew valley organization ideas #stardew valley storage system #Stardew valley storage shed #stardew valley storage

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delicatemusickingdom · 4 months ago

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Book 2 Part 3 Chapter 2.3

Chapter 2.3

There was new activity in the lower quarter. The officials had returned. This time, however, there weren’t many of them. In exchange, they brought along several dozen workers, and wagons loaded with materials and equipment. It was clear that they had come here for some kind of construction work, and indeed that was how it was.

The officials spread out maps of the whole area and papers that looked like blueprints, and issued instructions to the workers. The workers got to work, swinging their pickaxes, and they started to dig up the roads.

The residents had not been informed of the officials’ business in the lower quarter this time either. But now the place where they lived was being tinkered with right before their eyes — they could no longer stay silent. Hank approached the official who had issued the instructions and spoke.

“Excuse me. May I ask what you’re doing here? If it has anything to do with our daily lives here, could you tell us what it is?”

His words were polite and calm, but the official didn’t even look up from the blueprints. Maybe he was pretending not to hear due to the noise of the construction work.

A shadow suddenly fell over those blueprints. The official’s eyes snapped up, and immediately his gaze was trapped by a pair of blazing stars. Standing right behind Hanks was a large, towering, almost tree-like figure — Jiri. The twin stars were burning in her eyes.

“You may be a busy man, but surely you could answer at least one question of ours? What are you doing to our streets?”

Not particularly glaring, but neither was she smiling, Jiri gazed down coldly at the official and said. But the official could sense the metaphorical giant club raised in the air. Or maybe the feeling was more akin to a fierce, wild beast about to pounce on him. Faced with this unexpected intimidation, the official forgot all about the authority he held.

“It— It’s to draw water.”

Hanks glanced behind him, a troubled smile on his face, but soon returned his gaze to the official.

“Water? You mean here, in the lower quarter?”

“That’s right. We’re repairing the remains that have fallen into disrepair, and then we’ll channel water from the citizens’ quarter to here.”

The official then seemed to come to his senses and cleared his throat, before returning his gaze to the blueprints and falling silent again; as if to cover up the fact that he had been intimidated into answering them without thinking.

“Ahh, so we’ll finally have a working water system down here!”

“It was worth it, enduring the census.”

“I wonder how it will be done? Will it be channeled through each house one by one? Well, even if it’s just one place, not needing to travel back and forth between the waterfall would help a lot.”

The news that Hanks and Jiri brought back caused a stir among the people of the lower quarter.

“I hope so.”

Jiri’s murmur only reached Hanks’s ears. Hanks didn’t say anything, only closing his eyes and giving a slight shake of his head.

****

Sure enough, there was water. And it was right in the middle of Fountain Alley, too. It had been a few weeks since construction had begun.

The residents gathered in the plaza watched with bated breath as the officials, workers, and people who looked like engineers rushed about busily. Eventually, clear water gushed out, glittering in the air, and cheers erupted from not just the residents, but from the workers as well — though they were quickly silenced when an official glared at them.

The water was coming out of what remained of a fountain at the centre of the plaza, which had once been nothing more than a storage area for the residents of the lower quarter. No — it was no longer what ‘remained’ of a fountain. Its function, and even its decorations had been restored, and now it was a splendid, fully functional fountain.

From the fountain’s central base, water poured out in a torrent, flowing endlessly into its surrounding basin. In the abundantly-filled basin, the water’s surface sparkled as it reflected the sunlight.

“It’s a fountain! Huh, so it really was a fountain.”

No one in the lower quarter had ever seen such a sight before, and someone among the onlookers cried out in excitement.

Jiri, who had been staring at the fountain along with the rest, narrowed her eyes. Behind the curtain of spouting water, a corner of the fountain’s base glowed a pale blue-white light.

“That’s— Now that’s a surprise. That’s a core.”

“Core?”

Yuri parroted her words back at her as a question, and Jiri nodded.

“It’s the central component of a blastia. A blastia can’t work without one. So that fountain was an antique blastia body, huh? I would never have guessed.”

Unlike the rest of the residents who were getting heated up with excitement, Jiri’s voice was dispassionate. Maybe everything wasn’t as it looked, and there was something else that could provide a hint as to what was happening in secret. Yuri strained his eyes to look. He didn’t know what it would be, but he didn’t want to let his guard down.

His eyes caught sight of something. Beyond the fountain, further beyond where the officials were gathered and operating, at the foot of the slope leading towards the citizens’ quarter.

A carriage, drawn by two horses, and accompanied by attendants — Godonan.

****

“Well done. Now we have obtained yet another piece of evidence that the report was correct. Do you not agree?”

Saying that in high spirits, Godonan climbed into the carriage without waiting for his attendants to express their approval.

“That’s the keystone we need. Now we can proceed with the plan without worry — Let us depart.

As soon as the attendant closed the carriage door the carriage began to move, heading back towards the castle walls.

****

Although they themselves treated the residents of the lower quarter with much contempt, the officials looked visibly relieved to see the carriage leave. Perhaps they had been worried the fountain would not work properly. But the water had come out, and the carriage had left. The officials had done what they came here to do. They gathered up the equipment they had brought, and, once again, the group left without saying a word to the residents of the lower quarter.

What was left were the residents, and the fountain that continued to produce water.

“A fountain, eh? No wonder they were digging up the roads, and didn’t touch our houses at all.”

Jiri’s words broke the ice, and the other residents started talking.

“I wonder if water will be channelled to each and every house from now on? Or, don’t tell me — we’re supposed to drink from this fountain?”

“You may be right. It would take a lot of time and money to do construction work on all the houses. I don’t think they’d be willing to go that far.”

“This is good enough, no? From what I can see, the water looks clean. I’m happy enough that we don’t have to go all the way to the waterfall.”

Hanks approached the fountain. He put his hand into the basin, scooped up some water, and brought it to his mouth.

“Wait, what if it’s not safe —”

Flynn, who had been watching, cried out without thinking, but Hanks only slightly tilted his head to the side. He swirled the water around in his mouth, savouring its taste well. Then he swallowed it. Flynn, Yuri, and everyone else watched him closely, waiting to see what his reaction was.

“Hmm, it doesn’t smell, and there’s no strange taste to it. In fact, it’s much better compared to river water. It’s probably better to wait and see for a day or two just in case, but apparently this water was drawn from the water system in the citizens’ quarter in the first place, so it should be fine.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Among them, the only person who was staring at Hanks with their usual unchanged expression, Jiri, spoke up.

“Well then, if my husband is still alive and well tomorrow, let’s all help ourselves to this water.

But a woman spoke up, worried.

“But Jiri, are you sure this is okay? We don’t know for sure if this fountain is meant to be a replacement for the water system here, right? If the officials take issue with this later…”

“Then those officials should have said something earlier, not later. Something like ‘Drinking from the fountain’s water is prohibited’. But those guys left without saying anything. Rather than worrying about what the officials think, I think we should be more concerned about whether this water really is safe to drink.”

“I agree. If you’re really worried, there’s always the option of drinking from water taken from the waterfall, as we always have been. We can make a decision after seeing if I drop dead or not.”

Upon hearing Hanks’s ill-omened words, for a moment, Jiri grimaced. Even though you also said some pretty terrible words yourself — Yuri thought, but didn’t say out aloud. It was probably some kind of inside joke specific to the two of them, and he didn’t want to go out of his way to eat her fist.

Besides, there was something else that bothered him. Even if the fountain’s water was safe to drink, Yuri didn’t think that this was the end of it.

Prev | Index | Next

#Tales of Vesperia #Tales of Vesperia: Genealogy of the Condemned #Danzaisha no Keifu #Genealogy of the Condemned #delicate posts #delicate translations

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leftnotright · 6 months ago

Text

PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus. (Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei

Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira

Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

CHAPTER 10: DO YOU GOT ROOM FOR ONE MORE TROUBLED SOUL

The Vindice was the culmination of parts. The chewed-up, spat out parts of what remained of the Best the world had to offer. The Giants of their time, whose shoulders now act as the stairs of success, steep and treacherous. In the same manner, the Vindice was the culmination of broken, dazzling minds.

Bermuda Von Vichtenstein was no stranger to eccentrics, in a past life he had dabbled his fair share, and his kin were cut from the same cloth.

But these men. These men that Ryohei Sasagawa had dragged in, sopping with an untimely downpour, were unbearable.

Verde, the supposed hidden trump card, all but crawled over the metal skeletons, getting shoe-marks on the fresh weld and jostling the delicate wiring. On his knees, Verde turned components around and upside down, inspecting everything like some sort of uncouth child would a shiny seashell. Only it was the very fragile, very important pieces of the Machine.

Water splashed Bermuda’s cheek and he bristled.

Reborn, the pest, slicked his wet hair back from his face with all the pomp and flamboyance of a preening peacock. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over his arm, exposing his dress shirt that had turned tastefully transparent. He was dripping water on the floor. He hadn’t even wiped his sandy shoes.

Ryohei Sasagawa, the instigator, grinned at the two things he had brought upon Bermuda, joyous in his ‘progress’.

“Do you know where we have more copper solder?”

“Storage 3.”

“Ah, good. I’m so glad we’re labelling the rooms now.”

“Truly, it makes life so much simpler.”

Bermuda didn’t react.

Instead, Bermuda gritted his teeth against the loud clapping that came from Verde as he sat upon the floor, his glasses still rain-dotted and shoes crunchy with gravel and sand.

“Give me my design!” He called out, fisting a pen out of his pocket as his socks squelched. “Blueprints! Notes, surely you have them, I would never create something without the relevant calculations.”

“You’ll have to ask their code breakers, Verde. It seems even the Vindice cannot distinguish your chicken scratch,” Reborn chimed idly, then he stopped, blinked, and looked at his watch. “Ah, right on time. Pardon me, dear Ryohei, I hate to leave you in such lacking company, but I’ve something to pick up.”

“Sure! Oh, dude, while you’re up there, could you swing by nonna Hellena’s shop? She’s got that dinner I ordered waiting for us,” Ryohei said, and rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Will do,” Reborn inclined his head before he disappeared through a swirling mass, courtesy of a Vindice ghoul.

Ryohei bounced on his feet as he watched Verde all but wrestle a stack of notebooks and folded papers from inside a well-stuffed folder. The Vindice codebreakers floated around him, tattered bandages stained with ink, spectacles and monicals smudged and the frames rusty.

Verde, ghastly pale, looked right at home as he adjusted his glasses and scratched the stubble on his chin. He leant the notebook up against that massive metal base and spread out the folded blueprints. Eyes, quick as lightning and just as bright, flitted across between crooked penmanship and the strict ruled lines of diagrams, ratios exact, footnotes copious.

Ryohei looked utterly elated as Verde called for paper, and — to Ryohei’s delight, and Jaeger's gripe — began making more notes in that same, abhorrent handwriting.

“Astonishing,” said a ghoul that loomed over Verde’s shoulder, spectacles glinted red from the fresh solder burnt overhead. “Who taught you to write?”

“No one. I taught myself,” Verde uttered, and started a new page.

“Shame. I would’ve much liked to have them shot.”

Ryohei grinned.

☀

For three days, Verde didn’t leave that amphitheatre of metal skeletons and solder for anything short of a bathroom break. He poured over those documents, reverse engineering his own future-thought to find exactly what the Vindice were missing.

Because that was their issue. There was something missing.

The composition and procedure for the glass walls of the Machine. It wasn’t illegible, or convoluted, or coded— it was missing.

…Or, more specifically: Excluded.

Verde stared, cross-legged on the uneven stone floor of the amphitheatre. In front of him, the pages were spread out in an array. He blinked and moved a page, unfurled another large sheet with the Machine drawn in bright white ink.

Still, he found no indication of a method, or even an allusion. He was baffled. Verde would never forget to include something so important. He had seen the original package, every paper and file crammed into the small, beige bundle. He, and whoever he had worked with, had been adroit in ensuring every necessary detail fit in place.

Verde frowned.

The air in the amphitheatre was moist, perpetually chilled-wet, the walls sparkled with condensation. Verde was pretty sure his pants were damp, his shirt had long become that specific kind of uncomfortable that came from the lack of dedicated moisture sensors.

It was night, then. It got colder in the Vindice caves when the sun went down.

He was close, Verde could feel it. It was like lightning in his lungs, the smell of ozone on his hands. In a few days, maybe a few hours, Verde would make a breakthrough.

A vibration in his pocket.

Instantly, Verde was irked. That livewire in his veins died to a low buzz. His focus was broken. This would add another hour to his discovery.

His pocket vibrated again and, with no less than great reluctance, Verde put his future-notebook down. Verde grimaced as he read the notification that blipped across his PDA.

☀

Deep within the catacombs of the Vindice’s Simone Base, the quarters of the only Suns for miles glowed with warmth and the soft scent of cardamom.

Reborn reclined comfortable across his pile of plush pillows, silken pyjama shirt unbuttoned just right and just a touch too tight around the chest. A tasteful flash of the edge of a nipple. The waist of his pants rode low, teasing his Adonis belt and the strap of Calvin Klein.

Ryohei grinned as he watered the potted tree in the corner of their quarters, the UV lamp that hung overtop almost eye-searing when compared to the soft, amber bulbs Reborn had selected for the space. The nonna from Ryohei’s favourite restaurant had given the small tree to them as a ‘housewarming’ present, some kind of Simone-style magnolia that boasted red-green-orange leaves all at once.

“Wow! Look, there’s a bud! It’s gonna flower to the extreme!” Ryohei cheered and poured more seaweed fertiliser into the soil.

Reborn drummed his fingers on his knee, impatient. Snubbed.

Because Ryohei wasn’t talking to Reborn. No, not this time. Ryohei had seemed to be utterly rapt with another man recently, someone else in his heart and in his hands—

Leon the Chameleon reached out from Ryohei’s arm to gently grab a green-gold leaf in his three-fingered foot, investigative. Then, Leon slowly plodded his way to bask beneath the UV bulb.

“Look at you go, little dude! Self-care!” Ryohei boomed, gassing Leon up as he sat there, tail curled in content.

Under the pile of pillows, Reborn’s pager vibrated once. Reborn stopped drumming.

He frowned as he read the message, thumb running across the black, metal shell. Reborn looked over to Ryohei who bustled about the room, never one to settle easy even so late at night.

Ryohei rinsed out the watering can and set it aside before he proceeded to wipe down every surface to an inch of its life, getting between nooks and crannies for dirt that wasn’t there. He paced, steps light and springy. Then Ryohei dropped to the floor and started counting as he alternated between push-ups and sit-ups.

Reborn rested his cheek on his fist and watched. Ryohei had been restless since Verde had arrived. Ryohei wanted progress and Verde was taking his sweet time down in the dome.

The pager beeped again. Reborn was tempted to let the damned thing slip between the bed and the wall.

“Who’s trying to call you? Is it important? You haven’t taken any jobs in a while, is that what it’s about?” Ryohei asked, peering over the edge of the bed.

Reborn blinked at him. Ryohei disappeared, then he popped up again, then dipped, then returned. Still doing push-ups. Still burning with energy.

Reborn huffed affectionately and rolled onto his belly, a throw pillow hugged to his chest in a way that squished his pectorals into cleavage.

Ryohei’s eyes flicked; up, down, up. Then he disappeared again.

Reborn grinned.

“I take on jobs exactly when I wish to, my dear Ryohei,” he said slowly, and Ryohei smiled when he came back up as if to say ‘of course’. “But it does seem like something has come up. Otherwise, I doubt I’d be called upon.”

“Is it something cool?”

“Unlikely. At most, it’ll be mildly interesting. Nothing like I get from you, my Ryohei.”

Ryohei snorted, “Not everyone has a Machine to save the world! Give ‘em a chance, Reborn!”

Reborn hummed, “I suppose. And not everyone is from the future.”

Ryohei didn’t pause, biceps working to take his weight, shoulders flexed, back muscles taut. His posture was perfect, flat enough to eat a meal off of.

“Ah, I guess you wanna talk about that now, huh?” Ryohei laughed awkwardly. “I said I was sorry! I forgot!”

“And then you forgot for three days more,” Reborn all but purred, and Ryohei pouted.

“We got busy.”

“Oh yes, so busy. Running around, showing Leon the whole of Simone Island.”

Ryohei gave a loud whine and flopped on his back. Reborn let out a laugh and peered down at the man below, splayed out with arms wide, warm skin flushed with the workout. Underneath him, Reborn could see the cold tiles mist, the heat of Ryohei’s skin leaving a shadow in his wake.

“So, Ryohei Sasagawa. Who were you, before you were mine?”

Ryohei stared up at Reborn, at the way the amber lights played on the edge of pale, silken pyjamas. Ryohei knew those pyjamas were smooth against skin, cool to the touch until early in the morning, just at dawn, then that silk had taken on the heat of two Suns under the same sheets.

“Well,” Ryohei uttered, pondering on where to begin. “I was born in this town called Namimori. My dad ran a gym, my mum worked for the local newspaper. I have a sister— but you knew that.”

“What is her name?” Reborn asked, his cheek rested on his arm.

“Kyoko! She’s the sweetest thing, you’d like her!”

Would like her. Does like her. Will like her.

“I was the captain of my boxing club in middle and high school. Did a few semesters of university and then dropped out, I’m just not built for studying,” Ryohei continued, trampling that panging thought. “But that was fine! Boss was too scared to go to Italy alone anyway, no way was I leaving my little bro stranded!”

Reborn’s fingers played with the decorative embroidery stitch of their sheets, soft threat against his fingertips. Ryohei watches his fingers move as he talks, eyes bright with an edge as soft as the thread as he reminisces. He’s eager, he’s jovial. Everything he’s kept bottled up pouring forth.

But still, no names. So careful, his Ryohei. Like a hammer in the hands of a stonemason.

“How old were you when you joined your Family?” Reborn asked, hearing ‘middle school’ so many times.

“Fifteen! There was this big inheritance issue between Boss and his adopted cousin and, wow, they nearly levelled the school! Had a bunch of Mists around to hide everything.” Ryohei laughed, his belly jumping. “My fight— I was in this big cage. Real cool set-up with a bunch of really bright, hot lights, I couldn’t see! So I went and shattered them using the salt crystals from my sweat!”

Reborn blinked, and let his eyes drift to the dip in Ryohei’s clavicle. The UV light in the corner glowed a soft white light which pressed against Ryohei’s skin. Then his eyes snapped back to Ryohei’s face, the quiet prolonged.

Ryohei laid there, arms spread like a crucifixion, breath slow. He looked dazed, distant. The sacrificial lamb of his Set.

Reborn didn’t utter a word. Not of encouragement, intrigue or comfort.

The UV light snapped off with a click. The timer run down.

“Let’s go to bed, Ryohei,” Reborn said finally.

Ryohei’s fist clenched. Left-hand side. Sometimes he complained about it aching. ‘Early-onset arthritis’ a doctor had told him once upon a time, because that was what happened when you shattered your fist.

“Let’s go to bed, my dear Ryohei.”

Ryohei took a breath through his lips, tasting cardamom and smoke and summertime air even so deep in the caves.

“I’m still their big brother,” he said. “I’m still their big brother. Even if I never will be again.”

When Ryohei settled into bed, it was to the cool touch of a silken pyjama shirt and the scalding brand of skin. And as he closed his eyes and drifted, Ryohei felt warmth lay over his still-clenched fist. Felt that heat seep into his skin and soothe the ache in the joints.

Ryohei hoped if he didn't say anything, Reborn wouldn't let go.

Ryohei didn't know if he could do it. Again.

☀

A line of townhouses made of cut stone and limewash paint. Old, but well kept, their windows aglow with a warm, yellow light as a summer’s night took the town. Shadows cut the yellow glass, children and adults, families in silhouette as they set their tables for dinner and toasted to another good day gone.

Taste the air. Count the doors.

Reborn’s shoes clacked against the uneven cobblestone as he walked the street. He took a breath and tasted fog, tasted lilacs. There was one door too many.

“This is entirely unnecessary,” Verde grumbled, scratching at a notebook with a pen running low on ink.

Reborn didn’t deign to answer him. For the past two hours of travel, he had been making a fine effort in ignoring the fact that Verde existed. Reborn reached for the doorknob and swung it open.

Verde’s shoes scuffed the stone stairs loudly as they entered the foyer, and Reborn heard the moment those footsteps all but disappeared. The smell of lilacs and damp came stronger. It seeped into their clothes— Reborn had to remind himself to let it happen, let it breathe into his lungs.

They were meeting in Viper’s territory. They were easily the most skittish of the group, the ‘team’, so it was no surprise that Reborn and Verde were met with thorough investigation.

Reborn stepped over a tentacle that slithered across the floor. It made way for Verde who walked on blindly.

The door at the end of the hall seemed to fade in and out of sight, like eyes adjusting in flickering light. The hall tilted, flexed like a gulping throat, the carpet squelched underfoot thick with saliva—

“I see you made it,” Viper grumbled as Reborn and Verde entered the room.

Viper was slumped a bit in their chair, seven seats wrapped around a large circular table. Their hood was up, eyes obscured, hands out of sight.

“You never call unless it’s important,” Reborn said and pulled himself a chair. He sat, one knee crossed over the other. “I hope this holds true. I have places I’d much rather be.”

Verde dropped himself into another seat and immediately started using the table space, pulling out more notebooks and scraps of paper from his pockets and spreading them around. He muttered something, before grabbing a blank paper and proceeded to fill it with symbols and code.

Reborn glazed around quickly. It seemed he had been fashionably late.

Every one of the other seats, save two, had been occupied by the rest of their company. Fon sat comfortably as he waited for the meeting to begin, his hands tucked into his sleeves and his eyes closed lightly. Under the table, Reborn could see his foot just barely bounce with restlessness.

Beside him was Lal Mirch, arms crossed over her chest and chin raised to show severe, steady eyes. Her uniform was tight to her, hair pinned back and sleek. There was a thin chain around her neck, barely peeking out from beneath her collar.

Reborn quirked his brow. That was new.

On Fon’s other side, Skull rocked in his chair. The young man balanced precariously on the back legs, arms raised to disperse weight as boredom crawled into his bones.

And, in the last seat, sat Luce. Always early, always eager to welcome everyone personally. Luce smiled at them as they all got comfortable. In the centre of the table sat a plate of sugar-dusted scones, cream and jam supplied with spoons embellished with the Giglio Nero coat of arms. You could feel it on your tongue, rich with cream and sweet with jam.

The basket sat untouched. Reborn could smell her perfume, some kind of tangerine blend. Bright and citrusy.

“It’s so good to see you all again,” Luce beamed as everyone settled and Skull’s chair clattered as he rightened himself to attention. “Viper, would you like to begin?”

At her bay, Viper cleared their throat.

“We’ve been posed a new request,” Viper began and a scroll unfurled along the centre of the table. “A set of artefacts. Somewhere in Brazil. The amount they are willing to spend is exorbitant.”

Reborn relaxed into his chair with little regard for the crusty parchment and flamboyant script. Rich eccentrics with a hankering for traditionalism were in no short supply.

“This is something that can be done solo?” Fon pondered, reading the curling cursive seemingly cast by a quill.

“Unfortunately no,” Viper murmured and indicated a map as four points took a purple glow of their influence. “The four artefacts are connected and react in tandem when touched. As soon as one is displaced, the others will alert the guards. All four will have to be taken at once.”

“Several kilometres apart,” Lal Mirch said and traced the map's key to get an idea of scale. “Too far for your illusions then?”

Viper pointedly did not respond.

“So it’s a smash and grab! Easy money!” Skull crowed and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Read the stipulations, newbie,” Reborn sighed.

Skull leant over and squinted at the page. It was times like these Reborn wondered if the youngest of their merry band had ever taken an eye test.

The words ‘covert’ were emphasised. Whoever wanted these artefacts didn’t want the original custodians to know they were gone until it was too late.

Reborn read the payment statement and wondered if it was worth it. An 11-12 hour flight to Brazil and then whacking around in the mosquito-infested, South American jungle when he could be enjoying a night in with Ryohei, prying stories and whines from smiling lips.

After all, Reborn had yet to hear about himself. Where would Reborn be in thirty years, pushing fifty-five? And how he had played a role in Ryohei’s young life, a role so large he had whispered “Reborn” while kneeling on a church’s floor. How he had made him look happy.

Reborn tried to imagine it himself, older, mature, greying at the temples. Tried to imagine how he had entangled with Ryohei, young and eager to impress, to break out into the world like nothing short of a big bang.

Cute as it was, recalling those young eyes from the photos in Ryohei’s suitcase, Reborn was glad he had met this Ryohei. His Ryohei. Tall and loud and muscled and eye-searingly bright.

Reborn liked looking up.

Skull made a loud noise at something Lal Mirch said and threw his hands up in the air, nearly knocking Viper’s candelabra. The shift in lighting brought Reborn back to present, and with him, a low lying…dissatisfaction.

Reborn tilted his head forward and let the brim of his hat cover his eyes. He observed. Skull laughed as Lal Mirch half-heartedly attempted to organise a strategy with Viper whose face was lemon-pinched at the concept of cooperation. Fon breathed in deep as Verde’s pages kept piling up and crawled to encroach into his space. And overwatching it all with a smile and a warm, motherly gleam in her eye, was Luce.

Ah. That was it.

They were lacking. No drive, no fire under their heels. He had been spoilt recently.

Reborn frowned, his Flame stirred.

Luce looked at him. Eyes wide and alert.

“Is something the matter, Reborn?” She asked.

There was something in her tone, but Reborn was glad for the invitation.

“I’d much like to bring someone along,” he said, airy and casual. Like he wasn’t offering to add another person to their already precarious balance. Like his Flame wasn’t flickering and sweeping, licking at the underside of his ribs with the scent of Dual Guardianship.

Like she could smell it, Lal Mirch turned her head first. Everyone else was slow to follow.

Reborn regarded the woman out of the corner of his eye. Lal Mirch was interested. Her Flame hissed like the white noise of rainfall.

Verde glanced at Reborn with a raised brow.

Reborn remembered how Ryohei had laid out on the floor with arms wide like Icarus after a fall. His voice sad-happy-nostalgic and heavy as he spoke of a Family of a future long past. How he spoke gently of his Sky, too immature and inexperienced. Of his Mists, always willing to enshroud him. Of his Rain, Storm, Cloud and little Lightning. A Set too small for him, that he still wanted to cradle in his hands and protect from the world—

Reborn looked upon those Flames before him. Purities of the highest degree, size almost colossal, and with an individual drive near unmatched. And a vast Sky who welcomes even Reborn with open arms.

He could imagine Ryohei at the table, another chair at his right-hand side. Almost seamlessly in place, warming the Set from the inside and setting them on fire in just the right way to send them running for greatness.

“Well—”

Luce’s voice broke through. It cracked unpleasantly, caught off guard.

“It is…certainly something to think about!” Luce smiled. Reborn watched her slide her hands off the table, hidden clenched in her lap. “I’m so glad you’ve found someone you like so much Reborn!”

The ‘but’ hung in the air.

No one said a word.

Reborn saw Lal Mirch fix her collar, that little chain around her throat now completely out of sight.

#fanfiction #leftnotright #katekyo hitman reborn #sasagawa ryohei #reborn #fix it fic #khr rare pair #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts #khr #ao3 #time travel fic #alternate universe

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overandunderland · 6 months ago

Text

Knuckle Daggers (Name Pending)

"These will assure you—oh what is the quote, Daedalus, from the that colorful sign by the—" Solen pondered searching his brain for the answer.

"Float like a Butterfly and Sting like a Bee," answered the bat. "Though, I am unsure how one makes butter 'fly' in the Overland, I am however–familiar with the term you use for the Hive Born."

Description:

The Knuckles, crafted by the inventive Solen, are a deadly blend of brass knuckles and concealed blades, designed specifically for the combat needs of a boxer. Constructed from lightweight, high-strength metals, these weapons provide both durability and precision, making them ideal for close-quarters combat in the Underland.

Functionality:

The key feature of thee Knuckles is the concealed blade, which can be deployed, locked, and retracted using an intricate finger-operated mechanical system. This system is designed to match the natural movements of a boxer's hand, allowing for rapid transitions between blunt force and lethal strikes. Depending on grip, position and deployment.

Mechanical Operation

- Finger-Operated Ratchet and Gear System: The deployment and retraction of the blade are controlled by a combination of specific finger movements.

- Index Finger Deployment: butClenching the fist with emphasis on the index finger engages the ratchet gear mechanism, extending the blade FROM l0its housing.

- Middle Finger Lock: Once the blade is fully extended, releasing slight pressure on the middle finger locks the blade in place, allowing the user to maintain combat readiness without continued clenching but user can for comfort and better grip. A double clench and release will release the blades lock.

- Manual Blade Ejection: The blade can be ejected by performing a precise wrist flick combined with pressing a hidden thumb lever, launching it forward as a projectile.

- **Blade Storage and Reloading:** Blades are carried on a specialized belt designed for quick access. Reloading involves fitting a new blade onto the knuckles and resetting the mechanism with a simple twist.

Usage:

- Blade Lock: Releasing slight pressure on the middle finger locks the blade in its extended position, allowing the user to relax their hand.

- Clenched Fist Deployment:Tightening the fist, especially the index finger, activates the ratchet and gear mechanism, extending the blade.

- Blade Retraction:A hidden button accessible by the ring finger releases the lock, retracting the blade into its housing.

Applications:

The Knuckles are perfect for a boxer seeking to transition seamlessly between delivering blunt force trauma and inflicting deadly stabs and slices. The finger-operated mechanism ensures rapid deployment, locking, and retraction of the blade, while the manual ejection system provides an additional ranged attack option. The ability to quickly reload from a belt ensures that the user is never unarmed. This combination of features makes the Knuckles an indispensable tool for Underland operatives, ensuring they are always prepared for any combat scenario.

Normally people draw humans for commissions who out here draws weapons, or can draw fantasy blueprints for things? Anyway. This was a challenge to make cool or at least try to sound cool. What are you guys think. And who do you think this is going to go to in SOTW?

#the underland chronicles #gregor the overlander #tuc #fanfic #seeker of the warrior #gregor and the seeker of the warrior #solen invention #weapon concept #commission shopping

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi fellow doll, I hope you're doing fine. I've been quite busy lately, college and life in general have been kicking my ass, so I was forced to take a step back from social media for a while to try to contain the chaos.

Firstly, I'd like to share a fun fact with you! I don't know if you're aware but did you know that Lou's Mansion has a Pool? You can see it more clearly in the Mansion's Concept Designs/Art on this site:

•https://www.claytonstillwell.com/ugly-dolls#23

However, the real reason for this ask is to present a possible answer/theory in regards to how the doll-sized phones came to be in the world of your stories (you can tell this is still related to our chat on Wattpad).

Recently, I came across the images you're seeing on Pinterest. They're Wide/Aerial Views of the Institute of Perfection and one thing that immediately stood out to me is that Giant Eye-Catching Dome behind the TV.

I mean what's its purpose, why is it even there to begin with and what's inside of it? I've been thinking about this for a while and would like to hear your thoughts about it as well, if you're willing to share them.

By any chance, have you seen the movie Wreck-it Ralph? There was a part where the villain enters the code of the game he's in and I think the Dome's purpose could follow a similar, if not equal, vein.

Now that I think about it, Lou and Vanellope's circunstances are almost identical, trapped in the same place for years without the option to leave, simply because of who they are and the traits they were born with, but didn't choose to have.

Sorry, I let my mind run on tangent there for a while, it wanders frequently which makes it hard to keep track of my line of thought.

To circle back to the main topic of discussion, what if the Dome is a Central Station of the Institute, like a Panel or Center for Command Control (or Command Control Center)? CCC for short? Ok, I'll stop trying to be funny...

Perhaps it could be a subroutine of the factory's software, a program linked to its network and wifi that contains all guidelines and rules that govern the Institute and must be followed and executed to keep it functional - a blueprint if you will - and is in charge of all commands, protocols, activities and operations being compiled and run by its machinery, such as the doll-scanner, the robots, the washing machine, the recycling, the Gauntlet plus the mechanical baby and dog and the Portal, just to name a few.

This means that it'd also take care of overseeing the integrity and performance of said machinery as well as its maintenance. It'd even be responsible for generating clouds and the artificial weather because apparently weather is still a thing, even though the Institute is inside of a factory.

I wonder if this subroutine would be run by an AI or simply an intelligent system/computer program. This world's version of Siri? 🤣

Or maybe I'm greatly exaggerating its function/letting my imagination run wild and it literally only gives Electricity for TV and Institute. Where was I going with this? /were we again?

Morever, it could be a storage unit that contains all collected, analysed and reviewed data regarding the inhabitants of the Institute and their responses, physical or emotional, to certain pre-determined stimuli.

It could also have a list of the factory's Perfection Standards: what consists/constitutes a Perfect Doll / product, its traits...

what can go to the market and which flaws/imperfections can't be ignored/overlooked and have to go to the recycling immediately, kinda like separating fruit/food

To sum up, it's the Institute's "rulebook", but instead of being specifically made for the prototype, it's more expansive and focuses on the Institute as a whole.

After the events of the movie, dolls with engineer role job created phones with recicled parts dangerous/turned the recycling into a good thing/while recycling was turned of and parts are human sized, plenty to spare and create phone since dolls come back now, have free time to assemble the parts and construct them and connected them to the signals/frequency emitted by the dome or they hack/steal or find out the password/'hijack' the signals🤣, use it to make them connect with each other but can't enter the dome without proper authorizations/permissions

Fun fact #2: Lou animatronic, would be a hipocrite if he called the Uglydolls "Ugly" has never seen a Mirror before

•https://www.indigobluepencil.com/ugly

Scroll almost to the middle (pre-planned concepts: dome by TV and washing machine, Big baby, Lou, Mandy, Tuesday and Kitty, Victoria, Perfection Council/of Dolls=board of investors directors reference)

•https://www.scottfassett.com/uglydolls-gallery

Had to restart Two Times... I hope you found this ask both entertaining and informative. Hopefully it'll give you Inspiration for your stories...

Okay, I had to do quite a bit of research and asked someone who knows a lot more about computers than I do.

So, I do agree that the dome has an electronic purpose. It really surprises me that STX animated an entire dome within the Institute and literally spoke nothing of it or what's inside of it. Like, seriously, it's huge and can't just be empty on the inside.

My theory, after some research, is that the inside of the dome is essentially a hard drive computer tower. For you younger folk who weren't raised in a 90's home, here's what I'm talking about:

These things right here used to be what would get hooked up to older Dell/Windows computers. The ones that weighed, like, 50 pounds and took up an entire desk.

Instead of a dvd player (which I didn't get one until maybe 8 years old) I would stick my Kidz Bop cd or movie into that slot at the top and watch the movie on the computer with Video Player.

Count your blessings.

But this is what I believe is inside that dome. These things are what holds the CPU (central processing unit), GPU (graphic processing unit), and stores the memory, data, audio, and everything of the computer.

@natalie-the-writer and I have a running fanon that the company is older. The technology is older, the building is older, and everything is set in a pretty retro time period. So, this hard drive tower is connected to those bulky take-up-all-the-space-on-the-desk-computers.

The GPU in this system is also what control the day/night cycle in the Institute and the weather. It essentially simulates a troposphere and an environment that makes the dolls comfortable and prepared for the Big World.

The CPU is how the data is transferred. Info from the robots is controlled and processed, the Individualization scanners are monitored, the portal is opened and closed, the TV runs, and the holographic tutorials Moxy and her friends see in the beginning are kept on, all of it.

It basically functions as the brain of the Institute, but the sole controller and monitor of it is the CEO (Greyson Everett).

I also like to think that Lou's microchip (another fanon thought between Natalie and I) is also monitored via this hard drive tower. Any information that Lou learns and processes is sent into separate files on the computers back in the company building.

This is why in my Shell-Shock series, when Lou's emotions go south, the Institute begins to get windy when he's hyperventilating or rains when he cries. The ground trembles when he has body tremors and the lights flicker when his powers are used. He is literally connected to the whole Institute because his microchip and its data accidentally grow and manifest themselves into the files of the other Institute functions. His programming basically goes rogue and infects the Institute system like a virus.

I'm veering toward the explanation that results in Lou being the first successful form of Artificial Intelligence. But, for the moment, he is basically acting like a virus and it's not until he learns to control this new system he's connected to that it stops becoming a deadly thing.

#uglydolls #lou #writing #ask #answer #theories #fanon theories #feel free to have your own thoughts #I'm just ranting #this is so interesting thank you for asking this

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princesscolumbia · 7 months ago

Text

Code of Ethics - Ch. 9 - Doing Good vs Doing Well

I'm REALLY liking how this chapter turned out! It has just everything I wanted plus a touching moment that I didn't think I'd be able to put in this early in the story.

Yet another "picks up where the last chapter left off." We'll get to some time skippage again here soon, promise!

Preview below the cut:

Diane shrugged, “Computer, activate the Operations building, please.”

There was the sudden sensation of an almost imperceptible hum as every light, HVAC system, computer, and electrically powered accessory in the building received power all at once. The lights in the office and main Ops room which had been on standby suddenly bloomed with a cool blue light that was bright enough to drive away most shadow but not so bright as to make it difficult to see. Dark paneling that Diane had assumed was simply an interior design choice flickered to life to reveal that they were huge displays that wrapped seamlessly around the entire office that wasn’t a door or window. Startup routines could be seen scrolling up all the displays and, when she looked down, she saw the same was happening on the surface of her desk. Momentarily, a holographic computer interface bloomed to life where she would expect a desktop monitor if she were at an office back ho...er, outside the pod, and a very pleasantly ergonomic keyboard rezzed into place. Oh, nice! I hate touch interfaces for typing, let’s see if... She reached out and tapped a few keys experimentally and, yes, they had the familiar spring-lock feel she preferred in her keyboards.

She smiled and looked up at Katrina, “So, Ops is activated, do we need to wait on anything else to get started with building a ship?”

Katrina raised an eyebrow, almost incredulously, “...no, though I imagine dealing with the squ...” the digital assistant glanced at Norma meaningfully, who for her part just huffed indignantly, “Tenants would take priority.”

“Is getting the ship started going to require more effort than activating Ops?”

“...no...”

Diane smirked, “Computer, begin construction on the Ad Astra based on the available blueprints in station memory.”

One of the wall-displays that had completed its boot-sequence and was on a pleasant screensaver mode flicked over to a visual of a wireframe of a spaceship. It appeared to be a fairly small craft, though obviously intended for long-haul exploration. Callouts appeared for crew quarters, a mess hall, waste recycling, fuel storage, and everything else one might expect of a small expeditionary vessel. The exterior design seemed based on a modified Straczynski-esque craft. Instead of a squat pod that held life-support and an ejectable cockpit, the main body of the ship was somewhat shaped like a ground-transport cargo vehicle, as though someone had taken a semi-truck and attached trailer, fused them into a single piece, modified the front so it looked like a fat sports car, spiffed it up to look like it belonged in space, and then made it big enough to house three to five people and everything they needed to live for long periods of time in the void of space. Attached at the corners starting about one-third of the way back from the nose of the ship were squat ‘wings’ that would never keep the ship in the air in atmosphere. They were in a vague ‘X’ configuration, which would allow for creative use of thrust from the nacelles positioned at the ends of the wings to allow for crazy-fast turns. The nacelles looked like they provided all the thrust to the ship, as well as maneuvering. It’s no Conquistador-class, Diane thought with a smile, But it does look like a sleek little ship. The display popped up with a status bar that was familiar to anyone who had used a computer in the last century and ticked up to the 1% mark after a moment.

“Awesome!” remarked Diane, “So, Katrina, any other immediate tasks? Activating anything else necessary right now?”

“Dealing with the highly annoying tenants?” offered Katrina.

“Oi! You’re the one who’s been sitting on the ability to build a starship the whole time I’ve been trying to deal with the little housing crisis in the residential habs!” snapped Norma.

Katrina glared, for all a tutorial program could glare, at the woman, “You are not authorized users of this system. Had your predecessors left this station as they should have then there wouldn’t be a ‘housing crisis’ in the residential habs.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Diane, “Katrina, could you give us the room, please?”

“What?!” the hologram seemed surprised, then collected herself so quickly Diane wondered if she was seeing things, “But…security protocols…”

Diane waved a hand dismissively, “‘Security protocols’ I’m not familiar with and, since I’m the fiat commander of this station, don’t apply to me if I say so.”

“I really should remain present as a precaution in case she…”

Diane huffed, “She’s, what, four feet tall?”

“Five-foot-one!” Norma growled.

“Meanwhile I’m a six-foot-one…”

“Six feet, nine inches,” interrupted Katrina with a significant glare at Norma.

“Sure, that; and I’m an apex predator species, I think I’m more than capable of taking her in a fight if it comes down to it. Besides, you’re a hologram, you can monitor the office via the security systems, right?”

“…yes.”

“Well then, you can give us the illusion of privacy for this conversation and at least take your physical presence out of the room so you stop antagonizing the person I’m trying to…” she glanced at Norma, who’d set her jaw stubbornly, “…have a conversation with.”

Whoever on the dev team programmed the personality of the tutorial program did a damn fine job of making them appear to have emotion as Katrina gave every impression of being hesitant to concede the point as she said, “…very well. If she…causes problems, simply eject her from the office and I’ll seal the doors and flood the Ops command level with a neurotoxin.”

Diane frowned, “A non-lethal neurotoxin, right?”

Katrina seemed to be refusing to meet Diane’s eyes as she started disapperating from the room, “Sure, sure. Non-lethal.” And with that, she was no longer in the room.

Diane allowed a small smile to quirk as she started removing her jacket. Part of it was comfort, part of it was a test. She was deliberately exposing the weapon stuck to her back to Norma. If the woman noticed it, she was either a human player who, for whatever reason, had chosen to take charge of a band of galactic nomads and homeless people, or was a rogue A.I. who was using the cover of being a refuge on an unclaimed station to hide from hunters such as herself. She turned just enough to drape the jacket over the back of her office chair, watching Norma out of the corner of her eye.

No response…let’s see if she’s just faking… As though reaching back to scratch an itch, she palmed the grip of the weapon while using her thumb to “scratch” the nonexistent itchy spot then casually pushed the weapon against her thigh, making it plainly visible as it adhered to her leg like it had her back.

Norma gave no response whatsoever, just sitting down in one of the chairs obviously intended for visitors to the office.

All right, Diane thought as she took her own seat, She’s just an NPC A.I., so no threat here, “So,” she began, “Not to seem like the bad guy, but I this is my station. I get that some of you were born here, but this isn’t 20th century America with a liberal policy that allows illegals to drop a kid and claim backdoor citizenship.”

“… ‘America’…?” Norma said the name of Diane’s home with stark unfamiliarity.

Stifling the frustration that the game creators didn’t bother to give America it’s proper place in history, she simply said, “A country on Earth, predates the period of space exploration and contact with life on other worlds. Point is, I am the law here. It’s my life and safety on the line if I let the lot of you stay and someone turns out to be a bad actor. I’m quite invested in keeping the skin on my back on my back.”

Norma simply glared back at the newly minted station commander.

“What I’m saying,” said Diane into the silence, “Is you will need to sell me on letting you all stay here. As you pointed out, I’ve got a starship under construction,” she glanced at the wall display, Norma mimicking her, and they saw the build progress was now at 2%. “I won’t even need to space you all. I can build a…let’s see here…” she turned to her holographic display and started tapping menues and was pleased to see it was fairly easy to navigate. She found the computer’s storage of ship blueprints and filtered out what the station didn’t have the capability to build yet, then tapped and flicked the plans over to a wall display. “I could build one of these,” the display lit up with a wireframe of another starship, but this was not something sleek and intended for exploration like the Ad Astra, this was a box with an engine strapped to it. The ‘ship’ part was what looked for all the world like a glorified camper van scaled up to house everything necessary to support a barebones crew, in-system flight, and FTL. Attached to that was a comparative behemoth of a cargo container, obviously intended to be modular and detachable. The name attached to the blueprint read, ‘ECC Goldrush.’

“Obviously, we’d have to mod the cargo container, those things are designed to haul materials, not people, and it wouldn’t be comfortable. We probably wouldn’t be able to kit it for gravity and atmosphere control would be…problematic. It would take who knows how long to get to a friendly port…” a notification popped up on her holographic display, blinking a furious red. Her eyebrows scrunched together, she tapped on the notification and saw a message: Katrina - “8 days to nearest Terran Federation station.”

“Katrina, at least pretend this is a private meeting, please…” she muttered, then to Norma said, “About eight days, I guess, to the nearest friendly port.”

The space-born woman frowned at the schematic for the surveyor ship on the wall, her face no longer a mask of anger but now showing muted concern. “I…know some of us would take you up on that. The people who came here on ships that abandoned them, people who had homes and want to go back to them…but,” she turned a pleading look to Diane, “I…I was born here, this is the only home I know!”

So much for the easy solution, Diane thought. She leaned back in her chair and drummed her fingers on the arm rest, letting the silence linger.

Read the whole thing on Scribblehub

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salvager-beyblade-fanfiction · 3 months ago

Text

Salvager Interlude 2: How To Escape

SEVEN YEARS AGO

Dr. Shu Kurenai’s eyes roamed his AI’s display screen, dumbfounded at the hundreds upon hundreds of civilian profiles spawning across the glass.

Lui Shirosagi

[DRAGON]

Rank: 16

Floor: 3

Daigo Kurogami

[HOLLOW]

Rank: 1,247

Floor: 2

Rantaro Kiyama

[ROAR]

Rank: 992

Floor: 1

Valt Aoi

[SALVAGER]

Rank: 3,000

Floor: 1

Joshua Burns

[SHOWSTOPPER]

Rank: 1,745

Floor: 4

Delta Zakuro

[POMEGRANATE]

Rank: 2,366

Floor: 2

Dante Koryu

[ACE]

Rank: 2,488

Floor: 2

Fubuki Sumiye

[SHARK]

Rank: 1, 503

Floor: 3

Silas Karlisle

[DRIFTER]

Rank: 546

Floor: 1

More profiles continued to generate and, finding the sight of them unbearable, Shu bit his lip and ducked his head to his chest. He’d locked so many people inside. What if some of them never made it out? “Shinoda?” he asked aloud, voice still trembling. “Have you found everyone?”

AFFIRMATIVE

Humans: 3,456

Male: 49%

Female: 51%

Mean age: 25

Maximum age: 82

Minimum age: 1

Animals: 58

REGISTRATION: COMPLETE

“A-and…” Shu warbled. “Are you tracking the androids?”

AFFIRMATIVE

Androids: 100

Online: 100

Offline: 0

ALERT: NEW CLASS CONFIRMED: STARVING SILVER

CLASSES

Original: 89

Starving Silver: 11

“Thank you. A-and… Can I ask…?” the doctor bit his teeth together, pointing over his shoulder at the black status screen that had flickered to life beside his shoulder.

Shu Kurenai

[STORM]

Rank: 3,402

Floor: 193

“What are these titles?” he managed. “The ones beneath our names. And why did you assign them?”

[IDENTIFICATION TAGS] are personalized codes unique to each civilian.

With their [IDENTIFICATION TAG], a civilian will have access to the Shinoda AI System.

Functions of Shinoda AI System include:

Instant information searches

Maps

Blueprints

Live tracking

Computer interfacing

Digital storage compartments

Access to the Shinoda AI System will increase a civilian’s chance of survival.

“Survival?” Shu repeated. “I d-don’t think things’re going to escalate to that level of urgency. I--”

ALERT: DEATH

Free de la Hoya

{VANISHER}

Rank: 52

Floor: 121

DECEASED

ALERT: QUANTITY CHANGE

Humans: 3,456 → 3,455

ALERT: QUANTITY CHANGE

Androids: 100 → 101

ALERT: NEW CLASS CONFIRMED: DEVOURED MAN

CLASSES

Original: 89

Starving Silver: 11

Devoured Man: 1

“Wh-what?” Shu choked, feeling suddenly bloodless. His stomach wrenched and bile began to crawl up his throat.. “Sh-Shinoda? Shinoda! What was that? What just happened?”

ALERT: DEATH

Arthur Peregrine

[ECLIPSE]

Rank: 2, 666

Floor: 120

DECEASED

“Shinoda!”

ALERT: QUANTITY CHANGE

“Stop!”

Humans: 3,455 → 3,454

“SHINODA!” the doctor screamed. “Cease live updates! Now!”

Immediately, the display glass faded, the throbbing scroll of text dissolving from its surface like stones sinking into a lake.

“Did…” Shu started, the words sticking in his mouth. I’m going to be sick. “D-did two people just die, Shinoda?”

AFFIRMATIVE

“And… and my androids killed them?”

AFFIRMATIVE

Shu covered his mouth with a fist, fighting desperately to hold in his body’s revulsion. “Can we shut them down?” he managed, voice breaking on the last word.

NEGATIVE

Androids run on individualized systems

Androids cannot be accessed remotely

“No…” he gasped. “There’s… there’s got to be something… Can’t we do something?”

REQUEST UNCLEAR

Shu whimpered slightly, pressing his knuckles even deeper into his teeth. How had things gone wrong--so, so wrong? He needed to get everyone out, now. But could he? He couldn’t lift the lockdown, he couldn’t even deactivate his own machines. Was there even a chance? Two civilians had already… already… He swallowed hard. Could he do anything?

Devastated, he stared at Shinoda’s display, unmoving.

What could he possibly do?

...

Valt rammed his shoulder against the sealed door for what seemed like the millionth time, feeling the impact like a lance through his entire torso. “Augh! No! Come on!” He pushed himself off the plated steel shutters, hearing the panicked warble in his own voice. “Open! Open!” He reared back, about to try again, when Rantaro snatched his arm.

“Cut it out, man,” his friend gasped, reaching up to cradle his own shoulder, which had been nearly dislocated on the metal barrier. “You're just gonna hurt yourself.”

“But--!”

“Face it, Valt. We’re not going to get out like--!”

He was cut off suddenly by a flash of light. No, two--stunning and sharp. Both boys jerked backwards, startling away from the bursts.

“What’s--?” Valt started, stilling as his vision cleared and a wave of confusion fell over his head. There, hovering only inches from his nose was a flat screen, transparent with a light blue tinge.

Hello. I am Shinoda.

A similar hologram was projected before Rantaro, his glowing a soft orange. Valt exchanged a confounded look with him before turning back, activity on the strange screen catching his eye.

YOU ARE:

Valt Aoi

[SALVAGER]

Rank: 3,000

Floor: 1

CURRENT STATS

Strength: E

Speed: D

Endurance: D

Dexterity: D

Power: F

Inventory: E

POTENTIAL STATS:

Strength: A

Speed: A

Endurance: S

Dexterity: S

Power: S

Inventory: SS

INCOMING MESSAGE

Press to ACCEPT

Press to DISMISS

Press to DELETE

“Valt…” Rantaro coughed, his eyes flitting over the scroll on his own screen. “Are you… are you getting this, too?”

“Yeah,” Valt managed, absently keying to open up the pending message. To his surprise, when the pad of his finger pressed against the ACCEPT icon, it was met with resistance, flattening against what he’d thought was a hologram. “Whoa,” he coughed.

In front of him, the screen changed, displaying a simple, two-sentence note.

The Tower is in lockdown due to a deadly outbreak of androids.

Reach [STORM] on Floor 193 to escape.

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dynmghts · 8 months ago

Note

GUIDE - mute? :D

GUIDE : sender has been injured, but their skills are needed to help with the muses’ current situation (an escape plan, tending a wound, or diffusing a weapon, for example). sender has to walk receiver through the procedure, all the while trying to stay conscious.

pro hero dynamight has a healthy understanding of his support gear, well enough that he can perform small repairs when he's got no other choice. he spent plenty of time in the lab with izuku that he picked up the basics. that, however, didn't mean he could make complicated repairs on the fly.

katsuki has done what he can to ensure izuku was stable enough to pull through his injury, yes. but with the two trapped under rubble, and katsuki needing to make an emergency repair to sufficiently fight his way out for the both of them, he had the sense they were on borrowed time. katsuki needs izuku's guidance. without it, the blond isn't sure he can get his storage tank to function properly, which means the saved nitroglycerin would be for naught. if he couldn't direct it ...

he's run through other scenarios. he could take out the nitroglycerin and throw it in the general direction he needs it to go, but that would be imprecise and extremely reckless. he could run the risk, but his gear has its failsafe for a reason, and he'd have to bypass it if he really wanted to try. his other gauntlet has long-since been destroyed, so there's no defaulting to the other.

what else was there for katsuki to do ? they can't stay down here.

❛ oi, izuku, you still with me ? ❜ red eyes glance up with a flash of concern, brows furrowing to watch for movement before he returns to pulling apart his gauntlet housing. katsuki's taken off his gloves for this. he even wiped away any residual nitroglycerin on his palms, just to make sure he wouldn't accidentally set anything off while he was trying to do this. ❛ c'mon, i need you awake. ❜

katsuki almost bites his tongue at the sight of different wires and soldered-on pieces, chips and boards tucked away with tubes running through the compartments. his fingers trace the cooling system's insulation - behind it would be the storage tank, if he's remembering the blueprints right.

the longer he looks, the more tense he gets. izuku might be able to identify the issue right away, and he would be working with deft hands to rectify it ; he designed all the improvements for the damn thing, after all. katsuki, though ?

he doesn't know where to start.

a pause. ❛ do i gotta move the insulation ? ❜ katsuki glances up to try and catch a glimpse of green, hoping to god izuku hadn't dozed off yet. after a moment, he ends up giving him a small shake. ❛ or is the problem here ? ❜

@starshinc / HARD-TO-FIND HURT / COMFORT, ACCEPTING.

#starshinc #💥 ⸍ ii. answers.#💥 ⸍ ii. in character.#💥 ⸍ ii. verse: pro hero dynamight.#💥 ⸍ ii. verse: recovery.#💥 ⸍ iv. bond: starshinc.#/ this was the braincell for the ask but i hope i did it okay 😭

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serafiel-jacobs · 11 months ago

Text

Flashback (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Geppetto thought it would be a good idea to give the house a deep cleaning as it had been too long since he did that, he and his son cleaned the living room together, right now Pinocchio was cleaning his room and Geppetto was cleaning his workshop, although there isn't much he can throw away here, he keeps most of his important documents here, the most vital ones inside a safe but he is throwing away a few blueprints and notes from old projects.

He still… has the box that held Carlo after he died, he never opens it but it has things that belonged to his son, things that used to be in his room since it is now Pinocchio's room. Sometimes he leaves flowers on top of the box or lights candles.

Geppetto kept cleaning, he opened a storage closet that held many things, and he began to throw away the unnecessary ones, shoved inside the closet is the arm of god he really needs to find another place to keep it safe.

While cleaning he found a folder that contained the plans of the project when he first began to work on the puppets and Geppetto began to reminisce about the past.

—--

Geppetto had recently graduated and become an engineer, shortly after he met his wife and they both got married. After some more years of working Geppetto began to work on a special project, the development of the first-ever puppets, this project was financially backed up by the influential Venigni family. He was the one with the idea and managed to convince a few people to join him, it was a hard task since most believed it simply wasn't possible.

The puppets were a success and more started being built, Gepetto still remembers those days when everything was so different in Krat, the city back then was known for its fishing, and the most influential thing about Krat was its education system, Krat's schools were recognized as some of the best on the country, specially their university. Building the puppets was like building Krat again, the city had never been better, and their mechanical advancements quickly gained their fame, Krat was no longer the place it used to be and it all happened in such a short amount of time, Geppetto still can't believe how fast everything went, how he started being recognized, it was too much for him at first, being a public figure, but as the years passed he got over that overwhelming feeling, his wife always told him that he deserved that fame, that Krat was in a much better state because of him, it always made him blush, it was embarrassing but he liked when she praised him like that.

Years passed and they both had Carlo, it was a pleasant surprise, they had been married for many years and still hadn't had a child, it was because the doctors told his wife that she most likely would never be able to get pregnant, so Carlo was their little miracle, they were in their late 30s when Carlo was born. Geppetto thought that maybe because he was older he would be a wiser father.

He was so wrong about that.

When Carlo was 8 years old, his wife passed away, she had many health complications during her pregnancy, and shortly after Carlo was born, but she had gotten better, she was back to her former self. But one day she went to sleep and never woke up, the doctors said that she was never meant to be able to give birth in the first place, that her body couldn't handle everything anymore.

He was devastated, he lost the love of his life but he had to keep going for Carlo's sake. At that time Carlo was studying at Monad but he didn't stay inside the boarding school, he returned home each day, Geppetto did thought about making him stay full time but he decided against it, he didn't want to make Carlo feel as if he had abandoned him for his work.

Yet he ended up neglecting his son for his work anyway.

Carlo would come home by himself when school was done, Geppetto doesn't know what he was thinking back then, leaving such a young child by himself, Carlo could stay home alone without any issues and Geppetto had praised him for being self-reliable at such a young age, but Carlo was self-reliable because as his father he was never around for him.

His son's behavior did change, he began to act out, getting in trouble at school, Carlo had trouble making friends, his only friend was Sophia but her parents didn't allow Sophia to go out much, they were very overprotective of her, so Carlo didn't have anyone to hang out with.

Geppetto knew how much his son was struggling to make friends, how much his son was struggling having to be at home by himself all day, they would only see each other at night when he came back from work, having so little time to see each other and Geppetto still hasn't forgiven himself for starting to work also on the weekends by that time, he wants to say that it was all the pressure that had, that he had a big responsibility, he was and still is the leader of the Workshop Union, a public figure and back then people saw him as a savior of Krat from making this “nowhere city” an important place and maybe it truly was because of that his obsession with working grew but he would be lying to himself because another reason for it was that after his wife died, he wanted something to distract himself from the pain, it was easy to be consumed by his work, he loved and still loves his work, but he used it as an excuse to not be there for his son.

So Geppetto built Romeo, he built a friend for his son and it was surprising but Romeo awoke his Ego the same day was made, just after spending a few minutes with Carlo.

Carlo was so happy to finally have a friend and he was no longer alone, they were thick as thieves, and when he saw them play together, he saw that Carlo was truly happy. Romeo was special, in a way just like Pinocchio, he had what would be a prototype of the P organ just without the ability to absorb Ergo, so when Carlo grew, Geppetto built Romeo a new body and simply transferred the heart to that body. People called Romeo The King of Puppets even more so when Romeo began to have a passion for plays and Operas.

Romeo attended school with Carlo, Geppetto asked the school for permission to do so and they let him, plus Valentinus was a good friend and understood the situation.

Lots of people asked questions about how he built him of course, but just as Geppetto refuses to answer any questions about Pinocchio he refused to answer any that had anything to with Romeo, he made him just for Carlo but in the end, all those moments spent together… Geppetto looks back and sees how they were all a family, he wishes he could have told Romeo that he also saw him as a son, he deeply regrets not doing it.

When Venigni graduated and became an engineer, Geppetto was excited to work with him after all he had worked with his parents, although he had never seen Vengini while was growing up, specially after his parents died and speaking of their deaths, Vengni pulled him aside to talk about the matter, revealing the truth, that a puppet had been responsible all along, Geppetto was shocked and asked why he lied about it being a house robbery gone wrong, and Venigni confessed how he was afraid that they would take Pulcinella away from him, so he lied about it. It all made sense, he had no other relatives, yet he wasn't sent to the foster system so he was basically raised by Pulcinella, who has acted as his butler for many years but at this point they are family, and even if he wanted to tell the truth, the alchemists forced him not to reveal it, all in the name of continuing with their schemes.

Venigni begged him to make The Grand Covenant, a way for this to never happen again and so he did, once it was done it even gave the people of Krat more security about the puppets; Geppetto knows that Venigni tried to get the case of his parents murder re-opened but that his efforts were unsuccessful, Pinocchio did tell him that he killed that puppet and that he felt about it, he told his son to not feel bad about it but Pinocchio is too pure, he feels bad about most of the things he did to save Krat.

Geppetto made the 3 laws and he added Law 0 just in case, in case something went wrong and someone tried to take control over the puppets so that he could stop them from doing any harm, how ironic that the opposite of that happened.

He remembers when the first cases of the petrification disease started, how scary it all was, how fast it attacked the body, and how death was certain, how couldn't he remember? He was reading the newspaper late at night having just come from work it had been a very long day, he was exhausted from all that working when Carlo opened the door of the house, he was crying and he was angry, Romeo was standing just behind him and he was trying to avoid looking at him. At that moment it clicked, his graduation, he didn't attend his son's graduation.

“You don't care about me, you never have, you only care about your goddamn job!”

Carlo was 18 and after that, his son barely spoke to him, Romeo also barely spoke to him and like the idiot he was Geppetto buried himself even more in his work.

Two years later was when the epidemic started, the petrification disease was in full force, so many getting infected and the alchemists were trying to help everyone, although now Geppetto and everyone knows that all just all lie, that they were the ones behind it and Simon was using it for his plans. Not only did they use it for experiments but the Ergo of those who died was sent to them, as a way to “find a cure” It was all just to make Simon stronger.

Then Carlo got sick…and died.

As his father he stood next to him in that hospital, everyone had told him to stay from a distance, that he could get sick as well, that the sickness was a death sentence, but he didn’t care, he stood by Carlo’s side and back then he didn’t care if he die, he just wanted to be next to him. He always found it odd that he didn’t get sick, at the time people said that he just got lucky, but Geppetto never felt lucky, it should have been him and not Carlo.

“Father I’m sorry” Carlo was apologizing, he apologized because he felt like he wasn’t a good son when it was the opposite, he was a great son. Geppetto knows that he was just a bad father. He told Carlo to not apologize, that it was all his fault that their relationship wasn’t the best but that he has always loved him and will always love him.

As Carlo’s condition grew worse Geppetto felt as if he was in a living nightmare, he was powerless to do anything, he just watched as his son slowly died in front of him. How he lost his mobility, and how his son lost his sight, Carlo also lost his voice, a symptom that wasn’t common but it happened to him. He always held his son’s hand, and during those moments Carlo had always tears on his face, Geppetto would talk to his son, anything to try and make him feel better, to make Carlo forget even for just a moment the torture he was going through.

Eventually, Carlo became unconscious and the very next day his son died, he held him in his last moments, they had to remove him from his body but even then he would let go. At the morgue of the hospital, Geppetto paid off the staff and gave them even more money so they wouldn’t ask questions, in the end, he was allowed to leave with his son’s body.

He wasn't going to allow anyone to take his son's Ergo or take anyone his son away from him, he lost his mind, he would do anything to bring Carlo back, he tried to bring Carlo back but it wasn't enough Ergo, he needed more, he started to build Pinocchio, he made the P organ, he just needed a way to collect all that Ergo.

So he started the frenzy.

The first few “errors” and “glitches” began, and then the puppets began their attack, but almost as soon as they began to attack, they stopped, well they stopped obeying him, they still attacked others, although Geppetto knows now that they were attacking alchemist and their creations, but obviously all those puppets attacking like that caused chaos, people ran away and hid to find safety. The puppets didn't even last a day under his control.

That was all Romeo's doing, he was stopping him.

He still can't believe he wanted to blame Romeo for his own selfish actions.

“This isn't what he would have wanted” Romeo's words stung just as poison, he confronted him directly when Geppetto went outside the Hotel for that small moment, and he was right, he should have listened to him. Romeo wanted Carlo back as well, because their friendship developed into something more, they were more than just friends and who wouldn't want the one they loved the most to be brought back? But Romeo was stronger than him, he was strong because he didn't try to bring Carlo back like him, he had faced reality and he was trying to stop all of this.

“You don't have to do this” Romeo was looking directly at him, he had come out of the giant puppet he had been using as a shield, “Please… listen to me I… I always…”

Romeo always saw him as family, but Geppetto was too consumed by his own grief to listen to him, he just walked away from him, his mind was completely consumed with the idea of bringing Carlo back no matter what, he wanted, he needed to see him again. His mind would play over and over again when Carlo was sick when he passed away in his arms.

Geppetto looks at the piles of papers, one has a journal, but he can barely understand the notes he took, they are too messy, and his handwriting is different he could tell that he was shaking when he wrote this, and the notes are all over the place, incomprehensible at some points.

He barely remembers trying to bring him back, he remembers who Carlo had attacked him, but it was just because he was confused, Carlo wasn't in control of himself, he was in pain as he was not fully complete yet. But Carlo wanted to be at peace, he knew it and he only saw it when it was almost too late, the most painful thing he had ever done was crush that heart, but for that brief moment when Carlo's Ergo was in his hands, he could feel his emotions, he could feel that his son was finally at peace, that it was what he truly wanted.

Geppeto looks again at those notes, his notes about building Pinocchio, he also has gaps in his memory about building him, although his mind was somewhat clearer in that state, if you can even call it clear, Geppetto can see how delusional he was while reading his writings. Sometimes he still feels like he is insane, its a bad thing but he doesn't talk about the dark thoughts that consumed his mind at that time, he knows its not good to keep it all in yet he still does it, he also has nightmares about it, somedays he wakes up in the middle of the night completely filled with panic and dread.

But he keeps it all in because he doesn’t want to worry Pinocchio, he has to be strong for his son. Maybe he needs to write down his feelings just like his son does, Geppetto knows that he can't allow himself to be consumed by his dark thoughts again.

Shortly after Romeo confronted him, Geppetto ran into that alchemist with the Donkey Mask and then…

A loud crashing sound interrupted Geppetto's thoughts.

He ran out of the room to see what happened, while cleaning his bookshelf Pinocchio had lost his balance, he grabbed the bookshelf for support but it ended up falling on top of him.

“Son are you alright?!” He helped his son get back up, it was a big bookshelf so Geppetto was really worried.

“I'm fine,” his son said, clearly holding back tears.

Geppetto hugged him at first only gently but then he held his son tightly not wanting to let go.

“Father…?”

“It's nothing son I just…” Geppetto was the one holding back tears now, “I was just remembering a few things that's all”

Pinocchio knows that his father gets sentimental when looking back at the past and even if he can speak better about it sometimes he tends to remember the bad times. So he hugs his father back and they share that moment together, it should be a nice memory, something good for his father to remember.

It was getting late so they stopped their cleaning and both got ready for bed, but Pinocchio couldn't sleep well, he was worried about his father, so he stood up from his bed.

“Going to sleep with him tonight?” Gemini asked, although he already knew the answer, “You are a good boy Pinocchio, caring for your father like that”

Pinocchio smiled.

“Can I sleep in your bed while you are gone?”

“Sure, make yourself feel like a king,” Pinocchio said as he let out a small laugh, he wished Gemini goodnight and left his room.

He carefully entered his father's room without making noise, his father was already asleep and looked like he was too tired, Pinocchio slid himself into bed next to him, hopefully, his father would have a nice surprise in the morning.

—----

“Sir, these are the remaining documents you asked for”

“Good,” said the man to one of his subordinates, “You may leave now”

As the door was shut, some information was easy to get, some weren't, but all were essential to his plan, he needed to look back at the history of Krat or rather when the puppets first began to appear, he looked at all the data he has collected and begins to read through it, making himself an idea of everything that happened over the years.

After finishing, the alchemist began to wonder how the frenzy started, none of the other alchemists ever found out it was strange but it could be that it truly was someone within their group who didn't want to admit it, the frenzy didn't go in their favor, for some reason those puppets were stopping their plans but after some time they stopped their uncoordinated attacks and it made them easier for them continue their activities. He never really liked Simon, although to be fair no one liked Simon but his plans gave everyone so much data about the nature of Ergo and what you can do to push its limits.

The alchemist set the papers and quickly re-arranged them, putting them neatly in a folder, he hates disorder and he looked at his study, he just cleaned it yesterday but it was already filthy in his eyes, everything must always be set in place but unfortunately he will have to wait a few hours before cleaning again, he must continue this research no matter what and he has the perfect distraction, he just needs to use that puppet to cause a little chaos and the minds of everyone will completely forget about the alchemist's activities.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #this is in ao3 too #ao3 link #lies of p geppetto #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo #lies of p gemini

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littlesweetchurro · 2 months ago

Text

Malfunctioned

Chapter Five

✨Summary:

You were no better than a fangirl.

The hero's head snaped up, his eyes traveling from the hologram to you as he took in your incredibly flustered, embarrassed face. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

"See something you like, nerd?" he taunted.

"I— What? No!" you sputtered.

Really? That's your answer!

"I was just... examining the fabric of your costume. For, uh, heat resistance properties."

✨Content: Cursing

✨W.C: 3019

✨ Also on AO3

Bakugou

30%

30 fucking percent.

His arrest numbers had dropped by thirty percent in the past week. Fucking thirty percent. He could practically hear the extras whispering behind his back, questioning if the great Dynamight was losing his edge.

His jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple. This was all because of those damn faulty gauntlets. Without them, he couldn't unleash his full power. Couldn't take down the tougher villains as quickly or efficiently.

The thought of that smug tech specialist wormed its way into his mind. She'd promised results, but so far all he'd gotten was excuses and delays. His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

He stormed into the workshop, his teeth gritted and hands clenched.

The nerd was hunched over her workbench, surrounded by a mess of blueprints and holographic displays. She looked up as he entered, her eyes lighting up with an enthusiasm that made his scowl deepen.

"Dynamight! Perfect timing. I've just finished the improvement plans for your gauntlets," she said, gesturing to the cluttered workspace.

He grunted, crossing his arms. "This better be good, nerd. I've been blasting villains without my gear all week because of your bullshit."

The tech ignored his hostility. She pulled up holographic schematics, pointing out various modifications. "I've redesigned the nitroglycerin storage system to increase capacity by 35%. And look here," she zoomed in on a particular section, "I've added a pressure regulation system that will give you finer control over your explosions."

Bakugou studied the plans. He hated to admit it, but some of the changes looked interesting. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

"And what the fuck makes you think I need 'finer control'?" he snapped. "My explosions are perfect as they are."

The nerd didn't back down. "Your explosions are powerful, yes, but with this system, you could create more precise blasts for situations that require a lighter touch. It would expand your tactical options."

He scoffed. "I don't need more 'options'. I need gear that can keep up with me."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to give you," she insisted, pulling up another display. "Look, I've analyzed your fighting style. These modifications will complement your movements, not hinder them."

He felt his temper rising. Who did this nerd think she was, claiming to understand his fighting style after just a week? "You don't know shit about how I fight," he growled.

The tech's eye twitched. "I've studied hours of footage, Dynamight. I might not be a pro hero, but I know gear, and I know how to optimize it for different quirks and fighting styles."

Bakugou stepped closer to the workbench, looming over the tech. "You think watching a few videos makes you an expert on me? That's fucking rich."

The nerd didn't flinch. She met his glare head-on. "I don't claim to be an expert on you, Dynamight. But I am an expert on support gear. And whether you like it or not, this design will improve your performance."

"Bullshit," Bakugou snarled, slamming his palm on the table. A small explosion scorched the surface. "You're just another know-it-all nerd who thinks they can tell me how to do my job."

To his surprise, the tech stood up, getting right in his face. "And you're just another hot-headed hero who's too stubborn to accept help when it's offered. These improvements could save lives, including yours. But go ahead, keep throwing your little tantrums if it makes you feel better."

Bakugou felt a surge of... something. Anger? Excitement? He couldn't quite place it, but he found himself wanting to push further, to see just how far this nerd would go.

"You've got a lot of nerve, talking to me like that," he growled, leaning in closer. "I could blast you through that wall with one hand."

She snickered. Actually fucking snickered. At him. "Go ahead and try it, tough guy. I'd love to see you explain to the agency why you destroyed hundreds of thousands worth of equipment."

He grinned. This nerd had some serious balls. He watched as her face flushed with anger, her eyes practically sparking. It only made his grin widen, which seemed to piss her off even more. Good.

"Fine," he snarled. "You think your fancy new design is so great? Prove it."

A smirk played at the corner of her lips, and he had to resist the urge to blast it off her face. "I thought you'd never ask," she said, moving towards a cleared area of the workshop.

She activated a series of machines, creating a holographic simulation of a city block. "This is a recreation of your fight last week against the Octopus Villain," she explained, pulling up footage of the battle alongside the simulation.

Bakugou watched with narrow eyes, as she demonstrated how his current gauntlets performed in the fight. Then, with a few quick adjustments, she ran the simulation again with the modified design.

The difference was noticeable. The simulated Bakugou moved with greater agility, his explosions more controlled and targeted. He took down the villain in half the time, with significantly less collateral damage.

Well fuck. This nerd was bark and talk.

His mouth twisted into a grin. But he quickly schooled his expression back into a scowl. He’ll be damned if he let the nerd know he was impressed.

"It's just a simulation," he grumbled.

The nerd's satisfied smirk was back, and it made Bakugou want to blow something up, preferably that smug look. "True, but the math checks out. These modifications would objectively improve your performance."

Bakugou glared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated growl. "Fine," he bit out. "Maybe some of your ideas aren't completely shit."

The tech's face lit up with triumph, and Bakugou felt his irritation spike again. "Don't get cocky, nerd," he snapped. "I still think most of this is unnecessary crap."

This tech was infuriating, stubborn, and way too smart for her own good. But she was good.

The nerd's face flushed with anger. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the workbench, knuckles turning white.

"Unnecessary crap?" she sputtered. "These modifications could mean the difference between life and death out there!"

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "I've been doing just fine without your fancy upgrades, Four-Eyes."

"Fine?" The tech's voice rose an octave. "You call nearly getting skewered by that octopus villain 'fine'?"

The fuck did she say? "I had that situation under control!"

"Oh really?" She pulled up the footage again, zooming in on a particularly close call. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you barely dodged that tentacle."

"Tch." Bakugou glared at the hologram. "I was setting up for my final attack."

The nerd threw her hands up in exasperation. "And with these modifications, you could have ended the fight before it even got to that point!"

Bakugou leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Listen here, you uppity little—"

"No, you listen!" She jabbed a finger into his chest. This fucking nerd. "I'm trying to help you, you stubborn a— man! Why can't you just admit that maybe, just maybe, someone else might have a good idea?"

There was no fucking way she was about to call him, the number two hero an ass.

Bakugou gritted this teeth. Then, to his own surprise, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. This nerd had some serious fire in her.

"Because," he growled, unable to keep the hint of amusement from his voice, "I'm the fucking best. I don't need help."

The tech's eyes blazed. "You arrogant, pig-headed—" She stopped bit her lip, took a long inhale, nostrils flaring before she huffed out a breath.

Bakugou couldn't help it. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of this pint-sized nerd going toe-to-toe with him. Not many people had the guts to stand up to him like this.

It was refreshing.

You

You felt heat rising to your cheeks as you glare up at Dynamight. His crimson eyes bore into yours, challenging, infuriating and dangerous. Stupidly dangerous. Any survival instincts you may had once had, were apparently nowhere to be found. You wanted to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Peace begins with me.

All is well.

And all that other Zen bullshit.

Anything to keep you from lunging yourself at the man standing in front of you and getting burnt to a crisp.

"For the last time," you gritted out, "these modifications will significantly improve your combat effectiveness. Why can't you just—"

"I don't need your nerdy bullshit to be effective," he cut you off. "My explosions are already perfect."

I am calm.

You bit the inside of your mouth and resisted the urge to bang your head against the workbench. How can someone so skilled be so goddamn stubborn?

"Look," you replied. "I'm not saying your explosions aren't powerful. But with these adjustments, you could have finer control. Imagine being able to create precise, targeted blasts for hostage situations or delicate rescue operations."

He scoffed.

This mother—

"I don't do 'delicate,' nerd. I'm not some fucking rescue puppy."

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

I am calm.

I am Zen.

You're a professional. Keep your shit together.

Even if this pro hero is acting like a petulant child. Scratch that, a child was a lot easier to deal with.

"Fine," you said, taking a deep breath. "Let's focus on the combat applications then. With the new pressure regulation system, you could vary the intensity of your explosions on the fly. Imagine catching a villain off guard by suddenly increasing your blast power mid-fight."

He glanced at the projections and for a second, a long second you thought he finally saw reason. Maybe, maybe he would finally understood.

"I don't need tricks," he growled. "My raw power is enough to take down any shitty villain."

Maybe not.

You bit back a groan of frustration. "It's not about tricks, Dynamight. It's about expanding your arsenal. Giving you more options in the field."

"Options are for weak heroes who can't get the job done with pure strength," he sneered.

Keep calm.

Keep calm!

"Oh, for f— heaven's sake!" you exploded, throwing your hands up. "Are you really so arrogant that you can't see how this could make you even stronger? Or are you just scared of change?"

Shit.

God damn your mouth! Why couldn't you keep quiet?

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you regretted them. Dynamight's nostrils flared, and you swore you could see small explosions popping in his palms. But you weren't brave enough to look. You apparently could choose when to be brave, you just had really really shitty timing.

"What did you just say to me?" he snarled, leaning in close.

You swallowed hard, but stood your ground. You've already crossed a line; might as well see it through. "You heard me," you repeated, your voice steadier than you felt. "I think you're afraid. Afraid that if you admit these modifications could help, it means you're not as perfect as you think you are."

The hero's face contorted with rage, and you braised yourself to turn into a crisp, burned engineer. But then, to your surprise, he let out a bark of laughter.

"You've got some serious balls, nerd," he said. "But you're dead wrong. I'm not afraid of anything."

Finally, an opening!

"Prove it then," you challenged. "Let me implement these modifications. If they don't improve your performance, I'll personally remove them and never suggest an upgrade again."

He studied you for a long moment, his red eyes intense.

Stick to your guns! You knew deep in your bones that you were right, you shouldn't let this man intimidate you. Even if such man could melt you into tomorrow in five seconds—two with your improvements.

Finally, he spoke. "Fine. But I get final say on which mods stay. And if this fucks up my gear, I'm holding you personally responsible."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Deal," you replied.

You held out your hand, half-expecting Dynamight to ignore it. To your surprise, he snorted but reached out to grasp it firmly.

His hand was massive, easily engulfing yours. The rough calluses scraped against your softer skin. But what really caught you off guard was the heat. His palm radiated warmth like a furnace. It was like holding a warm cup of hot chocolate.

It was nice. Really nice, if you were being honest.

"Don't make me regret this, nerd," he growled, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting go.

You flexed your fingers, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of warmth. Like the weirdo you were, you had the urge to bring it to your nose and see if it smelled like caramel.

"Let's go through the modifications one by one, and you can decide which ones to keep." You urged on.

For the next hour, you and Dynamight poured over the schematics. You should have known not to judge a book by its cover, Dynamight turned out was more knowledgeable about the technical aspects than you expected. He was brawn and brains. He asked pointed questions and made some surprisingly insightful suggestions.

"What about this part here?" he asked, pointing to a section of the gauntlet. "If we reinforced it, couldn't I channel more power through without risking structural damage?"

"That... that's actually a really good idea," you admitted. "We'd need to adjust the alloy composition, but it could work."

Dynamight smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Still an arrogant ass.

"See? I told you I know my shit."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it go to your head. You still thought the pressure regulation system was unnecessary."

"It is unnecessary," he grumbled.

As you leaned in to make a notation on the blueprint, you suddenly became aware of how close you were to Dynamight. The heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of caramel and smoke that clung to him. Your eyes flicked up, taking in his profile.

You hated to admit it, but he was undeniably attractive. Curse him and his handsome face. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and the way his hero costume clung to his muscular frame was... distracting, to say the least. Your gaze trailed down his neck, over his broad shoulders, to his chest—

Shit. You realized you've been staring for far too long. You stumbled backward, your face burning.

You were no better than a fangirl.

The hero's head snaped up, his eyes traveling from the hologram to you as he took in your incredibly flustered, embarrassed face. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.

"See something you like, nerd?" he taunted.

"I— What? No!" you sputtered.

Really? That's your answer!

"I was just... examining the fabric of your costume. For, uh, heat resistance properties."

You bit back a groan.

His grin widened, and you want nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. Maybe it wasn't too late to let his gauntlets blow up on his face.

No! Bad brain. Focus on the work.

"Sure you were," Dynamight drawled, clearly not buying your excuse. He stretched, making his muscles ripple under his costume. "Don't worry, I'm used to people staring. Can't blame 'em for appreciating perfection. Can't blame you ."

You scoffed.

"Please. I've seen better biceps on a noodle."

It was a blatant lie, and you both knew it, but there was no way you were going to admit that. Dynamight's arms were practically works of art, sculpted by the hero Gods themselves.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? Why don't you come over here and test that theory?"

What?

You stopped breathing. Was he... flirting with you? No, that was ridiculous. This was Dynamight, the explosive hero known for his short temper and disdain for, well, everyone. He was probably baiting you into touching him so he could have an excuse to blast you into tomorrow. He would claim it had been self-defense.

And yet there was that stupid glint in his eye that made him look almost…playful. Nonsense, it was probably a cataract or he was having an aneurysm, neither one was more probable that Dynamight flirting with you.

"We should, uh, finish going over these modifications. There's still the matter of the ignition timing to discuss."

Dynamight's smirk didn't fade, much to your mortification. "Fine. But don't think I didn't notice you checking me out, nerd. I might have to start charging admission."

How in God's good name did you get here?

You groaned, eyes glued to the screen. "Can we please just focus on the work?"

"Whatever you say, Four-Eyes," he rumbled. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your little crush on the number two hero."

"I do not have a crush on you!" you protested a tad too loud, a tad too desperate.

The explosion hero just grinned, looking at you like you did have a crush on him and he was ever so gratefully blessing you with his presence. The sadist was clearly enjoying himself. "Keep telling yourself that, nerd. Now, about that ignition timing..."

As you dove back into the technical details, you tried to ignore the way your skin tingled every time he leaned close to examine a schematic. You told yourself it was just the excitement of working on such advanced gear, nothing more.

It had to be nothing more.

But a small part of you, a part you're trying very hard to ignore, wondered what it would be like to trace his muscles with your fingers, to find out if he tasted as sweet as he smelled.

No. Stop it. You're a professional, dammit. Though apparently that went out the window.

Focus on the work.

You shook your head, pushing those dangerous thoughts aside. There was still so much to do, and you couldn't afford to get distracted by Dynamight's... everything.

Even if a small part of you kind of wanted to.

#fanfic #mha fanfiction #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha x reader #your-mum3000

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