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kaszuma · 7 months ago

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Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

#anime #kn8 #kaiju no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #kaiju no 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #angst

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macmay · 11 months ago

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transmutationisms · 8 months ago

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any thoughts on the obsession with "hyperprocessed foods"? is there even such a thing and if so how much of the stuff around it is fake?

such a flawed useless categorisation lmao; this phrase comes from the nova scale, according to which an "ultra-processed food" is identified by a lack of sufficient "intact" food and the presence of "sources of energy and nutrients not normally used in culinary preparations" and additives specifically "used to initate or enhance the sensory qualities of food or to disguise unplatable aspects of the final product" (other additives, such as preservatives, antioxidants, and stabilisers, only qualify a food as group 3, "processed"). ultra-processing is defined as "a multitude of sequences of processing [...] includ[ing] several with no domestic equivalents," and ultra-processed foods are "usually packaged attractively and marketed intensely."

......so ok, first of all, this is very obviously reliant on a lot of assumptions about what 'normal' cooking and cooking equipment means, lmao. i do all kinds of shit in the kitchen that would have been inaccessible to someone in the mid nineteenth century; has the food become 'less processed' because i can make it at home now? if i obtained the equipment to hydrogenate oils myself would they magically not be ultra-processed simply because they came from my kitchen and not from an industrial setting?

this is just quasi-scientific language to express a fundamental distrust of food produced in ways that currently can't be replicated in [researchers' definitions of] a [normal] home kitchen. it's barely more sophisticated than platitudes like michael pollan's command to "eat only foods your grandmother would recognise". using the nova classifications to make assumptions about the healthfulness or danger of a food is just silly; the presumption is that the dietary and medical effects are not due to the food itself but to how it's produced, an idea that has led researchers to conclude that "the NOVA system suffers from a lack of biological plausibility so the assertion that ultra-processed foods are intrinsically unhealthful is largely unproven."

fundamentally the only evidence that nutritional scientists have been able to produce is observational studies showing a correlation between certain ill health outcomes and consumption of 'ultra-processed food'.

But the observational studies also have limitations, said Lauren O’Connor, a nutrition scientist and epidemiologist who formerly worked at the Department of Agriculture and the National Institutes of Health. It’s true that there is a correlation between these foods and chronic diseases, she said, but that doesn’t mean that UPFs directly cause poor health.

Dr. O’Connor questioned whether it’s helpful to group such “starkly different” foods — like Twinkies and breakfast cereals — into one category.

[...]

Clinical trials are needed to test if UPFs directly cause health problems, Dr. O’Connor said. Only one such study, which was small and had some limitations, has been done, she said.

ie, when evaluating the healthfulness of foods you have to actually look at what they are and what the human body does with them, and not just make a bunch of wild assumptions based on fears about their lack of proximity to 'naturalness' or propensity to be advertised (unlike, i guess, other more intact foods, which are not commodities. who knew!)

and there are like a million trillion other reasons why this correlation might hold: off the top of my head, for instance, people who rely more on the convenience of ready-made foods likely to be categorised as 'ultra-processed' are likely to be people who can't cook because they don't have time because they're working. so as usual nutrition and health science does a dogshit job distinguishing between the health effects of socioeconomic status and those of whatever some dickwad wants to publish a splashy study about.

there are certainly 'ultra-processed' foods that we can be extremely confident are harmful to human health---for example, trans fats. but the categorisation as a whole is so conceptually flawed as to be useless for any purpose besides as a term that 'scientises' culturally held beliefs about the wholesomeness and healthfulness of home food preparation, and the corresponding danger and artificiality of industrial production and methods.

#hps #sorry long ass post this is a bugbear of mine lol

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echo-riot · 9 days ago

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Wired for you (previously posted on wattpad) chapters 1-5

The air in the workshop was thick with the smell of oil and the hum of machinery, a constant buzz that had become as familiar to you as your own heartbeat. You had worked in more sterile environments before, but there was something about the grime of Silco's operation that made you feel more alive, like you were part of something important. The underground tunnels of Zaun were a world of their own, a far cry from the gleaming labs you'd worked in before, but now you found yourself in the heart of this dangerous world, a new recruit to Silco's growing empire.

As you walked through the dimly lit hallways of the hideout, your boots echoed softly against the metal floors. The walls were adorned with tools, blueprints, and designs for weapons and tech that had been hastily scribbled out on pieces of paper. You had no time to waste—Silco needed you to repair broken equipment and upgrade the tech his people used. And that's where you came in. You were a techie, a specialist, with a sharp mind and a reputation for turning broken gadgets into powerful machines.

Your first real test came sooner than you expected.

You were summoned to the back of the hideout, where a small group of Silco's inner circle had gathered. It was there that you first laid eyes on her.

Sevika stood near the center of the room, her imposing presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She was a tall, muscular woman with dark skin that gleamed in the soft light of the room. Her silver-gray undercut was sharp, and her eyes were filled with the kind of intensity that made most people take a step back. But there was something more—something unspoken—that drew your attention. The powerful, robotic arm that replaced her missing limb was a marvel of engineering, a testament to the brutality of this world.

"You must be the new recruit," she said, her voice low and unwavering. "I'm Sevika. And if you're here to fix my arm, you better be good at what you do."

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the weight of the situation. No pressure, right?

You nodded, keeping your composure despite the tension in the room. "I'm here to help. I've worked on a lot of tech, and I've got experience with prosthetics and augmentations."

Sevika regarded you with a long, unreadable stare. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, but you stood your ground, meeting her gaze without flinching. There was no room for hesitation in Silco's operation, and you weren't about to show weakness now.

After a beat, Sevika motioned toward her arm. The metallic appendage glinted under the lights, the intricate gears and mechanisms visible beneath the surface.

"I had a little... incident earlier," she said, her tone casual, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested something more than just a simple malfunction. "Looks like my arm's in need of some work. Can you fix it?"

You approached her cautiously, not wanting to cross any lines, but your curiosity was piqued. You had seen mechanical arms before—hell, you'd built a few yourself—but none as advanced as this one. It was a marvel of engineering, a powerful tool, and yet there was something almost elegant about the design. As you inspected the damage, you could tell it was more than just a simple repair job. This wasn't a matter of fixing a few wires or reprogramming a circuit. It would take skill, patience, and a deep understanding of the mechanics.

Sevika, for her part, didn't flinch as you worked. She stood still, letting you inspect the arm with a quiet intensity. It was clear she was used to this kind of thing, but there was a subtle tension in her posture, a wariness that she didn't bother to hide. As you worked, you noticed the scars on her arms, the faint marks that told stories of battles fought and won—battles that had taken their toll.

You had heard the rumors about Sevika. She was Silco's right hand, a ruthless enforcer who commanded fear and respect in equal measure. She was known for her strength, both physical and mental, and her loyalty to Silco was unwavering. But there was something about her that intrigued you, something beneath the surface that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You're not like the others," Sevika said suddenly, her voice cutting through your thoughts. You looked up, meeting her gaze. "Most people would've already been shaking in their boots by now."

You raised an eyebrow. "I'm not most people."

She gave you a look, one that was part amusement, part challenge. It was the kind of look that made you feel like she was measuring you, trying to figure out what made you tick. But it wasn't hostile—not entirely. Instead, it was almost like she was testing you, seeing if you would rise to the challenge.

You worked in silence for a while, your hands deftly repairing the damage to her arm. The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of tools clicking and gears turning. You were focused on your task, but your mind couldn't help but wander to the woman standing in front of you.

Sevika was a force to be reckoned with. Her presence was commanding, and the way she carried herself made it clear that she was someone who didn't take shit from anyone. But there was also something more to her—something you couldn't quite place. Beneath the tough exterior, you sensed a quiet vulnerability, a rawness that she kept hidden from the world. It was a feeling you recognized all too well.

When you finally finished repairing her arm, you stepped back, wiping the sweat from your brow. You had done it. The arm was functional again, the damage fully repaired. You had done what you came here to do.

Sevika flexed her fingers, testing the movement of the prosthetic. She nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Not bad," she said, her tone begrudgingly approving. "You've got skills."

You allowed yourself a small smile in return. "Glad I could help."

Sevika's gaze softened for a moment before she quickly masked it with her usual cold demeanor. "This is just the beginning," she said, her voice low and authoritative. "There's a lot more work to be done if you want to stay here."

You nodded, already knowing what was expected of you. Silco's operation was no place for weakness, and you had to prove yourself if you wanted to make it in this world. But as Sevika turned to walk away, you couldn't help but notice the way her muscles rippled beneath her clothing, the quiet strength in her movements. She was a force of nature, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you might have found your place in this chaotic world.

As the door to the room closed behind her, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Sevika's world was dangerous, unpredictable, and full of threats—both external and internal. But for now, you were part of it, and that was all that mattered.

You had a feeling that your work with Sevika wouldn't just be about fixing broken machinery. There was something more at play here, something that neither of you could ignore.

—-

The first few days in Silco's operation were chaotic, to say the least. You had expected the job to be challenging, but nothing could've prepared you for the intensity of life in the underbelly of Zaun. The constant sound of clashing metal, the hum of electricity running through the city's veins, and the ever-present tension in the air all served to keep you on edge. But the hardest part, by far, was working with Sevika.

Silco had decided to assign you as her personal technician—after all, no one else had the skills to fix the intricate mechanisms that powered her robotic arm, let alone design new weapons and tools for someone like her. You couldn't help but wonder if Silco had some ulterior motive. He was never one to make decisions without calculating the benefits, and you suspected your placement near Sevika was no accident. But there was no time to dwell on it. You were here to do a job, and that's exactly what you intended to do.

Your first assignment came quickly. Sevika's arm was damaged again—this time, during a skirmish with a rival gang. The mechanical appendage was cracked and malfunctioning, its delicate inner workings in need of immediate attention. You were called to the scene, as usual, but there was one key difference this time.

Sevika was already there, waiting.

She stood with her arms crossed, her stern gaze fixed on you as you walked into the room. Her imposing presence made the air feel heavier, her muscular frame and silver-gray undercut giving her an almost otherworldly look in the dim lighting. Her robotic arm was slung loosely at her side, a reminder of the damage it had sustained.

"I hope you're better at fixing things than you look," Sevika said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. There was a sharpness in her tone, one that you had come to expect, but it still stung nonetheless. "Don't waste my time."

You set your tools down carefully and nodded. "I'll get it fixed, Sevika. Just give me a minute to take a look."

She didn't respond right away, simply watching as you began to assess the damage. It wasn't the first time you'd fixed her arm, but the complexity of this particular issue was more than you'd anticipated. As you inspected the damaged components, you could feel her eyes on you—constant, unwavering. It wasn't unusual for her to be so watchful. You were a new face in her world, after all, and she didn't trust easily. You'd be lying if you said you weren't frustrated by her unspoken challenge. It wasn't just her arm that she seemed hesitant to allow you to fix. It was her entire self, and that made your job even harder.

"So, you're Silco's new toy?" she asked after a few moments of silence. "What's your story?"

You glanced up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since you'd started working. Her stern expression was still there, but there was a curiosity lurking beneath it, one that made you uncomfortable. You weren't used to being under such intense scrutiny, but you weren't going to back down either.

"I'm here to do my job," you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral. "Silco needed someone with experience in tech, and I'm the best for the job. That's all there is to it."

Sevika gave a small grunt of approval, but it was clear that she didn't fully believe you. You had to prove yourself in her eyes, and that wasn't going to be easy. She was as tough as they came, and the last thing she would do was hand over her trust to a stranger.

As you worked, the silence between you grew heavier, the tension palpable. It wasn't just the mechanics you had to fix—it was the distance that seemed to stretch between you two, one that neither of you was willing to bridge. Sevika didn't speak much during the process, but you could tell she was watching you closely, assessing every move you made. You couldn't help but feel the weight of her gaze, and it made your focus waver just for a moment. She was intense, not just in her physical presence but in the way she observed the world. She didn't trust easily, and that made her difficult to read.

After a while, the arm was fixed, the cracks sealed, and the internal systems realigned. You tested it carefully, making sure the movement was smooth and the circuitry was fully operational. Sevika flexed her fingers, inspecting the arm herself. You stood back, waiting for her judgment.

"It's better," she said finally, her voice low. "Not perfect, but it'll do for now."

You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead. It wasn't perfect, but it was functional, and that was what mattered. At least for now.

"Good. What's next?" you asked, hoping to move on to the next task.

Sevika's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "I've got some new designs in mind. Something to make my arm even more useful."

You didn't hesitate. "I can do that. I'll need some specifications and time to draw up the designs."

Sevika's gaze sharpened. "Don't take too long. We're not here to waste time."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her presence lingering in the air like an electric charge. You couldn't deny that you were intrigued by her, though you were also frustrated by the way she seemed to keep everyone at arm's length—herself included.

Over the following weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time with Sevika. Whether it was fixing her arm, designing new weaponry, or upgrading the various pieces of tech used by Silco's people, you were always in close proximity to her. Each time you worked together, you could feel the tension rising—an unspoken challenge that neither of you was willing to acknowledge, let alone address.

It didn't help that Sevika was an enigma. She was sharp, intelligent, and brutally honest, yet there was something guarded about her. It was like she held a part of herself back, always on the defensive, always ready for the next fight. You didn't know much about her past, but you could tell she had been through things that had shaped her into the person she was now—someone who didn't trust easily, who didn't allow others to get close.

But there were moments, fleeting and rare, where you saw something else in her—something softer, more vulnerable. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep you coming back, trying to understand her, trying to make a connection. Those moments were usually brief, but they were enough to make you wonder if she was willing to let anyone in.

You had become frustrated with her reluctance to trust you, especially when it came to the weapons you were designing for her. You spent countless hours drawing up blueprints, testing materials, and refining the designs, but every time you presented them to her, she shot them down with a scowl or a dismissive comment. You had worked with plenty of difficult clients before, but Sevika was a different breed. She didn't take kindly to suggestions, let alone any form of criticism.

"You think this is going to work?" she asked one day, after you presented yet another weapon design. Her arms were crossed, her stern eyes boring into you as if she were trying to see right through you.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's not about what I think—it's about the design. It's built to give you an advantage in close combat. Faster, more efficient."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "And what makes you so sure it'll work?"

"I've tested the tech. I know it'll hold up under pressure," you replied, your voice calm but firm.

For a moment, Sevika simply stared at the blueprint, her gaze intense and unyielding. Then, without warning, she tossed the design aside and looked at you. "You don't get it, do you?"

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You think this is about technology," she said, her tone low and almost contemplative. "It's not. It's about trust."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent so much time focused on the technical aspects of your work, trying to prove yourself through your skills, that you hadn't stopped to consider what Sevika might really need. She wasn't just looking for a new weapon—she was looking for someone who would understand her, someone she could rely on, someone she could trust.

You swallowed hard, your frustration melting into something else—a quiet understanding. It wasn't about being the best techie in the room. It was about earning her trust, one step at a time.

"I understand," you said quietly.

Sevika didn't respond right away. Instead, she simply gave you a brief nod before turning away. "We'll see if you do."

As she walked out, you couldn't help but wonder what it would take to truly earn her trust. The challenge was only just beginning, but for the first time, you felt like you might be ready for it.

—-

The sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air as the chaos of battle roared around you. The walls of the warehouse you were in had been shattered by explosives, leaving only skeletal remains of what had once been a place of operation for one of Silco's competitors. Now, it was just a battleground.

Your hands were covered in dirt and blood, but it wasn't your blood. At least not yet. You could still hear the deafening crackle of gunfire, the screams of combatants, and the rhythmic thud of boots against broken concrete. You had no time to process the madness, no time to analyze the risks. There was only one thing on your mind: Sevika.

She was out there somewhere, fighting like the savage enforcer she was, but that didn't ease the growing tension in your gut. Your job wasn't just to repair her tech anymore. You were her lifeline in moments like this, the one who kept her operational. You knew Silco valued her, which meant he trusted you to make sure she didn't get taken down by something as simple as a malfunctioning limb.

But that's exactly what had happened.

As the sounds of the battle raged, a series of explosions rattled the building. A flash of light cut through the haze, and the sharp sound of a grenade landing in their midst signaled trouble. You turned just in time to see Sevika take the brunt of an attack, her imposing figure engulfed in a plume of smoke and debris.

"Sevika!" You called her name, your voice barely carrying over the din of gunfire. But she wasn't the type to be taken down easily. The towering woman with the silvery-gray undercut and the robotic arm was built to survive, to fight. She stumbled back, smoke trailing behind her, and staggered toward you, gritting her teeth.

But her arm... her robotic arm was glowing red, a violent flash of sparks and smoke spiraling out from the damaged joint.

You cursed under your breath. The arm was compromised again, this time far worse than before. She had taken the hit directly. From the looks of it, the damage was more than just superficial.

Sevika pushed past the rubble, her breathing labored but determined. Her eyes locked onto you as she limped forward, her gaze sharp but pained.

"Fix it," she ordered, voice grating with exertion.

You didn't waste a second. You rushed to her side, your toolkit already in hand. You could see the strain in her muscles, the raw pain in her movements. The fight had clearly taken a toll on her, but you knew that if you didn't get her arm fixed now, she wouldn't last much longer in the field.

As you knelt beside her, your mind raced. You had the necessary equipment, but you'd have to work fast. Time was running out. Her arm was sparking wildly, and you could see the frail connections inside the prosthetic were melting under the strain. The sheer force of the explosion had done more than just break the external shell. The internal workings were fried.

"Stay still," you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you gently pushed her to a sitting position on the debris-strewn floor.

She grunted, but complied, her large frame sinking heavily against the broken wall. The contrast of her muscular form and the delicate intricacies of her cybernetic arm was a strange thing to behold, but you had seen it before. The arm was a marvel of engineering, but it could only withstand so much.

You quickly unlatched the arm's external casing, revealing the intricate wiring and burned circuits. You could feel the heat radiating off of it, the burn marks and jagged edges showing just how much damage had been done. Your hands worked quickly, pulling out the damaged components and trying to replace them with whatever you could salvage from your kit. It wasn't ideal—this wasn't a full workshop—but you had no choice.

Through the haze of urgency, you couldn't ignore the tension between you and Sevika. The proximity forced a certain intimacy, and it was in these high-pressure moments that the barriers between people were sometimes broken down.

"Where does it hurt?" you asked, your hands deftly working to repair the circuitry. You needed her to be able to move and fight again, but you also needed to understand the extent of her injuries.

She winced as she tried to adjust her position, but there was no complaint, no plea for mercy. It was just raw determination. "Don't bother asking," she said. "Just fix it."

Her voice was rough, strained, and there was something behind it—a tension, an anger, maybe even a touch of vulnerability that she quickly masked with cold defiance.

You didn't press her. Instead, you focused on your task, knowing the only way to get through this was to keep her focused. The weight of her trust was not something to be taken lightly. You were the one who could bring her back from the edge, and you would.

Sevika's gaze was fixed on the chaos of the battle, even though the fight had moved farther from where she was now. She was always aware of her surroundings, constantly vigilant. But there was something different about the way she sat now—her face was grim, her usual unshakable composure slightly cracked.

"I've been in worse," she muttered, almost as if speaking to herself, her voice a little too low. It was a far cry from her usual confidence, and for the first time since you'd met her, you saw something different in her eyes.

"What happened?" you asked quietly, working to replace a damaged wire.

Sevika's gaze flickered to you, her eyes narrowing. She was silent for a long moment. The words she was about to say seemed heavy, like they carried the weight of years of pain and sacrifice.

"I lost my arm when I took a bomb for Silco," she said, her voice surprisingly soft, though still edged with that familiar hardness. "We were ambushed. I pushed him out of the way, took the blast full force."

Her words struck you like a hammer. Sevika, the woman who never showed weakness, the one who had built herself into a machine of strength, had given everything for someone else. She had sacrificed her own body to protect Silco, the man she followed without question.

A part of you wanted to ask more, wanted to know why she would risk everything for him, but you stopped yourself. This wasn't the time for questions. She wasn't looking for sympathy. She wasn't looking for answers. She was telling you this in her own way, in the only way she knew how.

"I didn't need to," she continued, her voice harder now, as though she had to force the words out. "But I did it anyway. And now... well, now I've got this." She motioned to her arm, her tone tinged with bitterness. "A machine. A replacement. A reminder."

Her words stung, but you didn't say anything. You couldn't. The silence between you grew, thick and palpable. There was so much more you wanted to say, but now wasn't the time.

Instead, you finished the repairs and reattached the final piece of the arm. The prosthetic hummed to life again, the circuits sparking back into action. She flexed her fingers, her expression unreadable, before she looked at you.

"Thanks," she said, the words quiet but genuine. It was the first time she had acknowledged your work in such a way, without the usual snark or brusque dismissal.

You stood up and stepped back, breathing a little easier now that her arm was operational again. "Anytime."

But as you looked at her, something had shifted. Sevika was not just the machine-like enforcer you'd met when you first arrived. She was a woman who had been through hell, who had paid a price for loyalty and for love—whether she'd ever admit it or not.

"Are you okay?" you asked, unable to stop yourself. The words were out before you could stop them.

Sevika glanced up at you, and for the briefest moment, her eyes softened. "I'm fine," she said, her voice more subdued than you had ever heard it..

But you could see the cracks now. You could see the weight she carried, the unspoken burden of the choices she had made. And despite her tough exterior, you knew that this mission, this partnership between you two, was only just beginning.

——

The dim light of the hideout flickered as the remnants of the battle outside faded into an eerie quiet. The dust had settled, but the tension in the air was thick. You had been working alongside Sevika for several months now, and in that time, you had learned to read her every movement, every shift in posture. She was always alert, always vigilant. There was no room for weakness, no room for hesitation.

But tonight, as you sat next to her in the corner of the hideout, the silence was different. It wasn't just the usual quiet that came after a fight; there was something heavier about it, something that seemed to weigh on Sevika herself.

You had finished repairing her arm again after the last skirmish. She'd insisted she could fight through it, but you knew better. She had taken more hits than anyone else, pushing herself to the limit with little regard for her own well-being. This time, though, she hadn't argued when you told her she needed to rest. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. But as always, she tried to hide it behind that cold mask.

You glanced at her now, sitting across from you, her imposing figure draped in shadows. Her stern eyes, usually filled with calculated intent, were distant tonight, unfocused. She was lost in her own thoughts, staring into the space between you two. It wasn't like her to be so still, so... vulnerable. You weren't sure why, but something about it felt like a crack in the wall she'd built around herself.

"You never talk about the past," you said, your voice gentle but probing. "I've heard little bits and pieces, but it's like you don't want anyone to know."

Sevika's gaze snapped to you, sharp and guarded. For a long moment, she didn't respond, as if weighing whether to dismiss you or actually engage in this rare moment of vulnerability.

"I don't see the point in dragging it all up," she muttered finally, her voice a low rumble. "What good would it do?"

You watched her carefully, noting the way her muscles tensed slightly, the way her jaw clenched. She was retreating into herself, already bracing for whatever answer you might give, expecting judgment, expecting rejection. But you didn't offer either.

"I'm not here to judge you, Sevika," you said softly. "I just... I just want to understand you better. We're in this together, aren't we?"

Her eyes narrowed, the tension in her body thickening as if she was about to shut down. But then, something shifted. Her posture relaxed just the slightest, as though the pressure she had been holding onto had loosened—if only for a moment.

"I wasn't always like this," she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were telling herself more than she was telling you. "There was a time when I had more... hope. More... dreams."

You could hear the subtle change in her tone, the rawness in it that she was trying to hide. She didn't speak often about her past, but when she did, it was always brief, always shrouded in a defensive wall. This was different. You could sense the unspoken weight of her words, the unspoken truth that she was revealing more than she had in years.

"What happened?" you asked carefully, not pushing but wanting to know more. It felt like the right moment. Like she needed to say it.

She exhaled slowly, her gaze turning to the floor. For a moment, she was lost in thought again, the vulnerability there flickering like a flame in the wind. Then, with a huff of frustration, she spoke.

"I grew up in the underbelly of this city. People like me, we don't have much of a choice. You fight, you survive, and you either become a predator or a victim. I didn't have much of a family, just a few of us from the same neighborhood. We took care of each other. We had to."

Her fingers tightened around the armrest, the mechanical limb creaking softly under her grip. "But Silco... he came around, and everything changed. He promised us more, a way out of the chaos, a future. I believed in that. I believed in him."

There was a sadness in her voice, a hollow echo of trust betrayed. Her usual strength, the fortress she had built around herself, seemed to crumble just a little as she spoke of those days. It was a side of Sevika you rarely saw—the young woman who had once believed in something greater than herself.

"I fought for him, for his cause, because I thought we could make things better. I thought it was worth it," she continued, her voice steady but laced with the bitterness of a past that still haunted her. "But the more I fought, the more I lost. I lost my friends, my family... and eventually, I lost myself."

You could see it now. The cracks in her armor weren't just physical, weren't just the result of combat or injury. They were emotional, deep scars that ran through her heart, hidden beneath layers of toughened skin and steel. Sevika had been a weapon, a tool, a pawn in a much larger game. And the cost had been her humanity.

"Losing my arm was just the final blow," she said, her eyes hardening once more as she wiped away a stray strand of hair. "It was just another reminder of what I gave up. What I sacrificed for him... for this."

You sat there in silence, feeling the weight of her words, understanding more about her than you had ever imagined. She had been broken long before you'd met her, and every tough exterior and sarcastic remark had been built to protect herself from feeling the weight of that loss. You didn't blame her for it. You understood. You understood more than she might have guessed.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, your voice soft but genuine. "For everything you've lost."

Sevika's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto yours, and for the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in them—something raw, something vulnerable. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but it was enough to make your heart ache for her.

"You don't get it," she muttered, shaking her head as though trying to dismiss her own emotions. "This city... it's built on lies. There's no place for people like me to belong. We don't get to have things like peace. We just survive."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with resignation. But something had shifted between the two of you, a change that was subtle yet significant. Sevika had let her guard down, if only for a moment. She had shared something with you that she had never shared with anyone else, not even Silco. And despite her attempt to mask it with harsh words and defensive anger, there was a part of her that was grateful, even if she wouldn't admit it aloud.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said after a long pause, meeting her gaze without flinching. "You don't have to do this alone."

She looked at you for a long time, her eyes narrowing as if assessing whether or not she could trust your words. But you could see the shift in her—a quiet understanding passing between you. It was unspoken, but it was there, the fragile bond of trust that had started to form between you two.

For the first time since you'd met her, Sevika's eyes softened, just a fraction. She didn't say anything. Instead, she gave you a small nod, one that was barely perceptible but still meaningful. It was as if she had finally acknowledged your presence in her life, as if she was allowing herself to let you in, even if only a little.

"Thanks," she said gruffly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, before she stood up, her posture shifting back to its usual rigidity. "But don't expect me to start talking about feelings. I'm not that kind of person."

You smiled faintly, knowing that it wasn't about words. It was about the understanding that had passed between you, the silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, she didn't have to carry the weight of the world alone.

"No promises," you replied.

As Sevika turned to leave, you could feel the weight of her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. It was a brief connection, one that might fade with time, but for now, it was enough.

——

The hideout was quiet, the usual hum of activity now a soft murmur in the distance. Most of the others had retired to their quarters, leaving you alone in the dimly lit workshop with nothing but the soft clink of tools and the sound of your steady breath. The flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the room, and the constant buzz of the damaged arm in front of you was a reminder of just how close you and Sevika had come to the edge in the last few weeks. Tonight, though, was different.

Sevika had insisted on staying to supervise your work. Her arm had been damaged again during the last mission—nothing you couldn't fix, but enough to make her insist on waiting while you worked. The last few days had been taxing for both of you, and the weight of it hung in the air between you, making each glance feel heavier, more meaningful.

Her towering presence was almost a constant in the space now, but tonight, it was oddly subdued. She was leaning against the workbench, her usual hard exterior softened by the late hour. Her silver-gray undercut glinted in the low light, and the mechanical arm she'd once used as a symbol of her strength now sat motionless on the table in front of you. Her usual bravado had slipped away, leaving a vulnerability that you hadn't seen before.

You continued to work, carefully inspecting the arm's damaged plating. A few of the internal components had been rattled loose during the fight, and you needed to carefully realign them. The sound of your hands moving across the metal was calming, the only sound in the room as you focused on your task. The silence between you and Sevika was strange, but comfortable in its own way. You couldn't help but notice how she'd positioned herself: close enough to be within arm's reach but far enough to keep that invisible wall of distance.

Sevika's gaze followed your movements, her eyes calculating, always watching, never allowing herself to relax too much. You could feel the weight of her stare on your skin, the intensity that radiated from her like an unspoken challenge. She was so used to being in control, used to holding power over every situation. But right now, she wasn't. Right now, you had control of her fate. Her well-being was in your hands.

You glanced up at her for a brief moment, your eyes meeting hers. The usual guarded expression was still there, but there was something else lurking behind her stare—a flicker of curiosity, of something more. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but you caught it. And for a brief moment, you wondered if she'd noticed the same thing in you.

You focused back on the arm, trying to shake off the rising heat in your chest. It wasn't the first time your proximity to her had made your heart race, but something felt different tonight. Maybe it was the long hours, the shared exhaustion, or maybe it was the quiet moments of understanding that had passed between you in the last few days. Whatever it was, it was undeniable.

The tension in the air seemed to stretch as the minutes passed, the two of you falling into an unspoken rhythm. You worked in silence while Sevika watched, her posture still rigid but with an underlying softness. Every so often, you caught her looking at you—brief glances that spoke volumes. She didn't say anything, but her presence was all-encompassing. It was like she was trying to figure you out, to understand the person who had slowly begun to occupy her thoughts more than she'd ever intended.

There was something intoxicating about her quiet intensity, the way she observed you without a word. It was almost as if she were waiting for something. And as much as you tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn't help but feel the pull of it. The space between you had grown charged, thick with a tension neither of you could ignore. Every movement you made felt too intimate, too close.

You reached for the tools, trying to steady your hands as you tightened a bolt on the arm's plating. It wasn't until you heard her voice, low and quiet, that you realized how much you had been avoiding it.

"You're good at this," Sevika said, her tone strangely soft for her usual bluntness. "Better than most I've seen."

Her compliment caught you off guard. It wasn't that you didn't expect her to recognize your skills; she was smart enough to know your value. But the way she said it, the way her eyes lingered on you—it felt different. There was no sarcasm in her voice, no mockery. Just honesty.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice steady but betraying the flicker of warmth that had spread through your chest. "I've had a lot of practice."

She nodded, her eyes following the movement of your hands as you worked. The silence stretched again, and for a moment, the only sound was the quiet clicking of your tools against the metal. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, heavy and penetrating, like she was searching for something in the way you moved, in the way you responded to her.

You could feel it too—the heat building between you, the way the space had grown too small, too tight. It wasn't just the proximity. It wasn't just the late hour or the shared exhaustion. It was the chemistry that had been simmering between you two since the first moment you'd met. You were drawn to each other, even if neither of you was willing to admit it aloud.

You finished tightening the last bolt and stepped back, wiping your hands on a cloth. Sevika's arm was fixed, the metal gleaming under the light, its mechanism now working smoothly. You looked up at her, your gaze meeting hers once again.

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, the unspoken question in them hanging in the air. Was she going to say something? Would she acknowledge the tension between you? You held your breath, waiting for her response.

But instead of speaking, Sevika stood up, her movement fluid and practiced. She reached for her arm, slipping it back onto her shoulder with a precision that spoke to years of experience. The moment was fleeting, a passing glance that could have been interpreted a hundred different ways. And yet, neither of you said anything more.

You both stood there, the air thick with the unspoken, the silence almost deafening now. Sevika adjusted the arm, testing the strength of it, her fingers flexing around the controls. But she didn't look at you as she did so. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, her face unreadable once again.

"Good as new," she muttered, her usual gruffness returning.

You nodded, your mind still swirling with the unspoken words that hung between you. The moment had passed, but something inside you told you that this wasn't over. The tension, the chemistry—it hadn't disappeared. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next moment when it might explode.

"Glad I could help," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Just don't get it blown off again."

Sevika gave a sharp, almost imperceptible grin. "I'll try not to. But no promises."

You watched her walk toward the door, her movements as calculated as ever. She paused in the doorway, glancing back at you one last time. There was something in her eyes then, something that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if she was waiting for you to say something, to acknowledge the moment that had passed between you.

But instead, she just nodded and walked out.

You stood there for a long time after she left, the quiet of the room pressing in around you. You could feel the weight of her absence, the empty space where her presence had been just moments ago. But you also knew that whatever had passed between you two tonight—whatever unspoken words, whatever building tension—it wasn't over.

#sevika #arcane #sevika x you #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika story

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autotopic · 4 months ago

Text

1938 Mercedes-Benz W154

In September 1936, the AIACR (Association Internationale des Automobile Clubs Reconnus), the governing body of motor racing, set the new Grand Prix regulations effective from 1938. Key stipulations included a maximum engine displacement of three liters for supercharged engines and 4.5 liters for naturally aspirated engines, with a minimum car weight ranging from 400 to 850 kilograms, depending on engine size.

By the end of the 1937 season, Mercedes-Benz engineers were already hard at work developing the new W154, exploring various ideas, including a naturally aspirated engine with a W24 configuration, a rear-mounted engine, direct fuel injection, and fully streamlined bodies. Ultimately, due to heat management considerations, they opted for an in-house developed 60-degree V12 engine designed by Albert Heess. This engine mirrored the displacement characteristics of the 1924 supercharged two-liter M 2 L 8 engine, with each of its 12 cylinders displacing 250 cc. Using glycol as a coolant allowed temperatures to reach up to 125°C. The engine featured four overhead camshafts operating 48 valves via forked rocker arms, with three cylinders combined under welded coolant jackets, and non-removable heads. It had a high-capacity lubrication system, circulating 100 liters of oil per minute, and initially utilized two single-stage superchargers, later replaced by a more efficient two-stage supercharger in 1939.

The first prototype engine ran on the test bench in January 1938, and by February 7, it had achieved a nearly trouble-free test run, producing 427 hp (314 kW) at 8,000 rpm. During the first half of the season, drivers such as Caracciola, Lang, von Brauchitsch, and Seaman had access to 430 hp (316 kW), which later increased to over 468 hp (344 kW). At the Reims circuit, Hermann Lang's W154 was equipped with the most powerful version, delivering 474 hp (349 kW) and reaching 283 km/h (176 mph) on the straights. Notably, the W154 was the first Mercedes-Benz racing car to feature a five-speed gearbox.

Max Wagner, tasked with designing the suspension, had an easier job than his counterparts working on the engine. He retained much of the advanced chassis architecture from the previous year's W125 but enhanced the torsional rigidity of the frame by 30 percent. The V12 engine was mounted low and at an angle, with the carburetor air intakes extending through the expanded radiator grille.

The driver sat to the right of the propeller shaft, and the W154's sleek body sat close to the ground, lower than the tops of its tires. This design gave the car a dynamic appearance and a low center of gravity. Both Manfred von Brauchitsch and Richard Seaman, whose technical insights were highly valued by Chief Engineer Rudolf Uhlenhaut, praised the car's excellent handling.

The W154 became the most successful Silver Arrow of its era. Rudolf Caracciola secured the 1938 European Championship title (as the World Championship did not yet exist), and the W154 won three of the four Grand Prix races that counted towards the championship.

To ensure proper weight distribution, a saddle tank was installed above the driver's legs. In 1939, the addition of a two-stage supercharger boosted the V12 engine, now named the M163, to 483 hp (355 kW) at 7,800 rpm. Despite the AIACR's efforts to curb the speed of Grand Prix cars, the new three-liter formula cars matched the lap times of the 1937 750-kg formula cars, demonstrating that their attempt was largely unsuccessful. Over the winter of 1938-39, the W154 saw several refinements, including a higher cowl line around the cockpit for improved driver safety and a small, streamlined instrument panel mounted to the saddle tank. As per Uhlenhaut’s philosophy, only essential information was displayed, centered around a large tachometer flanked by water and oil temperature gauges, ensuring the driver wasn't overwhelmed by unnecessary data.

#mercedes benz

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tinydefector · 5 months ago

Note

Reader with a disability- like a lost limb or two. And their cypertronian friendo’s make them new limbs?

I’d personally like to see it with the Decepticon‘s. But I’ll take anyone.

Upgrades

Tarantulas x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

Used the wheel spinner to pick a character for this one, and you got tarantulas, and he was actually a lot of fun to write. Based him quite a bit of the earthspark Tarantulas.

___________

They sit off to the side as Tarantulas works. Not being able to do much else other than wait for him to finish his work. The scarring on their leg aches and it makes them twitchy for sitting so long with nothing to do. "How much longer?" They ask softly trying not to scratch the area

He glances over at the human, a soft click comes from his mandibles. "Patience, my friend. These things cannot be rushed." He turns back to his workbench, carefully assembling components of the new prosthetic he was working on. "I assure you, the end result will be well worth the wait."

They continued to sit there for a moment but eventually decided they were sick of just sitting. using the equipment beside themself they pull themself to stand, keeping a hand on it while hopping closer trying not to fall over. Tarantulas' optics briefly flicker towards them as they uncomfortably hop closer, clearly struggling without the support of their prosthetic. He pauses in his work, claws delicately holding a small metallic component mid-assembly.

"I would not recommend straining yourself in such a manner," he says evenly. "The device will be completed as efficiently as I am able. injuring yourself will only hinder the process. One of his claws came out to steady them. He clicks the part into place with meticulous care, then glances back at the human.

"I'm bored sitting here Tarantulas" they admit while moving closer using his arm as a guide closer. "Can you put something on for me to watch or something, I can't handle just sitting here in silence, please I'd even suffer listening to the music you like so much" they hand brushes against his plating as they stand against his frame, pressing their head against the spider furr of his plating.

Tarantulas lets out an exasperated hiss as the human presses against him, interrupting his concentration. Still, he suppresses the urge to shove them away, he rumbles softly reminding himself they were a touchy one, it was only them and not someone else touching him.

"Very well," he grumbles, reaching a clawed hand to tap at a nearby console. "I shall provide some 'entertainment' to distract that feeble organic processor of yours." The screens in his lab flicker to life, he types away for a moment with his other talons and brings up some mind numbing videos. He bristles again when their hand runs over the furr before he settles again. "Try not to leak your oils and fluids on my exoskeleton," he snarks slightly but settles into the light touch. He lifts them up, settling them between his shoulder plate and helm, talons subtly guiding them until they had sat comfortably. " now you're just being a dick" they state with amusement while snuggling against him.

He turns back to the delicate work with a few small clicks. Tarantulas narrows his optics at the human's crass words, but otherwise does not acknowledge their playful jab. His thoughts are focused solely on completing the task at hand. With meticulous precision, he settles back into work, a talon coming up to check on them occasionally to check if they had fallen asleep. They'd make a small noise but other than that they were content watching the videos.

Tarantulas soldiers the final connections, tweaking the calibration. "It is done," Tarantulas announces, and they peek up to look at the finished prosthetic. "Your patience has paid off. Shall we test its capabilities?" He holds up the brand new leg for them to look at for a moment. With care he helps them off his shoulder, setting them down gently. Once they are seated, he works quickly; multiple talons move with skill to fit the prosthetic into place, ensuring the connections are seamless.

"How does it feel?" he asks while making sure to attach it the right way, checking to make sure the pins didn't pinch on the attachment, as he watches their reaction he's already working on another design in his processor. "Walk with it. Carefully." He steps back, folding all his arms but one as he watches for any sign of instability.

He olds one out for them to use encase they needed it, but For now, he watches. As they stand up and put pressure on it, it feels different to the other prosthetic. The first few steps are wobbly with Tarantulas guiding them with a servo to make sure they don't trip. "Feels weird, lighter than the last one.Tarantulas watches closely as the human takes their first tentative steps with the new prosthetic. His optics brighten with fascination at seeing his engineering in action. “What did you change?". It wasn't as heavy as the last prosthetic he had made for them.

"I utilised a lighter alloy in its construction to reduce overall mass, while integrating cybertronian servo-motors to enable more natural movement. They should also allow for greater precision and control compared to your previous prosthesis," Tarantulas explains, a hint of pride creeping into his voice despite himself.

"In time, it should function almost similarly to your original organic limb, perhaps even surpassing it in strength and capabilities. I can continuously refine the design as needed." He gestures to his workbench, laden with tools and components. "For now, simply continue acclimating yourself to it." His optics gleam with anticipation. It was something almost simplistic but they needed it.

They continue walking around on it testing the feeling of the new prosthetic, after they sit down and watch the way the hinges bend with each time they straighten and bend their leg. "Still don't know how you do it Tulas, you would be an awesome prosthetic manufacturer you know" they shoot him a delighted smile. Tarantulas lets out an amused huff at the human's praise.

"An 'awesome prosthetic manufacturer'? Hardly a fitting aspiration for one such as myself." He turns back to tidy up his workstation, sorting tools and components with methodical efficiency. "I engineer these enhancements purely as scientific curiosities, and for the opportunities they provide in helping you." Picking up a small welding tool, he regards it thoughtfully as he continues. "But I admit, it is gratifying to see my creations appreciated."

“Got a soft spot for me Tula?” they tease at him. Tarantulas sets down the tool and moves closer to the human, gently flicking them with one of his talons. "But thank you, I know it probably doesn't mean much to you due to being Cybernetic, but this means alot to me to be able to walk, and you're making it easier with the knee bending." It's a sincere thank you. They look over at the other prosthetic. "Do you know why this one broke?"

Tarantulas picks up the damaged prosthetic leg, turning it over in his claws as he examines it closely. "Inferior craftsmanship," he hisses in disdain. "Not unexpected from those human manufacturers. They lack true vision." He traces a talon along a cracked seam in the prosthetic's casing. "Substandard materials and shoddy construction. I could improve upon this base design in recharge."

Setting the leg down, Tarantulas turns his optics to the human. "Do not trouble yourself with their inept handiwork any longer. You shall walk solely on my creations from now on."

They laugh at his crase words shaking their head in amusement, it was nice to see him enjoying working on something that to him was so basic yet to them was a life altering thing. They smile back at him as they disconnect the prosthetic, placing it in their lap to look it over. "It's pretty, didn't take you as an artist type Tula" they hum in amusement while admiring the patterns etched onto the fake leg.

Tarantulas tilts his head quizzically at the human's comment about his artistic sensibilities. "Artistry? Hmpf. I merely adorn my creations to...satisfy your simple organic aesthetic preferences." He steps closer and runs a talon along the etched patterns in the prosthetic's casing. "But I admit, an elegant design does complement the engineering within."

________

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#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #mtmte #transformers earthspark #Earthspark #tf earthspark #tarantulas #tarantulas transformers #transformers Tarantulas #tarantulas earthspark #tarantulas x reader #Tarantulas x human #transformers: more than meets the eye #transformer

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burganequipment · 2 months ago

Text

Among the most critical instruments are lube oil testing equipment and temperature test device, without which the possibility of bearing a critical gear or shaft failure can never be ruled out during an operation.

Lube oil testing and temperature test equipment must be of premium quality to provide accurate and reliable results.

#temperature test equipment #lube oil testing equipment

0 notes

natalievoncatte · 2 years ago

Text

It was just a night, much like any other, when everything changed. Kara was tired- between the apartment fire and her work that day at CatCo and mopping up another alien crime ring, she’s barely slept in four days and had been skipping meals. It was a rare thing indeed when Lena was pestering Kara to eat lunch.

As soon as she reached the house, she glanced up and tilted her glasses down. Lena was in the kitchen, hard at work. A quick scan of the countertop revealed the mess she’d made putting together her homemade gyoza. As with everything in her life, when Lena decided to learn to cook, that she might pamper her girlfriend and her superhuman appetite, Lena went into it fully, taking culinary classes and equipping the remodeled kitchen of their suburban homestead with every conceivable gadget. Lena’s first change to the house was a bump-out that turned the already expansive “chef’s kitchen” into a near-commercial level culinary laboratory, and she threw herself into making dumplings with the same gusto with which she had set about solving the energy crisis, as if the freshly made potstickers awaiting the oil heating in the gas-powered commercial wok were as vital to humanity’s future as the fusion plant she was building in the desert.

Kara stopped in the entryway to the kitchen and drank Lena in, enjoying the fleeting moment before she was noticed. Hands covered in flour the elbow, Lena hunched over her cookbook, expression furrowed in deep concentration. She’s dressed down in a baggy flannel and patterned leggings that hugged the inviting curve of her hips that cried out for Kara’s hands, and wore her hair in a simple, loose ponytail. Everything about her was soft and cozy and home, and Kara would trade a king’s feast for one taste of those soft lips.

The whole scene played out in her mind. She’s sidle up behind Lena, who’d crack a joke about Kara being dressed as the CEO, and pretend she hadn’t noticed Kara’s return. Kara would let down her hair and bury her fingers in it, then her nose to devour Lena’s scent. As soon as Kara’s lips found the curve of Lena’s jaw, dinner would be indefinitely postponed and Kara would sate her hunger in other and better ways.

Then, she heard it. Beneath Lena’s heartbeat, strong and steady and safe, was another. A tiny, racing thing, like a baby bird. Kara stood there dumbfounded for too long a beat before she understood and let out a soft cry.

Lena looked up.

“Darling? What’s wrong?”

Kara fought to keep her voice from choking but failed. “I love you.”

“Did something happen?” Lena said, turning from the counter. “Kara, what is it?”

“I love you. I’m not angry and we’re okay. I just need Alex. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Lena nodded. “Okay.”

Kara was out the door and in her suit and flying just fast enough not to endanger Lena. They’d been trying for months for this; dozens of visits to the Fortress, tests, experiments. She knew that, eventually, it would work.

It was hitting her now. Kara landed a little too hard on Alex’s back porch and knocked on the glass.

Alex was there in an instant. “Kara? What’s wrong? Is everything…”

“Lena’s pregnant.”

Alex’s face went briefly blank. “Oh.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Kara stepped into the house, sat down. As she took a seat, sweeping her cape to the side, Alex poured them both glasses of seltzer water and joined her. They sat quietly for a long time.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Alex said, “How did you find out?”

“I heard it. I don’t know if she knows.”

“Kara,” said Alex, “did you run?”

Kara looked up sharply, eyes stinging with tears. “What have I done?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We made a baby, Alex. A little person, a living being we’re bringing into the world. What have I done?”

“Kara?” Said Alex, resting her hand on Kara’s. “Slow down, okay? Breathe. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Lena and I talked about this,” said Kara. “This life we have, being together, all the risks. We agreed to it. This little baby didn’t. She’s going to see her mom getting her head punched in on TV. What if I get sent to the Phantom Zone again? What if I die?”

“You won’t-“

“I already have,” Kara snapped, surging to her feet. “How many times, Alex? How many? What if there’s no magic grass to bring me back next time? What if I leave them alone?”

Alex stared at her, face an unreadable mask, heart racing.

Kara turned, frantic, and paced Alex’s kitchen, her eyes drawn inexorably to Esme’s drawings on the fridge, to the pictures of Alex and Kelly on the living room wall.

“So don’t,” said Alex.

“How?”

“Maybe it’s time for Supergirl to hang it up.”

Kara froze, and this time it was her own heart she heard hammering in her chest, batting against its cage of ribs as if it might break free. Her eyes found the mirror above the living room sofa and she saw herself now in the colors and crest of her house.

Her house.

“What do you mean?”

Alex stood up. “You have died three times,” she said. Clinically dead. I was there. Maybe it is time for it to stop.”

“I can’t do that to them again,” Kara agreed.

“No, but I’m not saying this for them, Kara. I’m saying it for you. You paid. Whatever debt you think you owe, you’ve paid it.”

Kara covered her mouth in her hand, biting back a sob as the tears came.

“Why should I have this, huh? Tell me why I should have it? Just because they all died and I didn’t?”

Alex stood there, stuck silent. Kara knew the hug was coming before it arrived, and melted into it. Alex gripped her firm and strong.

“I have so much to lose now,” Kara sobbed.

“No, Kara. You have so much to live for now.”

Kara’s eyes flicked open. She stared last Alex, ignoring the sting of free flowing tears. The thought of all that had come before. The sight of Krypton, crumbling in a green flash as if devoured by some great primordial dragon. Reign and Red Daughter, the darkness that has gripped her between death and Sol’s loving warmth, gifted by the soul of this Earth herself.

They were not grave markers but way stones, not portents of doom but a map. A map that led only one place.

“I have to go. Lena.”

“It’s okay,” said Alex. “Go home to your girl, Kara. Call me when you’re up for it, and maybe you can talk to Kelly, too.”

“I’d like that.”

A few minutes later, Kara came to a gentle landing on the upstairs balcony and entered through their bedroom. She could smell dinner, and a quick glance told her that Lena had finished cooking and was waiting for her downstairs with a glass of juice- not wine. Lena turned it in her fingers, her face a mask of worry. Beside her sat the potstickers in a big bowl, kept warm by a damp towel. Another look revealed a pregnancy test hidden in Lena’s shirt pocket.

Kara reached up to slip on her glasses and dissolve the suit, the stopped.

Instead, she took it off, slipping out of the suit before changing into a threadbare sweater and some joggers. Later, she would fold it, put it in a box, put it away.

Right now she slipped into the kitchen, padding silently behind Lena on bare feet, savoring the quick flutter of Lena’s heart when Kara embraced her from behind. Kara made sure to press a kiss to her cheek before deftly sliding the test from Lena’s pocket.

“You used your super senses, didn’t you?” said Lena. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” said Kara. “Being the most beautiful woman in the world, and in my house no less. The audacity.”

Lena gave her a crooked smile. “Technically, this is my house.”

Kara placed a hand on Lena’s belly and spread her fingers in an wide, protective grip.

“Our house,” she whispered.

The potstickers, unfortunately, went cold.

Seeing their partner make them a meal.

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