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spikingtheodds-if · 1 year ago

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Time seemed to slow down as your muscles coiled, every fiber of your being honed in on that one moment. As the ball reached its apex, you launched yourself into the air, a burst of controlled power. Your arm swung back, and with a thunderous crack, your hand connected with the ball. You could almost hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd. The ball rocketed downward, a streak of white lightning aimed unerringly for the opposing court. The ball hit the floor with a triumphant thud, a resounding echo of victory. In that fleeting instant, you felt invincible. And you were.

Is there a better match than you and volleyball?

You, arguably the most promising spiker of your generation, led your highschool team to victory by winning against your ex-bestfriend slash rival, Nikita.

You couldn't believe you won a volleyball scholarship for the university of your dreams; and maybe you were right not to. An anonymous source convinced the university that you partook in doping and steroid use, which led them to drop you.

With no options left due to the allegations, you decided to accept a scholarship to a minor university with an unknown and lacking volleyball club, the Boarwood Titans. What's worse is that you are now forced to become a battery with your childhood rival, Nikita being the setter and you the spiker.

Can you work together with your rival to lead your team to the victor? Or will hate prevail? And will you find out who really spread the rumors against you?

A fully customisable main character, including gender, pronouns, personality, looks, jersey number, playing style, and many more!

Choices that impact the story throughout, including your team's ranking and dynamic, your reputation as a spiker, your grades, your fame, and more.

Choose between 7 romance options - figure out the love/hate relationship with your rival, fall in love with your childhood best -friend, fall back in love with your ex, the coach's child, a dedicated supporter, a mysterious med student, and the team's ex-spiker whose place you took.

Solve a mystery: who is the anonymous source hellbent on ruining your dreams?

Content suitable for 18+ readers, such as sexual themes, substance (steroids, drugs and alcohol) use, explicit language and themes, and violence.

Nikita Raymond [RO, F/M/NB]: Once your training buddy and now your rival, you wonder if the infamous "Tiger" is the one behind the allegations.There is no place for love between you two. They hate you as much as you hate them; but you'll have to to put that aside if you want to win. Can you?

Klaus/Klara Padel [RO, F/M/NB]: A stern and strict figure in your team, they're especially wary of you ever since you took their spot as a spiker. They've since made it their personal goal to make your stay at the university a living hell. They want to get their spot back, and they've got the motivation. Part of them hopes you'll be able to impress them and show them you deserve their spot, but until then, you'll have to suffer.

Jeremiah/Jerilynn Blake [RO, FtM/MtF]: The team's sweetheart, they're loved by everybody, and for a good reason. Always sporting a smile on their face and snacks in their hand, they quickly become one of your closest friends at Boarwood University.

Bree [RO, F/M/NB]: Your best-friend and setter in your previous team. They quit volleyball but still enrolled at Boarwood to be with you. A constant in your life since you were little, you'll find that Nikita's presence will create tension between you two. What's really going on between them?

Andrea Michelle [RO, F/M/NB]: Despite being the Boarwood Titans' most dedicated supporter, their stoic and hot-and-cold behaviour confuses you. They take an interest in you, only to ignore you for days. What's really up with this mysterious med student?

Angelina/Angelo Shasco [RO, F/M/NB]: Your charming ex. Things get messy when you find out your least favourite ex is at Boarwood, and they seem dedicated to not making you forget the past you had, and not in a positive way. Oh boy, spotting them at one of your games might cause either the win of the century or your life's biggest blunder.

Meet a wide cast of characters, including your classmates, teammates, opponents, and more!

-monaco & clessidra <3

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interact-if #interactive game #choice of games #cog game #if wip #cog #dashingdon #interactive fiction wip #hosted game #volleyball #interactive story

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idalenn · 4 months ago

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Day 12 - Quarry

Following victory over the primal Titan, the Warrior of Light and fellow Scions set out to celebrate. (2.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred, Y'shtola Note: Bit of MtF angst in this one.

Full text below the cut

“In the presence of good company and pleasant song, I find myself growing rather bored with the idea of sitting and demand a change of pace, as it were. These Lominsan bones desire a dance, and a drink or partner on each hand.” With a wink, Thancred tilted back his head and upended the tankard, pulling down what remained of the ale in two swigs. “As it so happens,” he gasped, “I’ve no drinks, but two suitable partners to choose from.”

“Really, now?” Y’shtola’s eyes only flicked up from her book as his tankard clattered back onto the table. “One brush with mortality was not enough for you?”

“My dear Y’shtola, have you intent to wound me?”

“Only should your intentions include separating my hindquarters from this chair will you face injury; by tome or inability to maneuver two right feet.”

“All is well. Scorn only fuels this roguish heart, and reaffirms my decision to whom I would first proffer my hand. Sadly, my cattish friend, ‘twas not our time this night.” He turned to Lillian instead who was hurriedly dunking a torn crust of bread into her soup. “Our lady of the hour should have the first dance.”

Raising her mask just enough to expose her mouth, she bit into the hot, dripping bread, soup running down her chin across skin and scar. Garlic, shallots, popotoes, ham…pepper, she thought… and other green leaves not quite identifiable by sight. A multitude of flavors danced upon her burning tongue. She sucked up the drops wetting her gloves so fish and butter from the previous course entered the mixture. Her tongue darted out to catch the droplets at the corners of her lips.

Trencher in hand, she ripped another hunk from the black-dusted bread for introduction into the soup, the popotoes softened enough by the heat for pressing into the grain until resembling a chunky paste to be topped with strips of pink ham. Relish radiated up into the tips of her ears and down her charcoal length of tail, wagging like a hound’s as it welcomed home the hunter.

His voice meandered down her twitching ear; the question slowed her chewing until her jaw hung open. The trencher’s last half slipped from her grasp and landed on the table with a solid thunk.

Was I just asked to dance? Surely it was some mistake. Y’shtola was, after all, right in front of him, and the Mizzenmast was full to bursting with patrons mid-celebration.

“You do recall her accompanying the van into Titan’s abode, do you not?”

“My, my – that old adage holds truth for you as well. ‘Miqo’te of a certain fur will together purr’ as I remember. Such sweet concern from you is altogether foreign to my ears, but lovely as I’d believed it would be.”

“Tis not concern I urge, but to remind. We have, all of us, survived the day’s excitements relatively unscathed. Some would prefer to enjoy a modicum of peace while they have it.”

“Perhaps I shall ask her.”

“Perhaps you should. I am not her keeper nor seeker, nor am I yours.”

“A pity, but I shall await any change in disposition, nonetheless.”

Thancred snatched Lillian’s hand before she could retrieve the bread and pulled her to standing, a yelp escaping around her full mouth. Her free hand yanked the mask roughly back down. Too hard. She tilted her head down to peer through one crooked eyehole, chewing faster, hoping to get a word in, and saw she was being led into the jubilant press, and the chew turned into a rattle. Turning to look at her – presumably over the chattering of teeth – Thancred returned a smile, bright and victorious, if a little smug, before pulling her toward him into an embrace, the crowd swallowing them both in a sea of bodies. One hand deftly slipped around her waist. The other kept her hand in his own. His white crop of hair tickled against the scars marring her throat. As the mouthful of food traveled down in a hard lump, she for a moment feared it would bump against Thancred’s head.

“This is not a strength of mine,” she panted. “Dancing, I mean.”

“As is strangely the case, I’ve found, with every woman of exceptional stature.” Thancred laughed, his fingers twiddling against her own, warm and riddled with knife-borne callouses. “But, since you are so in need, this once I will be the one to lead.”

She tried to laugh also. All was distracting: the people, the music, the danger of crushing Thancred’s foot, where to place her eyes; high so she avoided bumping heads with Roegadyn and Elezen, or low to avoid gifting any Lalafell a noseful of knee?

Some gyrated their hips, others flailed their arms while hopping on one leg, a few slipped around with fluid motions, bodies like ripples in tumultuous water. Stiff-armed and dipping low to kick out legs. Held up by partners to avoid the restrictions of being bound to the earth. From where would they begin when every style was unique?

“For a start, you should place that hanging arm about my shoulder.” Her arm lay flat at her side, limp like a dead snake. Under the mask her face flushed hot; not that he or anyone else would see, of course. And it’s probably for the best.

“And if I were in your position, about to be taught by an eminent instructor, it would be most pertinent if I were capable of, how I should I say this…observing?” His hand separated from hers and traveled up to the mask taking the chin between thumb and forefinger. “May I?” he asked. Once her neck tensed, he rotated the mask to the proper place with a quick tug. “Good, now I can meet both those golden eyes, much as I’d prefer the mask’s absence. What lies beneath must be a valuable indeed if needing to be kept constantly guarded away from us all.”

Lillian blinked dumbly. A brief sensation grazed the underside of her chin while his hand was outstretched; light; faint; an ember of a wizened, crumbling dream to arouse her heart. And lower, too. Thancred chuckled as she worried into the arm around her waist, but he allowed the gap between their bodies to live.

“Now, my homely, towering maiden, unless you wish to bash aside everyone present, try to imitate my movements as though I were your reflection in the looking glass.” He urged Lillian forward, his movements slow, methodical, and – most importantly – easy for her to follow, steering together through the press by manipulating her arm like a ship’s rudder.

One foot here, another there. Turn this way. Step toward me, now away, and now back. Spin. Canter forward with loud stomps, half-step, weight on the heel and pivot right – I’ll catch you.

Faster. With gusto, but keep your hand in mine. And now. We. Leap! Excellent, but watch the tail. My shin can only endure so much punishment. Turn, turn, turn as if caught in a waterspout – a twister, then, if your Gridanian imagination will permit. You picked that up quicker than I’d hoped.

Sweat rolled down her temples and beaded along her upper lip, gathered in the creases between nose and cheek and in the valleys of her scars. Exhaling was the enemy, Thancred’s praise’s only pushing the temperature further into the unbearable. Her face moistened with humidity only found in tropical storms, and she was growing acutely aware of the rising bog in her gloves that would escape down their arms if she raised her hand even slightly.

“You truly have not danced before?” he asked between directions.

“A little,” she breathed, swallowing air, “When I –” An ache in her cheek stopped her; the limit of words fast approaching. “Younger.” Single-word responses wouldn’t overtax the already-aching scars on her face.

“All that lost time. I tremble to think how long exactly given the hesitancy you’ve displayed against giving us proper answers. If not for Y’shtola tempering the Scions to more reclusive sorts, well, Minfilia might have seen to task me with wheedling the answers from you myself.” Lillian’s head whipped to face him. “Now don’t give me that look, I’ll have you know I would have been the kindest thought extractor you’d ever had the fortune to deal with.” He gave her hand a rough squeeze. “What say you to upping the complexity?”

“Joy,” she said.

That gave Thancred pause. His eyes ran her over until settling on the wobble in her legs. “Perhaps Y’shtola did have the right off it after all. My apologies for the haste. Hopefully you’ll forgive this bard his inclinations for merriment in the face of wonderous company.”

“Forgiven. Table.”

Thancred’s arm slid around her back to provide support, grunting as Lillian’s towering weight bent him low. Returning through the raucous press now seeming a single mass of heads and limbs she left up to him. Little will for the task did she possess still, but the Archon was a trained hand. Navigating the sea of bodies appeared second nature to him. It must have been no more difficult than swimming. Lillian would drown if she tried on her own.

A curious sight greeted them both when they finally broke through the crowd. Beside Y’shtola buried in her book sat another: a Miqo’te toying with a necklace not unlike a collar about her neck, gem the color of night in place of the loop for a leash. One of the Mizzenmast’s serving girls – if the red doublet, fraying black rag containing a mane of golden hair, and skirt long enough to barely conceal a Lalafell’s legs were any evidence. Three full tankards sat on the table beside her. One foot tapped impatiently on the stones as if she were waiting for someone, anyone; any at all capable of pulling themselves away from a book. As she caught sight of the approaching pair, the girl sprung to her feet and swiftly bowed, her face alight with joy when she came back up.

Y’shtola pointed a finger at the new arrival. “Thancred, I believe this one waits for you.”

“Does she now?” Surprise registered on his face for only a moment before a sultry grin took hold. Lillian felt herself lifted higher as his back straightened. “I – I must say this is a pleasant surprise. Only earlier had I jested of a companion on each arm and now a second arrives, and bearing gifts I might add.”

“She possessed a name as well, I believe,” Y’shtola added, “but pray, forgive me. I was too distracted by half when first it was mentioned.”

“Pay no attention to our bookwyrm acquaintance here.” Thancred helped lower Lillian into her seat before turning back to the girl. “Only moldy tomes can hold her attention, but you will be delighted to know such failings are unpossessed be me – the one so cordially referred to as Thancred, thank you – particularly with one so pretty as yourself.” The serving girl giggled, one hand at her ample chest, voice bubbly and so sweet as to drive one’s teeth itching. She was, unfortunately, by opinion of anyone with eyes, quite pretty. Thancred stepped closer mirroring her gesture, his hand surreptitiously unfastening one button at his neck in the blink of an eye to expose a puffed chest. “And you would be called?”

“I am Lavinia, if it pleases you, but she is right in that I have waited for your return.” Her head dropped, angular ears flattening to her head, and she stepped even closer to Thancred before returning her eyes to his. “Will you share in dance with me as well?”

“I believe I still have some reserve of vitality to draw upon for such an occasion. That is,” he said aloud, “if none present have any objections.”

“You will hear none from the ‘cattish friend’.” Y’shtola replied.

Thancred rolled his eyes. “Never one to be outstripped in timely responses,” he muttered before returning his attention to the serving girl. “So long as your absence will go without grievance. Becoming the target of wrathful seamen promised refreshment would dampen this evening ever so.”

He held out an arm for Lavinia’s taking. Batting kohled lashes, she accepted the offered limb into her hands. Thin little things, thought Lillian. Easily bruised like Lominsan apples, lithe and gainly; they cut a snug fit inside Thancred’s own. Her tail, furred in cloud-like fluff, swished back and forth against his leg with each step.

Probably feels soft as cotton.

Nearing the edge of the sea of flesh Lavinia turned to Thancred, arched toes granting extra ilms to reach his ear, some indistinguishable promise written on her lips that summoned a triumphant flash to his face. He’d been pulled closer: his arm now rested in the nook where bosom flowed into underarm, held by a starving animal – his own appetite unsatiated.

Before long they were gone, tumescence having spirited bard and serving girl into the chill of night.

Lillian shook with a feeling she did not wish to name, the cold emptiness of her chest prickling against the grey of her robes, fur along her tail’s length rising to needlepoints. The trencher became the target of her cruelty. Some satisfaction was found tearing into the bread while imagining it as those fragile hands, their covering stretched paper thin over the skeleton, those hands that had never held belief of their own incongruity.

“Fallen for his charm, have you?”

Lillian halted her shredding to find Y’shtola brushing crumbs from the tome’s pages, a strained line where her mouth should have been. “Hardly the first, and far from last – he exudes allure with nary a thought given for restraint. You would do well not to let reach his ear our Warrior of Light has been made available quarry, lest his ego grow unbearable.”

Looking up to discover Lillian’s head ducked to her chest, she let slip a sigh, deciding instead to stretch across the table to push the fullest tankard within easy reach.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #ffxivwrite2024 #my silly little titus andronicus reference in this one (yes that's Lahabrea)#considering what happens to her and the implications of being possessed by an ascian #'bit' more like 'surface level'

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 6 months ago

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Material Girl

by boospartanz Dick Grayson did not understand why he was born a boy. He would be happy either way Or Dick needs some estrogen. Or How Dick Grayson realized she was a girl Words: 1609, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Queer DC Fics Fandoms: Nightwing (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Koriand’r, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Koriand’r, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Trans Dick Grayson, MTF Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Trans Character, Minor Jason Todd/Roy Harper/Koriand’r, Minor Tim Drake/Conner Kent/ Bart Allen, Dick needs a therapist, no beta we die like batman (?) via https://ift.tt/6a1r4U7

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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hrodvitnon · 6 months ago

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Consider this: Ultraman Rising but in the Abraxasverse. Emi gets to meet Ladon, Shin and Leo because her dad, mom and grandpa initially weren't paying attention due to a bunch of new Titans showed up out of the blue.

(oh, in light of the whole "Dagon isn't female but fuck it we're making 'em trans anyway," would they be transmasc or transfem? I'm leaning towards mtf because of that gijinka doodle I did, plus more female Titans is nice.)

Ken: Whew, thanks for looking after Emi! Kiddo's all worn out. So... are you wearing a mecha suit like Gigantron? Wasn't aware that kaiju have a fashion sense.

Dagon: Ha, my wife certainly does, but this is what I actually look like.

Ken: ...so you're like a cyborg, or...?

Dagon: No, you're literally looking at my face right now. Hold on, I have a new projector installed, take a look. Here's the mechanical exterior with all its bells and whistles, here's the biocomponent layer - don't ask, it's a whole thing - and here's my skeleton. Used to call myself a walking sarcophagus, but... heh, life's looking good.

Ken:

Dagon: ...Ken?

Ken: You're a zombie?!

Dagon: NO!

#mysticaltheoremseeker #monarch shenanigans #abraxasverse #ultraman rising #kiryu!dagon

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fia-certified-freak · 1 month ago

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While procrastinating on homework I decided to compile a list of which AoT characters are into forcefemme and in which ways they are. I'm sure it's self-explanatory.

#attack on titan #nsft #trans mtf #transgirl #shitpost #zeke only supports his little sister's transition because the hormones made her sterile #mikasa only gets into it because annie told her eren would like it #eren did not like it until it started and cracked her egg #i will forever be fucking insane about headcanoning eren yeager as transfemme #also Armin is just really into getting forcefemmed because duh

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eparchclass · 2 months ago

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Titan-1 Xenintation — A queer presentation label based on the concept of MTF Titan-1 / Off The Books, aesthetics associated with Off The Books, or just Off The Books, etc. A presentation outside the traditional / typical gender binaries.

Tagging @radiomogai @presentationflag-archive and @blood-moon-night-coining

#👁️ → the black moon howls #titan-1 xenintation #mogai #pemogai #my flags #my terms #mogai coining #pro endo mogai #xenintation #presentation flag

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dzthenerd490 · 5 months ago

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File: Meg

SCP#: AID

Code Name: Megalodons the Unwanted Guardians of the Ocean

Object Class: Archon

Special Containment Procedures: Creatures of SCP-AID are to be avoided as much as possible by Foundation submarines and boats. They are also not to be attacked as doing so will place Site-AN at great risk. Any attempts to close the cave to SCP-AID will lead to the possible destruction of Site-AN and thus an XK Class End-of-the-World Scenario of unimaginable damage. As such the punishment for any attempt to do so will be the activation of Protocol “Legacy’s Downfall”.

Under no circumstances are any research or recovery drones allowed to be utilized within SCP-AID either. Any attempt to do so will lead to the demotion to D Class. There will be no exceptions.

Description: SCP-AID is a hidden section below the mariana trench that extends an unknown length and to an unknown depth. Theoretically nothing should be able to survive however it is populated with a wide variety of thought to be extinct species as well as mutated creatures. Some creatures seem to resemble different evolutionary variants of Species of Interest: The Titans. Because Titans are normally found within SCP-ACS it is assumed that SCP-AID is possibly connected to SCP-ACS but due to the possibility of aggravating the creatures of SCP-AID there is no way to confirm this.

The most common SCP-AID species that resides within are the megalodon giant sharks that grow anywhere between 60 to 100 feet large. Like normal sharks they are commonly docile and rarely if ever attack unless provoked or able to sense food nearby. Originally this was thought to the extent of SCP-AID’s anomalous properties, however observations of megalodons encountering SCP-AMZ instances have shown otherwise. SCP-AID have no anomalous abilities that make them stronger or better than normal sharks other than their size. Instead what makes them dangerous is their immunity to anomalous infection and effects.

Normally SCP-AMZ instances are able to spread SCP-ANE infection to any and all living organisms. However, the megalogons do not get infected no matter how much the SCP-AMZ instances stab or bite them. In fact, megalodons can eat hundreds of SCP-AMZ instances and be perfectly fine. Other species within SCP-AID have been observed to be able to resist SCP-ANE infection as well, how this is possible is unknown though it is hypothesized to be thanks to the Gaia Radiation from SCP-ACS. Again, there is unfortunately nothing to confirm how true this is.

SCP-AID was discovered in 1940 after it was revealed that there were SCP-AMZ instances living and growing within the mariana trench. Site-AN was quickly created to be a defensive and research site for world ending threats like SCP-AMZ and SCP-[data expunged]. However, after the completion of Site-AN, SCP-AID revealed itself as the megalodons devoured a majority of the SCP-AMZ population. As such occasionally they are regarded as defenders of Site-AN. However, a majority of the species were discovered to be extremely territorial and hate contact with the Foundation. All of this has led to SCP-AID being labeled as Object Class Archon, as it is safer to leave it alone than to contain it.

Update 2018 - a single megalodon escaped SCP-AID and tried to attack a beach on the coast of [data expunged]. Shockingly Group of Interest: the Shark Punching Center teleported into our reality within a submarine. After firing Anti-Selachian Death Punch Torpedoes the megalodon was destroyed and its body parts were later eaten by regular sharks. The SPC force tried to punch them as well, but a Foundation submarine intercepted them and threatened them to leave. The cover story was that a whale corpse exploded before it could reach the beach.

Later an SPC representative entered Site-[data expunged] with a desire to talk about the incident. MTF High Commander Riker happened to be at the Site and agreed to the interview, please see Addendum X-63 for details.

***

Addendum X-63

The following is a recording of the interview between SPC representative Jack Striker MTF High Commander Riker. The interview is taking place in a standard Foundation interrogation room with only two chairs and a table with a single ceiling light illuminating the middle of the room.

***

Begin Recording

SPC Representative Striker is balancing himself on the chair like a goofball while Riker is glaring at him with disappointment.

SPC Representative Striker: So, this is the SCP Foundation, you guys really don’t do much when it comes to decorations huh? I mean where is the wall paint? Where’s the aquariums? Where’s the friendly receptionist? And where’s the fighting rings and training centers? How are you supposed to get new recruits if you're not presenting a welcoming face?

MTF High Commander Riker: We don’t recruit openly, people in this world don’t know about anomalies-

SPC Representative Striker: Deviants.

MTF High Commander Riker: ANOMALIES… and we intend to keep it that way.

SPC Representative Striker: Alright fine, I’m just saying, sharks are the only hostile deviants we have to deal with, yet you guys have… screaming naked men that kill all in their path, statues that look like peanuts who strangle you to death, and giant shape shifting lizards! I mean we got one too, but we just killed it while you guys are keeping it around.

MTF High Commander Riker: He has more uses alive, not that it’s any of your business. Speaking of business, how about we get to it, what the hell do you want?

SPC Representative Striker: Tch, always straight to business huh? Alright, alright, we uh… we just wanted to apologize.

MTF High Commander Riker: … Pardon?

SPC Representative Striker: Look we’ve been using your reality as a means to improve and test out our SPC’s to better punch down the shark threat. But we understand that you want to study deviants not punch them or weaponize them like we do. I mean it would do you some good, but I get that you don’t want to.

MTF High Commander Riker: We weaponize some anomalies, but we only do so for the ones that can be weaponized. We don’t just ask them all to punch sharks because we feel like it.

SPC Representative Striker: Oh seriously? Cool, well anyways we’ve been doing what we want with your reality, and we understand it’s kinda pissed you guys off.

MTF High Commander Riker: Kinda, is far too weak of a word.

SPC Representative Striker: … Ahem, right so anyways we wanted to both apologize and get a meeting together between ORACLE and your O5 Council.

MTF High Commander Riker: … why?

SPC Representative Striker: So, we can make the deal official! So, we can enter your reality more often and take care of your shark problem while you focus on other stuff. I mean, lord knows you guys need it.

MTF High Commander Riker: No.

SPC Representative Striker: Wha- what?

MTF High Commander Riker: No, we don’t need you and never did, you can keep jumping in our reality whenever you want because we can’t stop you. Well, we could but it would be a waste of time and resources, so how about I warn you instead. You ever get in our way and mess up our work again, then we won’t hesitate to wipe out your pathetic little organization.

SPC Representative Striker: … I know you think we’re a joke, but make no mistake, I’ve punched sharks larger than your SCP-682. I’m not afraid of you. Any of you.

MTF High Commander Riker: I don’t want you afraid, I want results, and I want anything that gets in the way of those results… eradicated.

SPC Representative Striker: Geez, you guys are cold blooded assholes. Like seriously you do realize you kill people more often than you save them. If you were more open with people like us, you would be able to save a lot more lives.

MTF High Commander Riker: It’s not about saving lives; it’s about preserving humanity as a whole. Even if we have to cleanse until there’s a single Adam and Eve.

SPC Representative Striker: … Is that why you killed that old man?

MTF High Commander Riker: Tch, he was immune to amnestics, he was a hazard and couldn't be trusted. Besides with my enhanced sight I could see he didn’t have long anyways. I just gave him the easy way out.

SPC Representative Striker: That’s your excuse?

MTF High Commander Riker: Not an excuse, a fact. It would be an excuse if I actually cared about what civilians think about me, which I don’t. Humans are animals, they should consider themselves lucky organizations like the Foundation give a fuck about them.

SPC Representative Striker: ... I guess it was a mistake to think this deal could work. See ya later.

SPC Representative Striker then suddenly disappeared, seemingly teleporting with some unknown SPC technology.

MTF High Commander Riker: The real mistake is your existence.

Recording Ends

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

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