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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

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Make A Wish

Book passage: Elfriede Jelinek, The Piano Teacher

Me? Posting an unprompted fic? 2021 is starting off wild!

AO3 Link here

Summary: Martin knows just how to celebrate Jon’s 35th birthday. It’s soft and beautiful and speaks of a bright future.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t really want trinkets or the little gifts Martin would think to buy for a significant other. (If he does want them, at least, he doesn’t say it.) Things he needs, like clothes, he buys himself, doesn’t wait for an occasion. Overall, Martin would not describe Jon as materialistic.

Books are the exception. Books are always the exception for Jon. While Jon is not materialistic, he is usually sentimental. He keeps things for as long as he can, letting them wear and wear til they’re no longer usable, like his shoes. Especially pictures. Jon never throws away pictures. (Martin knows why and snaps as many Polaroids as he can of his partner, himself, their friends, even their cat, hanging them around the house in tiny frames as reminders.) But his books are in and out of the shelves like they run a bookshop of their own. Martin has heard the stories of his partner’s reading habits as a youth, knows that Jon’s reading habits are challenging, to say the least. Before they’d moved in together, though, he hadn’t realized that every time he was at Jon’s the bookshelves were almost entirely unique to the last visit. New titles, rarely the same authors, with no seeming organization to the assemblance. Martin knows this now, knows that once a fortnight Jon packs up all the books he’s read and takes them to their local charity shop. It’s his little ritual, and the bug-eyed look of confusion Martin had received when he had asked him about it the first time was priceless.

“I just--don’t need them anymore?” He says, like it’s a question. “I’m not going to read them again.”

“Really?” Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I took you to be a bit of a hoarder when it comes to books, if the statements in your office were any indication. And it’s our flat, so they’re our books. What if I want to read them?”

“Please.” Jon scoffs. “That’s entirely different. I don’t enjoy- well. They’re work, these are not.”

Still, after this, Jon includes Martin in his ritual, giving him synopses from books he thinks Martin might enjoy and adding the Blackwood-Approved books to the other bookshelf. Martin is quite proud of his bookshelf, identical in structure to Jon’s but entirely more organized: books ordered by genre, then by author, with figurines, photos, and plants acting as weights and decor. Jon’s deviates between sparse and overflowing, books stacked however they will fit, with no rhyme or reason to their order.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon, but he’s learned quickly that Jon isn’t a Things person. Jon is an Experiences person. The moments he treasures are the ones where he and Martin are happy to be in each other’s presence and experiencing new things together. Ice skating, picnics, hiking, cinemas, all the quintessential cheesy dates, the ones he would’ve guessed, way back when, before he knew the real Jon, this Jon, he would have snubbed his nose at.

Jon’s birthday is coming up. He’s turning 35 and is all too self-conscious about the fact. Martin ribs him a little; he’s older by seven months, after all, “you’re making me feel old, Jon!” Their ritual has become to call off work and spend a day together on Jon’s birthday. No gifts, no fanfare, just a day doing an activity Martin has planned. It’s perfect usually, Jon’s delighted smile and bright eyes when he thanks Martin with a kiss is all the satisfaction he needs. But this is 35, it needs to be special. It needs to be perfect.

---

Martin blinks awake to the steady, calming drum of rain on their bedroom window. He pats out blindly for his glasses, haphazardly set on his bedside table, and pushes them on his face, before rolling back onto his side and tucking an arm around Jon’s waist and nuzzling into his neck. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs, carding his other hand through Jon’s tangled curls. He smiles softly as he watches his partner; Jon always grumbles that he looks so much older than he is, but when he’s sleeping, Martin swears he looks timeless, a specimen of perfect beauty against the crisp black sheets. Jon shifts in his arms, turning to face him, and squints blearily at Martin. Jon, for all his sleepless nights back at the archives, is not a morning person.

“Hm-mar’in?” he mumbles, irises stained forever green. He clears his throat and scrubs at his eyes. God, he looks just like a cat. “G’mornin’,” he says, a little more comprehensible, voice rough-hewn from sleep.

“Morning, love.” Martin kisses his forehead, between his eyebrows. “Happy birthday,” His nose, cold from a chilly autumn night. “Ready for a good day?” His lips now, soft and warm. Jon sighs underneath him, presses himself into the kiss, slots himself into the Jon-shaped space in Martin’s arms.

When Martin shifts away to sit up, Jon audibly whines, grabbing at Martin’s hand to pull him back. “You’re so warm, don’t go,” he pleads. Martin chuckles and squeezes his hand.

“It’s half nine. You want breakfast, don’t you? We have an agenda to follow, don’t forget.” But Jon shakes his head and tugs again.

“Birthday Ruling,” he cites solemnly, stretching as he says it. (Again, like a cat, the way he arches his back. Is that on purpose? Martin is pretty sure he’s seen Reggie—Her Regency—do the exact same thing.) “By royal decree, you have to stay here until I’m awake enough to help you with breakfast.”

“Well,” Martin chuckles, shaking his head to himself and tucking himself around Jon’s thin form. “I can’t refuse a royal decree, now, can I?”

Breakfast becomes brunch, and once the pair are awake tea, cut fruit, and omelets are prepared and eaten on the couch. Jon being left-handed and Martin right, they sit on their perspective sides so they can hold hands and not inhibit the other from eating.

“So,” Jon prompts, eyeing Martin from his peripheral as he watches him wash dishes. “What are your secret plans? Am I allowed to know yet?”

“Hmm.” Martin considers his question, running a plate through his hands as he dried it, solemn contemplation on his face. “No.”

“Mar-tiiin,” Martin is almost worn down by that plea, a sound he doesn’t think anyone else who has ever met Jonathan Sims could fathom coming from him. A bloom of warmth in his chest; a reminder he will never feel lonely again.

“But I think you’ll figure it out,” he compromises, grinning to himself. His plan had come to him in a sudden realization at work and Martin did think it was some of his best work yet. “Here’s your hint: you may want to bring a canvas.”

Jon’s face is a measured calm. “We’re going shopping?” Martin just shrugs, winking.

They take a cab and the rain pounds down on the roof, the repetitive noise a balm against the cold and wet. Martin really got lucky today; the sound of rain is one of Jon’s favorites. He sighs inwardly as Jon rests his curls, slightly damp from their wait for the cab, on his shoulder and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his boyfriend and the pleasant drumming.

Jon’s eyes opened when he felt the cab pull to a stop, and he took their surroundings in with the quick analytical eye of an ex-Archivist. Martin felt his cheeks growing warm with excitement as they stepped out of the cab and paid. The building before them, like most Scottish buildings, was made of uneven stone. There was a little garden, mostly rocks with some shrubbery dotted between, and the pathway, also stone, though a flatter smoother variety, led to the door, which read The Watermill in blue and white lettering. “Martin?” Jon threaded his fingers through Martin’s, eyes wide.

“It’s a bookshop, Jon. It’s got reading nooks, and a café, and I swear I’ll buy you any books you want. We can stay as long as we like. We can read as much as we want.”

Three short squeezes to Martin’s hand. Oh. He was starting to ramble. He returns the answering four. “Martin, love, it sounds perfect. But it’s raining.” Right. A drop of rain rolls down Martin’s nose, and he shivers. “Let’s get inside.”

Martin is glad he brought a tote, a canvas bag with the name of Jon’s university emblazoned on the sides. He follows Jon through every aisle as Jon analyzes every book like their dogs in show. He scans the titles, covers and authors with precision, sometimes returning them with delicate hands, sometimes reading descriptions or thumbing through the pages, before deciding their worth and either reshelving it or handing it to Martin. Martin is distinctly reminded of being an Archival Assistant, helping Jon prioritize case files, except the expression on Jon’s face isn’t furrowed and grim, it’s near-rapturous awe as he selects and examines the books. There is no evident consistency to the books Jon picks, ranging from YA fiction to historical documentation to travel books of places he knew they’d probably never visit, though he always takes Martin’s suggested reads, nodding dutifully and running his hand down the spine before placing it in the ever-weighing bag on Martin’s arm.

They spend nearly an hour and a half roaming shelves before Jon is satisfied with this first load. Martin is grateful. His shoulder is starting to hurt from the nearly full canvas he’s hoisted on his shoulder. Martin leads his partner to a small corner, something that can only be described as a nook. There’s a small, well-worn sofa, a table with coasters, and a coffee table in front of the sofa. The whole space is cast in warm orange-yellow light, courtesy of the standing lamps, and Martin can imagine this is a great place to curl up and fall asleep.

Curl up they do, Martin sitting with a few books of his own beside him and Jon leaning against Jon’s side, sprawling over the majority of the couch. Martin tucks an arm over Jon’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of the space where collarbone meets rib, and they read. They read in silence for most of the morning, Jon flipping through his books at a truly astounding pace (Jon thinks its left over from his Archival Spooky Powers, Martin thinks he’s just a nerd), pausing occasionally to read Martin a line he finds interesting. It’s a yellow paperback now, something about psychopathy, and he begins to read out an interview the author had with a man who claims he should not have been diagnosed as a psychopath.

“D’you think Jonah was a psychopath?” Jon asks, brow furrowed as he reads the qualifying characteristics. “He had the ‘grandiose sense of self-worth’ and ‘cunning/manipulation’ down pat.”

Martin hums, glancing over Jon’s shoulder to read the rest of the Psychopath Test. “Lack of remorse,” he points. “Lack of empathy for sure. Someone with empathy doesn’t implant visions of their dead father into the head of their employee. Speaking of, we should have Melanie and Georgie over soon.” Jon nods against his chest. “I’d call him charming, too, actually,” nudging Jon gently. “Especially with new employees. Remember how he—”

“Called me into his office nonstop and ‘checked in?’ Yeah, I remember.” Jon sighed and smoothed the page down. “Can you call it ‘a parasitic lifestyle’ when your employees are bound under your servitude for eternity or until they die?” Jon scoffs. “I don’t think the DSM is ready for Smirke’s Fourteen.”

“Maybe not. Maybe the sixth edition will be.” Martin presses a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and turns back to his own book.

“Hungry?” Martin asks, nudging Jon as his stomach gurgles for the third time in as many minutes. Jon jumps a little, likely having forgotten Martin was there.

“Erm-I mean, a little.” Even after being together for so long, Jon still hesitates to let Martin buy him food. (“Martin, I have money. You don’t- you don’t have to-” but whatever offending muffin or cone of chips would be pressed into his hand and he would thank Martin, sheepish, and take a bite.)

“Chai latte? Something sweet?” Martin asks, nudging Jon out of his side and feeling the cold spot left in his wake. “Its your birthday, come on.” Jon sighs and relents, and Martin swear he can hear him roll his eyes as he walks away.

Martin orders two chais and a few cupcakes (chocolate for Jon, carrot cake for him) from the café in the front of the bookshop and joins an ever-growing queue of patrons waiting to get their own warm treats. The rain must have driven people in in droves. Never mind it, though, their corner feels empty enough. He thinks he sees a spider on the back of a woman’s shirt in front of him, and flinches before realizing, oh, it’s just a bit of string. He takes a slight step back anyways. He didn’t used to do that.

“Order for Martin?” An American voice, uni student probably. He thanks her and makes a point to drop a few quid in the tip jar, seeing it frustratingly empty for such a busy café.

Martin takes a small porcelain plate in each hand, a mug and pastry balanced on each, and makes his way carefully back to the sofa where he had left Jon. Only, he couldn’t see his curly hair, tied up in his half-bun, over the back of the sofa. Did he go to the loo?

It’s when Martin steps over to the side of the couch to set the plates down that he bursts into laughter. Jon is sprawled in a way that seems completely unconducive to reading: his knees are hooked over the sofa, so his socked feet (shoes neatly deposited next to his hips) are on the cushion itself. His torso is stretched on the warm, well-swept wood floor and his head (and his book) are tucked under the coffee table; arms locked over his head so he can read on his back. It looks ridiculous, he cannot fathom what possessed Jon to sit like this and not on his back on the couch.

Jon hears his laughter and arcs his neck, trying to see Martin’s face. “It was…comfortable?” he tries helplessly, giggling awkwardly. “Oh, piss off,” he sighed, inelegantly worming his way out from under the seat.

“Come on, old man.” Martin grins, handing him the cupcake he’d bought for him, with a single purple candle pressed into it. “Make a wish!”

“It’s not even lit,” Jon protested, cheeks flushing.

“Want me to sing instead? I can.” Martin took a deep breath. “Happy Bir-”

“N-no! Martin, no!” Jon pressed a hand over his mouth, though he was giggling madly at Martin’s wild expression. “I’ll blow it out. Just hush.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then let out a breath in a sigh. His eyes were soft, smile to match. “I…I don’t have anything to wish for.”

Martin’s turn to blush. “Just-just shut up and eat your cake,” he mumbled, hiding his smile in a sip of his tea.

Maybe its how at-peace he feels, maybe it’s his ADHD (its definitely the ADHD), but Martin has no idea how long he’s been reading. He’s brought out of his reverie, his copy of In Cold Blood almost finished (he’s read it before, but god he loves this book so much), by a low noise he can’t pick out at first. It’s quiet, soothing, its right next to him.

Oh. Oh. It’s Jon. This one, a real compulsion left over from his time as an Archivist, Jon is reading aloud to himself, his voice the sonorous, resonant tone of a man performing for himself. Martin puts his book down carefully, trying not to alert Jon to his awareness, and listens, letting the words wash over him. Jon’s voice has always been able to capture Martin’s attention, even before the Eldritch Spooky Magic that eventually attached itself to it.

“Klemmer stands there, gazing at her. “Erika doesn’t want a silence to develop, so she utters a platitude. Art is platitudinous for Erika because she lives off art. How much easier it is for the artist, says the woman, to hurl feelings or passions out of himself. When an artist resorts to dramatic devices, which you so greatly esteem, Klemmer, he is simply utilizing bogus methods while neglecting authentic ones. She talks to prevent the eruption of silence. I, as a teacher, favor undramatic art – Schumann, for instance. Drama is always easier! Feelings and passions are always merely a substitute, a surrogate for spirituality. The teacher yearns for an earthquake, for a roaring, raging tempest to pounce upon her. That wild Klemmer is so angry that he almost drills his head into the wall. The clarinet class next door, which he, the owner of a second instrument, has been frequenting twice a week, would certainly be astonished if Klemmer’s angry head suddenly emerged from the wall, next to Beethoven’s death mask. Oh, that Erika, that Erika. She doesn’t sense that he is actually talking about her, and naturally about himself as well! He is connecting Erika and himself in a sensual context, ejecting the spirit, that enemy of the senses, that primal foe of the flesh. She thinks he is referring to Schubert, but he really means himself, just as he always means himself whenever he speaks. “He suddenly ventures to adopt a familiar tone with Erika; using a formal tone, she advises him to remain objective! Her mouth puckers, willy-nilly, into a wrinkly rosette; she cannot control it. She controls what the mouth says, but she cannot control the way it presents itself to the outside world. She gets goosebumps all over.”

Martin closes his eyes against the words, a shiver running down his spine, starting at the top of his skull. It’s a feeling he gets so rarely now, the feeling of being so absolutely content in the presence of another person that any fog he may have is physically expunged from him. Not that there is any, but it’s a safeguard; a reminder to himself that he is not Lonely anymore and will never be lonely again. It can’t get him, not here, not with Jon sprawled, almost in his lap, reading and sipping tea and letting the only thing they worry about be whether they fed the cat this morning (Jon did, of course, Reggie is not one to let them forget her morning meal).

“Martin?” Jon’s voice cuts through his quiet contemplation. “You alright?” He’s tilting his head back, almost upside down to look at Martin’s face. “I felt you shudder.” Of course, even deep in his trance of this story he had felt Martin shift.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiles reassuringly, carding the hair off Jon’s forehead. “I’m not feeling lonely, not even a little bit.” He used to do it a lot in the safehouse, and fog would roll off him in droves. Jon would hold him through it all. “I think it just happens now like part of an immune system, just checking in when I’m feeling emotional.”

“Emotional?” Jon looks a little relieved, but not entirely. He sits up, glancing down at his page number (Martin could never figure out how Jon did that, remembered his page number instead of using a bookmark) and cups Martin’s face gently, searching it. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, Jon, I promise. That was why I was emotional,” he admits, feeling a little sheepish. “It’s just good to feel happy. It feels good to be with you, to be at peace, to not worry about what is going to happen tomorrow and whether we’re going to die.”

Martin blushes, feeling heat spread through his face. It feels good to say it out loud. “Happy birthday, Jon. I love you.”

They leave with bags full of books, smiles on their faces and the moon casting a faint light on their backs. Martin falls asleep in the cab on the way home, his head lilting onto Jon’s shoulder. When Jon wakes him up, leading his sleepy partner up the stairs,

Jon thinks 35 maybe won’t be so bad, after all.

#tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #birthday #bookshop #cafe #good vibes all around #fanfic to a tea

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poptod · 4 years ago

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The Game (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re either a weirdo or a psychopath. Or both.

Notes: so this is um. kind of weird. but i guess thats kind of my thing at this point WC: 1.7k

"Didn't think this was how it'd go, did'ja?"

"I would really like it if you took these handcuffs off."

"Why? Cause they're yours?"

You stepped closer to his chair, dragging your gaze over every knot you tied around his body. The rope around his ankles and chest, the metal handcuffs behind the back, the gag unceremoniously hung round his neck ever since he wrestled it off.

"Does that bother you?" You asked as you bent in front of him, a wide, toothy grin spreading across your lips. "Being tied up by your own tools?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up," he hissed out beneath his breath, staring straight forward with a glare that could kill. As usual he completely avoided your own eyes.

"Aww, tiny cop is a little testy today, isn't he?"

Shooting up from your position on the floor, you wandered into a darker corner of the room, where the fluorescent light shining over Baxter couldn't quite reach. There you kept your bookcase stocked full of a variety of your tools. Mostly books, but several of the shelves held cases for knives and bug specimens, two of the most beautiful things you imagined one could have. The white light reflected off the glass case and into the detective's eyes.

"I think you need to calm down," you said as you dug into one of the bookcase drawers, feeling around for a lighter and cigarette. "You smoke, right?"

He remained quiet, that glare still piercing the wall in front of him.

"Doesn't matter. I've seen you smoke. I watch you a lot, you know," you spoke through the cig, clicking on the lighter in your hands before a flame burst.

The steps you took towards him were small, calculated, and gentle with your tapping shoes on the cement floor. This room didn't have the best sound quality, and every little noise was magnified by the stone walls. The minimum amount of furniture had made way for the same echo.

"You're very interesting to watch. You're the only cop that's actually interesting. Did you know that?"

With how low his seat was on the ground his face was right in front of your hips, and you spared him no mercy. Instead you stepped even closer, till he was forced to lean back with uneven breath, ire lacing his stare that had nowhere else to rest but you now.

"I've met a lot of cops in a lot of different countries," you admitted thoughtlessly, taking a long drag from your cigarette. "But you're fun. And so fuckin' pretty."

You knelt once more, this time nearly sat between his legs, and blew smoke into his face. His nose scrunched up as his eyes shut, annoyance clear on his pursed lips.

"What the hell do you want from me?" He said in a low, quiet voice that you had already come to know quite well. The moment you recognized it another smile spread across your face, big and unsettlingly happy.

"A good time, hopefully," you said, raising your hand to his face. At first he flinched, twitching away from you, but your need was relentless. Your palm landed on his cheek, allowing you to stroke the small cut along his cheekbone.

When at last he raised his eye to meet yours, the first thing you noted was fear. Fear permeates every emotion––it raises itself above all else, tells on itself before any other emotion can. There were other things beneath that, of course; anger, contempt, the usual when someone is forcefully tied to a chair in the middle of a nondescript room with no windows.

"Don't worry," you chirped. "I won't hurt you. Much. I just... I have these cravings."

Before turning back to your bookcase, you took another slow drag from your cig, watching the end burn till it nearly touched your lips. The smoke you blew out was half in his face and half not, though by his expression it might as well have been all of it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out the key to one of your glass cases. It wasn't a terribly secure location for the contents, but that little bit of danger was always thrilling––never knowing if your prey will manage to reach those knives.

Your largest was closer to a sword than a dagger, and though it did its' job of intimidation, the easier tool was the small silver knife engraved with cuneiform. The most painful was the jagged-toothed blade, who tore at skin instead of slicing it. That was for another time.

With the silver knife in hand you turned back around, a knowing smirk on your face as you once more approached the detective.

"Jim Baxter. James. Jimmy-boy. How ya feeling? Good?"

No reaction from him. Perfect.

"You want to know something? Little tid-bit of information. Little fun fact about me," you said with a sigh as you knelt. "I don't like your line of work. Not just because you guys are always tryin' to bust my ass and ruin the fun, but I don't like the government in general. The perfect society is an anarchal society. It's probably too much to ask what your leaning on this is, right? I think I know anyway."

You fiddled with the knife in your hands, toying with the handle and picking at the blade.

"White-picket fence boy," you added.

"The hell does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. It's just––I think it's a little funny. All around you're such a law-abiding person, so nice, so plain, and you've got all this flavor on your face."

By the way his eyes widened, you could tell what came to his mind. It was what came to most people's minds when you tried to explain the essence of flavor in human personality; cannibalism.

"I'm not going to eat you," you clarified, chuckling when his breathing returned to normal. "I could, though. I have no qualms against it. Peel off the skin of your face, fillet that shit... probably taste like chips."

"Why are you doing this? What – what even are you doing?" He finally asked, succumbing to the confusion and curiosity that had plagued him ever since he woke up here.

"Intimidation. Kidnapping. Those are still illegal, right?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, anyway, those are just some crimes that I by no means on purpose committed. It was just the only way to get what I really want," you said as the tip of your knife pressed into his clothed knee, running down the fabric and leaving a small scratch mark in his pant leg. He jerked away, but you only pressed harder, keeping him in place with a tight hand around his ankle.

"Don't be shy now," you grinned.

"You think you're hot shit –"

"I am."

"– but I'll find you, and –"

"It seems to me you already have."

"Would you shut the fuck up?!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"I'm gonna put you in jail, where creeps like you belong," he said through gritted teeth, his jaw set as he met your awaiting eyes.

"You think I'm a creep? I'm the most sane out of all my friends. Though, I do suppose we live in two different worlds," you said with a shrug.

His type lived in the light. Sunny-day type people, warm homes to come to at the end of the day, dark green grass and clean highways. Yours is more in the style of broken down street lamps––burning rubber from car wheels and the warmth of a lighter. At least that's the way you liked to put it, romanticized into the sweetest fashion so it's easier to swallow.

Honestly, most of your friends are coke dealers. There's one that sells guns to minors, but he's not a friend of yours. Just someone you know. All of them are good people, you can't deny that, but it's not a gentle environment.

Not that you're any bit unlike them. You do, after all, kidnap people and taunt them for fun.

"Alright. Question for you. Ever had sex?"

Nothing. You giggled, crossing your arms on his knees.

"Ever kissed someone? You don't seem like the person who would like any of that stuff. I'll still be surprised if you haven't, though. The idea that no one tried to jump your bones? Yeesh. I don’t think that's possible," you rambled on, making a few vague hand gestures as his glare never faded.

The surly twist in his face reached a high point, ending with him spitting onto your face with a deep irritation in his expression. It took a second or two before you quite processed what had just happened, but when you did you had no hesitation in your response; licking the flat of your tongue up from his jaw to his temple.

"You like that? Into that kinda thing?" You asked in a booming laugh as he spluttered, desperately trying to worm away from you. "That was on you, buddy. Come on. Admit it."

"I'm not going to –"

"Come on, say it! You deserved that. Right?"

You grabbed his chin in a tight grip, forcing him to look at you.

"You get everything that's coming to you. You deserve everything you'll receive within the next... hmm, let's say, three months? Depends on when I get bored of you," you hummed, glancing to the side as you thought.

"The next three months? What are you gonna do in that time?" He asked almost softly, brow furrowed in the same consternation as his eyes.

"Have a little bit of fun, for once. I hope you prove to be more entertaining than the last girl," you said with a grunt, pushing yourself to your feet. "In the meantime... you can't be missing for too long, baby."

"Wh –"

With the butt of your dagger in hand, you whirled back around, hitting him right in his temple. The hit of the massive gem on his skull knocked him out, muscles untensing as he fell limp in his restraints.

You smiled and breathed a sigh of happy relief, as though you had finished swimming in the brisk water of a lake.

"Ah... he seems nice."

Thirty minutes and he's waking up, waves of pain throbbing from his cranium. He hissed as he tried to sit up, realizing with much comfort that he was back in the linen sheets of his bed, the comforter all tangled and mussed beneath him. By the look of the clock, it was the morning of his first shift of the week.

And the first thing he has to tell his boss is that there's another psycho on the loose.

#detective baxter x reader #detective baxter #the little things #rami malek #rami malek character

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funigami-games · 3 years ago

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A dream come true! The Prince's Heart is getting a Voice Over

When we started The Prince's Heart, we never thought we'd find so many wonderful persons willing to collaborate on our project. Here we are now, a month later, with an entire crew of professional and aspiring Voice Actors willing to help us realize our Visual Novel!

Special thanks to our amazing Casting Director, Jacob Wilson, who directed the whole Voice Over process.

Let's meet the entire cast (in order of appearance in the game)!

Nick Chang as Edward (Protagonist)

I was born in Manhattan, but raised in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, where I currently reside. I also proudly identify as a 2nd generation Asian American (half Hong Kong via my mother, half Taiwanese via my father) and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community (gay and demisexual). Since childhood, I have had a distinct love of music and performance. Having played violin from 4th to 12th grade and sung for even longer, I used music as a primary means to express myself growing up. As I progressed from high school to college, I discovered online voice acting, but it was not until my time in graduate school that I formally decided to become an actor. My interest initially stemmed from a desire to help out in localization projects, but over the time I have spent voice acting, I have come to not only develop a great appreciation of the craft of acting, but also further deepen my love of music and rekindle my love of performance. With my singing experience as a basis to my unique perspectives, I hope to bring sensitivity, curiosity, and innovation to every project I work on!

Jacob Wilson as Adam

I’m a voice actor, Casting and voice director based in Dallas Texas. I’ve been working in this field for almost four years Now. It’s a journey that has taken me literally around the world and I’m so thankful for all I’m able to do and have accomplished. Being a part of amazing projects like this one are what fuel me to pursue my passions. I realized I was bisexual when I was 18. It’s a group in the LGBT+ community that continues to get flak from seemingly all over. But my faith in it and myself has always been unshaken. Outside of VO I am a drag artist in the making under the name “Twilight Stunning”, who I’m going to show more properly in the coming months! I’m so thankful I’m in the position I am, and I can’t wait to see what we have in store for y’all!

Bradley Gareth as Michael (Main Character)

Bradley was raised in Western Pennsylvania, learning piano from age 5 and taking up local community theater at age 10. He pursued the performing arts throughout high school, consistently participating in high school musicals and chorus festivals during his tenure there. At the end of high school, he also took multiple classes in musical composition and began doing online voiceover work.

During his time in college, Bradley participated in numerous professional and amateur voiceover productions both online and at the University of Pittsburgh's student radio station, WPTS Radio. While at WPTS, Bradley also began writing advertisements and online content for websites.

Now out of school, Bradley continues to lend his voice to multiple productions, dabble in musical composition, and provide content writing for WrightlySo.com.

Jared Prize as David (Main Character)

Singing provides me with some of the greatest joy in life. Outside of that, I love voice acting, hiking, and hanging with friends. My day job involves working with computers, so I like to find a bit of an escape into the creative-realm during my free time. My sexuality has always been a struggle, but I find comfort in not putting a label on it (at least for now). Mostly, I am very excited to be a part of an ambition team of lovely people. Working within a project like this brings excitement during the process, and even more-so while waiting for the final piece! I hope you enjoy what's to come xo

Marisa Duran as Lady Marie

Hey there, I’m Marisa Duran. I’m an actress working and living in Dallas, Texas.

I caught the "theatre bug" at a young age. My parents will tell you that it started when I was two years-old, dancing around to the Barney theme song. I agree wholeheartedly.

I grew up in a suburb on the east side of Dallas and was fortunate to have the opportunity to explore a city known for its rich culture and artistic influence. My passion for theatre was fueled by the many musicals that toured through town and I quickly decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life as a professional actor.

In 2016 I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Texas Christian University in Fort Worth, Texas with my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theatre, emphasis in Acting. Since then, I’ve had the privilege of working with multiple professional theatre companies in the DFW area. I’ve also expanded my career into the worlds of film and voiceover, landing roles in short films, webseries, and commercials, and lending my voice to over a dozen anime titles at FUNimation.

Art has the power to heal, to change, and to empower. As an artist, I believe that my purpose on this earth is to tell stories, and through these stories I hope to make a positive impact and leave people better than I found them. I consider it an honor to be able to use my talents in such a profound way.

Whenever I’m not rehearsing or recording, you can usually find me at my day-time marketing job, playing video-games, or drinking coffee at a local coffeeshop.

Kiba Walker as Zachariah

Born Arthur Lee Walker III in Tacoma, Washington, Kiba Walker is an American actor, musician, director, writer, and performer based out of Dallas-Fort Worth, Texas.

Kiba trained under the likes of various industry professionals such as Shane Sparks, Donyelle Jones, Tony Oliver, Betty "Waters" Kennedy, Chuck Huber, Sonny Strait, Chris Rager, Justine Reyes, Lorette Spicer, Bill Quinby, Angie Irons, Dan Lorge, Holly Clark Lorge, Spencer Christian, and many others. With 16 years of collective industry knowledge, Kiba has performed with the likes of Alice Underground, The Stereo Killers, Frankly Fictitious, CRVSH, Grant Davis, Ashley Ann Farley, Steve "Warky" Nunez, BASH!, Ryland Lynch, Ross Lynch, Will Jay, and more.

Voice over came to Kiba in his later years, around the age of 18, when he found his love doing an ask blog for Tumblr. From there, he took the craft seriously and networked profusely with various actors and companies in the voice over realm. His first roles were as Boku Temagawa in "Love Games" and Mike Connelly in "Zoolaplex".

Since 2014, he's been cast in various other projects including MY HERO ACADEMIA, HORIMIYA, GENSHIN IMPACT, FRUITS BASKET, ONE PIECE, SAINT SEIYA (2019 Sentai Dub), BLACK CLOVER, BOFURI! I DON'T WANNA GET HURT SO I'LL MAX OUT MY DEFENSE, CAUTIOUS HERO: THE HERO IS OVERPOWERED BUT OVERLY CAUTIOUS, CASE FILE NO.221 KABUKICHO, CAMP BUDDY, FULL SERVICE, TO TRUST AN INCUBUS, TO LOVE RU, O MAIDENS IN YOUR SAVAGE SEASON, EARTHLOCK, POPUP DUNGEON, SOMETHING IN THE DARK, RADIANT, and many more!

He's also directed such titles as FULL SERVICE, IDUEL: BATTLE FOR STARDOM, ISHIDA & ASAKURA, THE TITAN'S BRIDE, and CAMP BUDDY.

As a musician now, Kiba currently has one album out, titled "XO", that released in May 2016. He runs a music channel called "KibaKovers", adapting anime and video game openings into English for a broader audience, as well as regular Top 40 covers. He is also one of the champions of the hit Fort Worth Drag Competition, The 3, as Salem Moon!

Mike Young as Sir Tiphis

Hello, I’m Mike Young. A dynamic, versatile and different British VP voice actor with gravitas, who can turn on various shades of Bristol, and run the spectrum of silky smooth, to warm and friendly.

Under the brilliant tutelage of Tanya Rich, my road to a professional voice acting career begin in 2018, having produced a wide variety of stories and audiobooks.

I lend my talent to a range of different projects:

Hard sell and soft sell commercial and corporate scripts

IVR for telephone systems and mobile apps

Instructional e-learning courses

Promotional adverts and trailers

Public service announcements

Character narration for video games, film, audio dramas and books

…and more!

I love it all, I do it all! And if you like what you hear, contact me! I’ll be sure to make your project gurt lush.

#visual novel #visual novels #yaoi #voiceactor

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belliesandburps · 4 years ago

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Non-Kink: Top 12 Best Stealth Action Games

I was inspired by my dear pal, @twistedtummies2, to share a lil bit of non-kink related stuff about myself with’chall. One thing to know about me is I’m a huge lover of video games. I may not have as much time to PLAY ‘em much these days, but dammit if they aren’t one of my biggest joys beyond writing and the great outdoors.

And my favorite genre in all of gaming is the stealth action genre. Anyone who knows me knows that I adore the Metal Gear Solid series, but I also love a whole bunch of other stealth action games because, to me, this genre is the one with the most meat to come back to. Stealth action done right is you being put in a room or outpost or whatever with a bunch of bad guys, and trying to carry out an objective without engaging with the enemies. OR, it’s picking off the bad guys one by one, quickly and quietly. Oooooor it’s you try to be sneaky, get caught, say fuck it, and wage war with an armada of Russians because isn’t it always Russians. XD

I love that so many stealth action games can play out so many different ways. And the feeling of escalation, like trying to be sneaky, and being overwhelmed when you’re caught and having to escape a hectic situation? That, to me, is more thrilling than ANY set piece or scripted, linear mission from any game I’ve ever played. It’s why I’ve replayed many of these games time and time again, and haven’t even THOUGHT about most of the biggest AAA blockbusters upon beating them.

Now, this list is subject to change. I have a few games I need to play and they may beat out a few on this list. But for now, here’s my Top 12 Best Stealth Action games because on top of being a thirsty old bastard, I loves me some espionage and bandana action. :P

12) Batman: Arkham Origins (2013)

This game gets a lot of flak, but believe it or not, it’s actually my favorite in the Arkham series. It’s City with a new coat of paint and a few more bugs, but City was still awesome, and so is this game. It had plenty of clever predator stealth sequences, with more enemy variety to shake things up, that always made wiping out the bad guys swiftly and silently deeply rewarding. AND it had more stealth action boss fights. City had Mr. Freeze and a single predator fight rehashed twice with Two Face and Harley. Origins had Mr. Freeze again, but with new additional options, and a pre-fight stage where you had to stay outta sight. It also had Deadshot, the best of the three basic “predator boss” types, as well as TN-1 Bane as the final boss, and damn if it wasn’t intense. With more gadgets and clever ways to mix and match, I think this game would be higher, but it’s still a great one for lovers of more approachable stealth action paired up with excellent brawler combat.

11) Assassin's Creed (2007)

The other AC games may be better, but AC1 is the only game in the series to stay consistent and simple with its design philosophy. Here are targets for you to assassinate, here are bolstering crowds with beautiful cities to Parkour across or hide within, and at every turn, there are hiding spots but also enemies, making situations escalate organically and entertainingly with each assassination. Hence why, despite most people regarding AC1 as the weakest entry, it's my personal favorite. It's the one I replay the most and the one that just stays consistent with what it advertises. No more, no less. 10) Hitman (2016)

I've yet to play the other Hitman games, and by accounts, each sequel is better than the last. But you've seen the Jackie boy vids. What more need be said? :P

9) Death Stranding (2019)

Death Stranding's kind of a jack of all trades in the stealth action. On one hand, you have conventional stealth action where you're infiltrating enemy camps and can either pick off all the bad guys one by one or go nuts and fight everybody head on. On the other hand, you have BT's, whom you sneak around by holding your breath and moving slowly, lest these ghostly monsters drag you out to a tarpit for a boss fight. The stealth is fairly simplistic but functional. Combat as is would be fairly shallow, were it not for the sheer quantity of options you have in any given battle. Seriously, you have a sticky gun that lets you snatch cargo straight off a bad guys back then immediately bludgeon him unconscious with it, and snatch HIS cargo to smash his BUDDY out cold with that in one fell swoop. The way situations can organically just bleed from stealth to action and give you options for both makes it a blast. And the boss fights against Cliff and Higgs are almost all I could ask for from stealth action battles. 8) Spider-Man: Miles Morales (2020)

I DO wish the game had some stealth action boss fights, but far as superhero games are concerned, no game has better stealth action than Miles Morales. It hits fast and is deeply gratifying. You have corridors with as much as twenty plus bad guys, and you can clean it out in minutes thanks to being able to hide in plain sight through invisibility. Venom Takedowns with let you wipe out a chain succession of enemies all at once. Corridors have TONS of environmental advantages to wipe out a bunch of bad guys with one move. And unlike Spider-Man or Arkham, if you're caught, just go invisible, flee, and go right back to picking off baddies in seconds. It's like playing a predator sequence in an Arkham game on steroids...and in fast forward. And the sheer volume of enemies you're often up against keeps it from feeling too easy. 7) Ghost Recon: Breakpoint (2019)

This game SUCKED at launch. Like, it was actual trash that became a chore to finish when it first came out. But fair's fair, Ubisoft stuck with it and the end result is one of the most customizable experiences I've ever had in gaming. Like, this game is straight up now designed to let you change the entire experience simply by pausing the game and flipping a new options on and off and have it immediately go into effect.

I hated the injury mechanics of the first game because it slowed you down and led to a lot of random, unfair deaths because you could never predict which attacks would be critical and which wouldn’t. So now, I can turn them off. I thought bad guys were brain-dead. So I can make them smarter. I thought constantly slowing down when I'm running from bullets was detrimental, so now, I can make stamina limitless.

I thought some areas had way too many guards to viably take out without co-op buddies...soooo I can activate an entire squad of AI partners all throughout the game with me and there's a lot of coordination you can do with your team for really covert missions...and you can even customize their look to create a team that looks as cool or goofy as you want. It’s a really dorky thing, but I LOVE customization in shooters and being able to fully customize, not just yourself, but your team to look however you want in missions is really fun.

And if you think the enemies are too easy to take down? Turn on Terminator mode and have T-800's storming the place. Yeah, freakin’ Terminators. XD

The game gives you literally all the options you could ask for to have an experience perfectly tuned to what you WANT to have. And the options you have make it so the game can feel like an entirely different, borderline strategy game instead of a solid third person shooter. You can activate a drone now to coordinate your three AI buddies to stop and go where you want, mark targets for them to eliminate and have your eye on the entire battlefield. It's honestly staggering how many options this game has. And were the missions not so boilerplate and were the boss fights actual boss fights and not just reskins of basic enemies, this would be one of the best games ever. As is, it's a genuinely impressive comeback story! 6) Deus Ex: Mankind Divided (2016)

Mankind Divided is the game Cyberpunk WISHES it was (Spoiler Alert: Cyberpunk isn’t very fun or responsive yet). It's a game with some spectacular level design where there are dozens of ways around any given enemy and tons of options for any mission. You have a wide assortment of augmentations to let you sneak or fight your way through any scenario and they give you the tools to use your robot powers in really clever ways for navigation purposes. This is a game where even the simplest side mission has about a dozen different outcomes, and most of them are wholly organic. What it needed was more...well, GAME. After all, MD is a third of the game it was meant to be. But it IS a marvel of stealth action goodness. 5) The Last of Us: Part 2 (2020)

I have a BUNCH of issues with this game, but on the subject of stealth action, TLOU2 is one of the best in the genre. Every single encounter is highly difficult, but has dozens of variations. The levels are all designed with tons of varied cover spots and hidden paths to let you navigate as you either pick off the bad guys one by one, or sneak past them. The enemies range in their weaponry, but possess self preservation, so they aren't just standing around shooting aimlessly.

And on top of that, combat is brutal. Every bullet counts, and you feel the impact of every shot fired. The melee system is simple but complements gunplay fantastically. So if you wanna save bullets, you can shoot someone in the leg, and as they stagger, you can bumrush them, grab a hammer or brick you find on the ground as you're running and bludgeon them to death to save bullets. The game also has a great lil "MGS4 Battlefield Stealth" system. Several encounters have humans and infected, and you can pit the two against one another and either sneak around the carnage or use it to pick off the harder enemies.

The game also has a FAR better predator fight that's basically David's fight in the first game, but with way better mechanics. The boss increasingly upgrades their weapon each time you attack them, the environment is perfect for this fight, and if you're caught, you aren't just dead, you have a means to escape a hairy situation. TLOU2 may have been deeply polarizing, story-wise, but as a GAME, it's terrific. And best yet, once you beat the main game, there's an encounter mode that lets you skip all the BS and just jump right into every single stealth action encounter and boss fight throughout the whole game risk free. What's not to love about that? 4) Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater HD (2004 / 2010)

MGS3 is the first really great linear MGS game. It ditches that terrible fixed camera, simplifies the controls, and has more than ten rooms where you do any sneaking. Its best moments are proto-MGSV outposts, where you have an area with tons of guards and multiple paths to your objective, and a whole lot of opportunities to get creative. It was also the first MGS game that made combat just as viable as stealth. You CAN actually just punch your way through the bad guys now, and the end result is shockingly fun thanks to all the weapons and more intuitive controls. But the real star is the boss battles. MGS3 has some of the best bosses of any video game I've ever played in my life. And MOST of them incorporate stealth beautifully. To the point where you can eliminate half the bosses with any of 'em ever even knowing your location, and giving you a plethora of variety in the bosses themselves AND the means in which you fight them.

3) Splinter Cell: Blacklist (2013)

Splinter Cell's an odd series. The story is nonsense yet also pretty drab and simplistic. Sam Fisher REALLY isn't an interesting character, none of the characters are except the villain and anti-hero scumbag. But as a VIDEO GAME, Blacklist is the peak of linear stealth action. MGS3 had boss fights, and THAT was the biggest mark for the game. And Blacklist only has a single boss fight, which is basically a slightly elongated version of Deadshot's "fight" in City.

But the moment-to-moment gameplay is out of this world good. You have brilliant level design that makes sneaking from A to B deeply gratifying, but you also have insane mobility that makes you feel like the biggest badass when you play. There can be a room full of guards. And like a game of chess, with the right moves, you can end them in seconds, which requires skill to pull off, rushing the first guy and taking him down, shooting his buddy, then using execute to auto-kill up to three guards you've marked who were in range. It's about using the systems the game gives you to maximize efficiency on the field. And you can pick off bad guys using your environment, or climbing a plethora of terrain.

The game almost plays like Arkham half the times when you're climbing walls or pipes and dropping down on bad guys or shooting them from overhead. It has a huge variety of gadgets to aide you as well, and combat is incredibly difficult but doable. Sam can only take a few hits before he's dead, but the means to shake off enemies is fair, and recovering from a slip-up is more fun than it is frustrating. The campaign has several excellent missions which would satisfy a person as is. But it also comes with over a dozen bonus missions you can access from your allies, each one taking place in entirely new settings with new enemies and storylines, each one with simpler and more streamlined objectives (perfect stealth, predator missions where you kill all the enemies, and survival waves where you have to fend off increasingly harder enemies). AND it has the best kind of co-op. Like Peace Walker, you can play any side mission with buddies. But it also has missions exclusive to co-op, designed to be fully embraced with a buddy you can play with on the couch or online. It's a game with tons of content, and all of it is mostly excellent. 2) Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (2015)

MGSV is the best game I've played. That's because it's a game that hits all of my buttons. The outposts are examples of perfect level design. Each one is designed with a huge array of cover spots and multiple paths, direct or secret, to an objective area. As a result, every mission allows you to get in, carry out your objective, and get out without raising a stink. And when you screw up, it doesn't feel like punishment, because the combat of this game is fantastic.

Everything is highly responsive, so your inputs happen with no delays. You can go from diving to shooting from the ground in a tenth of a second. And combat lets you seamlessly go from shooting, snatching guns from bad guys and blowing away with it, to taking breathers behind cover or with a human shield. The enemy AI is the best the series has ever had. They have way more self preservation, they're liberal with grenades, have way more variety in their weapons, and actually use turret guns and mortar cannons now.

The missions themselves can be resolved tons of different ways. Assassination missions play out like small-scale Hitman missions, without the frustration of screwing up and restarting because missions are so short, you just roll with the punches. And the overall feel of a mission changes dramatically, depending on your loadout, the paths you choose in the level, your playstyle, and the time of day you select when you start a mission.

There are only a few major downsides to the gameplay. The bosses lack variety, like, I REALLY wish MGSV had more XOF assassins like Quiet to confront along with the Skulls and MoF. Some missions are a bit too samey, and there aren't enough larger scale outposts. Some more enemy variety wouldn't have been remiss. And finally, the open world itself is pretty lifeless. It works to complement the missions, like giving you a whole stretch of land to carry out ambushes or battle the Skulls anywhere you please. But open world games are best when they have more to react to and engage with, or secrets to find. Oh yeah, and the main villain should've had a boss fight, a stealth action shootout at that because that’s what the OG plan was until Kojima decided to be slightly more pretentious than usual.

But beyond that, this game is a freakin' masterpiece.

So why is number 2 on the list even if it's the best game I've ever played?

Because this game exists... 1) Deus Ex (2000)

Deus Ex isn't as mechanically good as MGSV. It's even that good mechanically, like, playing it now, it feels pretty clunky and not the least bit smooth. Still fun, but you feel the age. So why is it number 1? Simple. Deus Ex is the most open-ended video game ever made. It's a stealth action RPG where every, and I mean, EVERY single level has dozens upon dozens of different paths to choose and make your own. It has class specialization, meaning the build you create gives you a whole ton of new paths and strategies to use for hacking or flexibility.

Every single mission takes place in a sprawling area. You have an objective, obstructions blocking your way, and a whole bunch of guards. You can blaze right to a solution, resolving a situation in minutes. Or, you can take your time and find any number of different paths to your goal. And all throughout each mission, there's tons of things to find as you explore. There's entire other side missions with their own plethora of options. Lots of really clever flavor text. Upgrades to bolster your augmentations. And really ominous messages you can find that'll come into play later.

The bosses may lack variety but each one is a perfect stealth action battle where you can choose any number of options against the bosses, right down to running away from them and the game outright acknowledging that the boss enemies weren't killed. Best yet, it's a game designed to be broken. Unlike Human Revolution, all the bosses are recurring characters you spend plenty of time with. But you can outright blow them away WELL in advance and the game will acknowledge their deaths and keep going anyway. If you engage in a boss battle during a designated boss fight, but avoid them or run away, then that boss will turn up again for a rematch later.

This is a game where you can create your own cover spots or platforms by gathering vending machines and dumpsters and piling them on top of each other. Where specialization changes the entire feel of the campaign and incentivizes repeat playthroughs just to come up with different builds and experience missions in whole new ways. And best yet, this is a game where when you're in a hub, whatever you see around you, you can interact with. If you see buildings in the distance, you'll be able to go in and explore, and there's always something to find. Deus Ex is number one because there will never be another game like it. It's debatable that no other game will ever be as FUN as MGSV, but no other game will ever be as open ended as Deus Ex because it's literally impossible. The game is clunky and cheap looking because the engine it was built on was a low-memory one. They traded in graphics fidelity and more impressive flow for the sake of creating a vast video game with an impossible amount of content to constantly stumble upon. And unlike all the other games on this list, that open endedness actually DOES translate into the story, giving you dozens of different branching paths to the story, and sadly, only three fairly weak endings, but damn, if the journey up ain't a blast.

I have a whole slew of other lists I’ve been meaning to post for the better part of two years, and honestly, they’re fun to write. So, who knows? Don’t worry though, they won’t get in the way of bellies or burp content either. XD

#non-kink #bnb lists #video games #gaming chat #stealth action #metal gear solid #splinter cell #assassin's creed #hitman #deus ex #the last of us #ghost recon breakpoint #cyberpunk 2077 #syphon filter #that game is really good too #but it's honestly not a stealth game #it's like the reverse of MGS1 #MGS1 was a stealth game with clunky forced action #Syphon Filter was an action game with clunky forced stealth #dark mirror was great #it's the single best psp game I've ever played #and hey James Horan is the final boss #i can always pretend that was the final fight with Skull Face I didn't get from MGSV #fucking kojima...#honestly I think that's why Higgs had so many boss fights in his chapter #it felt like an apology for screwing Skull Face #so he gets three really great bosses back to back #his second MAIN fight is basically a perfect stealth action battle #Cliff's boss fight I swear is exactly what I HOPED Skull Face's would've been #*Should've been...Kojima...

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tangleweave · 4 years ago

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Rescue Me (RP)

@akasupergirl

“Help! Help! Someone help me!”

On the streets of Manhattan, it tended to be 6-to-5 and pick ‘em whether such a plea for assistance would actually be fulfilled. If there was a feature of the city to be counted upon, it was the indifference of the average New Yorker. But the odds were decidedly not in favor of the person issuing the cries, not least of which because he looked like some strange hybrid of man and frog… but also because five ornately armored bipedal figures were giving chase via various modes of transportation.

The diminutive target of the group’s ire was fleeing on foot in a general northerly direction. If he got perhaps another 70 blocks, he’d eventually make it to Stark Tower. He was, at the least, giving a good account of himself… his running speed easily matched that of an Olympic athlete, even dressed as he was in bulky, tattered clothing. It might have been more were his hands not bound behind him, and a flashing electronic collar not secured about his neck.

One would have been forgiven for thinking him a fugitive from justice, particularly in light of the five pursuers, whose armors looked strangely reminiscent of a variety of Iron Man configurations. The leading pursuer, in particular, was clad in armor of dark red and gold, festooned with silver spikes, and he was delivering terse instructions to his comrades. “Ramshot, Wysper, get ahead of him. Firearm, Screech, to the sides. I’ve got him from behind.”

“Sure you do.”

Anti-Venom landed atop the assailant’s shoulders before he had time to react, driving him fully into the concrete of the sidewalk. Passersby let out a plethora of colorful expressions and exclamations, none of which he had any time for. His left hand grew to gargantuan size and wrapped about the vigilante he’d just dropped, then slammed him against the nearest convenient brick wall – a narrow separator between a deli and a haberdashery.

“Sentry.” The ivory-skinned hulk snarled. “You and your Jury flunkies really ought to get a hobby besides pretending you have any authority to do what you do.”

“Screech! Get back—!”

“Ah-ah.” Anti-Venom’s other hand came up and delivered a hard slap to the side of Sentry’s head, completely disregarding the spikes there that tried to tear into the flesh of his palm, which simply liquefied and reformed. He pulled the dazed Jurist away from the wall and spun him around to face him. Anti-Venom’s grip kept Sentry’s arms pinned to his sides, and the red-orange glow of his eyes and mouth was reflected in the metal of his helmet. “You just wait right here. Some nice men in clean white coats will come get you directly.”

He thrust his arm out and smashed Sentry into the wall again, back-first, this time leaving him wrapped up in a tight cocoon of white bio-mass that was far stronger than any webbing his red-and-blue counterpart had ever demonstrated.

Anti-Venom launched himself into the air, vaulting in the direction of the distressed hostage the Jury had taken. He was already depressed by the possibilities. When last he’d encountered them, it had been as Venom, and their leader – Gavel – had been quite clear as to the reason for their formation: his escape from the Life Foundation’s Vault had led to the death of their family members. Tragedy and a thirst for vengeance had been their unifying theme, their singular call… but they’d failed to capture and hold him long enough to deliver the sentence they so dearly wanted to visit upon him.

That he was no longer Venom now probably wouldn’t matter much to them if they were still united in that purpose. Eddie Brock’s alter-ego wasn’t well-known (thankfully for his career) but the Jury knew of it. When he’d fled to San Francisco, he’d given them reason to think he was dead, and he’d done his level best to keep things quiet – until the Mister Negative incident, and his transformation into something very different. It was something of a minor miracle they hadn’t tried to come after him upon his return to New York and his attempt to resume some semblance of a normal life… though it wasn’t unreasonable to think Kara might be throwing him a little cover.

But who was the fleeing captive, and what did they want with him?

Two Jurists – Ramshot and Screech – were already between him and the captive. Judging by the smell trailing behind the green-skinned stranger, Anti-Venom figured he was probably a Morlock. It was a little too easy to forget about New York’s sewer-swelling mutant population, driven underground because their appearances were too grotesque for society to tolerate. Anti-Venom knew better than most what that sort of living was like… in two words, unduly harsh. This man certainly didn’t need people like these making it any harder.

Ramshot’s jet-boots were carrying him ever closer to their original target, while Screech had already turned to engage Anti-Venom. An earsplitting sonic scream erupted from speakers mounted on the Jurist’s helmet and armor, focused into narrow channels for maximum effect against a Klyntar symbiote.

Anti-Venom snarled through the wash of noise, raised an enlarged fist, and swept it into Screech with virtually no regard for his attack. The blasts would have shattered Venom, but against Anti-Venom, they were little more than a nuisance. His strike tossed Screech into a nearby lamppost, which snapped off entirely from the force of the impact.

Civilians were actively fleeing the area now, and with good cause. Amidst the warble of shrieking and the rumbling of fleeing feet, he could make out the Jury members re-orienting their efforts around him rather than their first target. In that moment, he knew he had only seconds to act. By attempting to help, he’d drawn their eye, and if he didn’t help their target get away within the next few moments, they’d both be under attack.

He threw himself down the street and hurtled into Ramshot, whose jet-powered boots were just about to carry him to the fleeing frog-man, despite the poor captive’s best (and impressive) efforts to run. Anti-Venom grabbed hold of Ramshot with both hands, his black fangs smiling wide for the Jurist.

“Hi.”

He swung his weight around to disrupt Ramshot’s center of gravity and threw out a spread of tentacles to catch about a traffic light. The Jurist’s flight was thrown horribly by the shifting dynamics and the grip Anti-Venom’s tendrils had on Ramshot’s ankle was such that when the jets pulled him taut, the sound of his foot disjointing was audible. The Jurist belted out a scream of pain and collapsed to the ground beneath Anti-Venom, who quickly jumped to his feet and leapt after the Morlock; he cast forth another tendril to catch about the frog-man’s waist and pull him up into the air.

The Morlock screamed – and after all, why wouldn’t he? – as Anti-Venom caught him in midair and swung hard and fast through the district. By peeling away three of the five Jurists, he had a wide swath of escape routes to the east… if only the Morlock would stop struggling.

“Calm down,” he snarled. “I’m here to help.”

The Morlock whimpered. “You’re… you’re not with them?”

Anti-Venom glared red at his passenger. “Do I look like I’m with them?” he returned. “Hang tight, I’m getting you out of here. What do they want with you?”

��They’re the Jury!” the Morlock cried, as if that offered explanation.

“I know who they are,” Anti-Venom snapped, careening hard around a corner. “Why are they after you?”

“They’ve been trying to round us up out of the sewers! They came into our territory claiming they had jurisdiction and were charging us with vagrancy! Got these collars on a bunch of us before we even knew what was happening! The others managed to help me get out but they’re still trapped – they need help! I thought if I got to the surface…!”

“That you’d find an X-Man or an Avenger and they’d help you out,” Anti-Venom finished. He rolled his eyes behind his living mask. “So sorry you’re stuck with me, then. Hold on…”

Spiked tentacles erupted from his back as he continued to swing fast and hard to elude their pursuit; the tendrils set about the task of tearing into the hand-sheaths and the collar. The Jury’s technology had clearly lost none of its potency – no more than they themselves had lost business dealings with anti-meta corporations, he mused. Even against the strength of his reversed symbiote the shackles were a considerable challenge to break, and it was in no way helpful when the Morlock bucked and squirmed in his hold while he sent tentacles to snap the collar without also snapping the poor victim’s neck.

A crimson energy blast sizzled past them both, causing the Morlock to shriek and Anti-Venom to momentarily glance back. Firearm had caught up with them – he was astride a hover bike and he was already releasing a flurry of variable ammunition at them. Missed shots were peppering buildings and windows.

“Not inside the city!” Anti-Venom roared in irritation. Goddamn it, they had the nerve to complain about vigilante property destruction but the moment they themselves did it…

He shot one more look to his passenger. “All right, listen, what’s your name?”

“A-Arthur,” the timid mutant stammered.

“Arthur, I’m gonna to need to drop you off, and then I need you to get below, fast as you can. I’ll deal with the Jury, if they’re up here they aren’t down there. Get to Stark Tower. Help is there.”

“S-Stark Tower?” The frog-man’s eyes bugged out even further than their natural disposition. “You mean where Supergirl lives?”

“Right. Where Supergirl lives.” He felt himself wincing – this guy was in the middle of a traumatic episode, he wouldn’t even absorb more than the first five words he spoke in any given sentence. He probably only vaguely understood what was about to happen. “Listen, Arthur, this is important. Are you listening?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Good. Listen close. Tell Supergirl, ‘Eddie’s in trouble.’ Say it back to me.”

“Uhh… um, Eddie’s in trouble!” The Morlock frowned. “Who’s Eddie?”

Yep, traumatic episode. He wasn’t putting it together and Anti-Venom wasn’t about to do the math for him. “Never mind that. Just tell her that. Understand? Eddie’s in trouble. Got it?”

“Got it! Eddie’s in trouble!”

“Good. Here we go. Three-two-one!”

The rapid countdown wasn’t quite enough time for the poor Morlock to prepare to be dumped off, and the frog-like mutant shrieked as Anti-Venom released him to tumble in a heap in a wide alleyway. But the white symbiote-clad vigilante had, at least, deposited Arthur next to a sewer entrance – whose manhole cover he immediately tore from its sconce. Arthur was, thankfully, quick on the draw and leapt headfirst into the hole, proof positive that either he knew where he was going or he was truly desperate to escape his captors.

Hopefully both, Anti-Venom thought, as Firearm and Wysper, riding a hover board, arrived on scene to engage him. He swung the manhole cover about on a loose tentacle like a deranged yo-yo and was able to smash into Firearm’s bike engine, forcing him to dismount before the vehicle crashed in a fiery blaze.

A sustained laser beam erupted from one of Firearm’s weapons – Anti-Venom held up the manhole cover to deflect the energy blast but the lid soon became orange-hot and too much for him to handle. He snarled and slammed it down atop the open manhole before any of the Jury could think to descend into it.

If Screech was adequately named, Wysper was even more so – there was some trick of her technology that made it possible to suppress sound within the immediate area. Anti-Venom was abruptly disoriented without his sense of audition, and he was pummeled by a pair of energy blasts that drove him to his knees.

He whipped a scythe-like tentacle towards his attackers, but it appeared Firearm and Wysper both had achieved their stride, and they dodged the attack with apparent ease. Firearm brought his rifle up again, and this time what emerged wasn’t red – it was ice blue, and to Anti-Venom’s skin it felt like frozen fire trying to insinuate into his veins. The arm that caught the beam blackened almost instantly, and the armor of the reversed symbiote fell away, revealing Eddie’s all-too-human arm at half the length beneath it.

Damn it, they’d figured him out fast. Way too fast. Fire and sound didn’t hurt him anymore, but cold and silence…?

He brought his other arm up, expanding the ivory skin outward to create as broad a shield as he could muster. It would last all of two seconds against a weapon like that, but maybe it was two seconds he could use to conjure some other solution…

What happened in the seconds that followed seemed little more than a haze of pain and fury for him. Sentry arrived, with Ramshot and Screech approaching only moments thereafter, and suddenly the alley didn’t seem so wide anymore. Anti-Venom was thrown about from one Jurist to the next, one awful, disabling strike after another, bits and pieces of him falling away with every blow. If they’d been cops, SWAT, even military, they wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the symbiote skin – but the Jury had developed their weaponry very carefully, and a precision freeze ray aimed at Anti-Venom’s leg froze him in a block of ice from ankle to thigh, joining solidly to the ground beneath him.

Ramshot drove a hydraulic punch into the side of Anti-Venom’s head, knocking the white symbiote flesh away from nearly half his face – the pained scowl that followed was with one eye of glowing red and one of blue.

Sentry stepped forward and grabbed Anti-Venom about the neck with one hand. The glowing eyepieces of the Jurist’s helmet seemed to narrow at the vigilante… but if he spoke, it was consumed by Wysper’s noise suppression.

Anti-Venom stared at his attacker in defiance. Go ahead, he thought. Let’s see you make a difference. I already made mine.

#akasupergirl #muse: anti-venom #long post cw #violence tw #{ cut for length and triggers }

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anerdinallherglory · 5 years ago

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Approaching Sun (26)

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! I realize that it has been a LONG time since I have updated this story. The school year has been an absolute killer. Not to mention that I am also working on my master’s degree and taking a ton of classes this summer.

In regards to this chapter, I ended up running out of time and decided to cut it in half due to the coherency of the story and the length. I wanted to give Satou and Isao a bit of a wrap up that does the story justice. However, the good news is that the second half will take less time to be posted. I will definitely be trying to work on this story because I have a LOT planned for it and it’s only just getting to the good parts (one coming up next chapter.) For my patient readers, this will be good news to you. For those who aren’t patient, hoping you’ll stick around to read J

Also, next to Naruto, reading and writing are my passions and my New Year’s resolution is to encourage more people to read. I created an Instagram account called read_with_rich where I will be posting about high-interest books in order to encourage non-readers to read by using the social media platform that can introduce people to books without them going to libraries or book stores (which they won’t if they don’t already read.) Give me a follow if you are interested!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26: Monsters

There was a sharp mix of pungent smells permeating the air around them as Sasuke looked over Sakura’s shoulder at a particular herbalist book. His friend was sitting at a table in the center of the greenhouse, flipping through the Sunagakure plant log, scratching down a list of all the ingredients she would need to create the military ration pills.

When Sasuke commented on the smell, Sakura replied with “You get used to it.” And then she went into a detailed explanation of why plants even created all sorts of different smells--why many flowers had sweet aromas, but other plants had fouler scents. Sakura elaborated that it all had something to do with procreation. Something about bugs being attracted to them in order to spread pollination. She even went into the genetic purposes of tastes in plants. Sasuke listened with genuine interest at the wide variety of facts that she possessed.

Sasuke turned and leaned against the table as she spoke, tucking in his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. When he was sure she was distracted, Sasuke peeked at her between the lashes of his right eye. He noticed that her brow was furrowed as she searched for the plant she had written down. After a few minutes of this, she began to tap the end of the pen against her bottom lip, a subconscious behavior many people did while thinking. Sasuke couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s small habitual behaviors in the past few years except for in battle scenarios. To watch the cogs spinning in Sakura’s mind, had Sasuke feeling like he had missed out on much in the last several years.

After another few seconds, Sakura explained her concern: “I’m going to have to find a substitute plant for the medicinal aspects of the pills. Sunagakure doesn’t grow Tikasia in abundance here. The amount that I would need would deplete their entire reserve.”

Sasuke considered her word for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed a fraction when the door of the greenhouse opened. A white-coated man with sandy colored hair beamed hugely and raised his hand in greeting as he entered. “There you are, Sakura-san. I’ve been looking for you!”

Sakura broke from her deep concentration and turned from the table as she picked up on the calling. Sasuke raised his eyebrows slightly at the familiar tone the young man used. This must be a staff member from the hospital, a colleague that was working closely with Sakura while she was here. His presumption was confirmed when Sakura returned both the smile and call.

“Sorry Mako! Hope you haven’t been looking for too long.”

Mako?What-- are they on a first name basis or something? Sasuke pondered with a frown of disapproval.Sakura barely knew him, or at least, that’s what Sasuke thought. At least Makohad the decency to add the proper honorific to her name. Not that Sasuke could be the one to lecture on the topic.

The young physician made his way over to them and immediately offered a respectful bow to the both of them. Sasuke was never very good at returning these customs of respect, but after a minute of awkward staring, the Uchiha nodded his acknowledgement in a very uncaring sort of way. After bowing, the medic immediately turned to Sakura and glanced at her work on the table.

“Are you creating another medicine?” Mako asked, crossing his hands behind him in consideration, boldly reading the list she had compiled next to the herbal catalog.

Seeing her co-medic’s interest, Sakura picked it up and handed it to him while simultaneously pushing the book in his direction, an invitation for his opinion.

“You’re just the person I need right now actually.” She explained to Mako how she was creating a batch of military ration pills, a notion at which the male medic’s facial expression turned to one of surprise. Sasuke understood his disbelief; not many people knew how to make such a desired sustenance that tipped the scale in favor of those who consumed it in battle. When bringing up the topic of the ingredients she needed, he raised his thumb and forefinger to his chin, pinching it in contemplation.

Sasuke stiffened slightly when the young man pulled up a seat to sit beside her, pulling the book closer so they could both look at it together. “What about Ashuwa?” he offered, flipping to a plant towards the front of the book. Sasuke peeked over towards the illustration and noticed a shrubby little plant with bright yellow flowers.

“Ashuwa?” Sakura questioned, frowning down at the picture. “That belongs to the nightshade family, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he informed, “but it’s not fatal like many of its other relatives. It’s actually quite safe to consume unless the patient has some sort of allergic reaction to it.”

“That’s interesting. I’m not very familiar with it. What are its properties?”

“It’s a little stronger than Tikasia but more acclimated to our desert climate, so we have plenty of it here. Its primary effect is a boost in brain function. However, we have observed an increase in energy and muscle mass along with it. Some ninja even claim that after consuming it, it relieves them of stress.”

“All that?” Sakura pondered, dropping her jaw.

Sasuke raised an inquisitive brow as well. With benefits like that, it was a wonder they didn’t add it to every meal here. There had to be missing information obviously…

Sakura must have been thinking the same thing Sasuke had, because she immediately responded with. “What are the negative effects?”

Mako smiled at her insight. “Just like Tikasia, you crash and suffer chakra depletion as a result. You have to take far less of it than Tikasia. Like I said earlier, many people have severe allergic reactions to the plant which is why we don’t use it often.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the pair of doctors who discussed plants so casually with one another. Mako had a sort of charisma about him, and Sasuke could tell why Sakura would rely on him while she was here. The young man’s temperament sort of reminded Sasuke of their old schoolteacher, Iruka-sensei. However, Mako’s knowledge was so thorough that he almost reminded Sasuke of Kabuto; Sasuke had witnessed many in-depth medical conversations between Orochimaru and he.

Still leaning against the table, Sasuke closed his eyes, adopting an uninterested guise to go with the frown. Seeing them together, discussing their common interests, reminded Sasuke of something despite his epiphany last night. Watching her familiarity with this person reminded Sasuke that just because he had finally admitted to himself that loved her, didn’t mean that he should do anything about it. Sakura had told him firmly that she would only ever choose him and to not assume that if he left her alone, she would fall in love with someone else. Sasuke truly believed his female teammate about this. But seeing her cheerfully interact with Mako made Sasuke want to believe otherwise. Even though it stung him to think about Sakura loving someone else and another man being a part of her daily life, waking up beside her and hearing a confession from her lips, Sasuke knew it was what she deserved. He could never be that sort of man for her, especially not in the near future.

But now that Sasuke was certain of his feelings, would he be able to only ever be a close friend to her? Would he be able to watch someone else come into her life and become the person Sakura swooned over and built a family with? He would, Sasuke told himself. He hadto. Sasuke had already chosen in his heart to be the Itachi of this time and make the sacrifice for the greater good so that his loved ones like Sakura even had a future. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

Without meaning to, he let a low exhale of self-defeat escape his mouth. Realizing he had done so, Sasuke quickly glanced to his right to make sure no one noticed. Sakura, who Sasuke now noticed had stopped what she was doing, was now watching him despite the fact that Mako was still flipping through the book and explaining something to her.

His kunoichi teammate locked gazes with him, furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head in silent question. Sasuke broke their eye-contact immediately and Sakura returned her attention to Mako. It’s for the best, he thought to her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mako lead Sakura across the greenhouse to the white-labeled bushel of Ashu that he had spoken to her about. She measured out the amount she would need and began cutting it carefully with his assistance. Sakura had been surprised at this substitute that Mako had offered with certainty at its effectiveness. She pinched a sizable piece of it and placed it on her tongue and began to chew. With it being a nightshade after all, she wanted to be certain that it wasn’t toxic. Nightshades were highly cultivated by humans and most were safe to consume like Mako said, but since she had never heard of this plant and it was unfamiliar to her, she wanted to double-check Mako’s claim. Besides, he said it could cause allergic reactions.

Just so Mako’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her taste-testing, Sakura simply announced, “This actually tastes quite yummy. Much better than the bitter Tikasia.” Then she called out loud enough for Sasuke—who had been casually leaning against the table since their arrival—to hear, “You’re in luck, Sasuke. Maybe these pills won’t taste like ‘mudballs’ this time like Sai famously calls them.”

Sasuke peeked open his right eye at her, clearly not grasping a word of what she was referencing. Mako, on the other hand, laughed at her statement.

“Tikasia israther bitter. Is Sai a friend back home? Your friend really called them ‘mudballs’ to your face?” Mako laughed.

Sakura chuckled to herself a bit, returning her full attention to Mako. “Sai is a sort of special friend. He’s brutally honest; always has been.”

“Sometimes we need friends like that,” Mako said reassuringly, helping her pluck the stems and flowers of the plant and wrapping it up in paper.

Sakura nodded in agreement and instantly recalled many of her friends back home and a sort of homesickness radiated in her chest at the thought of them. She wondered how all of them were doing. She also thought of the hospital and Lady Tsunade in that moment too, and made a mental note to write a letter to check in on them.

She glanced up at Sasuke for the twentieth time that day, and her homesickness disappeared. When he was absent, she was always sick with longing for him. It suddenly surprised Sakura that she had never felt more at home than when she was with this man. She had confessed this to him before, but when he was gone, it felt as if she was alone. Sakura would fall asleep with thoughts of him and miss him just as much the following morning. That feeling had disappeared on her journey and this was the first time the kunoichi had missed someone else since she had picked up her bag and followed Sasuke down the cobbled street that night a few weeks ago.

Mako’s statement returned her to the present moment from her thoughts. “Isao slept well last night. After you left with Gaara, he was distraught and restless after what happened. We ended up giving him your dosage of the sleeping medicine and he didn’t experience any sleep terrors.”

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed, almost jumping for joy in her excitement. This was exciting news. If they could eliminate the terrors, then Isao would be okay. Maybe he could stop taking the medicine once his body adjusted.

“Satou, his father, however,” Mako began as they made their way back towards the center table towards Sasuke. “Well—he’s a bit hysterical in the hospital. The man definitely needs to be there, but we are not quite sure what to do for him. He’s actually the reason I came looking for you. I figure you might be the only one able to talk to him.”

Sakura nodded as they came to a stop and she set her items down. “I see.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke had been thoroughly pissed when Sakura had announced to him her plans and handed him the bundle of paper-wrapped yellow flowers. “Will you grind these up for me while I quickly check-in on a patient? They should be dry enough on their own. We need to mix this in with the rest of our batch as soon as possible.”

The Uchiha nodded with a “hm” but had half a mind to shove the flowers and grinder toward Mako since he was inclined to be so damn helpful.

Apparently, she was duty-bound to go see some hospital patient with an attitude problem and Sasuke had guessed easily who it was. After seeing the bruises on her chest last night, it was hard not to think about this patient of hers. It settled like a knife between Sasuke’s shoulder blades as he began to pulverize the flowers in the mortar with the stone pestle. He glowered after the two medics as the door to the greenhouse swung to a shut behind them.

Sasuke knew that Sakura was aware of his eagerness to get the pills so he could return to his mission. And because she predicted this, Sasuke knew without a doubt that Sakura had played him. She had given him this little job to keep him occupied for a few minutes because he couldn’t put the task off. But what shedidn’t know was that it certainly wouldn’t take him as long as she hoped. Sasuke removed another heap of flowers from the paper and began to smash them forcefully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura had managed to come up with a small plan in the few seconds after Mako had informed her about Satou, Isao’s hysterical father, whom Sakura and Gaara had placed under the care of the hospital yesterday. The first and most necessary part of her plan was to keep Sasuke busy and away from her patient. After seeing her teammate’s reaction to the small bruises on her chest last night, she didn’t want the two ninja to have the least bit of interaction.

The second part was to ensure that Isao was kept far, faraway from his father. If the child was showing any progress at all after having distance from him, then Sakura would be damned if Satou meant to screw that up. Trailing closely behind her, Mako confirmed her hope that Isao remained at the mental health children’s clinic and was being strictly supervised.

Finally, the last rocky bit of her plan was to try her best to remain calm and civil with Satou despite what she predicted his treatment of her would be. Sakura anticipated every bit of an angry temper and possibly aggression.

Having Mako with her made Sakura feel more reassured. In the back of Sakura’s mind, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about because she could rely on her abilities as a ninja, not his, but it was still a comfort to have him with her as a steady, supportive presence.

When they finally reached Satou’s hospital room and they entered, Sakura gasped. Apparently, Satou had considered this place a prison cell rather than a patient room. The bed was tipped, and the curtain torn from the rod above the windows. The massive punched out crevices in the walls around them were threatening portraits of warning. Sakura heard Mako echo her surprise. Sensing their presence, Satou turned from the window and glowered at them.

“Glad to see my warden has finally come to see me,” the man spat viciously.

While Mako’s expression was one of disbelief, Sakura erased the emotion from her own, slipping on a blank pretense. Forget step three of her plan, then. It was obvious what kind of man Satou was. He had no respect or care in the world for anyone and her kindness would be seen as a weakness to bully her for. Pretending to be civil would be an entire waste of her time because Sakura recognized the hate in Satou’s eyes, glassy pools that reflected the darkness in his heart. How bitter it made Sakura—to see Sasuke’s formal self in one of her patients; how hopeless this conversation would be even though he was the one person who needed it the most.

Sakura believed this man deserved her gentlest persona, but Sakura had tried playing this game before and failed miserably with Sasuke. If Sakura—a former teammate and close friend—couldn’t have reached into the depth of Sasuke’s darkness and rip him from it, then how could she expect to be successful with an absolute stranger? She thought of Naruto and Gaara and how they might approach this. Adopting Naruto’s methods before, Sakurahad fought Sasuke to knock some sense into him, but Sakura couldn’t just go starting fights with her patients.

Confidence then. Sakura crossed her arms behind her back and raised her chin. “I’m not your warden; just someone who is trying to help you and your son.”

He began to laugh—that psychotic pitch that set Sakura’s heart racing. It frightened her to see that this man was more lost than she had thought. This wasn’t just a man who had taken his anger out on his son. “That’s what pisses me off the most about you leaf village filth. You think you have the right to march in and do as you please.”

Mako responded before Sakura could silence him, “Be careful what you say. Haruno-san is an honored guest of the Lord Kazekage and he asked for her assistance at the hospital.”

Well half true. I did invite myself here I suppose. Sakura didn’t correct Mako; Satou was completely prejudiced toward Konoha and its citizens. She reminded herself to steer clear of the political past between their two villages. Satou’s next comment brought an immediate halt to Sakura’a analytical approach to reasoning with him.

“You’d think the Kazekage wouldn’t give his whores a false sense of entitlement in village they don’t belong in.”

It was hard to contain her inner voice at that moment, who happened to be screaming loudly. WHO THE HELL DOES THIS BASTARD THINK HE IS?

Sakura let out a calming breath and put hand on Mako’s arm who was surprisingly doing a good enough job for the both of them at giving this terrifying ninja a piece of his mind despite the aptitude gap.

Before she could respond, the door opened and someone stepped in. Seeing Sasuke momentarily took her aback because that powder job should have taken him at least 45 minutes to complete, yet here he was a mere 10 minutes after being assigned the task. He must have a question.

And then Sakura saw his face. A red and purple combination flashed towards Satou and Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet. Had he just heard what Satou called her?

When Sakura reached him and placed a hand on his arm, his gaze snapped from Satou and landed on her. “Did you need something?” she asked kindly, assessing the situation and deciding to act casually. Maybe if she came off as unaffected by Satou’s comment, then Sasuke wouldn’t feel the need to react.

“Here,” he responded gruffly after recovering some composure, shoving the mortar she had given him earlier towards the space between them. “You said you needed this quickly didn’t you? Go on ahead and make the batch. I’ll talk to this guy.”

Sakura briefly savored the startled look on Satou’s face before turning her body towards Sasuke so she could whisper in private with her teammate. “Sasuke, I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s fine,” he softened his murmur to match her whisper. As he said this, his sharingan faded and his emotionless mask slipped back on. “Just a talk between ninja.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” came Mako’s eager voice behind her, “I’ll stay too. You go on ahead and make that batch before time runs out.”

Sakura snapped her head towards him, shaking her head with large eyes in silent begging, but Sasuke was the one who spoke. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can leave too.”

“He stays,” Sakura volunteered, to which Sasuke glowered at her for. “A doctor must be present during an exam, after all.” This was most definitely not professional, but Sakura had used a “time” excuse to keep Sasuke busy earlier. Mako knew as well as she did that it didn’t matter what time the Ashuwa was added to the mixture, and he was using her lie against her. She didn’t know her friend of a medic could be manipulative like that. Mako knew she didn’t want to tell Sasuke that she had fibbed about it.

Grabbing the mortar, Sakura peered up into the Uchiha’s eyes, reconsidering her fear of the two ninja meeting. If Naruto or Gaara weren’t here, maybe Sasuke was the next best person to talk to him. Now that he had come back to the light, perhaps Sasuke could reach Satou in a way that Sakura wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes people who had experienced trauma would only listen to someone who had shared a similar pain. And it had been proven to her throughout the years that sometimes only monsters could understand monsters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke waited until Sakura’s footsteps receded far enough down the hall before his eyes locked onto Satou for the second time.

“Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke isn’t it?” Satou inquired, daring to speak first. “I never would have guessed I’d ever see your face again after the war.”

“Good. You know me.” Sasuke announced, fully entering the space and leaning against the right-most wall, just fifteen feet away from Satou in this small room. “Then you’re aware of the terrible things that I have done to better men than you.” To be honest, Sasuke hated to play the reputation card—in fact, he wanted to get as far from his past as possible, but he needed this bastard to know just exactly what he could still do to someone that pushed him far enough.

He noticed Mako shift excitedly at the left of the entrance. Apparently Mako was hoping for a show. Good, Sasuke thought, he needed to hear this too if the male physician had future plans to stay next to his friend.

Sasuke got straight to it. “The truth is that you’re not going to listen to anyone, so this is going to be a waste of time and breath.” Sasuke knew because he had been in this exact same frame of mind before.

“So why bother staying?” the man spat, rage leaking from his mouth like saliva from a rabid beast. Sasuke was correct in his analogy. Like Sasuke himself had once been, Satou was nothing more than a creature that there was no hope left for, and it needed to be taken out of this world. That’s what Gaara had practically told Naruto to do—take Sasuke out and do the right thing as his friend. It’s what Sakura had tried to do and failed.

But Naruto had done the impossible. With memories of his friend in his heart, Sasuke sighed and willed himself to put at least a little bit of effort into this for his friends’ benefit.

“For the sake of the woman you just called a whore. I care more about her and her goal than the few minutes I could be doing something more beneficial than talking to you.” Of course, he would never tell her that.

Sasuke felt like there was no point in beating around the bush. His voice would give out if he continued talking at this rate. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe any explanation, any psychological nonsense, just the cold truth that Satou needed to hear. Despite how hard he might try, Sasuke wouldn’t be able to pull this off like Naruto. Naruto would have marched up to him like a bull, grabbed his collar, proceed to threaten him for saying such a thing to Sakura, and then somehow miraculously convince this man to change.

Sasuke on the other hand, was less predictable. Depending on which part of his life you looked at, Sasuke could have had several reactions to Satou’s comment. The Sasuke before Orochimaru would have been angry but level-headed, at most offering the man an analytical glare. Sasuke immediately post-cursemark would have gutted him in the same mania he had broken that sound ninja’s arms in the Forest of Death. Vengeance-bent Sasuke would have completely not cared at all. But the Sasuke he was now? Even though he was on his path of redemption now, something in him had become honed again, sharpened along with the internal acknowledgement that he had feelings for Sakura. Despite his accepting of the truth, Sasuke hadn’t anticipated feeling this defensive and this is what scared Sasuke the most about himself—his unpredictability.

When Sasuke had tried to sever his bonds, it was to eliminate the feelings that came with them. He had seen it as a weakness. If his attachments were few, then Sasuke could remain loyal to a way of life he hoped for, one of peace. But having Sakura near again and feeling responsible for her had Sasuke fearing for the worst about his character. He had relayed this concern to Naruto before he left the village several weeks ago. “What will keep me from the darkness? From choosing the path of revenge?” “I will,” Naruto had responded. “I’ll stop you.” If men like this were regular in Sakura’s life, how could Naruto guarantee that Sasuke wouldn’t snap one day and kill every single person who threatened to do her harm? What if one of them succeeded? Could Naruto prevent everything? Stop, Sasuke told himself. Stop thinking like that.

Satou didn’t laugh again for the entire conversation. He remained standing by the window, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke in wary consideration since the Uchiha had arrived—not scared necessarily, but an enemy weighing his odds and deciding to avoid major triggers. Smart, Sasuke thought. Not completely brain dead then.

As Sasuke was consumed in silent thought, Mako stepped in for him. It was the first time all day Sasuke liked the medic. “We know that your wife died. Is that the reason you are abusing your son?”

Unlike with Sasuke, Satou revealed his temper, like a bomb going off without warning. “WHAT I DO WITH MY SON IS NOBODY’S DAMN BUSINESS BUT MY OWN.”

Unaffected by the sudden rise in volume, Sasuke surveyed the damaged room around them. Satou sure made it look like he was being held against his will, but the truth was, Sasuke realized, that if Satou had truly wanted to leave, he would have. There was nobody physically stopping him from leaving. The only thing really holding him here was Gaara’s command. Ah, so that was it. Badmouth the Kazekage all he wanted, Satou still respected one thing and that was power.

Sasuke tested the theory with, “The Kazekage believes it is his business.”

“Everything is apparently his damn business,” Satou growled in his direction.

Sasuke immediately noted that this was not a shouted response like he did when Mako spoke. Sasuke deduced that Satou held enough respect for the people he feared. That included himself. Damn. How annoying; Sasuke was going to have to do all the talking after all. To be honest, Sasuke had just wanted to remove Sakura from the situation and came up with the “talking” part to get Sakura to leave. Now, he supposed he would have to deliver.

Mako tried reasoning with him again: “Does the child remind you of your wife? Is that the reason you mistreat him?”

Satou’s eyes grew wide at Mako’s question. “HOW DARE YOU-“

Forget it. Talking like this was getting them nowhere. Sasuke’s visual prowess was nowhere near restored, but what Sasuke planned to do wouldn’t take up much chakra anyway. This wasn’t his typical style, but trying to talk with this man sure as hell wasn’t his style either. Sasuke revealed the black tomoes of his right Sharingan, instantly immobilizing the man where he stood.

“What are you doing?” Mako asked with concern, walking up beside him. “You’re not going to use a genjutsu?!”

“Just shut up and stay out of it,” Sasuke announced in annoyance. “I am getting the answers.”

Satou’s mind was a black, fiery wasteland that Sasuke stepped out on. The ninja’s memories appeared before him like colorless corpses rising from the grave. Sasuke walked forward toward the past surveying memories in order from most recent to oldest. The first memory that shaped in the air before him had Sasuke considering deactivating the jutsu. Whether he had subconsciously looking for this memory or not, Sasuke didn’t know, but he watched it play out before him. His pink-haired teammate was standing her ground, glaring up into the face of the man whose memories Sasuke violated. Sasuke frowned in hatred at the image of his fingers jabbing into her chest. Satou was looking down at her with a ferocity that he had yet to display towards anyone else. Why?

On cue, another memory emerged, connected to this one and providing Sasuke with the answer he wanted. It was during the war and Satou was immobilized on a cot, bandaged and regaining consciousness. Pink hair came into the ninja’s vision as he tried to roll to the side. “Miss,” he called toward the female ninja. “Where am I?”

“Stay still,” Sakura ordered him, pushing him back down on the cot. “Your leg is severely injured and needs to remain immobile.” She began giving orders to her assistants when a boom suddenly sounded somewhere nearby. Satou watched as she got to her feet and headed in that direction as someone began screaming her name.

“My wife,” he croaked, trying again to rise. This time, no one stopped him as he began to fumble towards the line of patients, some unconscious, others screaming. “Rina,” he sobbed, searching the faces of the incapacitated. “Where are you?”

He finally found her in the back row and he began limping faster toward her. “Rina!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the woman who was bloody almost beyond recognition. Sasuke looked away from the memory as Satou began searching with hands for the wound on her body. Somehow the woman had reopened her injury and was now bleeding through the bandaging. When Satou found it, he began to moan. Satou clutched onto his broken wife and lifted her despite his leg. He was barely able to support her as he began limping back toward the medical professionals. “Haruno!” he tried to shout after the woman who had disappeared in the rising clouds of debris and dust. “Haruno!”

When a medic finally arrived to assist him, it wasn’t the one Satou had hoped for. “Please,” he begged them. “She’s dying—bleeding out!”

Sasuke saw the man’s world shatter on his face when the medic began to shake his head after checking the woman’s pulse. “I am sorry sir. She’s already gone.”

“No!” he began to scream, picking up his wife again and limping after the woman he believed could still save her. The memory ended after Satou disappeared into the rubble screaming after someone he clearly never found.

So that was it, Sasuke realized, stepping toward a new memory that materialized in the swirling darkness. He blamed Sakura for his wife’s death.

The next memory Sasuke played was Satou returning from the war and staring into the face of the child he and his wife had left behind. Sasuke was shocked at the resemblance the child held of Rina; Sasuke witnessed Satou experience the blow of pain that came at seeing the same likeness. When the child reached for him with tears in his eyes, Satou turned away from him, covering his anguished face and stepping past the threshold. Isao’s current caretaker reached for him to relieve his father’s neglect.

Sasuke felt like he had ashes in his mouth. He was more familiar with grief than anyone, but grief affected people in different ways. Sasuke both understood and didn’t understand. He didn’t dare go further; Sasuke knew what happened next concerning the child and didn’t want to see it for himself.

Deactivating his Sharingan, Sasuke withdrew from the black backdrop of Satou’s mind.

“What did you just do?” Satou asked, sinking to the floor on his knees and holding his head, an aftereffect that had Mako looking between the two ninja in fearful concern.

Sasuke saw no point in explaining to either of them. Satou was more than aware of what just happened. “I could erase a couple of those memories,” Sasuke explained to the whimpering man on the floor who gazed up at him in anger. “Is that what you want?”

Satou hesitated before saying, “You could really do that?”

“Is that what you really want?” Sasuke asked bitterly, “for someone to reach into your mind and take away all memory of your wife or child? To dishonor the both of them?”

“No,” Satou declared at that. “Not if it will remove them from my memory. The pain— just take that away.”

“Pain is a part of life and not something I can tamper with,” Sasuke deadpanned. “If you let it, your pain will turn into darkness, consume you, and taint every aspect of your life. Your son is the only thing you have left of your wife. You should value that and cling to that as your light.”

Sasuke understood what Sakura meant earlier when she told Sasuke her conversation with Gaara about the past generation affecting the next with their toxicity. Satou didn’t repond and Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He had said what he needed to although it left the Uchiha feeling like a hypocrite.

Turning to Mako, Sasuke declared, “Send the son to the Leaf’s mental health clinic; get him as far away as you can. The child needs to be in a different environment, or he will turn out like father. It’ll give Satou some time to reconsider what’s important to him.”

Opening the door, Sasuke thought twice before exiting. “Also,” he remarked to the man who began to sob on the ground. “The next time you lay your hands on my friend, you’ll have me to deal with, not the Kazekage.”

Satou began to scream in anger, throwing things against the walls again. The door swung shut behind Sasuke and Mako, closing the prisoner in his self-made cell.

#approachingsun #approaching sun #sasuke and sakura #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #sasusakufanfiction #naruto #Naruto Shippuden #naruto fanfiction #Sakura Haruno #Sasuke Uchiha #sakura #sasuke #sakura hiden #sasuke shinden #sakura uchiha #sasusakutravel #sasusakupostwar

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themis-moved · 4 years ago

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hello my brain decided to turn on for like exactly one hour for me to churn out some writing. no proofreading we post flat like [GENDER REDACTED]

this is the story of the meeting between daron and sheridan :)

Daron huffed as she chopped through the thick undergrowth of the Nepone forest. It was a hot and humid day on Acias, and she was out exploring as usual. She could have sworn that the path she cleared out just a couple days before was totally regrown by now. It was a mystery to everyone how the Nepone forest seemed to fix itself, if not reinforced itself, in mere days. Some people had superstitions of magical beings that were responsible for filling the forest with energy, while others believed it was simply a happening of the landscape.

So here she was again, carving out the same path for what seemed like the hundredth time. She felt like it got easier every time, like she was getting farther and farther each time around, but there wasn't the clearest ways of knowing. Just like the undergrowth seemed to re-flourish, any markings or carvings made into the trees would be healed too. Daron had tried to do exactly that before and she wasn't able to find the marking she made the next day.

Today felt different, though. The plants seemed to honestly fall away easier than usual; she usually had to hack at them for a few minutes before being able to break through. It felt as easy as cutting grass this time. Being grateful for the break, Daron tried not to dwell on it, taking her blessings as they came. Thank you, Devr, she thought with a small smile. Hopefully her energy wouldn't go to waste.

She continued her task for a couple hours longer, stopping for a break every so often before continuing her exploration of the forest. As time passed, Daron moved farther and farther away from the sunlight at the entrance of her path. Sunlight still filtered through the canopy, but it wasn't nearly as bright as outside the forest. She soon saw a bright patch through the trees; she assumed it was a clearing in the forest. She was excited - this was something new!

Daron continued cutting her way through the forest, rapidly approaching the clearing. She was keen on seeing what could be there - whether it was a simple open field, something decrepit, or by some chance, another person's camp. It was considerably quiet in the area; bugs were trilling in the heat, but the birds didn't seem to be around.

As she broke through, she observed the area. It was interesting; it was open and grassy, but the vast majority of the trees surrounding the area were completely covered in viney overgrowth. That was the first thing that caught her attention, before she looked around more and noticed that the grass appeared to be cut down in a small area. She cautiously held her machete at her side as she approached the clearing, wondering what would've created it.

Eventually Daron saw that there was someone laying there, in the middle of it all. They were laying on the ground, on a pile of vines. They didn't react when Daron approached; she wondered if they were dead, or asleep. Only one way to find out, she wondered, boldly stepping towards the person. As she got closer she noticed that not only were they laying on the vines, but that they were also intertwined in the plants as well. She put her hand on their shoulder and gently shook.

"Hey... Hello? Are you okay?" Daron asked, concerned. In a split second she realized she didn't need to be at all - the person snapped awake in a moment, thoroughly alarmed by the touch. A few incomprehensible moments later, Daron found herself held in place by the vines with this strange person a yard away, looking at her in bewilderment. They immediately shot off questions: "Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Daron frowned at them. She pulled one of her arms from the vines that held her, but couldn't move. "I thought you were dead! You were just laying there in the field." She said, clearly upset. In the sudden frenzy, her machete had been knocked out of her hand and was laying on the ground now. Daron looked at it before looking back at the stranger.

"I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Daron." She told them. They gave her a suspicious look, still clearly anxious, and did not respond. "Will you tell me your name? ...Are you controlling these vines?" Daron asked.

The strange person gave her another look before responding. "Yes, I am. My name is Sheridan. You still didn't say how you found me."

Daron sighed. So she would have to play by their rules, as long as she was held by these plants... so she had to oblige their questions. "I don't understand what you mean. You say that like I meant to find you," Daron started, "I was just cutting down plants in the forest to explore, and I found this clearing, and I saw you. What's your problem?" She was clearly bitter about the situation at hand.

Sheridan squinted at her before stepping towards Daron, leaning down and picking up her machete. "I have... reasons... to be paranoid. And I'm not totally convinced, considering you dropped this when I restrained you," they said, widely gesturing with it.

Daron raised an eyebrow at them, looking down at the plants holding her in place, and then looking at Sheridan again. "Uh... I don't think you have very much to be afraid of, here." She said.

Sheridan contemplated on her comment, nodding when they realized and agreed that they clearly had the upper hand. The vines on Daron grew slack.

Daron flexed her arm, popping a joint. That was certainly one of the more unpleasant experiences of her life. She turned to Sheridan again. "Can I have my machete back, or are you going to threaten me with my own weapon?" She asked.

Sheridan shook their head. "No. Not yet. I don't trust you," they said, still watching her. "You cannot leave until we come to an agreement." They told her.

Daron gave her a questioning look. "And... why is that?" She asked. Sheridan gestured for her to sit down, vines crawling across the ground to offer a softer seat than dirt. They sat first, and spoke after Daron did the same.

"Because I am a protector. You, Daron, should not have even found me in the first place. It's dangerous if I let you just go tell the world about me... or any others like me." Sheridan began. Daron felt a vine wrap around her leg. "I control these plants; I protect this forest, and everything inside it. I have noticed and seen you coming into this forest; I am the one who prevented your entrance. My own negligence has put me in this situation."

Daron gave them a strange look, seeming skeptical. "You're the reason I've had so much trouble? You're the reason that the plants grow back, that the trees heal their markings?" She asked, baffled.

Sheridan nodded. "It's my purpose to protect this place, excuse me, from nosy people like you. This forest is full of secrets that should be left to rot, not sought out for gain," they told her. "The things I'm talking about are the things that made me like this." They said, gesturing, a variety of vines moving in response.

The pieces started falling into place for Daron. Something had happened to Sheridan, here, and they regrew the forest to prevent people from finding it, and using it again. Being as she was, this only sparked more of her curiosity. "If you want me to just be quiet and leave, then we're going to have a problem... but I'm willing to make a deal with you." Daron said, ideas lining up.

Sheridan gave her another suspicious look. They hated getting caught with an adventurer like this - the kind that wouldn't give in, the kind that wanted something in exchange. They sighed, knowing that they wouldn't be able to get out of this the same as Daron was stuck here until they finished. "Fine. What do you have in mind?" Sheridan asked.

"For one, I want to know - and see - what you're talking about. The vagueness has caught my interest. And second of all - I don't want to leave here empty handed. I've been coming out here for weeks with nothing to show for it." Daron said, excitement in her eye. She was finally finding something new.

Sheridan was silent for a while, considering what Daron said. They finally spoke up. "I will agree to this, but not for today," they started, looking at the sky. The sun was nearing the treetops, getting lower with every passing moment. "You can come back here. I will meet you here, early tomorrow, and I will show you." they told Daron. Sheridan reached down and picked a stem of rispere flowers from their vines, handing it to Daron as they said, "this is all I can give you for today."

It felt like a sweet sentiment to Daron. She stood up from the ground, offering a hand to help Sheridan back up too. They took her hand and was swiftly pulled back to their feet. Sheridan handed Daron back her machete, believing they could trust in her now.

"Thank you, Sheridan," Daron said, uncertain. She sheathed the machete in her belt. "I should leave now." She said, looking towards the quickly darkening sky. Sheridan nodded.

"I will see you tomorrow, Daron." They responded as Daron receded into the forest. The path she had cleared on her way in was still open as she left, and she managed to leave much faster than she entered. She was thankful to Sheridan for not regrowing the path.

#transmission #astroria #sheridan #daron #oc #long post

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hivany3000-2019-blog · 5 years ago

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My Personal Interpretation Journey

Throughout this course, we have learned a variety of interpretive skills that range from improving our communication to learning about effective ways to engage your participants in programs. Ethic is described as being a set of morals that are related throughout a specified field. With this in mind, my personal ethic as a nature interpreter surrounds being the most hard-working and inclusive interpreter I can be. I want to continue to develop skills that allow me to take information available and communicate it effectively to a variety of individuals. In terms of the beliefs that I bring to nature interpretation, I want to focus on three main ideas.

One: Effective interpretation occurs in a place of inclusivity and encouragement

The first one is my belief that effective interpretation takes place in a space that is inclusive and encouraging. With that being said, I think by creating inclusive opportunities for individuals, it creates a space where connections with nature can occur freely. As mentioned in the course lectures, each individual contains an “invisible backpack”. This is where each of us contains a set of tools in our backpacks that we have, these tools can either be advantageous or the lack of tools can put us at a disadvantage. I believe it is important to create programs where it can accommodate as many people as possible. While keeping in mind that not everyone has the same resources, this definitely makes it difficult to create programs but is well worth it! Especially if it means that you can help to create as many nature connections as possible.

In the same mindset, I believe that it is important to have an idea of your audience's background. This is critical when delivering effective programs as it allows you to better achieve your purpose. By knowing the background, you can create a better space of inclusivity that ultimately allows you to most effectively encourage your participants throughout the program. I feel that knowing your audience helps to create a space that includes everyone.

Two: Communicate your passion

The second one revolves around my belief that nature interpretation stems from the ability of the interpreter to take their passions and communicate effectively. In the textbook, authors describe one of the gifts of interpretation to be passion. This describes effective communication stemming from the passion of the interpreter to share their knowledge in an effective way. I believe that it is important to have not only passion for the subject that you are sharing but also passion for wanting to connect participants to that subject. In the lab with Chris Early, I found it extremely interesting how he expressed that it would be excellent to have both of those passions all the time when delivering programs. However, you can help to create nature connections in areas that you are less passionate about (for me this is soil applications) by containing a passion or drive for connecting people to the environment. In my personal ethic as a nature interpreter, I believe that you need to be passionate about creating connections with people and the environment (in whatever area that may be).

Three: Creating respect through connections

The third belief that I have is sparking a connection between an individual and nature. This allows the individual to connect through experiences and helps to teach them that we should respect the environment. It is well known that our anthropogenic influence can drastically change the environments in which we interact with. Thus, through nature interpretation, I believe that it is important to instill a sense of environmental stewardship or respect. As interpreters, we should be able to take the place that we are delivering a program in and create a connection between the participant and the environment. Thus, by creating this connection we are encouraging the participant to deeply appreciate and respect the environment through personal experience. An effective way to do this would be to deliver programs that focus on providing hands-on opportunities. Events such as tree planting, water studies, or bug studies are excellent ways for participants to connect to the environment. It is important to instill a sense of respect and love towards the environment and I believe that nature interpreters can do this through helping to create nature connections.

Overall, I feel as though my ethic or set of morals related to the field of nature interpretation throughout the course has definitely changed from what I would originally have expressed at the beginning. I feel as though I have a deeper understanding of the amount of passion, dedication, and research that it truly takes to effectively communicate or connect people to nature. This being said, there are some main responsibilities as a nature interpreter that I believe are important to always keep in mind. Some of which include:

Being inclusive and adaptive

Encouraging nature connections through self-exploration or guided tours

Providing a safe space for learning and expanding knowledge

Accepting that you will never know everything and to continually learn and grow

Conduct background research, prepare, and plan out programs (to the best of your ability). This will allow you to deliver the most effective program.

And many more!

Lastly, I will touch on the approach to nature interpretation that I feel is most effective for myself. As most of you know, there are three major learning styles. The first being visual learners which include individuals that learn best through seeing and watching. The second is an auditory learner which learns best with listening. The third is a kinesthetic learner that connects best with touching and interacting with things. It would be most effective when interpreting nature to incorporate all three of these learning styles into programs. However, I understand that it is not always practical to do this, and some activities work best with specific styles of learning. Throughout the course, we have experienced a variety of labs that include, the arboretum (parts aimed towards auditory learners, through the bird game), the downtown walk (also aimed towards auditory learners but also visual through a tour style), the art gallery (auditory and visual), and the indoor lab (aimed towards kinesthetic learners through participating in activities that involve interacting with objects). After being able to observe other interpreters deliver programs throughout a range of subjects, I have concluded that there is not one approach that I feel is most suitable to myself. Although, I have found that I prefer to incorporate or have programs incorporate hands-on learning activities. In terms of being a participant in programs, I prefer that they incorporate some aspects of kinesthetic learning. However, I also enjoy when those programs utilize visual and auditory cues. If I were to deliver a program to a group of participants, I would prefer to incorporate a hands-on activity. Although, I do see the benefit of incorporating auditory and visual cues to help connect the most amount of people I can to the content being shared.

To conclude this course, I have realized that what I thought I knew about nature interpretation was only the surface. To ultimately understand and appreciate the reach that nature interpreters have is far too much to do in this short period of time (one semester). However, I do feel like I have gained a deeper appreciation for those who share their passions (more specifically environmental ones) with the world! The main takeaway from this course for me would be that interpretation covers a wide range of subjects. But, to become a successful nature interpreter it only requires you to have a passion (of anything) and a passion to communicate and help create connections within others!

I am interested in your main take-aways from this course. Please share them with me, since interpretation can take on so many different forms and touch people in different ways, I am interested in how you feel with this course concluding.

References

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matrixaffiliate · 6 years ago

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Ojalá - Scarves

Story Update! FFN and AO3

I've been a math tutor for the last six years of my marriage. This fic is about a lesson I learned pretty early on, and something I still find myself in need of on occasion. ;) Thankfully I don't work at a tutoring center or school anymore, so I only have my students to fool when they come to my home.

Marlene showed up to the tutoring center for her Saturday shift wearing a bright red gauzy scarf, tied in an intricate knot around her neck.

"What a lovely scarf!" Andromeda complimented as she brought Dora in.

Marlene smiled and thanked her before taking Dora back to her desk to start their session.

Marlene smiled and was gracious to every compliment through the day regarding her new accessory including from a potential client, a mother with little twin boys who were fond of pranks but not fond of actually paying attention in their lessons. At the end of her shift, she breathed a sigh of relief and moved to head home.

"What's with the scarf?" Lily cornered her as Marlene grabbed her purse and put away the students' folders.

"I just felt like wearing it," Marlene shrugged. She liked Lily. They had started at the center at the same time, and over the last year, they'd grown to be friends.

Lily shook her head as she followed her out of the tutoring center. "No, you don't wear scarves unless it's freezing outside. It's a warm Spring day. So I'll ask you again," Lily linked her arm with Marlene's as she moved towards the car park, "What's with the scarf?"

Marlene threw her head back and laughed, "You're ridiculous! Honestly, I found the scarf and thought it was cute so I bought it."

"Marlene McKinnon went shopping? Were you running a fever?"

"Again, you're ridiculous." Marlene laughed and bumped Lily's shoulder with hers.

"That's why you love me!"

It was a couple of weeks later, again on her Saturday shift, that Marlene showed up wearing another scarf. This time it was black and shimmery, smaller than the red one had been, and Marlene had tied it in a simple knot.

"Let me guess," Lily raised her eyebrows at her. "You saw it on a secret shopping trip and had to have one that would blend in with your leather jacket."

Marlene smiled as she traded her purse for her students' folders, "Exactly."

Lily shook her head, "You're hiding something from me."

"I'm hiding something from everyone, Lily," Marlene winked at her, "don't feel singled out."

The next few weeks, Marlene took a great deal of satisfaction in showing up in different gauzy and silky scarves in a variety of colors. And Lily's guesses of why she was wearing the scarves were more and more outlandish as the weeks continued.

"I know! You've joined a red hat club but you all wear scarves instead of red hats and you're in the middle of initiation so you have to always wear your scarves to prove your loyalty."

Marlene laughed as she finished up with Dora. "I like that one. I think I may start a scarves club and make that a part of the initiation."

Lily rolled her eyes, but she watched intrigued as Marlene turned to walk Dora to the front of the center before coming to a shuddering halt.

Dora, however, cheered.

"Sirius!"

She ran to a man about Lily and Marlene's age with gray eyes and black hair that fell with unfounded grace and charm.

"Hey, there little one!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm picking you up today to help your folks out."

"Did you bring the bike? Do I get to ride?"

Dora shrieked when the man, Sirius, nodded, "Have my spare helmet and everything."

But then the man caught sight of Marlene as she slowly approached and his eyes went huge before a smirk grew across his face.

"Hi, I'm Sirius," he offered his hand to Marlene.

"Marlene, it's a pleasure."

"It really is," Sirius held her hand, "Nice scarf."

"Thank you," Marlene laughed.

Lily was sure that something had passed between them, but she couldn't see Marlene's face and she had no way to prove it. So Lily took a different tactic as Marlene returned and Sirius and Dora walked out of the center, Sirius taking one last glance at Marlene before the door closed.

"He's into you."

Marlene laughed, "I'd like to think so."

"No, really, you should have Andromeda set you up." Lily pressed, but she was met with Marlene's overconfident grin.

"I might, but right now, I've got my first appointment with the Weasley twins, so I'm going to worry about that right now instead."

Lily spent the next several weeks alternating between bugging Marlene about Dora's cousin - she had shamelessly asked Andromeda about the man the next week - and Marlene's sudden affinity and continued use of scarves. What really kept Lily going was that last summer, Marlene had worn several tasteful tank tops to the center, and this summer she had yet to wear one.

"Wow, it is so hot out today!" Lily complained as she walked up behind Marlene. "You must be dying in that t-shirt and scarf."

Marlene's smile was just a bit tight. "We all make sacrifices for beauty, you can't tell me those heels are comfortable."

Lily shrugged but her grin widened. "I suppose you're right, but I have a date after work so my outfit has to serve two purposes."

"Really? Lily has a date?" Marlene's grin was no longer strained. "That's exciting!"

Lily bit her lip. "I'm kind of nervous, I really like him. He said we might meet up with a couple of his mates after dinner, so maybe he likes me more than a little too."

"That's wonderful Lils! What's his name?"

"James," Lily went to say more but the Weasley twins came in at that moment and Marlene moved on to her students.

Marlene left before Lily that day and wished her well on her date. She was welcomed home by her boyfriend waiting for her in flat.

"Hey there sexy," Sirius set the knife he was using to cut mushrooms down to take her in his arms. Gently he untied the scarf from her neck and pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing the hickeys he'd been leaving on her neck and chest.

"Do you realize how bloody hot it is outside?" Marlene groaned as Sirius brought his lips to her neck.

"Yes, hence I relieved you of your shirt and scarf."

"You're the reason I had to wear the shirt and scarf."

"I can always stop," Sirius' voice was low as he spoke just behind her ear.

"Don't you dare!" Marlene sighed as she melted into him.

"I'll make it up to you," Sirius kissed her, "I'm making dinner and then the lads want all of us to show up with you girls for a pint or something."

"Whatever you're cooking smells divine so, yes." Marlene kissed him back until he pulled away to ensure that dinner didn't burn.

"Where's James?" Sirius asked as he and Marlene sat down at the table in the pub. Marlene now had on her shorts and a tank top, and her hair was pulled up off her neck, all of her hickeys on display. She rather enjoyed the variety of looks she would get. Men who would glare jealously at Sirius while she hung on his arm. Women who would look down their noses at her. Women who would share a secret smile and a wink with her, specifically Dorcas. Marlene really liked Remus' girlfriend.

"He's on his way," Remus chuckled. "He's finally asked out that girl he met a while back."

"I hope it goes well, or we'll never hear the end of it." Peter bemoaned.

"Be nice," his girlfriend, Bridget, chided, but she smiled fondly at him.

"There he is," Dorcas pointed towards the door where James was walking in with his date.

Marlene stared, "Well, fuck."

Sirius started laughing so hard he was doubled over. Marlene gave his shoulder a shove before turning and smiling up at Lily.

"Welcome to the scarf club, Lily," Marlene smiled at her friend who was staring at her neck and chest with wide eyes. "This is Dorcas, she and I will be there to commiserate with you. Bridget here is a part-time member. You're welcome to borrow a few of mine until you buy some of your own."

Lily burst into laughter, laughing harder than Sirius.

With her boyfriend and friend incapacitated, Marlene was tasked with providing explanations to the rest of their company. But the truth was, she didn't mind. The scarf club wasn't the worst club to be a member of, especially because it meant Sirius kept kissing her neck.

#blackinnon #blackinnon fanfiction #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #jily #meadowpin #Marauders #muggle AU #scarves #my life leaking into my fanfiction

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years ago

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Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

In the prepper world, we hear “two is one, one is none”. We don’t want to get carried away with it when we’re packing a rucksack, but it provides positive redundancy for our preparations. If something happens to the primary – from a plan to a tangible item – we have a backup right there, already on hand.

There’s a difference between an alternative and a backup, though. It’s subtle, but significant enough to hugely affect how well we navigate upsets.

We see backups in all areas of preparedness and the self-reliant lifestyles many try to cultivate.

If our pressure canner uses rubber rings, we try to keep an extra on hand.

We stock seeds in case we can’t buy more or buy food in a supermarket, and if we’re frugal we stock multiple years’ seeds separately in case there’s a problem with the last-purchased or last-harvested seed supply.

We map out multiple routes for our vehicles, in case one is blocked.

We keep a light and a speed loader, stripper clip, or spare mag with our EDC or creak-in-the-night firearms.

If we’re into tactical load outs, we carry a primary rifle or carbine, with reloads, and have a sidearm on our waist, leg, or chest where it’s handy if our primary runs dry or goes down at a really bad time. I might even have backups for both primary and sidearm back home.

Right There with Backups, is Having alternates

Alternates are somewhat different from “just” a backup. A backup is the same thing, or nearly the same thing, which functions the same way. An alternate is different, largely or entirely.

Following the examples above…

In addition to my pressure canner – and grid-down ways to bring it to and keep it at pressure – I might also make plans to preserve foods by dehydrating, cold smoking, or salt packing.

I might not only have backup seeds, I might have alternates – faster-growing hybrids of the same type, as well as foreign domesticated crops and-or wild edibles.

I might maintain lists of bus and subway/train schedules, stations, and stops, and cash/tokens for them, a bike, and an ATV to get around suburban and rural obstacles. I might also have packs or small carts for my animals and myself so we can flee on foot.

Instead of planning to repel all borders with direct confrontation if our retreat is noticed, we might have made plans to make the house look already-hit, create passive discomforts, make it difficult to reach, and have actual booby traps as our last line.

Instead of a rifle/carbine, some situations might call for me or a partner to carry a shotgun – which are themselves loaded with alternate options.

I might also keep one specifically loaded with rubber shot, rock salt, bean bags, net, or some other less-than-lethal option for chasing pests out of my garden or breaking up a dog fight.

Instead of or with a gun, I might have a souped-up flashlight that functions like a mini baseball bat. Other alternatives to an EDC pistol might be a taser bug, retractable asp, or a coin roll in a hanky.

Alternatives as Well as Backups Apply Across all of Preparedness

If we flip the switch and there’s no power, we might have solar-charged and standard battery lamps to go with candles and oil lamps for light. We might augment solar and standard batteries with hand-cranked radios or lanterns, which can also function as chargers for other battery devices, or have a generator – and, upping the game of alternatives, a gennie that runs on multiple fuels.

We might have squeeze-activated ice packs we can blow a battery-operated fan across to combat heat stress, and plan for canopy beds and grown-up blanket forts to help reduce the amount of heat we need to stay warm.

We might have dark bags and solar ovens, propane stoves and grills, and various candle stoves for cooking.

We might have Pepto for whatever our water and food storage does to our guts, Imodium and Dulcolax as a backup, as well as some alternative maintenance and treatments for minor cases like prunes, tea/coffee, and dates, and mild farina/rice cereals, applesauce, and protein drink mix.

In our bags, vehicles, and homes we store not only water that’s ready to consume, but also chemical treatments and filters, and vessels we can fill if our primary springs a leak.

Super Sources

Hunting is one area ripe with alternatives for our plans and supplies. There’s already wide evidence and experience for us to weigh according to our own priorities, with gear and techniques full of alternatives just waiting to redeploy by preppers.

There’s that trusty standard shotgun, and all its options, but many hunters have a deer or pig rifle – sometimes instead, but regularly in addition to that shotgun.

Some have both a short, heavy-hitting, stable-flight brush gun and something designed to reach out across ridges, prairies, desert, or pasture. Others choose middle-road calibers that offer cartridge variety to cover multiple bases.

Some have a bow or crossbow for archery seasons. Others hunt very effectively with rim fires and airguns.

Some of those give us alternatives to big booms with a silent, effective killer and all the benefits they can have for a homesteader, hunter, and anyone else trying to avoid attention. Some give us alternatives to a shoulder-thumping Recoil Beast or expensive-ammo eater, giving us options for training and limited shooters.

Some use a handgun as primary for hunts, scoped or iron sights, both small game and large. Some carry a finishing gun along with their primary hunting tool.

Others carry close-range handguns or super-shorty shotguns for bears or self-defense – to include other outdoors-men like fishermen, bikers, hikers, and campers.

Those Outdoors Hobbyists, too, Give us Backups and Alternatives we can Apply

Some gear serves as-is, not only for wilderness bug-outs and survival, but any power-outage and grid-down or off-grid situation. Some gear is seen re-purposed by other interest groups as often as it is in its original field, or is used as an alternative until a field catches up to the interest.

BMX elbow and knee pads, rappelling helmets, and motorcycle knuckle-guard gloves improved tactical load outs, with official military gear catching up, not leading the way. It’s not singular (sadly). Personally acquired “other” gear and tactics are pretty commonly deployed long before it becomes regular issue.

We also see a lot of crossover in foods. Military to camping/backpacking to endurance athletes, one innovates and the others apply it. Then they’re catching up and expanding, or innovating anew, and it goes back the other way.

Preppers with crossover interests apply them, and they gain increased attention within that fold, further increasing the backups and alternatives we can apply. (Fad foods, too.)

It goes far beyond gunners and rations, though.

Bivy sleepers of both the sleeping bag and mini pup-tent types can offer us an alternative to more common tents and tarps shelters, or create additional layers of insulation and moisture protection when combined with them – or create even more layers of insulation and warmth indoors.

Netted hammocks and bug net around our hats help keep mosquitoes and biting flies at bay – in the garden and for front-porch sleeping in hot weather as well as out on the water or trails. Those mesh shields crossover with hunters’ turkey and duck mesh for the face and head.

Hunter’s camo options give us an alternative to military patterns, sweltering heat or frigid cold, across a wide variety of terrains.

Increased interest from outdoors types means pack rafts and inflatable kayaks (it’s a canoe) are much more compact, reliable, and affordable now.

They give us vehicle and home options for all sorts of things, be it a fishing platform, icy-pond and deep-mud rescue platform, dryer (-er, not dry) crossing of waterways, and options if we’re caught in high water from a hurricane, main break, dam spillway, or some other flood.

That gives us one more way to keep loved ones safe and get them out of harm’s way across a wide array of emergencies.

Rain gear, protective gear for bikes and ATV’ers, lightweight and compact tools of all sorts, off-roading vehicle upgrades, compact fishing kits, big-wheeled bikes and lightweight tow carts, eating habits, backwoods wheelchairs, speedy-refuel cans, comms devices and chargers – many apply to preppers, whether they’re urban or rural, whether they’re inclined toward either shelter-in-place or bugout survival.

Good-Better-Best

We regularly want a backup – specifically a backup, one that does the same job exactly or nearly the same way. Conditions ebb and flow, though, especially at crunch times. Alternatives that provide entirely different options add to our resilience and self-reliance in times of need.

Having both is the best of all worlds, making for more well-rounded preps all around. Happily, we have whole realms of possibilities that makes it pretty easy to accomplish both backups and alternatives.

Outdoor pursuits may have a lion’s share to offer, but we can find alternatives and backups pretty much anywhere. Sports of all types, permaculture, the re-purpose/up-cycle/re-use-it crowds, bio-mimicry in urban planning, and emergency response techs, shelters, and CnC cells are particular goldmines for techniques and tools.

History and the rest of the world are also excellent sources to apply to all arms of preparedness, both in terms of things that could derail our primary and backup plans, and coping mechanisms for when “normal” has left the building.

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naturecpw · 4 years ago

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You kind of know, going into it, that scientists who have spent their lives studying animal behavior are not going to love being asked, “What is the smartest bug?”

“It’s a tricky question and I don’t think anyone will give you a straight answer to it, unfortunately,” laughs Marc Srour, a biologist who specializes in invertebrates. He’s being nice: it is, I fully acknowledge, a pretty stupid question. But scientists themselves have, without using that phrasing, been attempting to answer it, and have been making progress. Insect intelligence is an under-studied field, but a particularly weird and dynamic one where huge discoveries are being made almost every year.

The biggest problem with asking about animal intelligence is defining what we even mean by “intelligence.” The animals generally thought of as smartest—among them the great apes, dolphins, and the octopus—are believed to be intelligent because they demonstrate some of the behaviors that we associate with our own superiority as humans. These qualities include problem solving, advanced communication, social skills, adaptability, and memory, and also physical traits like the comparative size of the brain or number of neurons in the brain.

Scientists study these qualities, but they study them individually, as concrete behaviors and attributes, and don’t usually like to then add up an animal species’ scores on those qualities and then declare them objectively intelligent.

Insects are a particularly difficult group of animals to study for these traits, because they’re just so different from us. Srour walked me through the basics of an insect’s brain, and holy god, they are so weird. Insects are extremely modular creatures, not like us at all: the easiest way to understand an insect’s nervous system is that an insect has many different sub-brains in different parts of its body, which feed into and can be controlled by a slightly larger central brain but can actually also operate separately. The antennae of an insect has its own brain. So does the mouth, the eyes, and each leg. Even if the central brain of an insect stops working, its legs still have their own sub-brains, and can keep walking.

Insects have, even considering their small size, a comparatively smaller central brain than we do, and with a much, much smaller neural count. Lars Chittka, perhaps the foremost researcher on the behavior of bees, told me that a bee has under a million neurons in its main brain. Humans? About a hundred billion.

Whether the amount of neurons or the physical size of the brain is related to intelligence is not really clear; researchers have no idea what humans are doing with all those neurons. But certainly there is a correlation between comparative brain size and the amount of those “intelligent” behaviors an animal can perform. In an insect, the key thing is the mushroom bodies, a pair of structures within the insect’s main brain that’s responsible for learning, memory, and, sort of, intelligence. Generally speaking, the larger the mushroom bodies, the smarter the insect.

There’s another angle as well, one that’s a little more complicated than just “big brain equals big smarts.” “Generalist insects tend to be the most intelligent,” says Srour. What he means is that insects, and animals in general, demonstrate more intelligence when they are equipped to adapt to all kinds of food sources and habitats. An animal that only eats one kind of leaf in one kind of tree doesn’t have to know very much; it can ignore all other information besides that which is directly related to that one leaf. “You can say in general that fleas and ticks, they’re not very intelligent,” says Srour. “They only have one purpose in life, and that’s to find their host and feed on their blood. They don’t have to do anything sophisticated so they don’t need very high brain functions.” Yeah, screw you, fleas and ticks, you idiots.

But a generalist animal has to do all kinds of intense thought to survive. Everything it sees can be a potential home, threat, or food source, and the animal has to constantly evaluate new stimuli to see if it can make use of it. A bee can feed on dozens of kinds of flowers, and must figure out the best bang for its buck as well as figuring out how to take advantage of it. The same goes for ants, which can feed on a wide variety of plant and animal matter. Ants leave scent trails for other ants to follow, a clear demonstration of social intelligence. Beetles don’t do that kind of thing; a beetle is a lone creature that doesn’t need to work with others for survival. Hell, a cat doesn’t even have to do that.

This all ties in with the “social brain hypothesis,” a theory put forth by anthropologist Robin Dunbar in 1998. The social brain hypothesis states that intelligence evolved in animals, including humans, specifically to work within and survive with social groups, not in order to solve any particular ecological problem. In other words, living in a group forces an individual to become smarter, rather than a smart individual choosing to live in a group.

“Ants, bees, and termites all have very high intelligence,” says Srour. “They have to recognize nest mates, communicate with them often.” The challenges of living within a large community require intelligence.

The three groups that are, according to Srour, up on the podium of smartest bugs, are the bees, the ants, and the cockroaches. Partially that’s biased because these are some of the best-studied insects of all, and it’s further biased because these insects behave, in some ways, more like humans than any other.

Which brings us to the honey bee.

Unlike most insects, the honey bee is a social animal, which forces it to have many intelligent abilities that non-social insects (like, say, flies, or beetles) don’t need. And its smarts are legion: the insects are able to recognize and distinguish between human faces, a surprising trait given that it isn’t really necessary for their survival. Another one: bees can count. In an experiment, honey bees were rewarded for stopping at the third in a series of landmarks, and proved able to remember this location and to thus count. (The distance was altered, while keeping the same number of landmarks, to discourage the bees from using their sense of distance.) Further study indicated their maximum counting abilities go to about four.

Bees are capable of observation, learning, and memory to solve problems. “Every bee is entirely flower-naive at the beginning of its foraging career,” says Chittka, meaning that the bee has no instinctive knowledge about how to score nectar or pollen from flowers. That’s trouble, because flowers are wildly divergent: different flowers will need entirely different strategies to exploit, and it’s up to each individual bee to figure out how to attack each different flower.

Bees can learn new strategies for getting food from other bees, something few other insects are capable of doing. Chittka told me about a technique called “nectar robbing,” in which bees figure out that it can be easier to bite a hole in a flower’s spur to suck out the nectar rather than figuring out how to get inside the flower. Other bees have proven able to observe this strategy, understand its purpose, master it themselves, and remember it for future flowers. That’s pretty smart!

But perhaps the best-known and most insane bit of intelligence from bees is what��s known as the “waggle dance.” This is a method of communication that the bee uses to tell other bees in the hive the location of a flower or source of food. Here’s how it works: a bee performs the dance on a vertical surface inside the hive. The dance is shaped like a coffee bean: roughly, an oval with a line down the middle. Dancing straight up means to fly in the direction of the sun, straight down means away from the sun, and left and right mean to fly to the left or the right of the sun.

The bee travels in a figure-eight pattern, tracing the line in the middle before performing the loops around the outside of the coffee bean shape. The amount of time it takes the bee to make its circuit around the outside of the coffee bean tells other bees how far away the food source is: a one-second loop means, roughly, that the food source is a kilometer away. The longer the loop, the farther away the food source is.

The bee will repeat this dance many times to indicate the quality of the food source: a really great one will find the bee doing this over and over again, yelling “IT’S A KILOMETER NORTHWEST OF HERE, IT’S A KILOMETER NORTHWEST OF HERE, IT’S A KILOMETER NORTHWEST OF HERE” for minutes on end. A decent but not quite as good source might find the bee repeating the message only a few times.

The Waggle Dance | Inside the Animal Mind | BBC

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“The honey bee dance is unique insomuch as they’re using symbols,” says Chittka. “No other animal besides humans has that.” Even other primates don’t use symbols: an ape like a chimpanzee may point at a desired object, or lead others to it, but it won’t use an abstract symbol or message to indicate what it wants to convey. The honey bee’s waggle dance is a wildly intelligent attribute; it enables a bee to very efficiently convey detailed information to a large group, and also can be done in the safety of the hive, where other animals can’t overhear.

These behaviors are far above and beyond what most people would assume an insect is capable of. Without exaggerating, the honey bee is capable of advanced symbolic communication, language, facial recognition, number use, observation and mimicry, understanding of rules, and high-level problem-solving. They are, in some senses, significantly smarter than many mammals. Amazing.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/i-asked-leading-entomologists-what-s-the-smartest-bug-in-the-world?utm_source=pocket-newtab