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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

statistically significant | 1 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Last year

You had been ferreting snacks out of the Hero Awards when he found you.

In retrospect, the whole idea of attending the Hero Awards had been a bad one from the get go. You’d just been so thrilled by the image of it in your head--getting to see all your favorite pros gathered in one place, dressed to the nines, celebrating their rankings, their wins, their saves, their successes. You’d pictured yourself flitting between heroes, collecting autographs and taking selfies, sitting down at a table with big names like Uravity and Froppy, making fast friends over the complimentary champagne.

But then you’d seen what really went into preparing for and attending an event like this, and the shine had quickly rubbed off.

When your boss at the Commission had extended you the invite, she’d told you that you would be representing the organization, and had advised you to contract a makeup artist and find someone willing to dress you. Her tone had strongly implied that this was more of an order than a suggestion. So you’d done it, but nobody had told you exactly how many hours went into getting your makeup tested, getting fitted and refitted for a dress, and fielding questions on cut, colors, fabrics, and fit.

By the time the Awards rolled around, you’d lost upwards of forty excruciating hours of your life to preparations, and had developed some kind of anxiety-induced Pavlovian response to the modiste’s name on your phone screen, where you immediately wanted to leap into the nearest storage closet and hide. And none of this was even counting the five full hours you spent on the day of the awards getting primped and polished within an inch of your life, then stuffed into some ridiculous scrap of fabric that threatened to fall off of you if you so much as breathed wrong.

By the time the stylists and makeup artist had finished with you, you were starved, cranky, and nursing a small migraine from how enthusiastic the hairdresser had been with you. You’d thought, though, that you would finally be able to enjoy yourself now that the worst was over. All there was left was to attend the ceremony, and get to see all your favorite heroes.

And for an hour or two, the Hero Awards had been just as cool as expected. You lingered on the fringes of the red carpet, gawking as pros like Chargebolt and Pinky swanned their way down the walkway, looking even cooler in real life than they looked on TV. Everyone had clearly gone all out, and they looked unbelievably good, either inhumanly beautiful or inhumanly intimidating. You had been utterly transfixed, as evidenced by the inordinate amount of time you spent accidentally staring at Todoroki Shouto as he gave an interview to the side of the walkway, looking absolutely unreal as he leaned over to speak to the reporter.

When you’d finally managed to snap out of your trance, you’d remembered to cut a beeline for the snack table, and had set about stuffing as many snacks into your dress as you could manage. And that’s where the trouble really started.

The invite to the Awards had come with the option for a very fancy multi-course dinner that you could have chosen. Instead, you’d taken one look at the price and laughed yourself sick, before resolving to sneak a bunch of the free snacks into your dress to keep you occupied during the ceremony. The problem was, the scrap of fabric the modiste had insisted was a dress was so obnoxiously flimsy and could only hold so many snacks.

If your dress had been able to hold a reasonable number of snacks, you wouldn’t have needed to sneak back out to the snack table during the presentation, and he would have never had a chance to catch you on your own. But the dress was lacking snack utility, and so you had gone back out for more.

You kept low in the aisle as you crept out of the darkened theater, keeping a hand over your chest so you didn’t spill out of the thin fabric of your dress, and emerged into the reception hall, where you were almost blinded by the harsh light. You stood for a minute, blinking the spots out of your vision, and touched a hand to your eyes, careful not to smear any of your eyeliner.

And that’s when he struck.

Almost as soon as you raised your hand, a rough hand seized your wrist, wrenching your arm down. A heavy arm went around you quickly, trapping both your arms to your sides, and you barely had time to let out a squeak before a calloused hand clapped over your mouth. Your feet left the floor, and then you were being dragged through a side door into the stairwell.

You twisted wildly, kicking out, trying to catch the wall or the railing to push off of and throw your assailant off balance, but he was strong, and clearly well-versed in combat, as he kept you well away from anything you could use to your advantage. He hauled you out into the stairwell, but instead of heading down the stairs, he moved towards the corner. To your surprise, he tossed you unceremoniously against the wall, letting you go.

You caught yourself on the rough stone and whirled around, only to reel back in shock when you caught sight of your assailant.

Bakugou Katsuki, perhaps better known as pro hero Ground Zero, leaned over you, trapping you against the wall with an arm on either side of you. He, like all the other heroes you’d caught sight of today, looked almost unreal in person, but in stark contrast to all the others, his handsome face was twisted up in unmistakeable fury, blood-red eyes bright with violence and white teeth bared in a silent snarl. Even under the thick fabric of his suit, you could see the hard lines of his body were taught with aggression, and it was all you could do to not shrink back against the cold stone of the wall.

“So,” he snarled, leaning in to put his face close to yours, “you’re the fucking statistics nerd.”

You gaped at him, mouth falling open. Your professional title was data scientist, but statistics nerd was a close enough descriptor that you could tell he knew who you were. Your brows went up, wondering why in the world Ground Zero knew you.

“E-excuse me?” you managed. Your brain rapidly kicked into high gear, running through possible reasons why he would know you, what he could possibly want with you.

Bakugou snarled. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”

You stared at him. Problem with him? Other than the fact that he’d just seized you with no warning and dragged you into a stairwell, you had no problem with him. You’d never even met him--what the hell was he talking about?

“Uh, do you maybe have me confused with someone else?” you asked, trying to shift out from under his arm. Maybe there was another data scientist milling around in the crowds that he’d meant to get his hands on instead.

Bakugou’s red eyes narrowed, and he put a hand to your abdomen to press you firmly back to the wall. “Oh no. You’re not getting out of this, you little brat. Fucking fix it.”

You eyed him warily, checking him for signs of a head injury, wandering over his shock of blonde hair and noting the size of his pupils. Maybe Bakugou had been out on assignment just before the Awards, and hadn’t stopped to get his injuries checked out before coming here. A blow to the head would explain why he was behaving so strangely, and asking for weird stuff.

“Fix what?” you asked, frowning when you couldn’t spot the signs of a concussion on him. His gaze seemed all too focused, all too intent. It was nerve-wracking, actually. You’d heard of his reputation for intensity before, but it was one thing to hear it and another entirely to have all that intensity trained on you.

Bakugou bared his teeth and leaned closer. “Your fucking nerd-ass model. Fix it.”

You froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, this was about the model. You knew his bone to pick with the model.

The entire reason you’d received an invite to the Hero Awards in the first place was because of your work on the model that calculated the hero rankings. The model had existed for years before you had come along, but this year it was different.

You’d been hired a couple months ago by the Public Safety Hero Commission after you’d contacted them with an idea on how to finally calculate the value of field assists. You’d had a rough prototype of a neural network that you’d trained on video of multi-hero operations, tracking the movements of all the heroes on screen, and had developed an algorithm capable of assigning point values to moves that contributed to but did not directly result in a win or a rescue.

The Commission couldn’t get their hands on your work fast enough, and after only a few months refining your neural net, it was hooked into the rankings model, and it had informed not only the choices for Rescue of the Year and Most Valuable Hero this year, but had entirely changed the hero rankings overall.

And Bakugou’s ranking had been very much affected.

Bakugou Katsuki was a hero very unlike the world had ever seen. Anyone could see from his stats alone that he was incredibly driven, supremely powerful, and almost unmatched by any other hero out there. A few years out from UA, he’d already entered the top ten and had been mere breaths away from the top three -- that is, until your model results had been released.

The thing about Bakugou was that he had a higher percentage of fight wins than any hero in recorded history. He came out on top of almost any situation he entered into, and had one of the highest villain capture stats and the highest villain kill stat as compared to any other hero at this point in their career. The problem was, the new model also now took into account assists, as well as applied slightly heavier weights to rescues, and as good as Bakugou was at winning fights, he was almost equally as terrible at helping others.

So when your model had been worked into the Hero Commission’s official ranking calculations, Bakugou had backslid to sit unhappily at rank number eight.

And apparently, he thought this meant you had a personal grudge.

“Okay, I understand you’re upset, but the results are the results,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”

His expression darkened thunderously, and the hand on your abdomen grew notably hotter, a scent like gunpowder and burnt sugar rising in the stairwell. “Like hell it doesn’t. Fucking fix it.”

Your brow furrowed. How did regular people think models worked? “There’s no ‘fixing it’, Bakugou. That’s just how math works. If you have a problem with how assists and rescues are weighted then you can take it up with the Commission. I just trained the model with their recommendations, and the results are what they are.”

Bakugou apparently registered none of what you were saying. Rough fingers slid to your jaw, tipping your face up to him. “What is it that you wanted, you damn brat? Did you want to see me humiliated? Or maybe you wanted my attention?” His fingers dug into your jaw. “Well now you have it, you fucking harpy, so show me what you wanted with it.”

You gaped at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open like a fish. Did he think you were blackmailing him? With a fucking statistical model? It was a matter of public record that Bakugou was smart--he was purportedly one of the brightest minds that had ever graced the profession of hero, with strategic skill and combat sense that was utterly unparalleled--so then why the hell was he being so dumb about this? Was he really so self-absorbed that he thought this whole thing was about him?

Your temper flared, rising like the slow heat that was building under his hands. “I know this might be news to you,” you said slowly, “but not everything is about you. The model I trained takes in video as its input, and calculates rankings based on recommended weighting criteria that the Hero Commission gave me themselves. There is no place for me to input my own biases or change the results, so if the output is something that you’re ashamed of, then maybe you should do better.”

Bakugou’s eyes brightened, narrowing on you with an intensity that made you want to curl into the wall. “Say that again, you little fuck.”

You held your ground, ignoring the dangerous way the scent of hot smoke sharpened, leaning forward to bare your own teeth. “Maybe you should do better, you self-centered asshole.”

You were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate with the challenge, like a predator catching sight of its prey. An unsettling grin made its way across his mouth. “I am going to make you wish you’d never even seen a calculator, you smug fucking nerd,” he said, leaning into you.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the back of your throat, and the hands on you flared alarmingly hot, before the door to the hall burst open, and a whirlwind of red and yellow tore into the stairwell.

“Heya Blasty,” a voice chirped, echoing on the stairs, “Found ya.”

The shock of golden yellow resolved itself into the lean figure of Kaminari Denki, aka pro hero Chargebolt. He quickly made his way to Bakugou’s side, seizing an elbow.

“I’m busy, fuckstick. Fuck off,” Bakugou growled.

A large hand reached over Bakugou’s other shoulder to pull him off you, a head of gelled red spikes materializing behind his back, and you blinked up at Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot.

“Sorry about him,” Kirishima smiled down at you warmly, in direct contrast to the way his fingers dug into Bakugou’s shoulder. His teeth looked incredibly sharp in person, but this fact somehow failed to detract from the warmth of his friendly expression. You blinked, stunned that you were being addressed by Red Riot.

“He’s been a little worked up since the results were released, but he’s harmless,” Kirishima explained, grunting a little as he jerked Bakugou away from you. Bakugou snarled and turned to his friend, a small volley of sparks lighting off of his palm.

“I said fuck off,” he growled.

You let out a choked laugh at the idea of Bakugou Katsuki being called harmless. Just this week he’d perfected a technique where he melted clean through concrete, and you’d seen the replay of him liquifying the side of a skyscraper on the news this morning as you’d been getting your makeup done.

“Harmless, right. Definitely felt that way,” you uttered as Kirishima struggled to get a grip on Bakugou.

“I’ll fucking show you harmless,” Bakugou spat, turning back to you, sparks crackling louder in his palm. Kirishima seized his chance quickly, getting a bulky arm around Bakugou’s chest and lifting him straight off the ground. Bakugou snarled and gripped Kirishima’s forearm, letting off an explosion that would have blown anyone else’s arm clean off, but Kirishima just laughed, ignoring that the sleeve of his suit had caught fire, and hauled Bakugou back through the door.

A litany of swears filtered back through the door before it swung shut again.

Kaminari turned to face you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We didn’t realize he was gonna come after you like that, though I don’t think he would have actually done anything. He’s pretty much all talk.”

You waved a hand, still stunned that Chargebolt was speaking to you.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you said. “I just...didn’t expect that kind of a reaction.”

Kaminari chuckled. “He’s usually a little more chill these days--I think he’s just pissed he’s losing to Midoriya now.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I gotta say, though, he was even more worked up than I expected when we got here. What did you say to him?”

You grimaced, thinking back on the tense conversation. “That if he was ashamed of his ranking, he should do better.”

Kaminari choked. “Oh fuck, he must have been pissed,” he managed, before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Do better. No wonder he looked like he was gonna give himself a hernia. Mina’s gonna wet herself when I tell her.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “He thinks I altered the results to get his attention.”

Kaminari’s chuckles tapered off as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Oh, he’s just saying that. He knows he’s shit at assists. He’s just salty he’s actually gotta do something about it if he wants to be number one.”

You thought back to the feeling of that hard body pressing you up against the wall, the disdain that had twisted his handsome face, the burning heat that had built up under his palms. A shiver went down your spine. It had seemed like he was a little more than salty, but if that’s how his friend wanted to put it, then fine.

“Well, thanks for the save anyway,” you said, giving Kaminari a little smile. “I’d definitely give you and Kirishima Rescue of the Year if I was pre-determining my results.”

Kaminari laughed, turning back to the door that Kirishima had dragged Bakugou through. As if on cue, a small boom sent the door swinging open a little. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to make sure I don’t have to rescue the rescuer.”

He gave you a casual wave, then crossed to the door quickly. He hesitated at the threshold, then peeked back over his shoulder at you.

“By the way,” he said. “You might want to take a look at your dress. I, um, think Bakugou may have gotten a little carried away.”

He disappeared before you could ask what he meant, but a quick glance down clarified soon enough. Right on your abdomen, where Bakugou had pinned you against the wall, lay a scorched cut out, exactly in the shape of one large hand.

Your mouth dropped open in horror.

That fucking dick.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

the end of being alone (3)

Ch 1 | Ch 2 |

warning: mentions of fear, crocodiles, discussion of teeth

Logan found himself grateful that he’d made arrangements to postpone their other jobs for a bit, because it looked as though they’d be staying firmly on this planet’s surface for a while.

There had been all of one attempt to bring Virgil aboard the Mindscape, and it had resulted in a significant amount of crying from both the child and Patton. Whatever circumstances had led the Human to this planet, it had left them deeply fearful of any sort of spacefaring vessel.

… This did not annul Logan’s suspicions about smuggling, though he was careful not to say as much in front of Virgil. The child was keen, and any time the fact that they were a Human was mentioned, they withdrew and began displaying body language that Logan believed indicated a desire to flee. Checking that exits were still there, putting space between themself and any of the Mindscape’s crew, anxious tics, and so forth.

Needless to say, they avoided the topic.

However, to Logan’s surprise, the child didn’t seem at all adverse to basic questions about themself. Understanding their responses was rare, of course, but the kid was picking up on Common with a shocking quickness, and Roman had turned out to be rather talented at interpreting their gestures when they didn’t have the right words.

The data that Logan had collected from these inquiries was both strange and intriguing. He’d carefully woven a mental list of it all.

1. Virgil seemed to identify by he/him, though whether that was an actual gender preference or simply a child wanting to be called the same pronouns as the three of them was up for debate. Either way, Logan seriously doubted that there was any way to convey the nebulous concept of gender through a language barrier, so he let the matter lie.

2. After eating too fast, Virgil would convulse slightly in a semi-rhythmic pattern for a short period. He didn’t seem alarmed or pained by this, only slightly irritated when it would interrupt him mid-sentence. The condition of ‘hiccups’ was thankfully temporary, since it made Roman quite jumpy. For their tiny, squeaking nature, Patton had called them ‘hicchirps’, which was ridiculous, but Virgil seemed to enjoy any and all wordplay that made it through his grasp of the language, so Logan stowed his complaints.

3. Virgil was terrified of the locals. Despite being plainly evident, this observation didn’t make sense at first, seeing as the nearby town consisted primarily of native Hiiynal and a few offplanet transfers, none of which could be described as particularly dangerous or violent. After a few days of gentle questioning and no reprimands for not answering, Virgil finally told them that the locals would ‘chase monsters far away’ and so he couldn’t risk getting near. Questioning was temporarily halted in favor of showing the Human the art of shadow symmetry, for purely scientific reasons, of course.

(Supposition: Human children enjoyed movement games.)

4. While the synthetic meat from the ration kits was accepted by Virgil, he showed a surprising preference for sweeter food items, such as fruit and sugar crystals. Seeing as Humans were rumored to be obligate carnivores or even raw flesh-eaters, this was a strange discrepancy. Virgil had even eaten some of the leafy vegetables Logan had brought, face pinched up in disgust but insisting that eating ‘greens’ would make one tall. It was unclear to Logan what color had to do with nutrients or growth. He was also slightly alarmed at the implication of Virgil being short for his age.

5. Virgil seemed, for all intents and purposes, fixated on Roman.

The latest data point was a work in progress. Logan hadn’t mentioned it to Roman himself, because the Cravon was already fairly worked up over everything the Human did as it was. Nobody seemed sure if this jumpiness was because of the Human child, or on behalf of it.

Still, it was present in little ways. For example, even as he answered Logan’s latest series of questions, his gaze would occasionally flicker up from his hands to Roman, who sat at the mouth of the little cave, carefully peeling more fruit. It wasn’t about the food; Patton had taken it upon himself to make sure the child knew he only had to ask to get something to eat. No, this ‘almost-staring’ was a frequent occurrence, no matter what Roman preoccupied himself with.

“You were saying you met… Susan… when another predator was attacking it?”

Virgil nodded, hurriedly looking back to his hands. “It was a big bite monster, and Susan was loud crying, so I did, uh,” he lifted his arms up, hands spread wide, “this, and I was loud at it until it ran away. Like raccoons back on Dirt.”

Dirt was apparently Virgil’s name for his home. Logan hadn’t heard of ‘raccoons’ before. He decided not to get sidetracked. “I’d estimate the creature you saw was a Lifel. They are the natural predators of Humlilts.”

“Natural?” Virgil mimicked.

“It means ‘of nature’,” Logan attempted to clarify, gesturing around them. “In the wild.”

Virgil only grew more confused with the wide, encompassing gesture. “Sky? Was not flying.”

Logan glanced at Roman, checking that he was still preoccupied. Patton was back at the ship, contacting a friend for advice. There seemed no better opportunity if he wanted to avoid overwhelming Virgil.

“Virgil, would you like to try something new?” he asked, carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do to put any pressure on the child.

The Human squinted at him slightly, quick to use his most common phrase. “Will it hurt?”

“It will not hurt,” Logan replied, ignoring the tightening in his core with careful practice. It always felt so wrong, that a mere pupa would be so familiar with hurt. “I will always tell you if something might hurt.”

“Mmm.” The Human hummed, the way he always did when they told him such things. Like he wasn’t sure if he could believe it. “What’s it?”

“What is it,” Logan corrected automatically. “It is something I can do, to show you new words. Want to try a little bit, first?” That was the phrase they used for new foods, but it applied well enough to mindsharing.

Virgil clenched and unclenched his hands for a moment longer before nodding, going a little tense like he expected something unpleasant. Logan held a hand out to him, waiting until he’d reached out in return to start sharing.

Small, simple flashes of images and sensations. Quiet forests, shallow oceans, clean air. Plants, bugs, animals, humanoids, living and dying and living again. Nature.

Virgil had pinched his eyes closed immediately at the start of the low-level telepathy, and Logan only had a moment to worry that maybe it had hurt him in some manner.

Then, there was a feeling of recognition. Without a moment to spare, Virgil had grasped the nature of the Vidi and was projecting his own thoughts. Walking on a crunchy leaf-covered trail with other Human young, a winged insect emerging from a cocoon, the crack of thunder and heavy rain on a windowsill. Nature.

“Wow!” Virgil whispered, imprint thoughts flickering like flames, too quick for Logan to really see. “You see into heads!”

Logan pulled back slightly, offering a bit of content-smug in return to the Human’s awe. “That is one way of framing it, yes. So, you understand what I mean, about the Lifel being a natural predator?”

“Carnivore,” Virgil mumbled, and then offered image-thoughts of several creatures that Logan could only assume were from the deathworlder’s home planet. He watched with morbid curiosity as Virgil remembered a clip from a screen, displaying large ungulates with twisting horns crossing a river, and then being dragged underwater by a dark, writhing shape.

“That’s a crocodile,” Virgil told him, his eyes still closed tight in concentration. “They’ve got big teeth and they do death rolls. They look like alligators, but I know they aren’t because gators live in Florida.”

“Florida?” Logan asked. He wondered if perhaps ‘gators’ were kept in captivity for species preservation. Or perhaps they were too dangerous left in the wild?

Virgil showed him a memory of a long, reptilian form with a narrow, tooth-filled jaw. It was wading steadily through a swimming pool, not paying any mind to Virgil, who was sitting with his legs dipped in the pool, watching in fascination. “I lived there!”

“Oh,” Logan managed, his ears going numb with fear at the idea of a child being so near a creature like that. “So it would seem.”

The Human patted him carefully, a gesture of comfort. “It’s okay. The bad guys didn’t take any gators or crocodiles from Dirt. Just people.”

Virgil’s words trailed off, a sense of melancholy overwhelming him. Rather than find out more about the Human’s past, Logan felt an unreasonably strong urge to stop that sadness. “Could you perhaps tell me more about these… ‘crocodiles’? You seem to be quite informed on them.”

“I had a book about them,” Virgil managed, slowly dragging his thoughts away from his abduction. “Did you know some crocodiles have a… a ‘biting force’ of five thousand pounds?”

He had lapsed into English, the sentence sounding well-recited, but Logan still got the general idea of what he meant, and a strong image of a picture book, covered in writing he couldn’t read but still understood. If Logan was right about the measurement conversions, the fact was terrifying.

“That’s very interesting,” he mused, because terrifying and interesting often went hand in hand. “Are there any other predators that can bite like that?”

Virgil scrunched his face up in thought. “Maybe sharks. Oh, but for sure a T. Rex!”

Logan saw a very concerning glimpse of a large fish with too many teeth before Virgil’s mind switched to a cartoon depiction of a larger creature with also too many teeth. He was beginning to see a trend in deathworlder species. “I… see.”

“They’re all dead, though,” Virgil told him sadly, projecting a memory of a huge display of bones. He then seemed to perk up, glancing over at Roman again. “Except for in space!”

Logan narrowly avoided laughing out loud, covering his throat before the vibrating chirps could get far. So, this was the truth behind the Human’s interest!

“Roman is not a ‘dinosaur’,” he clarified, once he felt composed enough to do so. “In fact, I believe he rarely even eats meat.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you sure? Maybe he’s a secret dinosaur.”

Logan wiggled his fingers thoughtfully. “I suppose we’ll just have to check.”

---

“Roman, would you come here for a moment?”

Roman looked up from his task, immediately suspicious. Logan sounded strangely amused, like he was on the brink of laughing at him. That was never a good sign.

Still, the Human was looking over at him with those wide, strange eyes, and he wasn’t about to run away. He got to his feet, leaving his pile of dana peels behind as he crossed the cave floor. “What is it, dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of me?”

“I need you to show us your teeth,” Logan said, very much not being a dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of him. Roman resisted the urge to hang his head in resignation. He should have expected this. The Ulgorii was shameless when it came to exploiting his friends for science.

“How about absolutely not?” he replied, because there were actually limits to his tolerance for shenanigans, and one of those limits was threat-displaying at a baby Human.

“Hold on, look,” Logan said, and then bared his own ridged teeth with a click.

The Human did his small grimace-smile back, entirely unphased. They both looked to him expectantly. Roman felt as though he was being ganged up on.

“Um,” Virgil said, painfully tentative, “please?”

Roman felt extremely ganged up on.

He squatted, tail keeping him perfectly balanced, and pulled at the corner of his mouth to show some of his teeth.

“Woah,” Virgil breathed.

“See how the back teeth are narrow but dull? They’re designed to crack bones and get to the marrow at the center,” Logan narrated, like the nerd he was. “Roman doesn’t have the small incisors or sharp molars required for proper full-time carnivores.”

Roman almost reminded his crewmate to use small words, but Virgil seemed to get the idea, leaning uncomfortably close to stare. He then opened his own mouth, like he was planning to take a bite out of something, displaying a shocking number of tiny little bone-teeth crammed inside. Some of them were uncomfortably sharp.

Rather than attack anyone, though, Virgil touched his own teeth, carefully inspecting the shape of them. Roman resisted the urge to get him to sanitize his hands. Kits would be kits, he supposed.

Logan was patiently watching as Virgil pointed to each tooth in turn, and he obligingly recited the name of each type of tooth for the kit. His two lower arms took frantic notes on Human jaw structure, probably to prepare more elaborate meal plans better suited to a deathworlder diet. The kid soaked every bit of information in like a sponge.

Finally, after a long moment of thought, he announced, “My ‘lower canine’ is going to fall out in close time!”

“Soon,” Logan offered, always quick to interpret the Human’s occasional nonsense Common. “'My lower canine is going to fall out soon.'” And then, after a moment’s pause. “Wait, it’s going to what?”

And then, because Roman’s day needed more nightmare fuel, the kit bared his tiny fangs at them and poked one with his tongue, revealing that it did indeed seem to be sickeningly loose. In fact, Roman could see a few other gaps in the curved row of teeth, some with little bits of bone peeking out.

“Stars above,” Roman said, feeling a little faint. Logan was already interrogating a very confused Virgil on whether or not losing teeth was indicative of an illness or not.

“They’re just my little teeth,” Virgil told them, seemingly unconcerned with holes in his mouth. “I get big ones later.”

“There are plenty of species that have milk teeth, but to have their adult set not fully-formed by the time the milk teeth are ready to fall out…,” Logan quickly devolved into muttering, hands flicking.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Roman asked despite himself, eyeing the kit just in case he was going to burst into tears all of the sudden. Roman himself had lost one or two front teeth before his next set had fully formed, and each time it had felt like biting on hot metal.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil seemed to have moved from confused to amused, still not entirely sure what the fuss was all about. “Not unless I,” he mimed pulling on the tooth, and Roman made a click-click-click of parental don’t-do-that chiding before he’d even fully registered the alarm he’d felt at the motion.

Virgil clicked back at him curiously, sounding exactly like a tiny version of an exasperated parent. Roman tucked his face against his shoulder, unsure if he should laugh or despair.

This Human was really going to be the death of him.

#sanders sides #space au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #teoba #the end of being alone #writing #my writing #crocodiles #raccoon #you all wanted baby teeth and so baby teeth you shall receive #ask to tag

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shihalyfie · 3 years ago

Note

Hmmm... since you like those "what if" /AU scenarios, have you ever thought about inserting your favorite digimon cast into another universe/series you like? Like, as example, Daisuke in Frontier or Savers/Data Squad? This it my favorite thing to do, so i'm curious if you get these ideas too -- digitalgate02/Ni (the artblog is a sideblog, so i'm sending with one of my main accs)

Well, of course I do~

I know you're playing the game already, but Cyber Sleuth's Kuremi Detective Agency was directly based off of 02's computer lab, so I think it'd be interesting to see how the 02 group would react to a world where that kind of cyberspace and having a Digimon is more normalized, but in such strange conditions. The Adventure/02 world as depicted up to the epilogue, with Kizuna as its midpoint, has Digimon "gradually" phasing into society, but in Cyber Sleuth they have a strange specialized niche as hacker programs specifically in EDEN, and that kind of thing would be very new to the kids where they'd have to deal with people knowing what Digimon are, but not in that context.

Other than that...I really like this fanart collection that depicts Daisuke meeting various series protags (Appmon and after didn't exist at that time) and (in my opinion, correctly!) pointing out that Daisuke could get along with probably just about anyone. Actually, I think the 02 and Appmon kids would get along really well too -- they have the shared point in common that they love hanging out with each other just as "social life friends" even if there's no real crisis, so they're all super friendly people who would love the chance to do mundane things.

That said, I think the one amusing nail in all of it is that Digimon is generally very huge on its worldbuilding, and all of these casts are used to lives from very different technological periods. If you want an extreme example, Adventure and Appmon...after all, they don't even know what a phone booth is in Appmon, but really, imagine Taichi's group being completely overwhelmed by the ridiculous amount of technological advancement in Appmon's 2045, while the lack of smart devices everywhere in Adventure's world would make things comparatively ancient to the Appmon crew...

#digimon #shiha's ask box #tomorrows2top #shihaheadcanon

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

Text

There's More Than One Way To Start An Apocalypse (4)

Summary: The Infinity War had happened and Thanos had won. 5 years later the Avengers try one last crazy idea to save everyone they lost, but a mysterious woman from Natasha's past drops in unexpectedly derailing their plans. They soon find out that Thanos was now not the apocalypse they needed to stop.

Fandoms: Avengers, Supernatural

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader (previous), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (previous)

Warnings: Angst, The Damn Snap, Mentions of depression and self-loathing, violence, mentions of death, copious amounts of blood, cursing, mentions of past trauma

A/N: Okay so there's not a lot of plot movement in this chapter, but I promise that the next one will. I will be uploading that tomorrow. For now, hear me out as I work through my grief following End Game. Feedback is lovely and encouraged in this house.

Masterlist

4: Optimism

"We need to talk, Tony."

Steve stood leaning against the doorway of Tony's lab with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. Tony was no stranger to Steve's disapproval or disappointment. If they gave away awards for that then he would probably need to build a whole other compound to house it all.

"Oh? I wonder what about, Cap," he answered in exaggerated fake innocence. He didn't even spare Steve a glance too preoccupied with analyzing the data that was scrolling unbidden on the screens, but he knew that he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. That's one more medal for his 'get on Steve's last nerve' collection.

"The serum, Tony," Steve said bluntly his hands now on his narrow hips. "Why in god's name are you replicating it?"

"Come on, Cap. Are you really more upset that I'm doing it or that I didn't tell you?"

Steve's jaw clenched as Tony hit a nerve. In truth he felt insulted that his teammate was running a project they didn't sanction as a group, but more than that he felt betrayed that his friend had kept this from him knowing how strongly he felt about it.

"You can't really expect me to let you continue with whatever ridiculous plan you have."

"Ridiculous plan? Have you seen this last plan we're cooking up? The one you came to me about?" Tony pointed out with a scoff.

"That serum is dangerous and you know it," Steve tried to reason. "You know what that thing has done to me, Bucky, and countless others. No matter who's hands it's in, they will abuse it and the poor idealistic bastards are the ones paying the price! It doesn't matter if it's the government or Hydra, Tony. It's all the same."

Tony watched as Steve's face showed the turmoil he was feeling. He noticed then that Steve wasn't covered in your blood anymore unlike Tony. Once they had you stabilized and Nat sedated, Steve had left for a shower to calm himself down before going to confront Tony. Considering how well Tony knew how touchy this subject was for him, he acknowledged that he was doing a hell of a job controlling his anger.

A shower didn't even cross Tony's mind. His hands and nails had your blood drying on them and Pepper would definitely insist that he he throw this shirt away. After things had calmed in the Med Bay and he had provided instructions to the nurses to clean you uo, he grabbed the few remaining bottles of the serum and a sample of your blood before locking himself in his lab. His mind was reeling with scenario after scenario that he needed to test. who had time for a shower?

He watched Steve take a slow sharp inhale. Before he could further voice his irritation, Tony decided that it was time for the truth. He gave a small sad smile to his long time friend which seemed to calm his anger for the time being.

"Do you know what my last thoughts were when I was dying alone in space?" So maybe he was going to try guilt tripping him first. He thought it would set the mood and the sudden wince on Steve's face told him it was working.

"I thought about our team. How were you all coping? If any of you were coping at all. Because even if I was the one floating isolated in space with bionic smurf, I knew that each one of you felt just as alone and dissociated as I did."

"Tony..." Steve started as his face fell but he couldn't seem to find the words. What was there even to say? How do you even begin to verbalize that kind of despair and guilt? Tony knew his friend wasn't going to say anything else so he continued if only to be done with this sentimental moment. If he was being perfectly honest though, some part of him wanted Steve to understand. He wanted them to be on the same side.

"By some miracle, I survived and now we're asking for another miracle so soon for this plan that's insane even by our standards. There are so many variables that we can only guess at best," Tony's voice suddenly cracked before adding softly.

"I'm scared, Cap."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and couldn't seem to break eye contact with Tony at his rare display of vulnerability and honesty. He had expected more sarcastic comments or outright dismissal of the issue. The snap had really changed them all.

"We're all scared, Tony," he tried to reassure him only to be met with a slow shake of his brunette head.

"Not the same, Cap. Most of you have nothing left to lose while I'm putting everything on the line. Again."

The sick churning of guilt was back in Steve's stomach. He looked away from Tony this time, choosing instead to stare at a wrench on the work table while Tony continued.

"What if we fail again? What if this time a superpowered alien can't bring me back?"

"That won't happen! I won't let that happen." Steve said with a renewed determination.

" What if, Cap? What then?" Tony persisted. "I told you when I came back where my priorities are. If we fail or if I don't come back, what kind of world would be left for Morgan? Who's to say another Thanos won't crawl out of the woodworks?"

Steve tried to even out his breathing as he processed Tony's words. Suddenly it all snapped into place in his mind.

"You're trying to create the next Avengers."

"Bingo," Tony answered tapping the tip of his nose with his finger. He was trying to give the next generation every advantage possible.

"I understand," Steve said slowly,

"But you don't like it?"

"It's a hell of a risky bet putting that back into the world. A lot of bad has happened because of it," Steve said the pain evident in his voice.

"It's done a lot of good too, Cap," Tony said pointedly at him a small smile playing at his lips.

He made a small smirk in return. "Alright, but I'm going to be involved in that project from now on."

Tony rolled his eyes playfully but he was relieved that the issue was closed for now.

"And the girl?"

Tony groaned loudly and flung his arms in the air.

"Really, Rogers? I bare my soul to you and five seconds later you ask about another woman? I thought we were having a moment."

It was Steve's turn to roll his eyes at Tony's fake indignation. A part of him was grateful that he was back to his usual sass, the tension in the room considerably easing.

"You were a little too quick to take Nat's side so that makes me think that you at least have some idea of who she is. Is she another contingency plan?"

Tony tilted his head toward the monitors behind him that were still processing through data. He clicked his tongue and gave a small shrug, not yet ready to share this with Steve until he had more information.

"I'll let you know what I find out, but I'm leaving you to interrogate Nat when she wakes up. She's going to be in such a great mood," he said a giddy smile on his face.

Steve sighed. He was not looking forward to grilling a forcefully sedated Natasha especially when the person she so clearly holds dear is still unconscious.

"Tony. Captain Rogers," FRIDAY interrupted. Steve looked at the ceiling out of habit seemingly looking for the source. A part of him still can't seem to get used to all of today's technology.

"This is to alert you of an aircraft originating from Wakanda making its descent on the west field. Pilot onboard has requested your prescience upon landing."

Tony's forehead furrowed in worry. "Thank you, sweetie. Inform the rest of the team to meet us there."

"Okoye didn't tell me anything about coming to the compound this soon. Last she said, Wakanda was keeping her busy," Steve said curiously as he and Tony rushed outside.

Steve squinted his eyes and used his hand to shield his vision from the blinding afternoon sun. He heard the rest of the team come out of the compound and stand beside them as the large black jet approached.

The sound of the jet's wings and wheels adjusting echoed through the field. Steve could practically taste the anticipation rolling off his team who were all subtly coiled defensively and poised to grab their weapons at the moment it's necessary.

As the jet touched down, the sound of thrusters came from behind them and zipped past in a blur of silver and red. the team tensed anticipating an attack, but a familiar gleeful cackle stilled.

"On your left, Cap!"

Another laugh rang out from the flier at the comically wide eyes of the team on the ground who followed his movement as he landed with a thump by the entrance of the aircraft that was now opening revealing its passengers one by one.

"Stop showing off, Wilson."

It was Steve who made the first tentative steps toward the group who was disembarking. His face was scrunched in disbelief and confusion."

"Bucky?" he asked softly to the second person who had spoken.

"Hi, punk," Bucky greeted with a serene smile. "You didn't do anything stupid while I was gone, did 'ya?"

Steve didn't answer. He simply ran towards Bucky and clutched his bestfriend tight, needing the physical reassurance that he was really there. Bucky hugged him just as tight, relieved that they were reunited.

"I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd never see any of you again. I'm so sorry, Buck."

Bucky pulled away to shoot him a reassuring smile. "I promised you, 'til the end of the line. This ain't the end, Stevie."

Steve let the tears cloud his vision as he pulled his lifelong friend into another suffocating hug. This seemed to jolt the rest into action as they moved to greet the rest.

"My friends!" Thor wobbled, his belly jiggling as he ran with

Rocket and Nebula close behind him. Rocket had launched himself onto Groot who affectionately wrapped his branches around the raccoon.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter excitedly ran to meet Tony halfway. He was still staring at the boy slack-jawed. "It was so weird. I was gone, but also not gone and the next thing I know Dr. Strange was whipping us to Wakanda and he kept saying there was an uncalculated factor but that we were all back and now we're here and you look like your going to vomit. Are you okay?"

Tony barely heard the information Peter had fired at him in rapid succession in his usual flustered way. He grabbed the boy by his shoulders and crushed him to his chest. Peter was safe. They were all back. How that was even possible will have to wait until later. For now, they needed to live in this moment.

"Stark," clint's voice came tentatively from beside him. "I have to go."

Tony nodded his understanding and tossed a genuinely joyful smile, the first in years, to the archer.

"Take the jet. Go see your family."

Clint didn't have to be told twice. A few minutes later, the sound of a jet's engine filled the field once more.

"Where's Nat?" Wanda asked looking around and frowning when she couldn't find Nat's face.

"She's in the Med Bay," Tony said simply still staring at Peter.

"Is she hurt?" Wanda said in alarm her voice quickly rising.

"No, no, no," Bruce quickly corrected. "She's just sedated but she's fine."

Wanda looked to Steve still frowning in confusion and worry. Sedated didn't sound any better than injured.

"It's a long story," Stere assured her. "Come on. We'll go see her now."

"You guys go ahead. I'll hang back at the lab," Bruce said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head as they all filed into the compound.

"What's wrong, big guy? You scared Nat's going to give you hell for sedating her against her will?" Tony teased.

"Yes," Bruce answered with zero hesitation earning a laugh from the whole group.

For the first time in years, a now foreign feeling was warming their hearts. A feeling so new to them now that they were hesitant to trust it. Optimism.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@username23345 @closetbtstrash

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eightyonekilograms · 3 years ago

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Someone on the Discord brought up fertility

Just like last time I'm lazy and just going to dump it instead of editing.

[5:10 PM] Me: Oh boy, I have thoughts about this

[5:12 PM] Me: I haven't brought it up here but demographics has been one of my covid obsessions. I got a couple books about it (What to Expect When No One's Expecting, One Billion Americans, etc.), read all the articles, etc.

[5:15 PM] Me: I agree with you about a couple things: namely that if we had "infinite free energy" we'd be a a lot better off in many ways including demographically, but I disagree with most of your other points.

[5:18 PM] Me:

Also we need not assume decline in population growth is chronic.

This is a tricky statement because there's a social aspect and a mathematical aspect. Socially you're correct in the sense that whatever trends are driving the current decline could, in theory, reverse at any time. But mathematically, population decline is exactly symmetrical to population growth: it's exponential (technically it's logistic, but that's the same as exponential in the short term), because having fewer people means fewer people to make more people later on.

[5:20 PM] Me:

Infact there is some evidence to suggest that we actually did more science when we had 4-6 billion people.

I disagree with the implication here: we used to do more science because there was more low-hanging fruit, which is now plucked, and further discoveries require more resources (human and financial). Actually one of the big reasons I disagree with Ray Kurzweil and the other singularitarians is that when they show these impressive-looking exponential curves about scientific progress, they quietly hide under the rug that these increases are requiring ever-more investment (again, in both people and money) to accomplish. Just to pick a random example, every time chip manufacturers go to a new process (14nm -> 10nm -> 7nm -> 5nm -> 2nm etc.), the cost to build the fab basically doubles. I remember a couple years back Intel had to spend $5 billion to hit a new process shrink; now TSMC needs to spend $28 billion to hit their next target: https://www.wsj.com/articles/tsmc-to-spend-up-to-record-28-billion-in-advanced-chips-capacity-11610623587)

[5:23 PM] Me: I will try to find it but I came across a paper a little while ago laying out in detail that the cost of new scientific discoveries has been steadily increasing over time. It's not that there's anything necessarily going wrong with the scientific process, this is just what you'd expect as we pick low-hanging fruit: the later discoveries necessarily become harder. But if you extrapolate that trend out forever you eventually hit a point where every single person needs to be a scientist, and every dime of capital in existence, needs to be used to make any new discoveries.

[5:26 PM] Me: (In most fields we're a long way from that point, but it actually is here or nearly here in e.g. particle physics. What I have been hearing from leading-edge particle physicists is that we've got maybe one or two more generations of particle accelerators left before we reach a point where, to probe any further (e.g. to see if string theory is true), we'd need to build accelerators the size of the Solar System, which would take more raw material than the mass of the Earth. Barring some new theoretical breakthroughs, we might actually nearing the "end" of high-energy physics.)

[5:30 PM] Me: Fortunately most fields aren't at that point, but my point is that the more we discover, the more human capital is required to make further progress. That's a tricky enough proposition with a growing population, never mind a shrinking one.

[5:36 PM] Me:

I don't think it is safe to assume lowering population growth is a biological disorder so much as a conscious choice most people in the younger generations are making for a variety of obvious reasons.

I agree with this, but it's important to dig into that a little and understand the reasons. For example, I'm not yet convinced that there is a mass epidemic of people choosing childlessness because of anxiety about e.g. climate change. In internet comments sections you certainly see lots of people making that claim, but talk is cheap and randos on the internet can say whatever they want. In terms of the actual reasons, the data I've seen shows that number of children continues to track closely with a couple data points, mostly housing costs, expected lifetime income and uncertainly about future income flow.

[5:40 PM] Me: Third, I think you should give more weight to the concerns Rhys brought up than you currently are. The environmental stresses of more people is certainly a big issue, but I think it's one that can be dealt with without too much struggle with increased deployment of clean energy (one of the few optimistic data points lately is that there's a staggering amount of wind and solar power being deployed every year) and a couple of lifestyle changes like eating less meat. Not to say these are easy, but contrast with the pretty serious problems of population decline, particularly the social safety net.

[5:41 PM] Me: And I don't just mean the explicit ones like Social Security, but even market-based, privatized ones like retirement savings have a hidden reliance on a growing population.

[5:42 PM] Me: When you "save for retirement", you're not stockpiling food and water to live off when you no longer work, you're collecting financial assets that you expect to sell to someone else and live off that income. But if there's no one to sell to, that doesn't work.

[5:44 PM] Me: This is a problem that's starting to show up at the top end of the income stack: see this WSJ article about retirees who can't find anyone to buy their $3 million homes: https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-growing-problem-in-real-estate-too-many-too-big-houses-11553181782. It's easy to have schadenfreude here at those poor rich people who can't unload their huge mansion, but remember that this is inherently a problem which will start at the top of the income brackets and gradually make its way downward.

[5:46 PM] Me: You can push this problem back for a while by increasing taxes on the rich, and I do indeed think those should go up, but in a declining population that only buys you a little time. Remember that "money" is nothing but a claim on some fraction of total economic output. e.g. when you hold a dollar bill, you're essentially holding a note entitling you to one-zillionth of American GDP.

[5:47 PM] Me: At a certain point once population falls then total aggregate output necessarily falls too, and at that point taxing the rich hits rapidly diminishing returns: you're just claiming a bigger share of falling output

[5:49 PM] Me: One thing to keep in mind here is that most economies, but especially the U.S. economy, are primarily driven by consumer spending, i.e. normal people just buying and selling stuff to each other.

[5:50 PM] Me: This is why e.g. mass immigration isn't as huge a deal as a bunch of nativists like to think: immigrants get jobs, but they also spend money on goods and services just like anyone else: they generate labor demand as well as taking up supply

[5:51 PM] Me: But what I'm driving at here is that, again, a consumer-spending-driven economy with a falling population is going to get poorer pretty much by definition: fewer people buying stuff means fewer jobs to produce that stuff.

[5:54 PM] Me: Or to put another way, to use a ridiculously simplified model, GDP = Population X Productivity, and so if you take the derivative, then GDP' ~ Population' + Productivity'. So in a falling population environment, you need a lot of heavy lifting in terms of forever-increasing productivity in order for economic growth to be positive. And while there might be improvements down the pipe, frankly we kind of seem tapped out on productivity growth already

[5:55 PM] Me: Now, one possible response here is that we should work out how to have an economic system which delivers prosperity without endless growth, and I do agree we need that. But just saying that doesn't fix the problem that right now we don't have it and people will be poorer in a world without growth.

[5:56 PM] Me: And in such a world, I think it actually becomes harder to successfully transition to whatever post-scarcity economy can fix the problem, because people will be caught up in fighting over a shrinking pie.

[5:58 PM] Me: The neoliberal capitalist mindset of "a rising tide lifts all boats" isn't totally true and has been used to justify all kinds of nasty plutocratic behavior, but it isn't entirely false either. Without growth, at least in the system we have now, wealth distribution inherently becomes a zero-sum game. And that could get really ugly.

[5:59 PM] Me: So, that's most of what I have to say about why a falling population would be bad. But that's the easy part. Where this gets really complicated is why it's happening and what to do about it

[6:00 PM] Me: Now, I think one of the reasons I've been so fascinated by this is that it's been a pessimistic year, and falling birth rates are kind of the perfect pessimistic problem because I don't really see an easy way out. Also I'm just annoyed by partisans in general, and this is a perfect problem for that because it sort of frustrates partisans on all sides.

[6:02 PM] Me: e.g. the left mainly talks about the economic causes and proposes a variety of policy solutions, but an ugly little secret here is that government policy to increase birth rates has basically a perfect, unbroken track record of total failure

[6:03 PM] Me: All kinds of countries (mostly in Europe, but also in East Asia) have implemented all kinds of pro-natalist policies, and for the most part they have accomplished pretty much nothing. (Amusingly, this even goes back to antiquity: in the first couple centuries AD Roman Emperors were also concerned with falling birth rates, and implemented a variety of reforms that didn't do anything)

[6:03 PM] Me: You could always say they didn't go far enough, but at some point you're making an unfalsifiable hypothesis

[6:06 PM] Me: Meanwhile on the right, they're constantly talking about cultural factors, but this runs into two problems: it's again a set of mostly unfalsifiable hypotheses, but even worse since they're all tangled up in the Right's usual rants about The Way Things Ought to Be, but even if they turned out to be true, it seems like a hopeless cause because we basically have no levers to change culture.

[6:07 PM] Me: "Why does culture develop in the direction it does" is one of those huge questions I'm not sure we'll ever have a complete answer for, but I think it has to mostly involve technological determinism.

[6:08 PM] Me: https://www.sciphijournal.org/index.php/2017/11/12/why-the-culture-wins-an-appreciation-of-iain-m-banks/ <-- this is a great article explaining what I'm talking about, as well as explaining why you should read Iain Banks

[6:09 PM] Me: But my point here is that all the cultural changes the Right laments as causing people to have fewer children, assuming they're even correct which I am definitely not granting, are pretty much all products of industrialization. You can't roll them back without undoing the Industrial Revolution. At least not without an insane level of authoritarianism

[6:10 PM] Me: So on the policy side we have a bunch of levers which don't do anything, and on the culture side there are no levers at all.

#meanwhile on the discord

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brittledame · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Cursing, Hair-pulling, Name-Calling, Hate Sex, Spanking, Slight degradation, Panty stealing, Table sex

Word Count: 7.6K

Summary: A school project brings together two academic rivals, where their dislike for one another reaches a whole new level. You and Shirabu constantly duke it out for the top grade, where it becomes an everyday occurrence to see the two scowling at and insulting one another. The tension between you two finally reaches a boiling point one afternoon when an argument breaks out.

Series: Part 1 of 3 (Part 2 & Part 3)

Shiratorizawa was a private school full to the brim of prestige and practically screams ‘money’. Inside of the sleek modern exterior, each extracurricular club ranging from calligraphy to kyūdō possessed state-of-the-art facilities. Basically, you name it and there was most likely already a club for it, with each one allocated a ridiculous amount of funding. It did help that a lot of old and new money sent their kids to the school, which unfortunately leads to uppity pricks with uptight attitudes flaunting their wealth at the drop of a hat festering the hallways.

One such uppity prick went by the name of Shirabu Kenjirou and he was the bane of your existence. He came from an affluent background, old money resulting from smart trades in property stock way back before the global telecommunications were even conceptualised. You could smell the money oozing from his pores in the form of some ridiculously over-priced Giorgio Armani cologne, topped off with his neatly pressed uniform and copper-toned hair perfectly sleek.

The part that pissed you off the most about the male, and has led to your open dislike for the asshole, was the fact that he got into Shiratorizawa solely by his phenomenal grades, never once relying on daddy’s money to get in, like most of your cohort. Meanwhile, you made every single second count when studying, not a moment wasted between school and sleep, just to hope to qualify for the academic scholarship. For a while your parents fretted that you were studying too much just to pass some school’s entrance exams, where their platitudes of ‘you’re already plenty intelligent enough, honey’ and ‘you could ace it this very moment’ weren’t enough to soothe your stressed mind.

Not even three months later, you sat the exam and low and behold, you did ace it, much to your amazement. It was a beautiful moment, witnessing your name on their admittance board not even a month later, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. The only thing that ruined your moment was the name that ranked just above yours, taking in first place: Shirabu Kenjirou. So, your well-known rivalry with the copper-tinged blonde asshole started one-sided and quickly evolved into something much greater than you could’ve ever imagined.

For both your first and second year, you shared the same class as Shirabu. It was to be expected since you were both in the same grade average bracket, but still a girl could dream, right? Much to your ever-growing annoyance you were placed in the same third year class as well. Evidently you were unable to escape his prickly attitude.

Every task, assignment and exam became a silent challenge between the two of you. Each and every time, you’d throw yourself into your studies just to wipe the smug look he gives you every time he pulls through with the top mark.

The worst part of all this was the fact that he consistently pulled high marks while balancing a sport on top of his studies. You’d have to give it to him, you honestly don’t know when he manages to fit in eating and sleeping in that hectic schedule of his.

Now to place two head-strong individuals together was just begging for trouble, especially when your little competition has reached infamy around the sprawling campus. Turn out trouble is exactly what your science teacher was looking for when she placed the two of you together for the physic unit’s partner research report about their topic of choice. You looked at her like she’d lost her goddamn mind, not sparing the equally shocked Shirabu a glance. You didn’t even bother to argue with her, knowing it would’ve ended up worse somehow if you did.

“Fuck.” You muttered, hoping four the next six weeks to pass quickly

As soon as the Ms. Nakamura dismissed the class, you marched over to his desk. Stopping directly in front of him, you perched your hands on your hips and gave him a disdainful look.

“Look, for the course of this project I am willing to be civil with you.” You place a genial hand over your chest to complete your saintly sacrifice. Looking up, Shirabu gives you a blank look, before returning to annotating his textbook with bright sticky notes.

‘What a fucking dick,’ You silently seethe.

“Whatever. Just pick a topic and I’ll start on it.” His monotone voice serves to piss you off more. You curl your hands into tight fists, resisting the glorious thought of punching his pretty face.

“Um, I think not. We’ll pick the topic out together and we’ll equally distribute the work. I don’t want to hear you bitching to your hot teammates that I’m slacking.”

Grabbing a vacant chair near his desk, you spin it around and sit on it backwards, ignoring his disgruntled look. Tapping on your phone, you open a new contact and start filling it out.

“What’s your number, dickhead?” Shirabu’s head shot up at the insult and you grin at him, shaking your phone in front of his face.

“None of your fucking business, bitch.” He bites out, forehead creasing as he glares at you, completing his signature expression.

“Well, asshole, if you somehow managed to forget already, let me remind you. We need to collaborate on this and to do that, we need a line of communication. Texting is the easiest option.” You reason. You weren’t fond of the idea of Shirabu having your number either, the ass will probably write it in the boy’s changeroom as retribution for some misdeed you’ve done.

Deliberating, Shirabu’s pen stops its furious scribbling. Heaving a great sigh, he concludes that unfortunately you were correct, but that didn’t mean he had to explicitly admit that.

Snatching your phone, he ignores your indignant shout as he taps out his phone number and tosses the phone back at you.

“Great, thanks for being a team player, sport.” You say, as you clean the screen off on the bottom of your uniform top.

As you get up and return the chair to its correct place, you trudge over to your desk whilst starting to conjuring up some topic ideas to suggest.

Peeking from under his uneven fringe, Shirabu watches your skirt sway as you walk. He loves it whenever you walk away from him, leaving him to both think in peace and admire the way your hypnotising hips move as you walk. The short purple plaid Shiratorizawa skirt left little to his imagination whenever you bent over, or a strong breeze came through. Shirabu briefly wondered how the hell you evaded the school’s disciplinary committee’s strict uniform coding monitors in the hallway because he’s sure that you’re breaking at least two of them on any given day.

The next day, you texted Shirabu the list of thesis concepts you wrote up. You were surprised when your phone vibrated in your hand, delivering his speedy reply.

Shithead: Sure.

What the fuck were you meant to do with that dry ass reply?

Now angry that he wasn’t taking you seriously, you texted him back to pick a god damn topic before you went over to his practice and caused a scene. And just like that he stopped being obstinate and picked the one you were secretly hoping he would choose; it was the one focusing on Einstein’s thought experiments how his process was adapted into modern-day quantum research.

After a few back and forth texts by that afternoon you had both scheduled a few meetups over the next few weeks for the more challenging components, such as devising a solid thesis and finding some credible academic papers to back-up your statements.

A week later found you waiting in the library, going through your homework as you wait for Shirabu’s team practice to end, hoping to make good use of some of your free time.

By the time Shirabu swept into the room, you had already gotten a good head start in the assignment. Dressed in his neatly pressed uniform and not a hair out of place, you almost suspected that he made up the excuse of volleyball practice to get out of spending anymore time than necessary with you. The asshole breezes past you, not even offering an apology or reason as to why he was late, but you could at least deduct that practice was at fault – that is if he even went.

“Well since you decided to keep me waiting for –“ You glance down at your phone, “forty-five minutes, I already started it. I’ve written both the study’s aim and objective and began devising the outline for what needs to be addressed in the introduction.” You say shortly, not waiting for him to seat himself and set up before you push your laptop across the desk and into his personal space.

Shirabu rolls his eyes at your accusing tone and started to read what you’ve written up in the shared word document. Kenjirou was mildly impressed at how much you accomplished in such a short amount of time, but he tried not to show that outwardly though, afraid your already inflated ego would grow. Grunting in agreement, Shirabu slid the laptop back over to you.

“That’s fine. I’ll start pulling some sources for the statements you outlined and start writing them up. Why don’t you start researching any recent projects detailing new discoveries and start collecting data to include?”

That last part was less of a question and more of a demand, but his usual flat tone made it hard to distinguish between the two. The lack of inflection in his voice could just about put anyone to sleep, and after sitting here for almost an hour in the calming atmosphere of the library, you were ready to start dozing off.

A sharp kick to your shin ripped you out of your thoughts, causing to to yelp and rub at the sore spot. A quick look at Shirabu’s smug face illuminated by his screen was enough to rid the last of your daze, begrudgingly returning to your work.

Two hours had passed, filled by the tap-tapping abuse of your keyboards and the occasional groan released by you at another paywall obstructing an article containing some nice data. Other than that, Shirabu was a quiet as a graveyard. You’d assume he had spontaneously passed away if not for the typing and blinking, the fucker didn’t even look like he was breathing.

What a completely boring guy with a nasty attitude. The most interesting thing about him was his unfortunate fringe, looking like he got mugged in an alleyway by a guy with no fine motor skills wielding a pair of scissors.

Plainly coloured hair, irises almost an identical shade of almost blonde but not quite there. He was of average stature, maybe a little below for the volleyball team. He was completely normal, nothing you would normally give a second glance while passing by, and yet…

You mentally shake away the unwanted thoughts conjured by the sight of his hands, or the slight flexing of his arm under the thin fabric of the uniform shirt.

Dirty little fantasies of Shirabu just snapping one day after one too many insults, throwing you over his lap and just going to town on your ass with the same hand that scored so many serving points for the elite team filled your head incessantly. The force would jostle you forward, tears in your eyes as you beg him – for what you don’t know, but you would beg and he’d wrap his strong hand around your throat, the threat of cutting off your blood flow to your brain was enough to stop your breathless begs.

Wrapped up in your raunchy thoughts, your typing ceases and your eyebrows furrow as you’re faced with the horrible realisation that you actually have feelings other than hate for the up-tight prick. The feelings were far from romantic, more likely resting somewhere between hate and dislike, but it was still the principle of the matter. Acknowledging those feelings alone felt like you ceded your part in a game that you two had unofficially started.

Fuck.

The next few weeks were going to be hell. You internally groaned at the thought.

You had no idea just how right you were, as the next few Friday sessions were almost unbearable for you since that day. After that dreadful meet up, one could slice the tension that brewed between the two of you with their bare hand, even though it was solely emanating from you.

As most horrific diseases start, it was all innocuous at the beginning. The session all started the same: witty quips and digging barbs swapped at the beginning of your sessions before silently coming to the unanimous agreement to not speak another word to one another unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then, you could feel the migraine pulsating threateningly behind your eyes at how effortlessly hot he was. The headache was quite literally the physical manifestation of the vexation you felt towards the irritating copper-haired male.

It turned out that your exasperation was mutual, Kenjirou thought if he had to sit through another session with your loud breathing or deafening clacking of your keyboard, he was going to start ripping out hair. He was at his wit’s end and he had no reason as to why you set him off so easily. Not even the over-exuberant Goshiki could elicit such a nasty comment so quickly from him, even on his worst days.

The tension mounting between you two from previous sessions hung heavy in the air, but neither of you were willing to acknowledge the elephant stampeding through the small and rarely used study room.

The irritating sound of your long, trimmed nails typing, no more like smashing, on your keyboard cut through the tension. It was enough to put Kenjirou on edge faster than any other assignment meet up. He’s had a hell of a week and while he didn’t have grueling practice today, spending it alone with you was the cherry on top.

Usually the silent and calming ambiance of the library never failed to soothe him when he’s tense and anxious, but his irritation was hitting a whole new level he’s never experienced before.

“I swear if you keep smashing at your keyboard like that, I’ll rip them off and shove them up your ass.” He seethes, hands curling into fists where they rested on the table.

Looking up, you give him an incredulous look before opening your mouth. God what Shirabu wouldn’t give to get that stupid mouth of yours to not ever open again. He’d be saving the world from one less idiot spreading their stupidity.

“That’s kinky Shirabu. This is a library, keep it in your pants and save it for the bedroom.” You tease, fluttering your long eyelashes at him paired with a plastic grin.

At the murderous look his gives you, you throw back your head and laugh quietly. You weren’t willing to face the librarian’s wrath if you broke the rules, even if you were situated on the deserted top floor in a room furthest from her station at the entrance.

Conversation stalls from there on out, with only the clacking of your keyboard’s once again filling the air, although you do take greater care when typing now, not that the asshole thanked you for your consideration.

Kenjirou watches you from his periphery as you brush your glossy hair over you your shoulder, ponytail bouncing with added weight. That stupid ass hair style that made Kenjirou want to reach over and yank –

“I know you lost a couple of brain cells playing volleyball but come on, are you really that slow?” You raised your eyebrow at him, glancing at the unfinished excel charts Kenjirou had elected to do.

Giving you an unimpressed look, he chooses not to bite, thinking he’s already wasted enough time acknowledging your existence. Kenjirou hadn’t even noticed you talking to him, he was just that used to tuning you out and hearing your annoying voice as background noise.

“Can you add a trendline to the data, so that the upward trend we mention in the discussion is clearly evident in the chart?” You carefully enunciate each word to him.

Your demeaning tone and slow talking really pissed Shirabu off this time, he clenches his jaw and expels an exasperated breath through his nose.

“I’d appreciate it if you don't address me like that ever again. A trendline on the data we collected is pointless, just a pretty line. If we generated the data ourselves, then maybe, but the studies these numbers are sourced off of don’t even have trendlines.” His reasoning is rock-solid, but he was a prick about it, so you rolled your eyes and moved on to the next section of the paper that needed sorting.

“Fine, I acquiesce. A trendline here would be rather inappropriate.” He scoffs at your formal language. This was coming from the same girl that he heard on many occasions say obscenities so vulgar it’d make a seasoned soldier blush.

Tense silence fills the void between you both. You brushed of the strange sensation of being on edge. It is true that Shirabu seems even more pissy than usual, but you’ve been dealing with his shit for weeks now, you could put up with two more sessions with the unbearable prick. Hopefully.

Focusing back on the shared document open before you, you stare blankly as you try to decipher his nonsense tables. Concerned, you quickly scroll through the rest of the discussion he had begrudgingly volunteered to complete. To your absolute horror, you noticed that your format of your portion of the discussion was utterly incongruous with his formatting.

Well shit.

While grammar mistakes and sentence structure could be tweaked and fixed within a day’s work, it would take you both at least a good day's to make the report’s content flow freely and have a singular format. Thankfully, you guys have the time to fix up his – and maybe some of your – mistakes.

“Could you not?” You say shortly, tacking on a sharp glare aimed at the bane of your existence.

“Could I not what? Use your big girl words.” He bites back, not even trying to hide his annoyance with you anymore.

“Could you please stop fucking up our assignment. I don’t know about you, daddy’s money, but I’d really like to get full marks for this.” You shoot back, angry that he had the gall to be annoyed at you when he was the one fucking up the format of the assignment.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m doing everything that we outlined in our past sessions.” Kenjirou fumed. He swears to fucking god, if he has to argue with you over the (lack of) importance of a trend line for this data set again he’s going to scream.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you miss the way his eyes quickly flit down. Kenjirou hates himself for the way his dick twitched at the sight of you inadvertently pressing your breasts together. Licking his lips, he allows you to stew over his words and watches as you reluctantly accept his logic.

It was true, you guys didn’t really decide on a true format in the initial planning phases, it seemed like a far-off issue to worry about at that moment. Well the future is now and that issue was just going to compound by the day if it didn’t get sorted out soon. It didn’t help that you hated editing papers with a passion.

At your silence, he rolled his eyes so hard you were scared they may get stuck – although he deserves at least that much for all the shit he’s given you over the past three years. He turned back to his work and went back to ignoring you.

Oh well, two can play at that game. You didn’t want, nor need, to talk to the prick anyway.

Shifting your restless legs under the table, you accidentally kick Shirabu in the shin, earning you a dirty look. Enjoying the ugly look of his face, you give him a sickly-sweet smile.

“Oops, my bad, Shirabu. I’ll sure to be more cautious next time!” Topping off your act with some obnoxious batting of your eyelashes.

“Do it again and I’ll wipe that look off your face real fast.” He sneered back at you.

Ignoring all common sense, you played with the idea of what exactly he meant by his threat. Most likely nothing sexual and most definitely involving a punch. But that doesn’t stop you from briefly entertaining a short sexual fantasy involving the two of you fucking in his chair.

Damn, these thoughts have been getting more frequent and out-of-hand recently. If they became anymore of an issue, you may just have to see the on-campus therapist about your obvious undiagnosed nymphomania.

True to your nature, you decide to grab the metaphorical bull by the horn to see how hard he bucks. Adjusting your posture again, you lean your elbows on the table as you uncross your legs and again hit his leg stretched out under the table.

You could practically hear Shirabu’s restraint snap, a dark expression taking over his face. He jerks up and out of his chair and proceeds stalks towards you, a dangerous glint in his ochre eyes.

‘Oh shit, I might have actually overdone it this time. He’s going to fucking kill me.’ You were frozen in place, not even breathing as he towers over your seated form. You mentally said your goodbye’s to family and friends. They wouldn’t be shocked to find out that you met your end due to pure pettiness.

You were expecting at least a slap, maybe even a gut punch, so when he grabbed your arms and hoisted you onto your feet, you assumed the absolute worst. Unexpectedly, he backed your body against the table, his hips pinning yours against the hard edge, making it dig harshly into your back.

You gasp as a calloused hand grabs the back of your exposed neck, the other moving to your waist. He pulls himself incredibly close to you. You're sure there isn’t an atom of space left between the two of you now, feeling every inch of his body pressed up against yours.

He bends down and breathes softly into your ear words that set off a blaze within you.

“I warned you not to try me today and yet you kept on pushing me.” His low tone sent shivers down your spine.

Hands flat on the table, you shove yourself up against his hard chest even more, meeting his dark expression head-on.

“I figured you were all bark and no bite, so what’s the harm?” Ignoring the sharp edge of his previous words, you kept making digs at him. You already made peace with the fact that you may die at the hands of the unfairly attractive man before you.

Snapping, Shirabu grabs you by your tie, pulling you upwards and meeting your lips in a fierce kiss. It honestly was more teeth than lips, but you’d take whatever he would give you. Lust quickly replaced shock as you reciprocated the kiss, giving back as much as he gave you.

Never one to be one-upped, you both furiously made out against the table. Eventually you reluctantly conceded to him, pulling away gasping for breath to fill your aching lungs. While he didn't look as effected as you, he still panted as he caught his breath.

Lips kiss-swollen from the hard kiss he gave you, he gulped at the mussed up look of your uniform from the short make-out session. The sight alone was enough to spur him back into action. You met his lips half-way, hands flying up to bury themselves into surprisingly soft hair.

The kiss was more than just that, it was a battle of wills. It was another challenge set before you both, another one added to the extensive list of trials. It tested who had the guts to resolve the unresolved sexual tension building between you both.

Fingers digging into your soft flesh, he easily hoisted you up onto the table, slotting himself between the space made between your open legs. The kiss picks up intensity as he throws in a few nips at your bottom lip, while you lightly bite at his tongue invading your mouth.

You gasp at a particularly harsh bite at your bottom lip, drawing back to give the self-satisified male a scowl.

“Oh? Is this the reason why you’ve always been so short with me. It’s cute that you don’t know how to act around your crush.” Your teasing words make the male between your legs tense up.

“I’d rather bite off my own tongue than date you, bitch.” He goes to kiss you again. It was the only thing that got you to shut up, which he very enjoyed.

“Who said anything about dating, dearest? My, my, so you have been thinking of me.” You laughed and gave him a belittling look.

“The only thoughts I’ve had about you involve either shutting you up or fucking you senseless, so make of that what you will.” He grits out between clenched teeth, not willing to give you that inch he threw out to you like a lifeline.

If he was going to go through with this, he at least wanted you to know exactly what he wanted to get out of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

You consider him under hooded eyelids, gaze sweeping up and down his clothed torso. Well at least he wanted the same thing that’s been haunting your waking thoughts for the past month. You weren’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth that's for sure.

“Sure, I mean you could try, but I doubt that you could even a moan out of me.” You said languidly, setting up another challenge. Now all he had to do was pick up the gauntlet.

Words igniting a fire within him, his lips tipped into a lopsided smirk. You had no idea what you just started and he was more than happy to show you the consequences of your bold actions.

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.”

The room you occupied was situated on the top floor, at the end of a long corridor of empty study rooms exactly like this one. It was highly unlikely that the elderly librarian at the entrance would hear what was about to go down. It was also unlikely any snooping students would come across your study room on the neglected floor.

You fully expected him to pull you into another bruising kiss before fucking you but it seemed that the stupidly hot bastard was just full of surprises today. Instead, he pulled you off the table and turned you to face the chair he had previously occupied. With the hand placed at the nape of your neck, the other moving to your opposite side of your waist, he pushed you down to lie against the cold tabletop. Though definitely not for your benefit, he pushed aside any stray bits of paper out of your way to prevent them from creasing.

You gasp as the pressure he applies onto you forces the breath out of your lungs, pressing you hard against the unforgiving surface. Hands scrabbling for a purchase to help you establish a counter force to push up against him, he bends down and breathes softly into your ear.

“Look at you so pliant for me, I could get used to this.” His smug tone made your blood boil. That bastard was going to milk this situation for all it has and you have no ground to stand on to refute him when you were planning on doing the exact same.

“You know, your nasty attitude destroys that pretty boy stereotype you have going on.” You retort. You weren’t going to take his bullshit laying down – metaphorically speaking.

Fed up with you running your mouth, always talking but never saying anything of substance, he hastily loosens his tie. Without warning, he shoves a bundle of fabric into your mouth, quickly moving his fingers away from teeth that would gladly bite down onto his precious setting tools.

Trying to voice your anger, you squirm in his grasp with muffled nonsensical words leaving your mouth.

Kenjirou marvels at the sight of your stuffed mouth, words finally muted and wide eyes that were angry at his action. If he knew this is all he had to do to get you to shut up for more than two seconds then he’d gladly do it again.

Kenjirou couldn’t help but wonder if your cheeks would also look like that if he’s shoved his dick between your plush pink lips but he saves that thought for another day. After all, he had at least half a year left to put up with your bullshit.

Pressing his hips against your ass, he revels at the feeling of finally having you under him, squirming and all. Deciding not to draw this out anymore than he already has, he smoothly grinds his slowly growing erection into the cleft of your ass obscured by ugly purple plaid.

Unsatisfied with the lack of friction, he flips up your skirt to reveal lacy panties. He thought it was a bit risqué to wear them at school but who was he to complain about the lovely gift.

You gave a muffled shout when he snapped against the waist band against your hip. Tempted, you considered trying to kick him in the shin again somehow in your position. The thought dissolved into nothing as he lightly smacks your ass, causing you to jolt forward more in surprise than in pain.

With the absence of any complaints or irritating whinging, Kenjirou weighed the plump flesh in his hand, grinning to himself when he hears you moan at his curious squeezing. He wondered what other delicious noises you’ll make under him.

Well there was only way to find out.

Winding his hand back, his hand came down with a loud ringing smack, hard enough to leave his hand pleasantly tingling. The pink imprint of his hand on your ass was going to be burned into his mind for a long time, a wave a heat rolling through him and coalescing in his groin.

Again, you jolt forward at the impact, nails scratching at the acrylic lacquer of the tabletop, unable to find purchase. While you could feel the poor skin pulse dully with pain, pure arousal flashed hot and bright within you. If you had ever thought spanking would be something you were into, you’re pretty sure Shirabu was one of the worst people to discover along with, always the one to abuse any situation.

The next time his hand came down on your ass, you mistakenly tensed, causing the pain to shoot through you ten-fold. You wince at the sensation of him hitting the exact same spot over and over again. You were sure the spot would be rouge red by this point, but the pain didn’t take away from the pleasure you derived from his rough treatment.

Mixing things up, Kenjirou bites his lip as he aims a smack right at the apex of your thighs, close enough to your core that the vibrations of the hit ripped a lewd moan from your lips, much louder than the rest. Blood rushing down to his already engorged cock at your noises, he knows that he could easily get addicted to your bent form. You enjoying the spanking was just a fun bonus for him.

“I should’ve guessed you were into spanking. It fits the ‘good school girl’ façade you’ve got going on,” Shirabu hums, throwing the words back into your face. Leaning down, he breathes into your ear, “I could really get used to you like this beneath me. I have such big plans for you.”

Shivering at his low tone, your mind whirled chaotically with half-baked ideas of what exactly he had in plan for you. Honestly, as long as it ended up with his dick inside of you, you don’t care about the rest. You were always opposed to the saying ‘It’s not the destination, it’s all about the journey.’ And this situation was no different to you.

Kenjirou slides your panties over your ass and down your legs, half tempted to chuck them across the room just to see you panicking over locating them after this. On second thought… He shoves the offending piece of lace into his back pocket, as a present for himself putting up with you.

His hands bracket you bottoms of your ass and smooths his thumbs over the soft pink flesh. Kenjirou watching them slightly jiggle in the palms of his hand, admiring the rosy tinge he painted them. Kenjirou firmly decided that the flesh looked much prettier painted pink by the very hand that slammed balls over the side of the net with shocking force.

Fingers gliding over the cheeks and trailing downward, he makes contact with your wet lips. Mildly surprised, he runs a slender finer between them, gathering your juices.

“Look at how wet you are for me. I bet I won't even have to prep you, your greedy hole will probably just suck me in.” He states, rubbing his finger slowly -torturously - over the entrance of your hole.

You whine through your makeshift gag and buck your hips against his fingertips, hoping for them to dip in deeper. The pad of his crooked index finger dipped shallowly into you a few times from your efforts. Kenjirou was greatly amused at your efforts, deciding to hold his fingers in place for you to try and fail to fuck into yourself.

“Look at how desperate you are, it’s honestly pathetic. I expected so much more from you.” He tutted.

The flash of anger fizzled and died before it took root, much too distracted by him inserting his entire index finger in without warning. While you had explored yourself on more than a few occasions, mapping out sensitive flesh with your fingers, the feeling of his much longer and slightly thicker finger inside of you was incredible.

You whimper at the slick feeling of him moving his finger in and out of you, occasionally curling against the spongy tissue, seeking for the bundle of nerves that will make you scream. Slotting in another finger and him twisting them simultaneously had you panting and clenching your eyes at the full feeling from just the two.

Feeling your walls tighten and quiver around his finger as he crooked them a few times, he doubled down to find your erogenous zone before he fucks you. It only took another finger and few moments of scissoring them deep inside of you, indicated by your abrupt gasping jerk.

Licking his lips, he rubs his fingers harshly against the soft area, committing to memory the muffled breathy moans and whimpers that dropped from your panting mouth. Dick twitching, hard and painful within his tight slacks draws him out of his mind. He withdraws his saturated fingers from your sopping hole, briefly abandoning the sensitive spot for now.

Slumping, you simultaneously miss and despise his fingers fucking into you, hating that he found your G-spot quicker than you’d anticipated. The prick was too smart for his own good, the asshole probably knew more about female anatomy and orgasms than you did with biology being his best class.

The rustle of his pants being undone pulls you back to reality. Oh god this is really happening. Your breath picks up, anticipating the next move the bitter setter will make next.

The sensation of something long, hot and rigid, his dick you assumed, rests between your still stinging cheeks. His fingers dip back between your lips and gather more liquid arousal. Kenjirou ignores your groan at the odd feeling, preoccupied with smearing your slick over his dick, taking his sweet time.

One hand on his cock, guiding the tip to sit at your entrance, with the other placed for support on your hip. Tense, you waited for him to just slam on in, not anticipating him to draw out the moment. You hated the way that you squirmed at the thought of his dick being so close but so far away from where you wanted it most.

“You better hold onto the desk. Once I start, I’m not going to stop until I hear you screaming.” He said, smug tone and all ringing loud and clear.

You huff indignantly at his statement, as if to say: ‘Sure, whatever you say, asshole.’

Rolling his eyes, he tightens his grip as he starts to insert himself inside of you. Obviously taking pity on you, he graciously chooses to glide in at a decent pace. The breath was punched out of your lungs as he completely sheathed himself inside you, hot and throbbing. You try not to violently shiver around him because you couldn’t bare the thought of inflating his already unhealthily enlarged ego.

Dropping the niceties, as if there were any with Shirabu involved, he slid out not a moment later and slammed back on in, loving the sound of his skin smacking against yours. Sloppy sounds of your fucking fill the air and frankly you’d be pretty grossed right now if your brain didn’t reside in your pussy that very moment.

Fucking you from behind, Kenjirou grabs a fistful of shiny hair and harshly rips back your head, hot breath cascading over perspiring skin.

“You take me so well, like you were made for me. Maybe I should fuck this hole of yours again sometime.”

In retribution, you clench down as hard as feasibly possible, hoping to knock him off of that high horse of his. The grunt that rings in your ears pacifies your ire, but the unexpected resistance doesn't stop him from trying to fuck up into you even harder.

Pardoning his attitude, you loosen up for him, more so for your own pleasure than his. He doesn’t hesitate to pick up his unforgiving pace, pumping in and out of you like a sex-crazed mad-man. Eyes rolling into your head, you felt the tip of his thick dick kiss the entrance of your cervix, which paired fantastically with the friction his thick cock made against your quivering walls.

Moaning around the tie as he furiously fucks you from behind, you can feel the piece of fabric become saturated with your drool. He seemed to appreciate the sounds you made, hands tightening around your hips and starts to seek out the highly sensitive spot hidden somewhere inside of you.

Every time he slid out, he’d readjust his angle with only the tip still in before slamming back on into, waiting for the moment he found his target. The pain of the table cutting into your stomach is buried underneath the pleasure Kenjirou relentlessly delivered to you.

An idea flashed in Kenjirou’s mind, a cruel one, but not too cruel as revenge for all the shit you’ve put him through. Unknowing of the feral grin on his face, you continued to moan as his dick fills you so perfectly, suddenly jolting when you feel his warm lips against your throat. You let out a squeal and clenched down hard around his length when you feel his teeth bury into the soft skin. Manicured nails scratching small divots into the desk as he sucks the bruise deep into your skin.

You grit your teeth when you feel him release your skin, the spot already feeling sore at the rough treatment. You could tell from the position that it was too high for the uniform’s collar to hide and wearing a scarf in this summer weather was way too suspicious. That motherfucker probably planned that; you silently fume as he smirks against your perspiring flesh.

The worst part though was when all conspiring thoughts of retribution were wiped clean from you mind as your entire nervous system is struck by lightning. You cry out loudly at the sensation, to which Kenjirou huffed under his breath, muttering out a quiet ‘Thank fuck’ that went unacknowledged by you as you tried to recuperate from him hitting your G-spot with the force of a tank.

Kenjirou greedily ate up each cry leaving your lips as he continued to hit the sensitive nerves with deadly precision. The sight of you writhing underneath him was enough payment for the annoyance he’d suffered through at your hands the past month. But it was the feel of your walls clutching at him tightly and your delicious moans that was the true reward for all his patience.

The wet squelching noises of your furious fucking was enough to make you blush, which was hilarious thinking about it. Not even four weeks ago you were ready to jump the table and non-sexually choke him out with your tie – and now he was railing you with his tie as a makeshift gag.

Ah, fate truly was a bitch.

Thrusts becoming frantic, you knew that Kenjirou was nearing his end and you would swear bloody vengeance if he finished and left you high and dry. It turns that promise would be for naught. Shirabu reaches around you with his still slick covered fingers and rubs furiously at your clit, giving it a few good squeezes, rightfully assuming you loved the rough treatment. And that you did, you bucked wildly in his grasp, moans hitting a whole new pitch as you unravel quickly under his dual ministrations.

The arousal that had been sitting hot inside of you, seemed to snap and unleashed upon you an orgasm that had stars sear into your eyelids, eyes clenched tightly as the sensation threatened to drown you in it. What felt like pure electricity coursed through your veins, feeling as if Shirabu’s dick had just sent you to a new dimension, brain liquefying inside of your skull.

Behind you, Kenjirou seizes up as he feels you tighten up considerably around him, delivering him to his peak as well. His pace slows as his hips stutter, unleashing his load within you. Even completely incoherent, you shivered at the feeling of him feeling at you, not able to muster up and ounce of disgust at the feeling. That should’ve been the moment that you knew that you were truly fucked; you were completely wrapped around Shirabu’s long pretty fingers.

Limbs trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you laid there limply as he pulled out. You felt a bead of sweat drop down your brow as you weakly collect yourself together, drawing yourself up on shaky arms. The sensation of thick globules of Shirabu’s cum slipping out of you was enough of a distraction to brush of the intense stare Shirabu aimed at your leaking hole.

Leaning back, Kenjirou fights down the flush on his cheeks from watching his cum slowly dripping out of you, feeling hot under the collar from both the sight and from the mind-blowing orgasm. Shuffling back, he cleans himself off with a clean tissue in his shirt pocket before tucking himself back into his boxer briefs and pulling up his pants.

Slumped against the table, you felt like a wreck, both inside and out. Dick rearranging your insides aside, you were happy that Shirabu deigned for you to orgasm instead of leaving you a begging mess, which was a very likely move for the bastard.

Your jaw felt sore from how full your mouth was with his tie crammed in. Pulling out the wet article, you tossed it onto the table in his general direction. Kenjirou looks at the crumpled fabric with disgust. Weirdly, he doesn't complain as he gathers some tissues from his bag to wrap the article in until he can get it cleaned.

Choosing not to question his sudden pacified attitude towards you, you pushed yourself up on weak arms. Kenjirou laughs at your struggle, not at all intimidated by your nasty glare.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath.

You make quick work of cleaning yourself up too, feeling weirdly exposed bent over and naked from the waist down whilst a fully clothed Shirabu almost looked bored, acting as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

Your skirt slides back into place as you stand upright, shortly followed by more of his load trickling out of you. Pinned underneath his burning stare, you refused to give him an inch and fought back the tremble that threatened to overtake your body at the odd sensation.

“Alright, now sit down. Let’s finish this project before I leave and you have to finish fixing up the format by yourself.”

You blink at him. “Really?”

It seems the bastard wouldn’t even let you properly clean up first before diving back into the assignment.

“Really. Now get your lazy ass up, you’re creasing our data sets.”

Not willing to reveal how flustered you were, you downplay your disgust at the feeling his cum drying on your thighs and stiffly walk over to your chair, trying to spy your panties somewhere on the ground, but ultimately found nothing. You could have sworn that Shirabu smirked at your searching looks, but a second glance showed you his normal bored expression.

Sticking your nose up in the air, you start discussing your plan on how to fix the minor issue of formatting. Shirabu gave lackluster nods at your prodding, clearly wanting nothing more than to leave. You did your best to push through the sensation of the sticky mess drying between your legs, internally fretting as to where your panties may lie. You're pretty sure that you'd perish on the spot if a staff member found them.

Thankfully, it took only half an hour before Shirabu beat a hasty retreat, quickly placing all his stuff neatly into his bag and intent on walking out of the room without another word. The fucker wasn’t even going to say goodbye to you.

Shifting in your seat, you start packing up. Eyes wildly darting around, you didn’t notice him pausing in the open doorway.

Glancing over his shoulder, shooting you a dastardly smirk, Kenjirou savours your infuriated expression before turning away and walking off. Slightly confused, you squint as you try to make out an odd-looking lump in his back pocket. At the sight of familiar lace peeking out of his slacks, your eyes widen in shock and indignant rage.

“That bastard.”

Edit: I fixed an incongruity with a bit in the end scene, sorry to anyone that picked it up!!

Notes: We need more Shirabu content so here I am delivering some extremely self-indulgent content. I made Shirabu a dick but I made reader a bitch towards him and he strikes me as the type to hate stuck up people. Hope you all enjoyed!

#shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu kenjirou #haikyuu!! x reader #x reader #Shirabu x you #haikyuu reader insert #shiratorizawa #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #haikyu!! x reader #haikyu!!#shirabu kenjirou x reader

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inquartata30 · 4 years ago

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WIP Whenever, Fluff Part 1

tagged by @sky-ham for some fluff for understandable reasons

tagging @natsora and @1esk19 for more fluff

this is from a one shot set in The Scenic Route’s timeline, the one where they’re in the Milky Way, everyone’s alive, and there are no Reapers.

Lexi answered almost immediately. “Did you and Aella enjoy your time at the park?”

Thaia narrowed her eyes. Going to the park had been a spontaneous thing because her lab time had been usurped by some other ‘more important’ project. Instead of bothering with battling over a stupid power move, she’d opted to take her kid to Guildhall Park for a pickup skyball game and whatever else they could find.

Unfortunately, ‘whatever else’ had turned out to be trouble, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence when Thaia and Aella went places without, as Sula called it, adult supervision. But wasn’t that Thaia didn’t want Lexi to know what they were up to. It was because Lexi had been in a practical and Thaia hadn’t wanted to disturb her unless there was some kind of incident that required her help. If not, Thaia would simply tell her the entire story when she got home. Or someone else would’ve told her before she even got home because Thaia and her family knew way too many people in this part of Armali.

Also, Aella had successfully scaled the monument to Matriarch Atapalai and her reward had been been them getting booted from the park and banned for the rest of the week and ‘maybe you should teach your child some decorum during that time.’

First of all, Thaia was pretty sure that the matriarch who’d had the tits to go out and find the first relay and then used the fucking thing within days because ‘fuck sitting around on my ass and being cautious like the rest of you’ would be completely fine with a kid climbing a statue dedicated to her. Cheer her on, even.

Second of all, Thaia had wanted to see if Aella could get all the way to the top because it was pretty fucking high up. Then Aella had reached the top and Thaia had been too busy being proud as fuck to chase her down before a cluster of matriarchs got their panties in a twist over it.

So, to help them feel better after getting unjustly banned from the park for a week, Thaia and Aella had gone to the hobby shop. And now they felt better.

“Yes,” Thaia said to Lexi. “We did.”

Aella tried cramming a foot under the box. She immediately winced and went another route, trotting over to one of the trees lining the walkway. Little purple flower petals drifted down around her when she bumped into the trunk instead of stopping of her own volition like a normal person. Then she grabbed a good-sized stick, held it aloft with the petals still swirling around her, and ran back.

Lexi sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful no one was hurt.”

“I don’t know, Matriarch Agera got all worked up about a scuff mark on the statue. Maybe someone should examine her for a heart condition.”

“That mark was there before!” said Aella, working the stick under the box for leverage.

“It was.” Thaia shrugged even though Lexi couldn’t see her. “Anyway, I called to see if Harry was visiting Thessia and I didn’t know or if Karin was coming over at any point today.”

“I don’t believe so. Do I want to know why?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Do I need to know why?”

“We’re fine, I promise. We just wanted to be sure. Okay, have a fun class, love you, bye!”

“Bye!” Aella echoed without interrupting her determined glare at the box.

Thaia ended the call before Lexi could interrogate either of them since Lexi had gotten even better at interrogation since she’d started her clinical psych program and she’d already been phenomenal before that. Plus, neither Thaia nor Aella could lie to save their lives.

Thaia turned to her daughter, who’d given up on the stick and was now using all of her might to drag the box.

Successfully. Shit, her kid was strong. Freakishly strong, according to Celaeno. However, it was slow going and Thaia was admittedly excited about putting the model together with Aella. Sooner rather than later. And she hadn’t bargained on her kid being this fucking stubborn and being able to move the box enough where they were actually making forward progress.

Incremental forward progress.

“You sure you don’t want help?” Thaia asked.

Aella stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared up at Thaia. “I can get it!”

“Okay, okay.” Thaia held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t ask again.” She also had to hide a laugh because for all Aella shared a similar bone structure to Thaia, that fucking glare had been all Lexi. Seeing it on someone so small was funny as fuck.

The next twenty-seven minutes—Thaia kept track—were spent with Aella grumbling and grunting as she pushed and pulled the box along the strip of sidewalk leading from the Kepeia District to Palla Square. During that time, Thaia also drew several amused or annoyed looks from onlookers and, really, the annoyed ones could just fuck off. Obviously, they’d never had to deal with spectacularly stubborn child. In the the stone-paved area outside the complex’s entrance, the sharp scent of ozone hung in the air. Thaia couldn’t hear the snaps of biotics or shouting that accompanied playing, so practice must’ve been over for the day.

As Aella stopped to catch her breath and Thaia silently wished she’d just give up and let her carry the box, members of Armali’s team began exiting through the complex gates, some pausing to sign autographs for enthusiastic younger fans. From behind a couple clusters of sizable backfielders emerged a comparatively pint-sized player whom Thaia and Aella immediately recognized.

Fejla Na’vis, who’d been their reliable source of skyball tickets for almost seven years; who’d obtained a pass for Thaia to attend a one week long pro-level skyball camp a month before Aella was born; and who, along with Harry, was Lexi’s best friend of decades.

The only reason Thaia hadn’t known about Fej during the two years she was being a dumbass about Lexi was because Fej was a pro player for Armali Union, Thaia’s favorite skyball team ever, and Lexi had—rightly—suspected that Thaia would react with an undue amount of enthusiasm should she ever meet Fej.

She had. But during the months before Aella had been born and especially after their unintentionally galaxy-spanning misadventure shared with Nef, a black-market body part, and a stack of ancient krogan data-readers, they’d become excellent friends. And Thaia had mostly stopped being a completely over-enthusiastic fan.

With the exception of playoffs.

“Auntie Fej!” Aella dropped the box and sprinted toward Fej, practically slamming into her for a hug and almost smashing Fej’s nose with her forehead in the process. Luckily, Fej was able to dodge the head blow.

Shit, if Aella’s forehead was a threat to Fej’s nose, that meant she was already catching up to Fej in height. Thaia did her best not to laugh. It wasn’t fair that Aella was on the ridiculously tall side for an asari six-year-old and Fej was on the decidedly small size for an asari adult. Given another couple years, Aella would probably be able to look her in the eye.

“What’ve you got there?” Fej asked, pointing at the box after Aella let go.

“We got a model relay!” Aella ran back to the box and demonstrated her dragging technique. “Look, I can carry it by myself!”

After observing Aella move the box a whole-ass third of a meter in five minutes, Fej placed her duffel bag on the grass and smiled. “Wow, it’s almost as big as me! I bet you’re excited to get it home. Do you want some help carrying it? I’m going in the same direction for a bit, so I don’t mind.”

Thaia waited for the ‘determined Lexi glare’ to appear on Aella’s face like it had when she’d offered to help.

It fucking didn’t. Instead, Aella grinned and said, “Yes, please!”

“What the fuck,” Thaia said, mostly under her breath.

When Fej stood next to her, Aella looked between her and the box and back again. Then she scratched her chin and did it again. After a third time, she said to Fej, “I bet I can pick you up.”

Fej opened her mouth, closed it, and then after thinking it over for a moment, shrugged. “You know what? Give it a try.”

Aella immediately crouched and grabbed Fej around the knees.

Fuck, she’d figured out the best method to pick up someone bigger than her. She might actually do it. Thaia hurriedly activated her omni. This needed to be recorded for posterity.

After setting her feet, Aella lifted with all her tiny might. Face flushed a darker blue and her legs trembling with the effort, Aella got Fej a good ten or so centimeters off the pavement before she lost her balance and fell backwards. Fej, possessing the body awareness and quick reflexes of a pro ballplayer, flipped in the air and landed on her feet while catching Aella with biotics the same time.

“I did it!” Aella announced, triumphantly raising her arms in the air.

The startlingly large audience they’d collected during Aella and Fej’s stunt gave the two a round of applause. Thaia had the best fucking kid.

“That was hard,” said Aella, shaking out her arms. “I don’t think I can carry the box the rest of the way home.”

Fej gave the top of Aella’s crest a fond rub. “I’ll still help you.”

“Good, because Daddy didn’t help me on our way here.”

Okay, maybe not the best kid.

“The fuck,” Thaia said, loud enough for the others to hear.

#mass effect #fanfiction #fluff request WIP #tessera au #tessera: the fluffiest timeline

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha

Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild Pt. 5

Read Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

I Am Light by India.Arie plays in background, as it is Shani’s theme.

A Savior is Born: The Rise of the Rebels 02 - A Cage Big Enough for Hundreds

Shani knew what it meant whenever she was escorted back to the dormitories and her files were pulled up and changed. She knew what it meant for the administration to remove her arm cuff, explaining to her that the government had given her a full scholarship for the rest of her studies. When her record was expunged and she was allotted a grace days to recuperate and get back to her regularly scheduled classes with her tuition and lodging paid in full and no sign of the unjust sentence in her history, she knew.

They wanted her to shut up and move on. To just forget about not only what happened to her in the woods, but to the others. To Atlas. She tried to see if she could look him up whenever she got back to the library. The directory didn’t cover Wasteland citizens, so she had to give up after a few days.

Since she now had free time, not having to work for her education, she decided to get a part time job, for a life skills practice and a few non-academic pleasures that weren’t covered in the tuition + nutrition supply. She started a beret collection, and learning various hobbies as a distraction from thinking about the woods every time she wasn’t involved with a school project.

She bought every single type of M&M that she saw in the store, then grabbed jars to separate them - all plain reds in a big jar, smaller jars for other reds - peanut, almond, etc, and the biggest jar had all of the excess red M&Ms of all sorts put into it. Then... she had several bags of several M&Ms that weren’t red. Researching what to do with them, besides toss them, she found a few recipes for cookies and other treats. Maybe this was a nice time to learn how to bake!

She went knocking on doors of other dorms in her building and nearby buildings, "Hi, I brought you some M&Ms cookies." and they're like... You know what idec. Yes, thanks. Because, the dorms weren’t where the rich students lived. It got her a few suspicious folk, but mostly, people were grateful for something to eat that wasn’t a strict and cheap meal or an even cheaper and far less appealing meal paste. It was the first time that people seemed to begin liking her.

She thinks about getting a tattoo, but they're ridiculously unsafe and very expensive, so instead she gets a tattoo art piece, which is a realistic painting of your body part with a tattoo on it. It's relatively costly, but safe, and hers is an Atlas tattoo, holding the world on his shoulders, on her back, because Atlas had had her back.

She researches Atlas and then goes and finds Greek mythology books in the useless books depository, and takes on learning about it as a hobby. Greek mythology, baking, school, part time job doing data entry, and collecting berets. It kept her occupied, though her mind was frequently on what happened. Months had passed, years were beginning to. She thought for sure that one day, her pain had to be numbed and so she tried not to harp on it. But, how do you just forget somebody who was willing to throw away their life for yours?

18 marked the legal age of adulthood. Shani immediately had a job, right out of school as an interpreter and translator. She was hired at a firm that also allotted her to take more college level courses to advance herself in the field and she began saving up for a place in the city that wasn’t a job related lodging when she had the most important appointment set up for her that she would ever have.

“Hi. I’m Shani, I’ll be helping you today with your assessment. Have a seat.” The wasteland woman looked at the chair that Shani gestured to and smiled, her canines showing and the smile wider than Shani was comfortable with. “Ummm... Sit down?” The woman laughed and nodded.

“Have a seat. Sit down. Yes. Yes, that makes sense. It took me a moment. You might guess, the wasteland isn’t very prim and proper.”

Shani didn’t want to talk about the wasteland. Instead, she began typing into her computer, “So, Miss... Free... What is your first language?”

“I don’t believe that you have a word for it. I’ll call it wolfen. I doubt it is in your machine.”

Shani furrowed her eyebrows. “No. I’ve never heard of that before. Where did it originate? If you know...”

“Hmmm... The Epic of Gilgamesh, maybe.”

Shani frowned and clasped her hands over each other. “Ma’am. What is this meeting about?”

“I remember you, but you don’t remember me. It’s because you didn’t see me. You didn’t know to look for me. But, I knew to look for you. I’m here, because I have finally found you... Did you think it was right? For them to come in that way? They sent us food. We ate, then they attacked and took my people, took your people, took the wolf with the hair like flames...”

“What are you talking about?” Shani whispered.

“Your mate. He was torn open, then he tasted blood. He became as we are. Not fully, but enough. He became a man who is no longer a man, a man who is now a wolf.”

“Atlas.”

“They took my people. They took your people. You.. were special, somehow. You didn’t go where others went. Why were you special? Why were you spared?” Shani had never considered that she had been either of these things. She lamented over Atlas for so long, she figured that she, too, had been made to suffer. “They were taken to a cage. Some as beasts, some as feed. You were taken to a cottage, and given gifts. Are you a queen?”

“Far from it...” Shani tried to remember what happened in those moments. She vaguely recalled a voice saying, “She was falsely accused. She shouldn’t have been there in the first place, much less get taken to the Kennel. She’s got an arm cuff. She belongs to somebody.” The school. She had been property of the school. She still owed them money and had their equipment on her person, to indicate such...

Her schooling was paid off, not as a means to keep her quiet... but to keep the school quiet. To ensure that they got what she was worth and not ask questions about potential damages she faced while serving a bogus sentence. Sure, she made the most of that, but it had less to do with her and more to do with money.

“They... took them to a cage?”

“A cage big enough for hundreds.”

Tears poured from her eyes and Free took the initiative to offer the woman’s own tissues to her, as she must’ve forgotten that they were on her desk, in her... emotional release. Shani snatched two and tried to clean her face up. They took Atlas to a prison? “A prison! They... took Atlas to a prison?”

Whenever Free said this, her dark brown eyes glowed amber and at that moment, Shani knew. This... is a wolf. This woman is what she described. A person who is not a person, but a person who is a wolf. “They took everyone there. Everyone but us.”

NOTES: I enjoy the idea of Free being far removed enough from human society that she doesn’t know anything about mannerisms and only has a limited amount of English, that she’s picked up since she’s been scavenging through the wasteland, but that she’s smart (I’d say the smartest wolfen in the series), and she’s adaptable and quick. She’s like a wolfen counterpart to Shani, and that’s why they eventually get on so well. They’re in similar positions, but with vastly different backgrounds. @tiarathief (You are still the first name that comes up whenever I at somebody. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged to these, please. @shslargue @jacksope-lives

#BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha #story concept #stories #original content #Shani Saviors #A Savior is Born: Rise of the Rebels #writing #Free Saviors #A Cage Big Enough for Hundreds #Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild

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katerinawinters · 4 years ago

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Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 8

"Is this…" she paused, looking around the narrow space in disbelief. "Is this your apartment?"

Jarak looked from her and followed her line of sight around the cramped space, trying to see what she saw before nodding.

"Jarak, it's so tiny!" she blew out an exasperated breath as she sat the fruit on a narrow counter jutting from the wall in an area that looked to be a small kitchenette. Turning back around to the hunter, she gave him a confused look. "You're way too big for a tiny apartment like this. Is rent high here or something?"

Tilting his head in question, Jarak lifted his gauntlet and clacked the tips of his claws against the data-pad. Entranced, she watched him as he read the holographic information before closing it and lowering his arm.

"I do not pay rent," he answered firmly.

For a moment, Justice let the little scene playback in her head and remembered the backward lettering he pulled up from his gauntlet, with a slow spreading smile of realization, she fought back the urge to laugh. He had looked up the word rent.

Pressing her lips together, she stifled her laughter to ask another question, but Jarak's eyes narrowed as he watched her closely, and he cut her off.

"Yautja do not use money. We gain what is needed ourselves. We bring honor to our clan, and if I am worthy, the clan leader will decide what to bestow to me."

Nodding, she walked toward the bed which dominated most of the back wall, save for the two doors on either side of it, the bed looked properly proportioned, at least. Although, she noted it was another black leather mattress. Pulling Larsa from the harness, Justice carefully put her on the bed.

"So, does your leader not think you are worthy enough for a bigger room than this?" She asked, genuinely interested. Maybe this leader of Ojibwe was a real dick. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to meet the reigning yautja, and she wanted to know as much as she could about the hunter beforehand.

Turning in place, Jarak watched her as she sat cautiously at the end of his bed and shook his head once at her question. "Rakkah is a worthy leader. He has shown respect to my victories. He has offered me much, but I need little. I have taken a ship as one of my bounty payments, that is all I require."

Right now, she was positive she possessed more information about yautja than all the galaxies combined. Nodding once more, Justice glanced around the cramp quarters and reassessed. It was spartan, just like the hunter's ship. Besides the ridiculous amount of weapons lining the left wall, there was not one other piece of personality lying about like it was in her apartment back on LV594. Baby toys had been scattered across the living room floor. Dirty clothes, hers and Larsa's were sitting in a pile by the door ready to be taken to the laundry unit, and the single holo-photo of her and her sisters kept on a tiny piece of flimsy, all smiling and posing within their suits and guns, tucked under her pillow. All lost to her now.

Running her fingers softly across the bottom of Larsa's soft foot, she looked up to the hunter. Whatever he saw shining back in her eyes made the hunter stiffen suddenly.

"Stay here, I will return," without waiting for a reply Jarak turned and left through the only door.

Justice waited until the door shut once more before finally standing. Taking off her backpack and pulling the gun's strap over her head, she sighed just as her stomach let out a deep growl. Walking over to the kitchenette, she surveyed the simplicity of it: a counter, a sink, and a glass refrigerator nearly tall as she was holding a huge rack of raw marbled meat inside.

A meal of champions, she thought wryly.

Washing off the fruit, Justice took a tentative bite and smirked at the tart flavor. Grabbing and washing three more, she began to walk the length of the apartment. Similar to his ship, the uneven black walls were covered in various striations and grooves, hiding a number of hidden compartments and interactive displays. Circling back around until she was at the bed, she stopped in front of one of the two doors. Pushing the data-panel, she was surprised at the spacious--of course, all black--bathroom beyond.

Stepping into the bathroom, she was relieved to see that this one had a large blank space of wall next to the data-pad. Scrolling through the yautja lettering, she found the selection she wanted and tapped it. The portion of the wall next to her shimmered and rippled as if the metal had turned to water before blinking into a dark mirrored surface. Looking at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror, Justice sighed. Her clothes were filthy with dirt and grime, and her braids, which hung to her waist, faired no better. Picking one up, she was beginning to pick out some of the dirt trapped within the coiled braid when the door to the apartment swooshed open again.

Stepping in holding two black leather sacks, Jarak walked towards the kitchenette counter.

"The other human women have provided you this," he waved a hand brusquely to the bags and stepped back.

Justice looked up at him in surprise. "There are other humans on your planet?"

Well, there goes that theory of her being the first to have collected such rare yautja information, she thought sorely.

"Yes, Rakkah's mate and Akur's," he replied as if she knew the mentioned hunters.

Too tired to delve into the subject, she began to reach for the sack as he turned back toward the door.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

Pausing, the towering hunter did not turn around as he answered. "Yes."

Justice felt a twinge of guilt as she looked around the tiny space. "I don't want to kick you out of your room--your very small room," she added with a smile as he turned to look at her directly. "To be honest. I kind of expected you to put me in some sort of holding cell."

His eyes glimmered in the shadow of his pronounced brow ridge, and his fanged mouth beneath his mandibles moved slightly. "We have no holding cell," he informed her seriously. "Yautja do not take prisoners."

"Right," she nodded, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter to her right. "Yeah, you just kill whoever you don't like or send the rest to your creepy science ones."

Jarak didn't argue that.

Not sure what else to say, Justice looked away. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"I do not currently require sleep," Jarak responded, his naturally aggressive tone at odds with the simple statement.

"But what if you did and you wanted to sleep? I have no problem sleeping on a couch…" she paused, looking around the empty place once more. The front of the apartment was suspiciously empty as if it were designed for seating, but she would bet her last credit that the hunter used the bit of open space to train in. "Ok, floor," she corrected.

"No," his deep tone was final.

"Fine," she said, throwing up her hands and turning back towards the bed to sit next to Larsa. "I'm not going to argue with you. If you want to go sleep in a tree or whatever, be my guest."

As if completely satisfied with that option, Jarak turned back around and began walking to the door.

"Wait, how do I contact you," she called out just as the door opened. "...if one of your brethren tries to come in here or something happens and I might need you," she explained. "I would like it to be said I at least attempted not to go with my natural inclination of shooting first."

Slowly, Jarak turned his head until one eye caught her gaze over his shoulder. "No one would dare come into my space."

Like all statements from the hunter, the words were simple, but the meaning was lethal. Letting her gaze drop past the red tips of his long dread-like spines, she observed the strong striation of muscles corded along his wide back, tapering down to his narrow waist. Justice remembered the way the hunter had slung the adult xenomorph by its tail with ridiculous ease as if it were the size of a cat, and she couldn't imagine too many people or even other yautja crossing Jarak and surviving.

Opening his data-pad on his gauntlet once more, he turned around fully and stepped back towards her until he stood only a foot away. Holding out his hand, he gave her a waiting look.

Justice cocked her head in a smile as she obediently laid her hand in his. "How did you know what my rings were for?"

With a gentleness that seemed wholly strange on the humongous crab faced alien, Jarak carefully turned her hand over until her palm pressed against his. Justice could feel the rough ridges of his tough skin press against hers and marvel at the heat that radiated through it. For something with no discernable heat signature, he sure was hot to the touch, she thought. Again that made her think of the amazing sleep she had against the creature the other night.

Touching one of the two white and silver rings she wore on each hand, Jarak activated her personal computer.

"I am yautja," his voice growled out over her like a rumbling blanket made of storms and thunder. "There is little I do not know."

Watching him type on the holographic keyboard her ring projected, Justice gave him an evil grin that caught his attention. "But you didn't know what rent was."

Entering the data with a gruff growl, Jarak turned on his heel and left.

Inside the sacks, Jarak had brought her was proof enough that a human lived on the planet: two thermos-like containers filled with still warm food, bottles of shampoo and soap, a pillow, and even a few baby things.

Justice stared at a stuffed giraffe and turned it over in her hand in absent thought. Were the yautja purposely bringing human women with children back to their planet? And if so, why? It couldn't be torture, she thought as she looked at the hastily written note on a piece of flimsy that she found in the bag as well. Supposedly the woman, named Ember, was more than excited to meet her. Following the helpful instructions on the flimsy, she walked up to the wall near the kitchenette and activated the data-pad, and searched for what the note told her. With a push of a button, a drawer popped out of the wall to her right, and Justice smiled.

A basin that is what yautja called their washing units. Shaking her head in a smile, she thought it was fitting. A washing machine was much too verbose for the towering Jarak to say. Basin in his deep guttural voice was much more appropriate.

Stripping off all of her clothes until she stood completely nude, Justice stuffed her clothes into the drawer-unit and activated the washing cycle. Walking back to the bed, she grabbed one of the sacks in one hand and scooped up Larsa in her other arm. Settling the grunting baby onto the pillow on the bathroom floor, Justice fiddled with the controls on the shower until a black wall raised from the floor. Stopping just above her knee, the half wall turned the bottom of the large black shower into a tub. Pressing a few more commands, Justice filled the tub with water before stepping in with a deep groan. Sitting down, Justice was surprised at the spaciousness of the tub. It was deep and perfectly long enough for her, which was rare indeed.

Closing her eyes for a few precious seconds, she was about to let her head lie back against the wall when Larsa began to fuss. Adjusting so that breasts were pressed against the bathtub's wall and her arms were folded on the rim, Justice stared down at her daughter.

Catching her mother's eye, Larsa opened her tiny toothless mouth and let out an agitated sound. Justice rummaged in the bag with one wet hand and pulled out the soft giraffe. Making little noises, she knew Larsa enjoyed, Justice danced the doll over the baby and played with her from the rim of the tub, letting the sight of the little girl's gummy smile soothe her.

"We're in a new place," she whispered as she kissed the giraffe's mouth against the side of Larsa's cheek. "We are surrounded by big scary-looking hunters, but it will be ok," she said, repeating the kiss on the other fat cheek. "Soon, mommy will meet their leader and hopefully talk him into letting us stay for a little bit."

Playing with her until she was content to quietly look around on her on, Justice grabbed the large sea-sponge that was tucked in the bag and dipped it in the water. Water dripped and splashed as she raised each leg to the surface of the deep tub and ran the soft sponge over her legs. Her mind drifted back to LV549 and the "woolly woolies" in the primigenius. The large docile tusked mammoths were most likely safe but no doubt scared and lonely. For a year now, she had been working with the beast, studying their glowing tusk and their behaviors. Over time she had become attached to them. Their liquid black eyes staring at her with eternal patience as she fed them their favorite leafy treats while she performed her never-ending scans. Even Larsa had learned to enjoy the large beast, engaging them in a battle of stares that made Justice's eyes feel dry just thinking about it. Now her mammoths were bound for an early death on the infested planet. Before she fled the lab, Justice had made sure to call all her mammoths in from the outside enclosure and back into the lab before sealing it off. Inside they would have access to their daily reserves of water and food, but the supplies would run out, and the poor, gentle beast would starve--if they were lucky. Justice could only pray that the xenomorphs wouldn't sense the beast through the reinforced walls of the lab and work their way inside.

Standing up in the now tepid water, Justice paused, looking around. There were no towels. Did yautja not dry themselves with towels? That made no sense. No one this advanced and this meticulous with their technology walks around soggy after each shower, she thought resolutely. As the water drained at her feet, she stood naked and braced one hand against the wall as she jabbed a finger at the control-screen in the shower, going through the options. Stopping at one foreign yautja word, Justice repeated it a few times in her head, searching for a translation. Gusting? After a second, her eyes widened in realization, and she smiled. Pressing the button, she stood back. Narrow vents opened up along the sides of the shower stall, and warm air began to blow through them.

Dry, she stepped out of the shower stall and scooped up Larsa and her things. Changing, cleaning, and getting Larsa ready for sleep, Justice walked naked across the room and found the "gusting" option for her now clean clothes. Letting it run its cycle, she walked back towards the bed and sank down on the mattress, letting the cool leather press against her naked skin. Rummaging through the second bag, Justice grinned at the folded sheet tucked at the bottom and flipped out, spreading it partially over Larsa.

Positioning her gun to the right of her, Justice stifled a yawn as she took a big gulp of the soup from the thermos. Fatigue was catching up to her. She needed to be rested for tomorrow because if for some reason things went south, she would need more than enough energy to fight her way off yet another planet crawling with aliens.

by katerina winters

#writings #yautja fanfiction #predator fanfiction #katerina winters

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neil-jortson · 4 years ago

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It’s only a matter of time

This is a hc about what I think would happen to the foxes in quarantine. I made this as a part of the gift exchange from @aftgexchange for the Tumblr user @wishbonetea . It was an awesome experience to do this exchange and I hope to do it again!

Summary: a collection of ideas about how the foxes lives would have to adapt during quarantine

word count: 2k

The foxes in quarantine: a bullet point fic

The year is 2020. Matt, Kevin, Andrew, and Neil are all professional exy players. Neil and Andrew fought hard and finally got put on the same team that past season.

Dan is an assistant coach for a college team in the same city that Matt plays in. Nicky lives in Germany with Erik and Aaron is just finishing up his residency in medical school. Allison is a major fashion designer who donates more money than she keeps. Renee works with the peace corp and is currently out of the country. Everything is good.

Dan and Matt are expecting their first child in less than two months and are trying to clean up the spare room to begin making a nursery for the baby.

On the tv in another room plays a news reporter talking about a virus on the horizon in China. They don’t think much of it and continue about their days.

Andrew and Neil lived a fairly domestic life, one they never thought they would live, with two cats and a nice set of kitchen knives. (They were a house warming present from Aaron: “it’s ironic” he would say when asked why he purchased the set.)

When Andrew and Neil heard about the novel virus, they simply changed their in-depth arguments about a zombie outbreak to arguments on what to do in the event the virus becomes a big deal. Little did they know some of their “predictions” would turn out to be correct.

Everyone went about their normal lives just keeping an eye on the news before things seemed to change at the drop of a hat. The country was shutting its borders and not allowing flights in from other countries. There was even talk of cities going into lockdown.

Renee was trying to catch a flight home with the rest of her crew. When she made it back into the states, she found she had nowhere to go. Allison invited her to stay at her apartment in NYC. She was not aware of how long they were going to be stuck there (not that Allison was against sharing an apartment with a beautiful girl like Renee).

It became more real to the rest of them as the Exy season was postponed until further notice.

Kevin didn’t know what to do with himself and Neil. Was. Devastated.

It was only a matter of days before they began to get antsy about not going to the court daily. Neil and Kevin had shared anxious words as they hadn’t heard what the Moriyamas would think about them not receiving the normal amount of money this season. Andrew tried to put their minds at ease, but with no words of communication from the crime syndicate, they were getting worried.

Dan and Matt were probably the most stressed of the bunch. The information they had gathered was that most of the Foxes were in good shape to handle the virus even if they were to get sick, but there wasn’t any data on how the virus would affect pregnant women. Dan feared for the health of the baby because of this uncertainty. She and Matt decided that they would follow the government regulations for quarantine and that when groceries needed to be picked up, Matt would be the one to go out and get them.

Wymack’s thoughts were focused on his foxes and how they would be affected by the pandemic. He thought of Matt and Dan bringing a baby into the world at an unlikely time. He thought of Andrew and Neil who never could commit to quitting smoking (even if Neil just liked the smell). He worried about Aaron working in a hospital. For Nicky's mental health while being stuck at home and away from people. He worried that Kevin would start drinking again without the regime of Exy to keep him on track. He was concerned about Renee and Allison living in one of the worst cities to be stuck in when a pandemic hits. He thought about every person he had had as a fox before them and after them. He spent most of his time checking up on the foxes and the other portion of his time reaching out to organizations to see what they needed. He volunteered when he could and spread the word when he couldn’t.

As the foxes settled into their lives stuck at home and thousands of miles apart from one another, things settled into a new normal.

Andrew and Neil lived in quiet harmony when the quarantine first began. Neil went running every morning in a park that was not very crowded and when he would come home he would head straight to the shower. Eventually, Andrew convinced him to buy a treadmill because he was worried about Neil getting sick. Although, the way that he phrased it, it would seem he didn’t care either way. (Neil saw right through him)

Life for them was simple but draining.

The longer the quarantine went on, the worse off Neil and Andrew became.

Andrew found himself talking more and more with Betsy as being stuck at home was leaving him alone with his thoughts more than he would like. He felt old emotions creeping to the forefront of his mind as he was stuck in a two-bedroom apartment with two cats and a man he “hated.”

Being stuck at home for Neil was his own personal hell. He paced around the apartment often and felt no true release from running on the treadmill. Neil felt the same way he did when his mom and he were snowed in at a safe house in the mountains. He walked to the corners of each room and took stock of the items in the home. He felt himself get more and more on edge as the days went by.

Dan and Matt were better off when it came to mental health. It also helped that they tried not to take out their worries on one another, they were a team. They enjoyed each other's company and would try to hang out on opposite sides of the house as much as possible. They knew when they started to push each other's buttons and would back off when they started going too far.

Matt knew that Dan felt bad about not being able to leave the house so he got a kiddy pool for her to sit in outside. It wasn’t much, but Dan enjoyed the fact that Matt was thinking of her when he went out shopping. They spent many afternoons sitting in the tiny pool that barely fit them and laughing at the different antics of their crazy neighbors that day.

Nicky got a hold of everyone's schedule and decided that they should do group facetime calls every week. It was really hard to find a good time because everyone lived in different time zones and Aaron had a rotating doctor’s schedule, but Nicky was able to find 45 minutes a week when everyone was awake and not at work.

Dan and Matt had finally found proper places to put all of the items that had been in the nursery and were just beginning to start the vacuum cleaner when they heard an alarm go off on Dan’s phone.

It was time for them to talk with their old team.

Everyone slowly joined the call and Nicky was just as enthusiastic in welcoming every person who joined.

Nicky was especially delighted when Kevin answered the call and the foxes came to find out his hair had grown out longer than he ever let it before. (He claimed it wasn’t professional to have longer hair but he looked better than ever with the length.)

When Allison joined the call, some of the foxes were surprised to see Renee sitting right beside her. Renne’s hair had grown out and Dan noticed that there was a distinct line from where she had been bleaching her hair

Dan asked, “Hey Renee, what are you going to do with your hair?”

Renee responded with “I’m really not sure yet, but I think I want to grow it out with my natural color”

Allison whispered something in Renee's ear and she blushed.

All of the foxes took notice of this and decided that maybe it was time to settle one of the few remaining bets from college.

Neil and Andrew were the last to join the call and they seemed pissed off. Right before they noticed they were a part of the call, they seemed to be arguing in Russian. They quickly noticed they were on camera and stopped arguing but they wouldn’t really look at one another.

Nicky asked them how they were doing which Neil responded with “We’re fine” and Andrew scoffed at the word.

Nicky knew better than to dig around in their personal business so he let it drop and began to ask Aaron and Katelynn how their dog was, was it still cute, can they show it on the camera?

They responded by turning the camera to let everyone see the sleeping puppy at the edge of their bed. This answered two of the questions because as everyone could see, the dog was still very cute. They told them about a run into the vet they had to make because “the little fiend” has a knack for eating things he’s not supposed to.

Dan and Matt told everyone how the pregnancy was going and told them the tale of woe trying to find the perfect crib for the baby’s room.

“When it arrived, we opened up the package and it was bright green! Who in their right mind is going to put their baby in a bright green crib? It’s ridiculous is what it is” complained Matt when Dan had finished telling them how long the package had taken to arrive.

While everyone was talking Andrew and Neil had seemed to calm down and Neil had placed his head on Andrew’s shoulder. Things weren’t always sunshine and daisies but they weren’t really mad at each other when they fought.

After everyone had caught up there was a lull in the conversation that Neil began to fill. He told them about the time they had to rescue King Fluffkins. They had gotten King recently just a few months prior to the quarantine coming into effect. This was the first time that the team had heard Neil say the words “King Fluffkins” out loud. It is needless to say that they laughed for a long while hearing Neil say the ridiculous name the team had given to their cat. When they calmed down they listened to Neil explain how King had gotten out of the window they kept partially open for smoking. Andrew had to hold on to Neil’s waist as Neil propelled himself out the window to get a hold of the cat at the edge of the window sill. King had dug her claws in and Neil almost fell out of the window. They got her inside but put a lock on the window to ensure she didn’t make her way out there again.

That story pushed their time to when they needed to say goodbye. Aaron’s shift started in under an hour and he needed to get to work. They all said their goodbyes and set up a time for the following week.

It helped everyone to talk amongst themselves and to hear what had been going on while they were at home. They were all worried about what was going on, but it seemed as though they were becoming more connected, even across the vast distance.

It was only a matter of time before this came to pass and Neil and Andrew would get to see Dan and Matt’s baby.

It was only a matter of time before the exy season started up once more and the Moriyamas demanded a larger cut from Neil’s salaries for the break he was on during the pandemic.

It was only a matter of time before Nicky could come and visit the twins for Christmas.

It was only a matter of time before all of the foxes felt their lives returning to a slightly new normal.

It was only a matter of time.

#the foxes in quarantine #it would turn their world upside down but these kids will be alright #aftg fic exchange #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #andriel #matt boyd #dan wilds #allison reynolds #renee walker #hints of renison #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #kevin day #david wymack

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jarofrebuke-transcripts · 4 years ago

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Jar of Rebuke Episode 11 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 11: Observations B

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for case [audio distortion]

GIA

I'm sorry, I'm not sure what that was. This equipment is in dire need of upgrades. This is Dr. Gia Castillo. The following audio recording is classified documentation for case H57. The subject has proven to be a bit... stubborn? Annoying? Well perhaps “difficult” is the best word. Ideally things would just go smoothly so that I could get back to what I was actually hired to do. I have a PhD in zoology, I have spent thousands of dollars for my education and title, but this? This? This is asinine, this is absolutely ludicrous, this is flat out stupid. There's no reason for this much time, effort, and money to be spent on Todd's little pet project. I was hired to examine how pollution and radiation could lead to the creation of these creatures, from afar. The local deer population for example? All of that research was led by me from my lab. Processing the radioactivity readings, exposure rates, things that could have led to the possible creation of the not-dear? In my professional opinion, is quite solid. And now? Now I'm playing babysitter to some… thing that Todd told me to watch over via nanny cam because he's too scared to. I have to play lab partner with something that never even earned its degree, yet still gets the title? I'll have to edit all of that out.

Today the subject took that hellhound on a walk after breakfast, which was then followed by some time watching television, a shower and then a frantic phone call. I won't know who it called until after a system synced tonight to pick up all the data from its phone and audio journal but it exhibited clear behavior and body language of being in quite a panic. It sat down and had started to record a session in its audio journal. While the audio journaling has remained as consistent as before, there have been some changes in its other behaviors. My recent findings have shown that the subject has been quite resistant to Dr. Daman’s sessions as of late. By the sound of its complaints and also of Dr. Daman's reports, the resistance is only worsening. Which led to another observer being brought in not too long ago- Mr. Zimmer. Now that I have the utter displeasure of working with him, my luck only continues to sour. Anyways, through the audio files and also the footage from the cameras, we are seeing signs of something else for us to look into. It taking in that hellhound as a pet of all things was both simultaneously surprising but also not too out of character for what we have seen previously. Creatures like those tend to be drawn to one another. But now there appears to be a third creature of sorts wandering around that particular home. We need to look further into what's captured on our recordings. The subject has mentioned to Dr. Daman seeing shadows around its home so that may be a good start for us. With that hellhound, Grove I believe it's taken to calling it, the team has agreed that it's best if that creature isn't around to further influence the subject. Of course the influence isn't intentional on the hellhound’s part per se, but the subject's empathy towards other supernatural creatures has only amplified since taking it in. That puts quite a hindrance on the goal that we were given by Todd, so it needs to go.

Dr. Daman suggested perhaps staging a sort of “running away from home” that pets tend to do. That may be our best course of action but putting this into action will take more time and planning. And we have also tried to get rid of those black-eyed children that keep tapping on its door. A bit of pest control as Todd calls it but well, in Mr. Zimmer's words- like roaches they don't die easily and they will come back. They seem to become only more adamant about being let into the subject's house. After the subject's investigation of those melon head children in the woods, Todd has decided that it'd be best to attempt to round them up and bring them in as well. Too dangerous to leave them out, he claims. Eating people seems to be the line, but Todd has shown no concern with the creature our subject encountered out in the river. I believe he has a certain disdain for creatures with child-like forms, at least that's a theme I've observed.

[door opens] Ah, what brings me the pleasure of your company?

LIAM

Ah, Gia, hello! I just came to check in and see how we were doing today, do a check in with the patient. How is it doing today?

GIA

That is Dr. Castillo, Mr. Zimmer. It just sat down to record a session of the audio journal. It was rather wise for Dr. Daman to encourage that, giving us a clear look into its thoughts. Of course what exactly it's saying I won't know until later tonight once the cloud collects the data, though it just got off of the phone with someone and has been pacing around the room quite nervously while talking.

LIAM

Fascinating. It's always so adamant about the supposed feelings it has. If I didn't know any better, I would say that it's practically human in every way! Look at it- the stress, the agitation. You know, the way that it so often curls into itself in our sessions truly is human. If only it knew the truth.

GIA

We're here to see how long we can keep the truth from it. I know you're using this to satiate personal curiosities, Mr. Zimmer, but we do have a goal to attain, and we must treat this as if we only have one shot at it.

LIAM

Oh of course, of course. But you can't tell me it's not incredibly curious. It acts so human and doesn't even think for a second that it might not be? Even though it's experienced death, well, far more times than it can count. I've seen it's so-called medical files. Dr. Rahal must really stretch his brain to figure out how to explain it all in a way that doesn't tip it off. And the fact that its body scars like a human body does is also fascinating.

GIA

Considering that Dr. Rahal is being kept on a need to know basis with this case, of course he must get a bit creative with his explanations.

LIAM

And based on those little audio journals, we may need to make sure that the good doctor isn't getting too soft with the patient. We don't have the luxury to empathize with the creature.

GIA

Would you empathize with it even if we did have the luxury?

LIAM

Hmm that's quite an excellent question, though I'm inclined to say no...

GIA

Which does not surprise me, given your reputation. Now if you would excuse me, Mr. Zimmer, I would like to resume my examinations. I'll forward you my notes and findings once I'm done.

LIAM

Of course, of course, doctor. I'll send over my notes from my most recent session with it to you and Dr. Daman at my next convenience. Talk to you later, Gia.

GIA

He is going to break our subject before we can find another one. Bringing him into this project was a ridiculous idea. I get that we're here to see just how human this creature has become, but you can see humanity without shattering one's mental stability. Anyways, this would imply that the creature has become human at all. It's still what it was before just with a human shell. Nothing will change what the creature is no matter how it looks or acts. I'll have to edit all of that out as well.

The subject has now taken to rocking slightly in its seat as it records. Something new that it picked up. There's various reasons that people rock back and forth but if it's picked this up from witnessing someone do this that would make sense. Dr. Daman encouraged it to engage more within the community of Wichton, mostly so we could see how it would socialize, but we didn't expect it to have so much success in doing so. The primary documented friends that it's made have been a few residents in town, primarily a Darius Chapman and a Holly Darling. Also it is reconnecting with its old lab partner, Dr. Milo Lomax, who had never been told the full truth hence why they were separated as lab partners. It has also been spending time with a research scientist from another department, uh, Dr. Jamie Everett. I'm not sure how much she has been briefed on the situation. With the amount of employees here who have been left in the dark on the true nature of this case it's safer to assume that she doesn't know, but I cannot say that for certain. I will need to reach out to Todd to see how deeply, if at all, Dr. Everett is involved.

That hellhound has been sniffing around its house quite a bit lately. Whether it's just part of more canine behavior or if it's more of the cryptid nature, I am not sure. Whatever it may be it's getting in the way of my view. Has it spotted the camera? It couldn't have, it's still just a dog! [clicking sounds] Oh, no, okay. All right, uh well, this is, this is bad. The subject has found the camera! How did this happen, this is... I have to inform Todd immediately, this is not damage control that we can afford to handle poorly! Damn it.

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is created and produced by Casper Oliver. Dr. Gia Castillo is voiced by Vanessa Rosengrant. Mr. Liam Zimmer is voiced by Andy “Pixel” Smith. Credits are read by Ashley Craft who has created the podcast official graphics. Episode was edited by Chelsea Finley. Episode was written by Casper Oliver and Jenny O'Sullivan. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s who you can find and support on bandcamp, spotify, and twitch. Follow us on social media for updates. If you've been enjoying us please consider leaving a rating, review or comment wherever you tune in. You can also support us on patreon or pod hero by following the links in our episode description. And special thanks to our patreon supporters Tristan, Perry, Devin, Becky, Nico, Danny and Joyce.

#jar of rebuke #jar of rebuke podcast #jor podcast #jar of rebuke transcripts

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bae-science · 4 years ago

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✿,✈,℧

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]

℧: a damp towel against flushed, feverish skin

The Monsoon season in Hong Kong falls technically in the summer, turning the near-endless, heavy rain warm enough that at least venturing outside the Shatterdome is not a complete nightmare. It can still be cool, however, especially around September as autumn begins to creep in, and Hermann finds himself anxious but not surprised when Newton spends a week sloshing around the middle of the ocean gathering data, returns home, and almost immediately begins filling the lab with the sounds of wet, hacking coughs.

Well, perhaps anxious is too strong a word for it. That would imply attachment, and the desire to give care, and Hermann has those, yes, but in entirely normal and professional amounts. He’s measured it.

Newton isn’t a complete idiot, miracle of all miracles, and wears a face mask while he works, although Hermann still finds himself flinching every time he hears him give a tired little wheeze. It’s quite pathetic, in the way finding a wet kitten under a storm drain is. Ignoring the usual protocol afterwards, of course; bundling it up in blankets, holding it against one’s chest, finding somewhere warm and safe and with antibiotics and hot soup and refusing to let it leave that bloody spot no matter how much it seems to want to work itself to death while ill and--

This is becoming an unproductive line of thinking, and Hermann halts it for now. Or, at least, strongly attempts to. Then Newton moves out of the corner of his eye, pushing his glasses up to rub at eyes ringed with dark circles, and Hermann’s hand nearly twitches with the urge to snatch his shirt collar and start walking.

It’s the day that Newton finally doesn’t come into work that breaks him, and Hermann manages an entire half hour past their usual first argument of the day before his good leg begins to bounce slightly in anticipation. Where is he? Newton finally taking a day off to rest would be ideal, yes, but Hermann knows him too well (a troubling thought) to think that the case. Perhaps he went to the infirmary? No, even less likely. Newton probably did try to come to work, although maybe someone finally stopped him.

Or he collapsed, says a tiny, needling voice in the back of Hermann’s mind. Or began vomiting, or fainting, or is fevered and can barely speak from--

Unproductive, unproductive, no, Hermann is not going to let his anxieties (which he does not possess) run wild and force him into a rash, foolish, inappropriate course of action that is entirely unbecoming of his and Newton’s relationship. What exactly that is is not entirely clear, although Hermann never gets to decide before his forehead smacks into something hard, and he stumbles back with a wince.

It’s a door. A metal door. Like the ones used for the sleeping quarters. And this one has a collection of magnets on it, colorful and spiky and mostly dinosaurs, which can only mean that--

“Absolutely not,” Hermann says aloud, and decides to turn around right then and there and walk back to the lab. He will do this. He is going to turn around. The door is right there, but Hermann is not going to make this his business; he will put one foot and his cane in front of the other and move in a forward direction back to work, that is what he is going to bloody do.

Hermann tries the handle of Newton’s door and finds it unlocked, and gives up on making it out of this with any dignity intact.

The room is dark and quiet when he enters, the mess of Newton’s clothes and books and papers he knows is there obscured by what appears to be a near-carpet of tissues. Hermann squares his jaw and closes the door gently, sucking in a tiny breath when he hears a weak cough from the direction of the bed.

“Newton?” he says awkwardly, poking the debris away with his cane to clear a path. “Newton, are you alright? You didn’t-- er. You’re sick.”

There’s a low groan, and suddenly Hermann is at Newton’s bedside with barely a blink. This is getting ridiculous. He makes out a mound of blankets and, with two careful fingers, peels it back to reveal what’s underneath.

Newton, flushed and shining with sweat, blinks up at him blearily.

“Oh Jesus,” he croaks, “am I dead? Fucking rude.”

Hermann isn’t sure how to interpret that, but he follows his first instinct and frowns. “Good God. Have you been in here by yourself this entire time?”

Newton turns over and pulls the covers up, but Hermann yanks them back and, without thinking, puts a hand to his forehead. It’s burning.

Newton makes a relieved noise and leans into the touch, and Hermann feels something jump in his chest as he jerks his hand away. “You have a fever, and you didn’t go to the infirmary?”

“I did,” Newton grumbles, and Hermann takes in a sharp breath as his hand clumsily reaches up and pulls Hermann’s back against his skin. “That’s why ‘m fucking here. ‘M not ‘llowed to go back to work for a week. Fuck you’re cold.”

“I have a very inconsistent body heat,” Hermann says blankly, unsure of how Newton is getting any relief when it feels like his palm is on fire. He feels his own face flush. “And of course they’re forcing you to stay here; you’re sick, Newton. You should have gone to them two days ago when you were hacking up a lung in the lab.”

“God, okay, well, I didn’t,” he grumbles, and turns to settle further into bed, keeping Hermann’s hand close. “You get a quiet fuckin’ lab for a whole week; I dunno why you’re complaining.”

Why is Hermann complaining? Newton will be fine; Hermann spots a prescription bottle open on the bedside table, and a water bottle next to it. He’ll have peace and an agreeable work environment for seven blissful days, and this is not his problem, and all he has to do is leave. It’s all he should do, really. Newton doesn’t need him, although he’s clearly in quite a state to be making such scandalous, brazen physical contact.

He is, isn’t he? And feverish, and mumbling nonsense about dying; what if he grows worse? Hermann would, in all honesty, be a terrible lab partner if he let Newton languish like this in what is clearly a serious predicament. A terrible person, even. In fact, not taking care of Newton could be seen as negligence of his duties in saving the world. He certainly doesn’t want to have to start digging into Kaiju entrails himself.

Hermann clears his throat and gently pulls his hand away, despite a noise from Newton that makes his stomach twist. “Give me just a moment,” he says briskly, stepping back. “It’s not like I can stand here forever.”

He picks his way to the attached bathroom and hunts around for a washcloth, running it under the cold tap and wringing it out over the sink. He takes it back and pulls Newton’s desk chair up beside the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Newton shifts under the covers, looking up at him hazily. “Oh,” he says dumbly, “you came back.”

Hermann swallows thickly around his lead-feeling tongue, laying the damp washcloth across Newton’s forehead. “There,” he says, patting it twice. “That should be a bit better.”

Newton still chases Hermann’s hand with his forehead, but swings an arm over the cloth and lets out a sigh. “Thanks. Mir geht es jetzt gut.”

Hermann snorts. “I think not, if you can barely remember English.” He settles back in the chair and stretches his leg into a more comfortable position. Perhaps Newton has some reading around that isn’t entirely focused on aliens. “Go to sleep, Newton. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Newton’s eyes widen. “Warten. Warum?”

Hermann knows why. He does. He has an extremely justifiable reason for this, rooted in logical preservation of his only fellow scientist’s health, but Newton’s eyes are huge and dark and focused on him with something that isn’t distaste or anger, and suddenly all the answers fall away. The words fall out of his mouth like stones. “I want to.”

He expects Newton to snark at this, even if in German, or at least roll his eyes, but in Hermann’s shocked state at his own words, he manages to take his hand again. This time he just holds it, fingers damp and warm, and Hermann is only mildly disgusted. He can’t seem to discern why.

#ask #anon #newmann #pacific rim #mine #pac rim #Anonymous #ask meme

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heartwoodventures · 4 years ago

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Lightning Strikes Twice

This time, Red Argos had hit close to home. Earlier in the week Momori had brought word to Heartwood Ventures that the pirate crew had been spotted in the Black Shroud. There had been reports of kidnappings as well as rumors of one paranoid man who, being convinced he was next, had barricaded himself within his home near the Honey Yard.

It was a rainy day in the Shroud but those who had been summoned to the Company House didn’t bother to go inside. They knew they’d be leaving just as quickly as they had arrived. Instead they gathered under the cover of umbrellas in Heartwood’s front yard. The weather seemed to keep the conversations muted, subdued.

Suddenly a young midlander girl darted out from the company building, her long black braids bouncing as she giggled uncontrollably. She held a pair of red tinted glasses aloft in her hands, and she was soon followed by a very angry lalafell that came chasing after her.

“INGA. Give those back! I swear, if you don’t drop them right now...” Momori growled at the girl, who scampered up a tree laughing.

It was at that moment that Momori noticed the company’s presence, and immediately shifted to her professional composure.

“Hello. Ahem. Thanks for coming today. Nice weather we’re having.”

Lumarto kept his eyes on Inga as she ran off, clearly used to it. "Dreary, but aye." he said, glancing back to Momori.

A ripple of agreement moved through the group.

The lalafell wasted no time and began to explain the situation at hand. Red Argos had been seen in the Shroud. Two Honey Yard workers have disappeared and a local madman claimed he was the next to go. When there was noise among the group in favor of paying this supposed madman a visit, Momori made it clear she thought that lead was a waste of time. It was a strange situation, to be sure. But the authorities had said that Ser Stone, as that was his name, had a history of grand delusions.

"Well, if he's not what you want to pursue, who then?" Muneshige gruffly asked.

The Raen swordsman made a few of their company nervous. He was loud, brash and always seemed to be itching for a fight. There was little doubt that if there came even the slightest whiff of the possibility of violence during this endeavor, he’d charge at it like a bull at the sight of the color red.

"Two other leads. Could ask workers at the Honey Yard, see if they know where Argos is hiding this time. Or even Little Solace. I am aware the pirates are....somewhere, in the Sylphlands, though exactly where is uncertain." Momori explained.

"Sylphlands..." He repeated, seemingly mystified by the name.

Zorah shook her umbrella a bit, closing it up as the rain finally stopped. "I like the Sylphs. Cute little creatures."

"Creatures? Are they...native to this wood?" Muneshige was definitely curious now.

Aislinn weighed the options, considering which one would bring them in contact with the pirates the quickest. Because, ultimately, it was the pirates she was after. "Aye, and if we know the pirates are in their lands, I say we go there."

"Whatever you choose, I will be tagging along....virtually, of course.” Momori produced a handful of the modified linkpearls and passed them out among the group, explaining to those who had yet to see the devices how they worked. “For the unaware, aside from normal linkpearl functions, this device captures data about an image and aetheric levels at the time of taking it. Press the button on its side to snap a photo. It’ll save the last one you take.”

With that done, she dove into debriefing the crew on what she had learned from the information they had collected during their last endeavor. She paused in particular on the matter of the Allagan artifact, the Helm.

“Now, the artifact. The Helm. It’s not so useless after all! The crystal at the center of the artifact has unlocked its capabilities. Unfortunately, the snapshot Lumarto took has too much noise in it. If you could get a photo of just the crystal at the center, before the ritual has happened, I would better be able to pinpoint what it’s composed of.” she said with a look to the miqo’te.

"Something that strong and heavy with aether wouldn't be so easy to approach just like that... depending on who has it, at least..." Luma said, scratching his head as he tried to make heads or tails of even the realistic nature of such a request.

He wasn’t wrong. What Momori was asking simply wasn’t feasible.

Aware of this fact, Aislinn shifted a wry glance to Lumarto as he stood next to her. "Ask if you can get a close-up shot next time. I'm sure they won't mind." she said, all but deadpan.

Lumarto glanced at her and scoffed.

“I believe in you.” Momori returned. Also deadpan.

Aislinn shook her head at the lalafell.

From there the talk devolved into more discussion as to the origins of the Helm, the artifact’s history and it’s possible purpose.

"Do we think the elements surrounding that in the center correlate with the brands we found?" Lumarto asked, glancing back at Inga in the trees before rubbing at the burn on his hand. "If so, there may be more missing that answer the puzzle."

Momori nodded at Luma. “This one carries the brain cell, I see. Yes, the brands, the artifact, the core...they’re all linked, somehow.”

Thankfully, the rest of them refused to rise to the bait. Zorah bit her tongue while it took a considerable amount of self-control on Aislinn’s part not to roll her eyes. Hard.

“We use our scant resources wisely.” Rolanda quipped.

The lalafell flipped to a different page in her journal, where she had sketched two marks. One shows the sigil of fire, and the other, earth. Both are surrounded by six wings.

“The mark of fire was found burned into a skeleton’s wrist. The mark of earth, currently found on young Inga. Both recovered from Red Argos’s old campgrounds.” Momori glanced at Inga, the young midlander girl who was busy climbing in the treehouse.

Zorah looked toward Inga, "Is she going to be buried alive? Is that the hint?"

"Haha, who knows? Not us, not yet." Momori smiled.

Zorah blinked, ears flattening. "Well, hopefully we'll prevent that."

"As for the rest, let me be brief. I showed the Yellow Jackets Aislinn’s photo. The one she took of Aiswyda’s evil twin. No dice. Perhaps if we found more evidence..."

Aislinn compressed her lips together at the mention of the intractable Yellow Jackets.

"Now, I leave you to your work..." Momori said, sending them off.

The group traveled through the Shroud, the journey blessedly uneventful, until they arrived at the small camp at the very edge of the Sylphlands. Little Solace. There were sylphs galore and none of them seemed particularly concerned or alarmed. At least here, all was well.

Muneshige was taken aback, really, the forest of the Black Shroud was nothing like he'd ever seen out east, and the mystical aesthetic of Little Solace and its small population briefly captivated him. But only for a moment, for he was already looking around for signs of strong opponents, "Well, this is quite a location..."

Two slyphs by the red tent were deep in gossip. Others flutter about, warming their cabbage bodies by the campfire.

Zorah clapped her hands together as the band arrived. "Look how cute they are." She spoke quietly, reaching for her chocobo’s reins.

"First order of business was to gather information, yeah? These gossipy little creatures are sure to have heard a word or two in the forest." Lumarto said, getting down to business.

Aislinn tucked her gemstone into her pouch as the carbuncle dissipated. Looking around, she noted the general air of calm around the camp. "Don't seem to be too agitated. But aye, we should probably ask around. See if they've heard anything." she said in agreement with Luma.

Zorah had dismounted and now nodded, stepping forward, "Oh most likely. Let's go talk to those ones." She gestured to the sylphs near the red tent.

As the Company approached, they overheard snatches of conversation. Giants. Gunfire. Komuxio’s secret sauce. Nosey outlanders. They turn towards the group, now aware of their presence.

"Hm. I'll let you handle the talking." Muneshige huffed.

Zorah smiled, bowing her head to the two talkative Sylphs. "Hello! Might we inquire further about this gunfire?"

Aislinn raised a hand in greeting from just behind Zorah’s shoulder.

The sylph on the right crossed her arms. “Walking ones ask with much rudeness! This one prefers more polite company.”

"Polite or humorous? If I recall, you and yours prefer outlanders with hilarity to offer?" Lumarto said to the sylph in question.

Zorah’s ears flattened, the smile disappearing. "I do apologize," She spoke quickly, heat rising in her cheeks, letting Luma continue.

The slyph nodded eagerly at Lumarto. He seemed to have struck a chord.

Aislinn dropped her head. "Dancing. I bet it's dancing." she said under her breath.

Lumarto shuddered at the thought. "Dancing..." Luma said. He began doing his best impression of a dance he would do for his son Rohmio; ignoring the embarrassment.

Rolanda quickly joined in with a dance of her own. Aislinn watched the two for a moment before she inhaled a breath and steeled herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance. She could. Very well. But it was rarely something she had done in the presence of others. But, dancing it would be. She joined in and like Lumarto, tried to ignore the embarrassment.

The slyph clapped her hands together excitedly. “Walking ones have pretty dances! What about those two?” She looked at Zorah and Muneshige who still had not joined the dance.

Muneshige was not going to dance. In fact, he began to distance himself. He didn’t want to be seen with these weirdos.

Lumarto tried staring over at Zhora amidst his dancing. "Hurry and dance so we can stop being in this ridiculous state..." Luma muttered, clearly at his edge.

Zorah shook her head and hurriedly joined the trio.

The slyph seemed appeased by the dancing. “Hehe, such moves. What can this one do for you?”

Aislinn stopped almost immediately, her cheeks aflame. "Oh, thank the Twelve."

Lumarto stopped dancing, and cleared his throat. "We were hoping you had some more information about that gunfire you heard? We're looking for... bad... outlanders?... Metal machinery, pirates, etcetera..." Luma said, questioning the sylph.

The slyph nodded. “This one has seen the green giants and their small, gun-bearing mascots. This one mostly stays out of the Sylphlands, but has an idea of the direction that they went.”

Rolanda noticed everyone had stopped dancing and stopped as well. "That was surprisingly fun."

Lumarto nodded to them, opening up a small journal and jotting down the Sylph's words. "And where did they go? Further northeast?"

Aislinn touched the back of a gloved hand to one heated cheek and then the other, listening intently to the exchange.

The sylph nodded again. “This one heard a big wind fly overhead, northeast. And then saw many of them enter and exit the Sylphlands.” The other slyph interjected. “And /this one/ saw a big group of them split from the rest! Deeper into the woods!”

The miqo’te nodded to them both, smiling lightly. He added the notes to his journal. "So two groups? Do you know where those groups might be now?" Lumarto asked.

"The ones that split away...perhaps they did so to start another ritual. Much like last time." Aislinn hummed in thought.

Lumarto nodded to the woman’s train of thought, agreeing with her.

Despite distancing himself, Muneshige still listened in on the information. If all else failed, he could just follow the group. The rumor about many somethings and a big creature...that sounded like it could be fun. Hopefully.

The two slyphs looked at each other, and then looked to the party. “This one...is uncertain. But this one can lead walking ones to where the split happened."

"Please if you wouldn't mind, you're being such a great help right now. I'll be sure to return by to repay the favour." Lumarto said, closing his journal and stashing it away.

One of the sylphs, the braver one by the looks of it, nodded. It fluttered ahead and beckoned for the party to follow. The other stayed behind.

As they ventured deeper into the Sylphlands, they all felt the air grow thicker. It was as if there were sparks in every breath. The slyph carefully helped the party avoid any monsters and patrols, and finally came to a halt at an intersection. “This one last saw the outlanders here. This one...is scared.” It looked left and right, and then fluttered back to the safety of Little Solace.

Aislinn turned and looked off to where the little slyph had left a trail of dust in their wake in their haste to return to Solace. "Well, then." she scanned the forest around them, keeping a careful eye out.

There were clearly two paths. One that headed further north, and another that headed east. Nothing but lush, deep forest surrounded the band, and all around them were the ominous sounds of aggressive wildlife and giggling sylphs, touched by Levin.

Lumarto made sure to thank the Sylph for its help before pressing against the pearl attached to his collar. "We followed a helpful sylph to where they last saw the potential pirates or garleans; basically, we have a lead. Two paths ahead of us with the differing states.” he reported to Momori.

Muneshige glanced down each path, the giggling more or less an irritant, "Well, pick a path. I've half a mind to just start cutting things down."

Somehow that came as no surprise to Aislinn.

A crackle. Momori’s voice came through. “I’m unfamiliar with the Sylphlands. Perhaps scout the area, or split the party?”

"Splitting sounds best, we can cover more ground and ease the search." Lumarto said, looking to the group for agreement; or for any issues.

"So who wants to interrupt a ritual and who wants to chase an airship?" Aislinn asked with a measure of black humor.

After some discussion it was decided. Khora, Muneshige, Zorah and Aislinn would track the airship while Lumarto and Rolanda would follow the pirates that had traveled north, further into the wood.

"Sounds good. Lumarot, we must be cautious, we won't have much backup." Rolanda told the miqo’te.

"Last time we encountered the airship it was chalk full of Pirates and Garleans, Muneshige. So you'll have your hands full." Lumarto informed the Raen. Most likely in a bid to advocate caution.

Muneshige nodded, "Finally, something of actual interest."

Aislinn glanced between Lumarto and Muneshige "Or....we could maybe not? Maybe reconnaissance first."

"-You- can do your recon. I'm not here to sit around." Muneshige returned loftily.

It had been worth a shot.

"Considering what you found back then, talking first is better if she's there." Lumarto said to Aislinn, offering a rather concerned look.

Aislinn returned the look and with that, the parties split, each following their own leads. Rolanda and Lumarto disappeared into the dark of the deeper forest heading north while the rest made their way east.

Lumarto held his hand to his collar, speaking with the group, his voice crackling over the linkpearl. "Remember, we need to take a picture with the device if we come across anything. Considering our numbers now, we should get a lot of evidence." He paused. "...Someone should probably take Muneshige's before he breaks it..."

Aislinn gave a derisive snort.

Zorah looked toward Mune, holding her hand out. "Hand it over."

Muneshige made no effort to keep the device to himself, and tossed it towards Zorah. "Take it. I've no interest in these...devices."

The Ritual

As Rolanda and Lumarto headed north, they could hear....footsteps through the undergrowth. Up ahead they could see a large patrol of pirate seawolves, transporting a large, covered cart. It was in that moment, the worst possible time, that Rolanda stepped on a stick. The pirates all looked towards the source of the sound.

Lumarto immediately held Rolanda back some, pulling her behind a nearby piece of lumber to hide their bodies from the nearby patrol. "Be careful next time... there are all sorts of natural traps like that lying around..." Luma said, catching a breath before letting out a soft sigh. "We're hidden, but we can't see much from here."

"I am normally quite agile, I do apologize. I will be quite careful. We need to get into a better position if we're to have any hope of discovering something useful." Rolanda whispered.

Lumarto nodded, peeking around the lumber and trying to best decide about their next choice of action.

The pirates muttered among themselves, unnerved. But they continued to travel north, lugging their heavy cargo close behind. For a moment, both Rolanda and Lumarto seemed to catch sight of something strange. Did something under the carriage's cloth covering just move?

"Good gravy that looked like a person in there! Let's follow them and see if we can stop this." she hissed.

"Follow them /carefully/" Luma added to Rolanda, choosing to stick to areas with cover as they tried to get a better look; or discern if their hunches were correct about the cart.

Rolanda glared at Luma's back as she creeps forward. "CAREFULLY!" she whispered to herself. She followed along a few paces behind the miqo’te.

As the two trail the cart without being noticed, they could overhear bits of idle chit chat exchanged between the pirates. “Don’t know why we go through all this trouble, finding special folk...but if Kurr says it's worth it, then it must be so.”

"So this answers the question of the contents... they are probably the source of kidnappings too..." Lumarto whispered over to Rolanda, "I don't know if they are more patrols up ahead, but if we both take one we can probably save a few souls... or just wait it out and find out more... I'd rather save a life if I could."

"Agreed. We have an opportunity to possibly save someone here, I think we need to take it. If we must flee afterwards, so be it. Perhaps we can be quiet and avoid alerting the others." Rolanda replied.

After a moment’s consideration, Lumarto turned to the Au Ra. "We can't just sneak and get them out... and there are only those two pirates... we need to act now before they meet up with more." he said, readying his rapier before pulling out a small focus by his hip. "What do you say?"

"I can start by loosing an arrow at the guards from cover, and you can move in and take them by surprise while they are distracted. What do you think?" Rolanda suggested.��

"I think that sounds like a good enough idea, so let's go with that." Lumarto said, facing the group. "Shoot. I'll come from behind." he added, already breaking away from Rolanda as now was the time to act, not talk.

Rolanda drew a deadly looking arrow and nocked it silently. With a nod to Lumarto, she pulled back on the bowstring. She took a deep breath, and loosed an arrow at the first guard, quickly moving to draw a second to mop up whatever remains.

Lumarto approached from behind, dashing forward as Rolanda fired. His rapier impaled the distracted pirate from behind.

The element of surprise was on the pair’s side. Rolanda’s arrow pinned the pirate to the ground, while Luma’s thrust hit true. They weren’t dead, but they were pinned to the ground by the blows. “Aye! Leviathan’s scaly arse!”

Before they were given a chance to call for aid or make more noise; Lumarto held his focus to the butt of his rapier and hurled a rough rock to both heads of the pirates to knock them out cold. The effort saw to it that both of the pirates were knocked out cold.

"That's that." Luma said, sighing some as he sheathed his rapier before quickly hopping atop the cart. "Lets see here.." he carefully took hold of the ends of the tarp before lifting it slowly to the side.

Underneath the tarp were two hyur, their arms and legs bound. Both had a sack over their heads, and feebly struggled against their bindings. As clear as daylight, a brand on each of their wrists. Purple, and the symbol of lightning etched in the center.

He stared at the two in the cart, carefully taking the sacks off their heads to let them get adjusted to the light before offering a sigh of relief. "We're here to help, hold on." he explained, taking a knife from his belt and cutting one hyur's bindings off; moving onto the next after the first had been freed.

"I can take these hyur to safety if you can help me carry them to the edge of the camp. My whale should easily be able to hold us all" Rolanda said as she shouldered her bow.

Lumarto nodded to Rolanda, then glanced back at the hyurs. "That would help, but we gotta be careful still." he said as he checked the two over.

The two hyur flopped around, as if struggling on instinct. But they seemed to be in a trance of some sort, violet eyes aglow. One of them muttered vacantly... “She calls for us...Our lady.”

"This doesn't look good. I doubt we will be able to keep them quiet" Rolanda murmured.

Lumarto nodded. "I'm not about to cover their heads again with the sack, but we have to try our best to get them away from here at least... This kind of trance is not going to go away immediately; especially in this highly aetheric area." he said, carefully taking one of them and carrying them on his back. "Try your best to carry them, if we struggle you go and fetch your whale and I'll wait for you."

Rolanda did as he said and carefully lifted the other hyur over her shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

As they made their escape they could hear the faint sounds of fighting and gunfire in the distance. It sounded as if the other party had run up against Red Argos in a bad way.

And indeed they had. While Lumarto and Rolanda were freeing the victims they had found from the clutches of the pirates, the party of four had tracked the airship headed east, and had managed to hide just as they came upon a small patrol of garleans and pirates making their rounds.

From their hiding spot, Aislinn peered further into the forest. Patrols appeared to be staggered all along the route ahead. She could see bodies moving between the ancient trees.

"Suppose the airship lies that-a-way." she said quietly before looking back towards the others. "If we stay to the shadows we should be able to get closer. If we're quiet." she added, eyeing Muneshige like he was a loose cannon.

For his part, Khora made every effort to remain quiet upon Aislinn's recommendation. "If there is anything one should know about me, it's that I'm am not very discrete." He admitted before quickly following Aislinn’s glance toward Muneshige. "Yeah we're screwed..."

She inhaled a breath. Was the quiet and subtle way even worth it? "Or...some of us could cause a distraction while the others slip through?" she suggested.

The Raen of course, cared not for stealth. He stood from the grass and began walking towards the thick of it, utterly unafraid of the sheer number of soldiers. He drew his blade and stuck it into the ground, "Hey hey HEY! What's goin' on here?!" He -bellowed-, throwing away all subtlety, "Looks like there's a party here, and I wasn't invited?!"

"Gods." Aislinn hung her head and wiped a hand over her face in utter exasperation. “Right. Guess we're going with option #2.”

From her hiding place next to Aislinn, Zorah's ears flattened. "It's always an Au ra...." She muttered, shaking her head.

The ink upon Khora’s arms began to burn a bright orange, and with a flick of his wrist, so did the steel of his blade. "And here we go!" The Miqo'te yelled at the top of his lungs while lunging forward.

The patrol turned to look at Muneshige and Khora, before exchanging bewildered looks. Who were these random guys, challenging them to battle? It was suspicious, either way. The two dressed in Garlean blacks drew their guns, while a seawolf pirate drew a rapier. The last pirate hung in the back, making a call on a peculiar black linkpearl.

Aislinn resolutely stayed where she was, low to the ground, hiding. If the Raen wanted to call down every garlean and pirate in the area, she wasn't going to stop him. She was, however, going to wait for her window of opportunity. Idiot.

"Alright, let's get to business! Akaitaiyo thirsts for blood!" Muneshige yanked the sword from the ground and charged in with Khora, finally something interesting was happening!

The garleans fired off their guns at Muneshige, while the pirate dashed towards Khora, rapier drawn.

Muneshige charged -directly- towards the closest gunner he could find, apparently caring not if he got shot, winding back his blade and swinging wide and hard, with enough force to cleave through bone. The bullets simply glance off what little armor he wore, causing minor bleeding in his side.

Deft was perhaps the wrong word in which to define Khora’s movements. He still needed work on his up-front-and-personal skills. The pirate's ability with the rapier caused Khora to stumble back and nice little poke upon his left arm.

As the scuffle began in earnest, Aislinn took advantage of the chaos to nod at Zorah and moved low through the undergrowth, maneuvering further into the wood. The Seeker nodded and followed behind her, keeping low to the ground.

With the help of the boys’ distraction, Aislinn and Zorah made it past the occupied patrols and soon found themselves deeper into the woods. They found a place to hide, which overlooked a /large/ gathering of garleans and pirates. Below, next to the grounded airship were also two elezen with their heads covered, surrounded by several open crates of ...flower petals?

Zorah looked down at the gathering, slowly taking in the scene before her. Seeing the crates of flower petals, at least she hoped that was what they were, she immediately had the urge to jump in them. She kept her composure, however, ears flickering as she listened around her. It was then that she finally noticed the two that looked like possible prisoners and glanced questioningly at Aislinn.

The highlander leaned forward, peering down at the gathering with a flummoxed expression. Flower petals? "The brands we've seen have petals but...I assumed it was symbolic." she murmured to Zorah. Aiming her aetheric linkpearl at the gathering, she snapped a picture and continued observing the activity below.

One of the Garleans put his hand to his ear, and afterward, directed a large patrol of pirates and men away from the camp. The ones that stayed behind quickly begin to usher one of the prisoners onto the ship. They seemed to be making preparations for a quick liftoff.

Zorah leaned forward, ready to push herself off the ground as the group left. "Now, we can get in and out quickly between the two of us."

Aislinn eyed the activity below. "Nymeia's Blood." she cursed, under her breath. Pressing the linkpearl she attempted to alert Khora. "There are a lot more headed your way." she said before nodding to Zorah. "Let's go."

Disturbingly, there was no reply forthcoming to her warning. She tried not to think of why that might be as she and Zorah slid down the overlook and snuck towards the airship. But Zorah clearly thought the same, as she kept glancing back towards where they had left Khora and Muneshige, trying not to feel sick to her stomach.

It was then that they heard the explosions. They came from the direction of the fight. Aislinn turned toward the sound in alarm. Glancing towards Zorah, she hesitated. Torn. The dogged part of her wanted to press on. It hadn’t been her decision to charge the bloody patrols, after all. Damn it all. She gritted her teeth and continued on, sneaking into the camp, and headed straight for the crate of flower petals. Zorah’s ears flicked as if they were on swivels, listening to every little sound as the two crept close to the crates.

From their vantage point they could see that Red Argos had moved one of the prisoners onto the ramp of the airship, but the prisoner was putting up quite the fight, and distracting the remaining gunners. The other remained by the flowers, sobbing silently.

Zorah had grabbed one of the crates, pausing as she heard the sobbing close by. She felt and overwhelming need to return to the fight immediately, but she couldn't just leave this one here. She glanced toward Aislinn as she set the crate down, reaching for the hood over the prisoner's head, ready to shush him before he'd give away their presence.

The hooded elezen turned towards the sound of shushing, but he couldn’t see anything due to the bag over his head. Meanwhile, they could hear the angry yells, echoing throughout the airship, and heard a few words. “Hurry...Just go...We’ll find more...It’s about to begin!”

Those words sounded like they were out of time. The smart thing to do would be to take some of the petals and go. But Aislinn found she just...couldn’t. She gave a sharp shake of her head and reached out, grabbing the hooded victim by the wrist. "Please. Listen. Stay quiet and come with us. We can get you out of here." she whispered hurriedly.

Zorah took only a handful of petals, and then helped the prisoner up to his feet.

The victim allowed himself to be dragged to somewhere hidden, and not one second later, four gunners dashed out of the ship. Upon seeing that the other prisoner is no longer by the crates, they let out a string of curses, and instead busy themselves by moving the crates of flowers onto the ship. The ship flickered, rose into the air and then disappeared, the cloaking enabled. A strong gust of wind, and they were gone…

From their hiding spot, Aislinn watches the ship flicker and disappear. She lets go a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. That was close.

Zorah glanced back as the airship disappeared, pressing her lips together before turning back to Aislinn and their one rescued prisoner. "We need to check on the guys." She spoke quietly.

Aislinn looked to Zorah and nodded. "Go. I'll help this one and follow as soon as I can." she said, reaching up to undo the hood that still blinded the elezen.

Zorah nodded and without wasting a moment she raced back toward where the fighting had been, "Khora?!" She yelled out as she ran, looking through the disheveled earth they had been fighting on. Her ears flickered slightly, hearing familiar voices and following them until she eventually came upon Muneshige and Khora. "What the hells..." Zorah growled.

Both of the men looked worse for wear but Khora clearly took the brunt of the fighting. He lay in the grass, clutching his side and bleeding from a number of rapier cuts.

"Don't worry too much, he's alive. Might not have made it if I hadn't ran back here with him, had a whole firing squad on our tails." Muneshige smirked up at the woman from his spot next to Khora, "Can't say I've been shot this many times."

Zorah’s ears flattened at Muneshige’s words, as she knelt between them. One hand came to lay on Khora gently while she looked over the Au ra's own body. "Well, you can say that now, I suppose." she shook her head with a sigh, "We need to get you both to the medics. Those bullets need to come out of you." Zorah turned to Khora, pressing her lips together. "Are you -trying- to die?"

Khora struggled to raise his arm, trembling as it extended upward to give a thumbs up. "I'm okay!" There was an obvious strain in his voice.

This elicited a grin from Zorah and she rolled her eyes at his comment. "Yeah, you look like shit, actually."

Khora trembled amidst a weak bout of laughter. "Yeah, well I feel like shit." Blood ran down his arm and soaked at the cloth of his outfit from the stab wounds.

It was then that Momori’s voice crackled over the linkpearls. "Lumarto. What's your status?"

"We stopped a cart from hauling two Hyur prisoners further into the Sylphlands and are currently carrying them back to the entrance." Luma said, the effort in his voice lending credence to his words. "They seem to be in a trance; violet eyes, lightning brand on their wrist, probably because of the lightning aspect in these woods." He continued, glancing at his side where Rolanda was holding her own as they just made it to Little Solace.

“A brand and violet eyes....?” There was a long pause from Momori’s side. “Like Inga.”

"Inga has amber eyes, do you think their eye color is related to their aspect?" He added. He was muddled with thoughts and kept trying to figure out the links; he had his own side mission in all of this after all.

Momori. Aislinn. Lumarto. It seemed each of them had their own goals in all of this.

“She has the mark of earth. Perhaps...” Momori was cut off as everyone in the area around the Sylphlands found themselves caught in a sudden and violent earthquake!

The tremors tore at the earth, pulling ancient trees upward in the shifting topography. As if that wasn’t enough, a foul wind picked up, whipping through the dark forest. One dripping with lightning.

Rolanda and Lumarto stumbled in their race to safety.

Muneshige jolted as the earth beneath him suddenly heaved, his pain now twofold with all the shaking, "GRAGGH! Kami forfend what is this?!" The wind picked up, and the sound of thunder followed, "Is this some kind of calamity...?" He couldn't tell what was going on now, what was happening?

Zorah quickly knelt to the ground as the earth shook. "I ... I don't think so.."

Further east, Aislinn and the elezen man were taken by surprise. "Seven hells!"

Aislinn’s first instinct was to hit the ground but the groaning and cracking of the ancient trees around her quickly divested her of that idea. Instead she reached into her pack and tossed her battered gemstone in the air. When her carbuncle popped into existence, she wasted no time explaining and simply pulled the elezen onto it after her and took to the air.

The two victims Lumarto and Rolanda had saved began to twitch violently, bodies contracting in an unnatural manner. They screamed to be returned! For an end of suffering! Something...was released from them. A torrent of lightning aether flew out from each of them and shot to the north. And afterwards - they went limp. They breathed, but they may as well have been dolls.

Lumarto had held tightly onto the Hyur. The spastic shuddering and screams caused his ears to sharply curl, paining him to hear the shrieks. The high concentration of aether sent a tingling sensation up his back before he felt the body grow limp. He worried immediately for their well being before hearing their breath. "We have to hurry, I don't like the sound of this!" Luma exclaimed, trying to set a faster pace for Hawthorn Hut.

After what seemed to be forever, the earthquake finally stilled. A tense calm returned to the forest, and all the parties had time to catch their breath. But, to the aetherically sensitive, they could feel that the land had changed. Scars that were felt but unseen.

Aislinn tried not to focus on it at the moment, instead steering her carbuncle towards the safety of Hawthorn Hut to deposit her passenger and ask if it would be alright if she returned later to ask him some questions.

Understandably, the elezen seemed extremely shaken. As she landed just outside the main building of the outpost, he dismounted and fell to his knees almost immediately. But he nodded in reply to her request. “Of course, my lady...my savior.” He looked incredibly grateful, but sad as Aislinn helped him to his feet and guided him into the safety of the hut and one of the waiting beds. “...they took my sister. Since you saved me, perhaps on your travels you might...?”

Aislinn looked up, her eyes meeting Lumarto’s as she sat the elezen down. The miqo’te stood his own vigil over two unresponsive bodies lying in their own beds. "Another one?..." Lumarto said, clearly looking troubled as he glanced at the two Hyur. "The two I saved are speechless after that quake..."

The elezen's words left Aislinn with a stricken expression. His sister. She could only imagine what she would do if something like that had happened to Ren. Her recent bouts of flaring temper would be nothing in comparison. A quaint tempest in a teapot.

She shook her head. "I...yes. Yes, of course. We're..." she tried to order her thoughts and reminded herself she needn’t put herself so far in the man’s shoes. "The Company I work for. We're tracking these pirates. I will try my best to find your sister." she said, softening the edges from her voice. "For now...try to rest. I'll visit you and we can talk more later."

“Sorry, I was interrupted by another quake...The others dropped off their pearls at the company. What is your location?” Momori came through on the pearl.

"Hawthorne Hut, we managed to rescue three of the four prisoners; an elezen and two hyurs. We're just leaving them with the menders here for safekeeping at the moment." Luma replied before looking over to the Elezen in the bed who could speak. "We'll come back later like Aislinn said... for now rest, we'll try and get everything sorted out."

In the middle of everything, Lumarto stepped back a bit to get both the Elezen and the two Hyurs in frame for a pearl capture; the Elezen sitting up and shaken while the two Hyurs remained motionless; their brands visible in the picture. "We have some pearls for you too, should deem helpful."

The elezen weakly nodded at Aislinn and Luma, but he showed the two of them his wrist. “They put my sister and I in some sort of...dream. I can’t describe it, but after I woke, I found this on my body.” A light teal marking, easy to make out on his dark skin. A symbol of ice, but markedly simpler than the others they had seen. No wings surround this one…

The highlander woman glanced down at the mark before passing Lumarto a meaningful look. It appeared they had some inkling as to where the pirates were headed next.

Lumarto nodded over to her in response, "Try and keep that hidden... we aren't sure its importance yet, but for now it may be a bad target on you." he said, reaching into his pocket and handing the man a small woven bracelet; blue fabric twisted into itself. "Wear this around your marked wrist, and just rest; when those other two wake just let them know to also rest and relax, either of us will return to check on you and make sure you're safe."

The elezen nodded, accepting the bracelet and winding it tightly around his wrist. “Yes, I...” He looked at the two sleeping hyur. ”I don’t know who they are, but I’ll take good care of them.”

With that, Aislinn and Lumarto gave the man parting words of comfort but once outside the hut, their troubled expressions returned. They didn’t need to put it into words. They each knew there was more trouble ahead. This whole thing would get worse before it, hopefully, got better. If they succeeded. If.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood plots #Into the Tempest #momori mori #Lumarto Wetyios #Rolanda Deschain #Muneshige Hakuuchi #Aislinn North #Zorah Velaceras #khora velaceras

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