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mysteryshoptls · 3 months ago

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SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Idia: …Hrrm, I can't find the 15th Anniversary special Star Rogue diorama.

Idia: I told Sam-shi I'd look for it myself, so I wouldn't have to deal with him talking to me, but… There's way too much stuff here to look through!

Idia: And I came all this way 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get it online.

Idia: I can't go back empty-handed after telling Ortho that there's no way I wouldn't get my hands on one as a number one fanboy!

Idia: Oho? This shelf over here has a ton of specialty figures and other hobby stuff… EEHHHH!?

[products fall of shelf]

Idia: OUCH! OW OW OW!!

Jack: Woah!? That was close! Some of the falling goods almost scraped by my nose…

Idia: I-I-I didn't do anything! They just fell off on their own since they were thrown haphazardly onto the shelf!!

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Huh? No one said it was your fault or nothin'…

Jack: …What the, he's already gone! Idia-senpai… He looks slow and frail, but is he secretly actually pretty nimble?

Jack: Oh, man, and he just left everything on the ground. Ugh, I guess I'll have to…

Jack: …Hm? Isn't this box the one Ortho mentioned today…?

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: …Haah. And in the end, I just ran away… Without a Star Rogue diorama…

Idia: It's all because they sold it first-come-first-serve, instead of pre-order... Not my fault what happened earlier…

Idia: If I went back now, that terrifying beast of a man from Savanaclaw might still be there. I'll try again tomorrow…

Idia: K. Now that I've decide that, time to get all the annoying dorm work stuff done!

Idia: Uhhh, so, the notices I have to give the other dorm students are… Oh, right, the equipment replacement schedule, and the AC inspection time.

Idia: Just in case, I'll add "Important", "Good News", "Response Required", and "Read Immediately" to the subject… K, sent.

Idia: It sure is hard work bein' a Housewarden. Thought it's not that bad since I implemented a chat app once I became Housewarden.

Idia: Efficiency above all! No face-to-face meetings! Conserving my own energy is the best way to do things!

Idia: Finished all my Housewarden tasks, and even took a shower, as annoying as it is. I'm awesome. I'd give myself 100,000,000 points out of 100.

Idia: Nice, so… It's finally me time!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Ah, I got a message from Ortho… He's spending the night in the first year rooms, huh.

Idia: Then, I guess I can just game all night by myself! Fheeheehee!

[beep, beep!]

Idia: Hm…? What's with this reminder…? Man, right when I was getting into things.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Idia: Ugh.. Right, that was a thing. You don't really see paper surveys anymore. Let me think, it should be around… Yep, here it is.

Idia: Uhhh, so what, they want to know what I'd like improved? I mean, kinda late to ask a third-year, isn't it? I can't really think of anything.

Idia: Sides, there were stuff I used to not like about the dorm, but I already made upgrades to all that stuff.

Idia: We soundproofed the walls and floors, installed commercial-grade AC, and the dorm-wide servers are of my own technical specs.

Idia: To live the perfect shut-in life, we can't not have walls that can't take loud shouting, or ACs that can't keep overclocked PCs cool, so～

Idia: …Ah, wait a mo'. I just thought of one issue I got. "There's not enough electrical outlets"!!

Idia: This kinda stuff needed specialized qualifications to do, so it's not like I coulda bought the parts and DIY it.

Idia: I'm using a power strip for now 'cause I have to, but I hate how the wiring just looks like spaghetti. Even a master wiring tech like myself can't stand a sight like that!

Idia: Oh, I just thought of one more thing. "I want to have the low-capacity breaker replaced"!

Idia: It's so weak that the breaker flips just 'cause I try to have 4 computers, the server, a 3D printer, microwave, and electric kettle all plugged in at once!

Idia: I mean, I'd set up a UPS (uninterruptible power supply) system in case of emergencies, so my computers and server was fine, but...

Idia: Because of that, my plan to add an AC unit and a refrigerator in my room went out the window. That was a nightmare. Oh, and…

Idia: …Dyehehe. I said I couldn't really think of any, but it's hilarious how the ideas keep flowin' out.

Idia: I'll attach some of the numbers we have on the cost of estimated damages by having Ignihyde students continue to use those useless breakers.

Idia: The Headmage is pretty much influenced by profits, so. If I explain how it's necessary to get better equipment, then he might listen to improvement suggestions.

Idia: Nice, mission clear. Time to watch some new anime episodes while grinding levels in my gams.

Idia: See, nothing beats watching anime while mindlessly leveling… Ooh, I pulled a rare one!

Idia: I thought I'd be bored of this anime 3 episodes in, too, but it's actually starting to get interesting!

Idia: Well, now that the mood's getting good, I just gotta let loose! TIME FOR A SNACK PARTY!!

Idia: …Huh? I'm out of my favorite snack. Ugh, I completely forgot to re-order some more when I ate all of it last time.

Idia: If only the Mystery Shop had 24-hour delivery service… Maybe I should add that to the survey?

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I should just focus on the anime. NOTHING'S GONNA BRING ME DOWN!

Idia: Woah, the animation's clean…! They're all movin' so smoothly… Maybe the production team changed this week?

Idia: I'm getting pretty into the main theme song, too! Heehee, fheeheehee…!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Urrghnn… Aaarghh…

[～♪]

Idia: Gah! Urgh, what's that noise…? What time is it right now…?

Idia: Urk! Everything's so bright, I can't see anything… How's it morning already…? Wait, before that, where'd that noise come from…!?

Idia: Huh…? Ortho…? Weren't you spending the night with the other first years…? Oh wait, is this just a message…?

Idia: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"…? Oh, right, today's my birthday! I completely forgot, since there wasn't anything to look forward to…

Idia: I'll just write back… Thanks, Ortho.

Idia: Urp…! But now I feel a bit sick…! And my whole body hurts…!

Idia: I fell asleep running my games, and I'm just stiff all over. Can't I just go move to my bed and go back to sleep?

Idia: Nah, if I end up crashing and forget to login and get all the birthday login voice lines, I'll never recover. Gotta wash my face or something…

Idia: Woah, I can see how crazy my bedhead is reflected in the monitor! I think this every time, but why does my hair end up this bad whenever I fall asleep at my desk?

Idia: Kinda looks punk, but that's totally a different vibe from my usual, lawl.

Idia: Meh, my hair can be whatever. Not like anyone looks at me, anyway.

Idia: It's a pain to go all the way to the washroom… I'll just use magic like I normally do. I'll chill the water, then.

[splash!]

Idia: WHEEEEW, THAT COLD WATER HITS JUST RIGHT!!

Idia: Normally, I'd just leave it here, but… My face feels so dry after pulling that all-nighter.

Idia: But I'm all good. I'm a functioning nerd, so I know how to fix it.

Idia: Ta-da～ I don't really get it, but here I go with the number one most popular all-in-one cream～

Idia: Putting on lotion and moisturizer one at a time is a waste of time. Just plap it on, and ta-da, done. Next is my clothes…

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I'm not gonna change. Now all I have to do is to jump into all my games and collect the birthday login voice lines. Fheeheehee.

Idia: Perf, I've gotten them all for now. …Huh? There's another message from Ortho…

Idia: …HUH!? HE GOT THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL STAR ROGUE DIORAMA!? SERIOUSLY!?

Idia: "I was planning on picking it up in the Mystery Shop after classes, but if you can't wait, you can go pick it up whenever"…?

Idia: Well, I gotta go right now, then! That means I have to finish getting ready.

Idia: I don't really wanna go outside, but… I can't keep my poor Star Rogue waiting! Hyah!

[Idia magics hair and clothes]

Idia: K, bedhead fixed. And now, onwards, to the Mystery Shop!!

[Main Street]

Idia: Fheeheehee…! Look at this craftsmanship…! It looks just like the scene I imagined as a kid!

Idia: Ortho… Did you look for this Star Rogue diorama because you knew I was sad I didn't get it?

Idia: Wheew～ The best thing in the world is a little brother who thinks the world of his older brother, and is really good at search functions～!

Jack: Hm? Is that… Idia-senpai? Good morning.

Idia: GYAAAAAA!? J-Jack-shi…? Why are we making contact two days in a row…?

Jack: I mean, it's not really anything, but… I heard from Ortho yesterday that today was your birthday, is all.

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Happy Birthday. So, uh, did you get what you were looking…

Jack: Huh, he's already gone! Ugh, I don't get him at all.

Requested by @farfalla049.

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud #jack howl #twst idia #twst jack #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: ortho #mention: crowley

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silent-stories · 2 months ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: After years of building your band’s reputation as one of the most influential in the metal scene, you and your bandmates move to Los Angeles. What you don't expect, however, is that your new neighbors are none other than Bad Omens, and that Noah is a huge fan of your band.

Series masterlist

The moment you walked into the music store, the scent of wood, metal, and leather hit you, immediately transporting you to memories from your childhood. The sound of strings being tuned, the hum of drums being tested, and the rhythmic tapping of keys filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile.

It was like stepping into a sanctuary, the kind of place you’d lost yourself in for hours when you were younger. Back then, you used to wander between the rows of guitars, basses, drums, and amps, feeling like the world outside could wait. It was always easier to breathe in a music store. The chaos of the world seemed so much quieter when surrounded by instruments.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the atmosphere. The walls were lined with guitars—some old and worn, others gleaming with fresh paint. Amps of all sizes were stacked along one side of the store, while the percussion section was neatly organized just ahead. It was impossible not to be overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia.

Noah, walking in beside you, caught your eye with a grin. “Looks like you enjoy this place,” he said, his voice light, but there was an understanding in his tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, running your fingers over the smooth surface of a guitar, “it takes me back."

Noah nodded, a quiet smile on his lips.

"I'm sure I'm gonna come back here often." You added.

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this today,” Noah said, looking around. “Let’s find that drum head and those sticks, yeah?”

You nodded, already feeling that familiar thrill of being surrounded by equipment you had no real need for but wanted anyway. You led him toward the percussion section, where you found a display of drum heads. They were all neatly stacked, with each one bearing different designs, sizes, and materials.

“Okay, so Jake mentioned he needed a new drum head,” you said, scanning the selection. “And he loves his gear to look good, so we need something that'll catch his eye. He’s really into the red and black combo these days. Literally, his entire wardrobe is those colors."

Noah’s eyes lit up when he saw the perfect one. It was a deep red with a black snake designed on it. “This one. This is perfect for him. It’s bold, but not too much. And the red and black thing? It’s spot on. I don't really know him but this thing screams Jake.”

"Oh, I like this one."

“I’ve been around Folio long enough to know what looks cool,” Noah said with a shrug, grabbing the drum head off the display and holding it up in front of you. “This one’s definitely the vibe.”

He handed it to you, and as your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity shot through your hand, making your pulse quicken. You smiled as if nothing had happened, your mind already working on what else you needed. “Now we need the sticks.”

You walked a few feet to the stick display, where a wall of different brands and styles greeted you. You picked up a few pairs, testing their balance in your hands, feeling the weight of them.

“Red and black?” Noah asked, still standing by the drum head section.

“Yeah,” you said, tossing a pair of black sticks back onto the shelf and picking up a set with a bright red finish. “These could work.”

Noah walked over, inspecting them as he grabbed a matching pair. “They feel good. Solid grip, and the weight’s pretty spot on. They’re not too light, but not too heavy either.”

"Since when are you also a drummer?"

"Trust me, you don't want to see me play. I only know a few things."

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “I hope he's gonna like these.”

You walked to the counter, briefly talking with the cashier and then you both made your way out of the store. The late afternoon sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a soft golden hue over everything as you stepped back into the parking lot.

As you climbed into Noah’s car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. There was something about being in a music store that always grounded you, and today, with Noah by your side, it felt even more meaningful.

He slid into the driver’s seat, tossing the keys onto the dashboard.

“Thanks for helping me pick this stuff out, Noah.”

“No problem,” Noah said, “It’s always good to help a friend."

The drive back from the record store was relaxed, the warm glow of the setting sun stretching across the road as you and Noah talked. Music hummed softly in the background, a low rhythm filling the spaces between easy conversation. The city rolled by outside the car window, but you barely noticed, too caught up in glancing at Noah from time to time.

At one point, as the playlist shifted to something slower, Noah glanced over at you, his expression curious. “You play guitar, right?”

You blinked, surprised by the question but not by the certainty in his voice—like he already knew. He was a fan, after all.

“Kind of,” you admitted with a small shrug. “Alex tried to teach me a bunch of times. He was really patient about it, but…” You grinned, “He never got far with me. I’m not exactly a natural. I'm probably better with a microphone.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s not what it looked like.”

You frowned, genuinely curious. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly to the road before returning to you. “I’ve seen you play. Acoustic sets. You did that version of Ghost a few times.”

You felt a sudden, warm flush creep up your neck. “That barely counts,” you said with a laugh. “It’s just one song. And I stopped playing it a couple of years ago.”

Noah shook his head, smirking. “Doesn’t matter. You still did it. And you didn’t look half bad doing it, either.”

You scoffed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, well, I’d love to actually know what I’m doing someday.”

He didn’t reply, but his smile lingered, as if he knew something you didn’t. The music shifted again, the notes matching the golden haze outside, and for a while, neither of you spoke.

"Friend." That word kept echoing in his mind. He had said it so casually, without thinking twice. But now, it lingered with him.

It felt too much and not enough at the same time.

He had known you for just a little over a week, yet it felt like he had known you for years. And in some ways, maybe he had. But now that he was seeing you in person, talking and joking, everything felt so easy, so natural. It was effortless, like the two of you just fit. Like this was something that had been waiting to happen all along.

He loved the way you sang that song with him so much that he almost thought about taking a wrong turn to make the journey last longer. That song that in one way or another described you a little and that he knew he would never listen to in the same way again.

The front door creaked open, and Noah stepped inside his house, glancing around as he tossed his jacket onto the coat rack.

“Hey, already back from your date?” Nicholas asked from the couch, his legs stretched out lazily. He was lounging next to Matt, who was looking at his phone, but as soon as Noah closed the door behing him, his attention was on Noah.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, feeling the warmth rush to his cheeks. “It wasn’t a date,” he replied, trying to brush it off as casually as possible.

“Right, it wasn’t a date,” Matt chimed in “But you sure would’ve liked it to be.”

Noah shot him a quick glare, but his heart beat just a little faster at the idea. He didn’t want to think about that right now.

“We’re just friends,” he said firmly, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. But his voice faltered slightly.

“Yeah, you’re just friends…” Nicholas smirked, “But you sure as hell want it to be more than that, don’t you?”

Noah exhaled sharply, his brow furrowing as he leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling a little cornered by their teasing. “Hey, you two. Did you just team up against me or something?”

Nick chuckled softly. “I’m just saying,” he said, his tone light but laced with amusement, “you don’t come home with a smile on your face like that after spending time with a girl unless you’re really feeling something. And this hasn't happened in a long time.”

Noah paused. He knew what they were saying was true. He did feel something. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. It was too early for him to even figure it out, but there was no denying the way his pulse quickened whenever you laughed, the way his thoughts lingered on every conversation you had. The way he’d caught himself smiling after the drive back even if none of you was speaking.

But there was also the fact that you’d only just moved to LA. You were still getting settled, still figuring things out. He couldn’t assume anything, especially not after just one week. Besides, you had been nothing but kind to him, offering your company, your time—just as a friend. You didn’t give any indication that you felt the same way.

“She just moved here, you know? She’s probably just being nice, trying to make some friends. I don’t want to mess that up.”

As Noah moved toward the kitchen, he heard Nicholas mumble, “Dumbass,” under his breath, and Noah couldn’t help but shake his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t ready to admit anything, not even to himself—and for now, he’d take it slow.

You took a deep breath as you climbed the stairs, still holding the bags in your hands. You entered your room and set the items down on your bed. First, you carefully unpacked the drum head, the red snake design standing out vividly against the plain brown wrapping paper. It was perfect for Jake, and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

You set it aside before moving on to the sticks. They felt solid, the red finish a nice complement to the rest of the gift. You placed them neatly next to the drum head, the items now ready to be wrapped.

Once everything was in order, you headed downstairs, hoping to get some rest before you had to start working on the shirt designs again. As you entered the living room, you spotted Alex lounging on the couch, his usual smirk in place as he glanced up from his phone.

"So," he started, his voice teasing, "What did you do today? Besides, you know, buying gifts for our lovely drummer?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you took a seat on the armrest of the couch. "I just went out with Noah," you said, trying to keep your tone casual. "We went to a music store to pick up some things for Jake's birthday."

Alex’s eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you and Noah spent the day together, huh?" he teased, leaning forward slightly. "Was it a… fun outing?" He dragged the words out, clearly enjoying how the situation sounded.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "It was just a trip to the store, Alex," you said, trying to play it off as no big deal. "He was just being kind, helping me pick out the right stuff for Jake."

Alex’s grin widened, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh, sure. Just 'helping' you out. Look at you, getting all cozy with the neighbor." He leaned back against the couch, still smirking.

You shook your head, laughing lightly. "It’s not like that," you insisted. "We’re just friends. He’s just a nice guy, and I needed help picking out some gifts. That's all."

Alex raised an eyebrow, his teasing tone never faltering. "Friends, huh?" he said, dragging out the word.

You shot him a playful glare, not willing to admit anything. "I swear, you’re impossible," you said, standing up from the couch. "It’s literally nothing. We just went out to get some stuff for Jake’s birthday. End of story. I don't like him that way."

Alex chuckled softly, clearly enjoying teasing you. "Sure, sure. If you say so."

"Alright, enough," you said, rolling your eyes. "Now that I’ve dealt with your teasing, I’m gonna work on the merch. In my room. Alone."

You heard the blonde's laughter follow you until you closed the door behind you.

In the following days, things passed by in a calm, pleasant rhythm. You spent a few afternoons wandering around Los Angeles with Sam, Jake and William, exploring the city in ways that felt both casual and exciting. One afternoon, you strolled through Melrose Avenue, checking out the cool, vintage stores that lined the street.

There was this one shop, Wasteland, that had the most amazing collection of secondhand leather jackets and band tees from decades past. You spent a good chunk of time browsing through the racks, finding the occasional gem, and laughing at some of the ridiculous fashion choices from the ‘80s that seemed to make their way back in style.

Another day, you went to The Last Bookstore in downtown LA. The towering shelves of books, the hidden nooks, and the whimsical vibe of the place were exactly the kind of escape you craved when the city felt a little overwhelming. Sam had picked up a graphic novel while William flipped through a music history book, but you found yourself drawn to the vinyl section, running your fingers over the old records with a soft smile. It was a little treasure trove, tucked away in the heart of the city, and you found a kind of peace there among the pages and music.

As you walked through these different parts of the city, you were starting to notice something. More and more often, people would recognize you—fans of the band, or sometimes just music lovers who happened to spot you. It wasn’t something you had ever been used to, but it was happening now, and you couldn’t help but feel a little thrill every time someone would call out your name.

It would start with a hesitant wave, and then someone would ask, “Hey, are you Y/N from Dark Waves?” Or “Are you a singer?” And before you knew it, you’d end up posing for a selfie, or signing a quick autograph, exchanging a few words with a fan. It was always brief, always pleasant, but it made you feel something inside, like you were on the right path.

It was a little surreal, honestly. Growing up, you never really expected to be recognized in places like this—walking through crowded streets, sitting in cafes, or shopping in quirky stores. Yet there you were, in LA, where it seemed like everyone had a chance to run into someone they admired. Each time someone approached you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. It reminded you of how far you’d come, of the countless hours spent working on music and building your career, and most importantly, it reminded you of the people who had helped get you to where you were now—your fans.

They were the reason you were living this life, the reason you had the privilege of playing music for a living. They were the ones who had supported Dark Waves through everything, and now, it was starting to feel real. You weren’t just in the band anymore—you were part of something much bigger, something that had a life of its own.

You had continued your routine of leaving food for the stray cat, just outside your garden. Every morning, without fail, the food would be gone, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction knowing the cat was eating. There was something comforting about it, even though you didn’t know much about the cat or its life. You just hoped that, at least for a while, it could count on the food you left out.

One night, as you sat on the couch, flipping through your phone, you heard a noise outside. It was faint at first, just a soft rustling, but it was enough to catch your attention. You froze, listening, and then the sound came again—louder this time. It was as if something had knocked into something else. Curious, you stood up, slipping into your comfortable hoodie to shield yourself from the chill of the night air, and made your way toward the door.

You stepped outside, the darkness of the night surrounding you. The street was quiet, save for the occasional distant car or the rustling of leaves in the wind. Your garden was still, and the only thing that seemed out of place was a small vase that had been knocked over by something. Your gaze darted toward it, and that’s when you saw him.

The orange cat, the one Noah had talked about, was there, darting away from the mess it had caused. His fur was a bit scruffy, and he looked thin—almost gaunt, as though he hadn’t been eating enough. There were patches of dirt on his fur, and his eyes darted nervously, as if he were expecting someone to chase him away. He was hungry. You could tell. And he looked like he hadn’t had an easy time of it.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, calling out softly to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Come here.” You crouched down, hoping to show him you meant no harm, that you just wanted to help. But before you could even take another step, the cat whipped around and bolted, darting across your yard toward the fence that separated your garden from the next.

“Hey!” you called after him, instinctively trying to catch up. “It’s okay, come back.” But your words fell on deaf ears. In the blink of an eye, the orange cat had jumped up and over the low brick wall separating your yard from the neighboring house—the one you’d started calling "Omens house". You watched helplessly as he disappeared behind a little brick wall in the corner of their garden.

Just as you were about to turn back toward your house, a low creak behind you made you jump. You spun around, heart thudding, to see the door of the Omens house opening slightly. Standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, was Noah. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, his voice thick with sleep as he drawled, “Are you trying to break in and rob us, or…?”

His long hair was a tousled mess, falling in loose waves over his shoulders, and his t-shirt hung rumpled, like he had been asleep minutes ago. His eyes, heavy with sleep but laced with amusement, regarded you with a sleepy kind of curiosity. The sight of him—barefoot except for a pair of ridiculous flip-flops with fake green grass covering the soles—almost made you burst out laughing.

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “No, no robbery plans tonight, I swear.” You gestured behind you toward the wall. “The cat—the orange one you told me about. He was in my yard, knocked over a vase, and when I tried to calm him down, he jumped into your garden.”

Noah chuckled, stepping closer until only the iron bars of the gate separated you. He squinted toward the wall you pointed at, as if expecting the cat to appear just because he was looking. “Yeah, he does that. Skittish little guy. He’ll come out when he’s ready. He always does.”

His calm certainty made you smile, but your eyes drifted down. You couldn’t resist. You pointed to his feet, your lips twitching. “I'm sorry. Are you seriously wearing those? And you call me 'weirdo'?”

Noah followed your gaze, then shrugged unapologetically, a slow, crooked grin spreading across his face. “Hey, these are genius. Every day is a walk in the park. Literally.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, but it didn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, pointing at his flip-flops like they were proof of a crime. “Who even buys those?”

“I do,” he said, unfazed. He stepped back, making a grand show of spinning around like he was modeling high fashion. “Jealous? Don’t lie. You wish you had a pair.”

“Yeah, sure,” you managed, shaking your head.

His grin lingered as he rested his arms on the top of the gate, leaning slightly closer. “But about the cat, you’re doing good leaving food out. He’ll come around. He just needs time.”

“I hope so,” you murmured, your voice quieter now. “He looked so hungry tonight. I just…” You trailed off, unsure how to put the thought into words.

Noah’s expression softened, his voice warm. “Who would’ve guessed the singer of Dark Waves had a soft heart?”

You shot him a look, a grin tugging at your lips. “Who would’ve guessed the singer of Bad Omens walks around in grass flip-flops?”

His smile broke wide, laughter rich and easy. “Touché.”

For a moment, you stood there, the silence between you comfortable. The night pressed darkly around you, but the small pool of light from the porch seemed to hold you both in a world of your own. His hair framed his face in messy locks, and even though he was standing there in grass flip-flops with sleepy eyes, you couldn’t help noticing how pretty he was. It was ridiculous, really, but undeniable—effortless in a way that made your breath catch.

He yawned, a soft, lazy grin still lingering. “Well, goodnight, weirdo.”

You smiled back, feeling lighter. “Goodnight, nerd. Try not to trip on your lawn shoes.”

He blinked, a laugh bubbling up again. “Nerd?"

“If you keep calling me weirdo, I’m going to keep calling you nerd. Those are the rules.”

“Those aren’t real rules.”

“They are now,” you said with a satisfied shrug.

"Alright," He let out one more laugh, and as you turned away, the warmth of his voice lingered long after you reached your door. In the dark, even with the ridiculous flip-flops, he looked unfairly pretty.

The late afternoon sun was dipping low as you walked with Jake to the familiar front door of Noah's house.

You found the gate ajar and Jake didn't even hesitate when he pushed it open, entering their garden.

"This is the right time they report us for invasion of private property." You muttered, following him.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Jolly. His tall frame filled the doorway, and his eyes flicked between you and Jake with mild curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, offering a polite, if subdued, smile. "Hey guys."

Jake grinned. "Hey, man. We came over to invite you guys to something. Got a minute?"

Before Jolly could reply, footsteps sounded behind him, and then Noah appeared in the doorway. His eyes landed on you, and for a second, it was like there was just the two of you. He leaned against the frame, his long hair falling loosely over his shoulders. His gaze was soft as he took you in.

“Hi,” he said simply, his voice low, almost intimate.

“Hey,” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jake’s eyes darted between the two of you, a slow, exaggerated sigh escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Anyway,” he said loudly, breaking the moment, “I’m having a thing at our place Wednesday night. My birthday. Nothing big, just drinks and hanging out. You guys should come by.”

Jolly exchanged a glance with Noah, then nodded. “Sounds good.”

“You don’t need to bring anything,” Jake added. “Just yourselves. And Folio. You have to bring Folio. It’s just for fun, get to know each other, have a few drinks.”

Noah’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “We’ll let the others know. But yeah, I’m in.”

Jolly nodded. “Same here.”

“Awesome,” Jake said, clapping his hands together. “It’ll be good to chill.”

The conversation lingered just a moment longer and as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel Noah’s gaze follow you until the door finally shut behind him.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

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#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x y/n #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x musician!reader #noah sebastian x singer!reader #x reader #wtms #when the music speaks

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goosewriting · 2 years ago

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Hello! I loved your "baby 🥺" fic and was wondering if we could get a version of it but with Donnie?

Another bebe?🥺 (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

summary: a turtle baby suddenly appears in the lab, and she looks suspiciously a lot like Donnie

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: none, just fluff!, soft Donnie

word count: 2k

A/N: the moment everyone's been waiting for lol this time Donnie gets better lab equipment xD

More “Baby 🥺” versions: Leo | Raph | Donnie (you’re here) | Mikey

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Donnie was in his lab, because where else would he be? He was jamming to some EDM music in the background while tinkering with some project of his. You sat in front of him, starting to get bored. He had invited you over to show you his latest masterpiece, but it hadn’t worked yet, so now he was trying to fix the issue. Which according to him would be a quick fix, but he had been at it for over half an hour now, cursing under his breath.

“You better leave all the tools how you found them,” he said without looking up, as he could hear the light clattering.

“I know your system,” you reassured him. “You've explained it in great detail several times, don’t you worry.”

“Then, can you pass me the screwdriver, please?” he asked, stretching out his hand in your direction.

You reached out to pick it up from the box but it fell from your hand, rolling over the edge of his work table. You flinched slightly, ready for the clatter it would make as it fell onto the floor, since that screwdriver was modified by Donnie and particularly heavy. But the sound never came. Instead you heard more of an electrical zap and a whoosh.

Taking a couple of steps to get around the table, you saw that there was a hole on the floor where the screwdriver would have been. It was circular, formed by several zapping rays of a yellow-ish glow. You couldn't see through it, but it was clear that the tool fell in there. You merely blinked at the sight in front of you, unable to say anything.

Not getting a response from you, Donnie also moved from his spot, leaving his work on the table, and walked over, now standing in front of you on the other side of… whatever that was.

“Huh,” is all that he said.

“What is that?” you asked after a moment. “And why are you not alarmed?”

Donnie scoffed.

“It’s obvious it's some kind of portal,” he explained, turning around to his wall of machinery, tapping something on this brace device.

You raised your hands and eyebrows in a ‘well, sorry I didn’t immediately recognise it as such’ gesture, even though he had his back to you.

“I need to analyse it,” Donnie informed you as he turned around. “Better get a little further back just in case–”

Suddenly the screwdriver appeared again, coming out straight out of the portal, a tiny turtle hand attached to it.

You both stood in silence and shock, watching how a little turtle tot climbed out the portal carrying the heavy tool, finally getting to sit on the floor with a huff. The baby had a little ribbon tied to her head, which hung a little askew because of her efforts. She looked at you with a smile, then at Donnie, and squealed in glee, holding out the screwdriver with both hands towards him, as if offering it to him.

Then the portal zapped loudly, and shut closed. The little turtle seemed unfazed by this, still waiting for Donnie to react.

Donnie opened and closed his mouth several times but no words came out. You approached the baby and crouched down next to her.

“H-hey there, little one,” you greeted her, and she cooed. “Where did you come from, hm?”

You took the screwdriver from the little hands, placing it on the table, and picked up the baby in your arms.

“Huh, look at you, aren't you cute?”, you said as you inspected her chubby cheeks and big eyes. “What’s your name?”

The baby cooed and babbled as you moved the ribbon up her head to where you thought it was meant to sit. You fixed your grasp on the turtle to carry her better against your hip, in the process stroking over her back with your hand, and your brows raised at the sensation.

“Donnie look,” you pointed out to him. “She has a soft shell, just like you!”

You turned back to him and he was still in shock, unmoving. But you had been with him long enough to pick up on the tiny changes in his face to read them. Given the twitch of the corner of his mouth, you knew his mind was not only racing, but he already had a plausible hypothesis for this situation.

“Spit it out, Don,” you said with an amused sigh. “You already know what happened, right?”

“I think I do,” he answered.

Donnie approached you and the baby, guiding you to a different part of the lab, where he instructed you to place her in a little open chamber, which you knew he used to analyse materials. You tilted your head at his request.

“Do you really need to know her molecular composition to tell she's a turtle like you?” you deadpanned.

“I just want to know for sure if she’s who I think she is–”

“Whoa!” came a voice from behind you suddenly. “You two sure work fast!”

You both turned around to see Leo, Mikey and Raph at the entrance of the lab.

“We leave to get food and you already had a baby?” Leo joked.

Heat spread on your face, burning on your cheeks.

“We- Wha-??” you stumbled over your words. The baby in your arms squealed in glee, apparently very on board with Leo’s comment.

“That’s not how it works, Leo,” Mikey said, grabbing his brother by the shoulder. “Babies aren't made in labs, they–”

“Yeah, they grow in a cabbage,” Raph interjected. “Everyone knows that.”

You all went silent.

“I’m obviously joking!” Raph called, Leo and Mikey erupting in laughter.

While you were busy trying to get your heated cheeks under control and everyone was making fun of Raph, Donnie had taken the little turtle from your arms and placed her into the chamber. He left the front panel open so she wouldn't feel trapped.

There was a loading bar on his screen, labelled „retrieving genetic material“. The bar progressed fairly quickly and after a couple of seconds the message appeared: „Analysis successful: Congrats, it‘s a girl!“ accompanied by the sound of a party blower, and followed by some caricatures of you and Donnie's faces surrounded by confetti.

At that, the laughter died down and all eyes fell on you.

“Oh my god, called it!” Leo exclaimed.

“Shut up,” you told him, but the embarrassment in your voice didn’t make it sound particularly stern. “Donnie, clearly that's not possible, right?”

As you asked this, you turned around to see the turtle in question averting his eyes, a bit tensed up with his shoulders slightly raised, and hands curled into fists. Under his mask you could see a furious blush reaching to his neck.

“Eh?” is all you managed to mutter out.

“Clearly she came from a different timeline or dimension, but…” Donnie started, bringing up his hands to his face to try and hide from you. “Yeah, it's true.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, he picked up the little turtle, who had been following the whole exchange with great interest, looking from one person to the other. Donnie then moved to sit where he had been earlier, at the table, with the little turtle on his lap, looking lost in thoughts.

You shooed the other three out of the room, much to their dismay, to get a moment alone with Donnie. He was being a bit uncharacteristically quiet and … non-rambly, science-wise.

Grabbing your chair, you brought it to the other side of the table to sit next to him. Meanwhile, the baby turtle had discovered Donnie’s abandoned project on the table and her focus shifted completely to it. From his lap she could reach properly and started investigating the device. Donnie didn't seem to mind at all, which was sounding yet another alarm in your head. Instead of reprimanding the smaller turtle to leave his things alone, as you would have expected, he watched with soft eyes how she skillfully turned the device in her little hands, babbling to herself as if trying to make sense of his contraption.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked softly, placing your hand on his arm.

“I’m just…” Donnie took a moment to find the right word. “Stunned, I guess.”

“How so?”

“I’ve tried imagining this a couple of times,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, then clicked his tongue. “Scratch that, I think about this all the time.”

“About what?” you questioned, and your heart skipped a beat; does he mean what you think he means?

“You’re really gonna make me say it out loud,” he mumbled, lifting his eyes to meet yours, then heaved a deep sigh. “About us. What life will be like with you by my side.”

He then gestured to the little turtle still tinkering with the device.

“And about having kids, apparently.”

“Y-you think about our future together?” you said almost in disbelief, your chest tightening at his confession.

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately. “I can't really imagine a future without you in it. O-only if you want to stay, that is.”

“Obviously I want to!” you said and held his hand. You were leaning in, about to give him a kiss, when the turtle tot exclaimed in glee. And you could have sworn it sounded like she was trying to say “eureka”.

Before Donnie could stop her, she detached two cables, turned the thing around and connected them on the opposite side. You three looked at it expectantly to do something, but nothing was happening, so she gave it a smack with a grunt, and that's when the lights went on and it started whirring.

“No way! You fixed it?” Donnie exclaimed happily and held the baby under her armpits, lifting her up, to which she cooed and blew a raspberry.

With a smile, you leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow on the table.

“Well, it’s no wonder she’s smart,” you spoke. “She’s got good genes, after all.”

Donnie’s gaze came to meet yours and he smiled as well, one of his rare soft ones, and your heart started racing all over again.

Just as you were about to ask what you should do with her, there was some zapping behind you, the same zapping you had heard from the portal earlier.

“Donnie is gonna kill meee,” came a familiar voice as a figure crossed through the portal into the lab, and you couldn’t believe your eyes: it was an older version of Mikey.

When he spotted the baby in Donnie’s arms, his shoulders slumped visibly in relief.

“You little rascal!” Mikey scolded her. “I look away for three seconds and you go off running!”

The baby stuck out her tongue at him, trying to hide behind Donnie’s arm.

“Heh, looks like brains aren't the only thing she inherited from you,” you tell Donnie with a mischievous grin.

“Whatever could you be implying,” he remarked sarcastically.

Mikey went to pick up the baby but she cried out, her arms doing a grabby motion towards you, and you could feel your heart tightening a bit at the sight.

“Hey now, it’s okay, little one,” you tried comforting her as you held her tiny hands. “We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

Donnie tensed up his jaw as the baby was taken from him, and you couldn’t help the sad smile on your face. Mikey shot you an apologetic look, and turned back towards the portal.

“This never happened, we were never here,” he said over his shoulder with a wink, and stepped through the whirls.

The portal zapped closed again, and not a second later three heads peeked into the lab through the door.

“Is everything alright?” Raph asked.

“We heard voices just now, was someone here?” Leo questioned as he looked around.

“Where's the baby?!” Mikey said, bringing his hands to his head.

“It’s okay,” you calmed them down. “She's back where she's supposed to be.”

Donnie’s hand came to hold your own under the table.

“We’ll see her again,” he promised, more to you than the others. “Hopefully soon.”

And then you knew the heat that prickled your cheeks probably wasn’t gonna leave any time soon.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] ( i really hope i got everyone! ) @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o, @xnorthstar3x, @yarabutterfly, @isometimeswritestuff, @spacelesbianfanclub, @lieutenantlashfaz, @dybynyght, @snipersiniora, @je-m-appelle-yam, @lunar-lover1, @normal-internet-user

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drive360 · 2 months ago

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sayruq · 11 months ago

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GAZA CITY, Palestinian Territories: Emergency doctor Amjad Alewah once saved lives at Al-Shifa hospital, the largest medical facility in the Gaza Strip. But after 200 days of war between Israel and Hamas militants, he now stands in its ruins. “We are now in the middle of the rubble of this great hospital,” Alewah, who returned to inspect the now charred emergency reception room, told AFP. Following the outbreak of war, Al-Shifa became a safe haven for the thousands injured or fleeing the Israeli onslaught on the Palestinian territory. “Every day, we received thousands of wounded,” he said, recalling having to work without enough medical equipment or fuel for electric generators. “We had picked up the habit of spending all our time here, as if it was our main residence.” But war came to Al-Shifa, with Israel launching multiple raids on the medical facility after accusing militants of operating a command center from tunnels below.

“Hospitals are entitled to very special protection under international humanitarian law,” [UN Human Rights Chief Volker Turk] said. Alewah said he was saddened by the destruction of a “cornerstone of health for the whole north of the Gaza Strip,” calling on the international community and World Health Organization (WHO), which visited Al-Shifa to assess damages, to help rebuild. “We’re lacking operating theaters to treat patients, particularly patients on dialysis or those with heart conditions.” A rehabilitation medical committee has already been put in place, its head, Marwan Abu Saada told AFP, adding that they were working on building an emergency department in another part of the hospital complex. “We will not lose hope,” he repeated, despite acknowledging the difficulty of the task at hand.

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kcg69 · 5 months ago

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length overall: 729 feet

length between perpendiculars: 711 feet

breadth molded: 75 feet

depth molded to spar deck amidship: 39 feet

draft (designed summer draft): 26 feet, 6.5 inches

gross tonnage: 13,632 tons

deadweight capacity: 25,891 gross tons

service speed: 16 mph

power: 7,500 shaft horsepower

engine manufacturer: Westinghouse Electric Corporation

registry number: US 277437

hull number: 301

The Edmund Fitzgerald was designed to carry taconite iron ore pellets from mines near Duluth, Minnesota, to steel mills in the Great Lakes region. The ship was noted for its luxurious interior, including deep pile carpeting, tiled bathrooms, leather swivel chairs in the guest lounge, and two guest staterooms for passengers. It featured advanced nautical equipment for its time, including a large galley and a fully stocked pantry.

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The wreck was located in deep water, split into two large pieces. The sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald led to changes in Great Lakes shipping regulations, including mandatory survival suits, depth finders, positioning systems, increased freeboard, and more frequent inspections of vessels.

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msakintechnicalservices · 2 months ago

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bees-making-art · 6 months ago

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Beat of the Heart, Chapter One: Electric Feel

This is the start of my silly little LoganxGN!Mutant!Reader story! It will loosely follow the plot of the first x-men movie. Basically just switch out Jean for reader as the center of Logan's romantic affection. Reader has a described power but other than that no physical description. Reader is also a medic/scientist like Jean and Hank. This is also cross posted on A03 if you want to read it there!

“So, do you know what happened to the new arrivals?” you ask Jean, who walks beside you to the in-school infirmary and research bay.

“Not much. I haven't had the time to talk to Scott or Ororo yet. All I know is that one is a teenage girl named Rouge and the one, we will see now, is a man.”

As you reach the door, you give a little hum to show her you're listening. You press your hand to the sensor. The device takes a minute to scan your palm before flashing green and opening the doors.

Beyond the door is a sort of ‘mud room’ that holds lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, and other lab safety clothing. You and Jean both grab your respective lab coats (which have your name embroidered on the inside) and a pair of disposable gloves. Once the equipment is on, Jean compels the glass doors open with her mind, and the two of you walk in.

Immediately, you see the man Jean was speaking of lying on one of the many infirmary gurneys. Completely ignoring him for a moment, you gather a clipboard with pencil and paper to take notes and fill out the general form you have for everyone in the school. Only when you are beside the gurney with your note-taking supplies on the metal table do you really take in his features.

The first thing you notice is that this man is handsome, but you bury that thought in favor of taking actual notes. The man has dark brown hair that is tousled but seems to have been styled into two little animal-ear-like points. His skin is a light tan, which is clearly due to working in the sun. The man's eyebrows are naturally shaped into a furrow, giving even his resting face the appearance of scowling. And on each side of his lower jaw are mutton chops that truly only a man as handsome as him could pull off.

His chest, arm, and stomach muscles are well-defined. You guess this is from the same work that gifted the man his lovely tan. Said places are also covered in a smattering of dark brown hair. It curls out from the center of his chest to the edge, down the valleys of his stomach, and disappears under his pants and over his forearms.

During your inspection, Jean puts little circular, sticky sensors on the man's chest in preparation for the examination machine. Once the sensors are in their correct places, she takes his blood pressure before grabbing the pen on the table to scribble down his results.

You try your best to stay focused on the task at hand and not be distracted by this stranger's attractive visage but it's difficult not to when you have to focus on looking at him. Jean takes notice of your ogling and can't help herself but to smirk, giving your bicep a little nudge. You turn to face her, immediately annoyed at the expression you find on her face.

“Looks like someone is enjoying their research,” she teases in a quiet tone. She uses her powers to hand herself a syringe from the metal table next to the bed, inspecting it to ensure it wasn’t tampered with or damaged.

You roll your eyes at her comment, write down your observations, and fill out the parts of the form you can. The clipboard is set to the side as you grab one of the man's arms, lifting his hand up to inspect it and the pocket of his elbow for any scars or markings. You don't give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you simply elect to ignore her comment.

Jean notices this and giggles as she grabs the man's other arm, lining up the syringe with the crook of his elbow. You place the hand you were holding back onto the bed. With clipboard back in hand, you write that he only has a few faint scars across and in between his knuckles, evidence of fighting but none of injection drug use.

The two of you make eye contact, and after a shared nod, Jean begins to slowly press the needle into his skin and pierce the vein.

What happens next occurs in mere seconds. First, the man's eyes shoot open and flicker between you and Jean. Then he's standing up, pulling his arm away from the shot, the other hand curling around Jean's neck. He’s now standing behind her with his syringe-free arm wrapped around the other to secure it.

The man's eyes dart across the room before landing on you. You mentally note to write down later that his eyes are a deep brown with a speck of Hazel. But nonetheless, you raise your hands to your head to show you have no intent to harm the man.

“Hey! We’re not trying to harm you! I promise we were simply checking you and possibly treating you for injuries that you might have sustained from the crash and fight. We mean you know harm,” you try your best to convince the feral-looking man.

His eyes flick around your face and then the room once more. A noise that sounds more like an animalistic growl than what a human makes leaves his mouth as he lets go of Jean with a shove and rushes out of the room.

Jean coughs and catches her breath, her hands gently holding her own throat as you lower your hands back to your sides. You let out a sigh as you pick up the tossed syringe, placing it next to your clipboard on the table. You walk to Jean and put a comforting hand on her back.

“Well, he’s going to be a fun one,” you grumble, only half sarcastic. Jean’s laugh in response makes a smile cross your face. You pat her back before returning your hand to your side. She stands up straight and smiles at you in return, a quiet ‘thank you’ whispered into the back of your mind. You nod then look to the door where the man had left.

You shake your head and peel off the plastic gloves sticking to your hands, tossing them to the trashcan nearby. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you place it onto the gurney nearby. Jean follows suit as you walk towards the glass door, beridding herself of her lab clothing and taking long strides to catch up with you.

“At least he has a pretty face to look at,” you hum, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. A giggle shoots out of Jean, tossing her head back in the laughter.

“I knew you were checking him out!” Jean teases, making your cheeks redden.

You wave her off as the two of you exit out the second pair of doors, facing the long hallway to the stairs and elevators that lead upstairs. The two of you decide to split up. Jean checks out the rest of the basement while you head upstairs to look through the rest of the mansion.

As soon as you reach the floor level of the estate, a familiar, comforting voice enters your mind. ‘The new mutant is in my office. Please meet us there for proper introductions,' Charles speaks. You assume that he sends the same message to the rest of the X-men.

Luckily for you Xaviors office is only a few minutes walk from where you are currently. You waste no time in walking up the stairs past the many students and down the hall till you reach the ornate door at the front of the professor's office, a little golden plaque displaying his name about a foot and a half above where the handle is.

You turn the handle and slowly push the door open, taking care not to accidentally hit the new mutant if he was standing right in front of it. Once you see that he is not there, you open the door all the way, leaning left against the door frame. You cross your arms in front of your chest. A smirk spreads across your face as you notice the jacket the man has seemingly ‘borrowed’ from the changing room in the basement.

It's a blue-tinted medium gray zip-up jacket. And even though he's turned away from you, you know that there is a blue X-men patch on the left side. The hoodie seems not fully zipped as the fabric is not fully covering his shoulders and slipping down his back, perfectly showing just enough skin to tease your imagination. And god, does it look amazing on him like that.

Charles gestures to you with his left hand, a permanent soft smile on his lips. The man turns to face you. And it reveals just what you were expecting; the zipper is only up to about his sternum. Zipped up just enough to not show off everything but still down enough that you can see his clavicle and his chest that's painted with dark brown hair. It makes you want to slide your hands into the jacket to feel what you cannot see.

But hearing your code name coming from Xaviors mouth pulls you out of your thoughts. You push them far back as you give the man standing before you a little wave, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the room. The deep, woodsy color is something you are slowly becoming acquainted with. A similar smirk to yours is plastered on his face as his eyes sweep over your form. If you didn't know better, you would say he was checking you out.

You put your hand out in front of you, presenting it to Logan for a handshake.

“Or you could just call me by my real name, Y/N. It's nice to meet you again.” This gains you a chuckle from the man and a playful eye roll from Charles. The jacket-donned man clasps his slightly bigger hand to yours and gives a half-hearted shake.

“Names Logan, some call me Wolverine, but I'm willin’ to guess you already knew that, sweetheart,” the tone in which he says the pet name sends a shiver up your spine. And his damned smirk paired with it isn't helping your goal to not get flustered.

So, why not return the favor? At least in some way. Using a bit of energy you always had stored away just in case, you give Logan a little shock. It’s nothing more than one of those prank hand buzzers. But it does get you the desired result, a wince paired with a hiss as he pulls his hand away from yours.

Logan looks down at his hand to find not even a wound to be healed. His gaze turns back up to connect with yours as your smirk turns into a grin. You hold up the hand you just used to shock him, making the ‘devil horns’ with your thumb out. In between the two digits, a small, faintly purple-colored electrical current forms between them.

Logan's eyes drift to it as his hand returns to his side, then back to yours. He rolls his eyes at your unbidden glee. He tries to give off the impression he is not impressed, but you can see the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“I can control electrical currents, manipulate them to make machines do what I want. I can take their energy, store it in my body, and send it back out just like that.” You return the energy you were using back into your body, veins in your hand and arm glowing for no more than a second. Your arms are back to being crossed, along with your shoulder being pressed against the door.

Logan's mouth opens as if he is about to say something, but he shuts it as Scott and Ororo appear in the doorway behind you. They are closely followed by Jean. Who, unbeknownst to you, slips her hand into Scotts.

You move further into the room so that the other three don’t have to stand in the doorway behind you. Ororo is the first to introduce herself with a little wave and her usual kind smile. They each tell Logan their names, code names, and their powers. Jean is the only one able to show it as she lifts a pencil off Charles's desk.

Throughout the entire exchange, Logan keeps an unimpressed look on his face. But it's a little more genuine than with you. You can’t help but giggle a little, covering your mouth with your hand to pass it off as a cough. The two of you meet eyes again, and Logan's lips twitch into a smile at your actions.

Charles notices the two of you no longer paying attention to the others and claps his hands together. All the heads in the room snap to face him as he wheels around to be in front of his finely carved wooden desk.

“Y/N, since the two of you appear to be getting along, please show Logan where his room is and give him a tour of the school.” It sounds like a gentle request, but you can tell from the look on Xavior's face that he is a bit miffed at your behavior.

A blush blooms across your cheeks as you nod.

“Will do, professor,” you respond not a moment later. Your tone is much like that of a student who was just scolded by a teacher, and in some ways, your relationship with Charles was like that.

You turn to face the door to walk out. As you turn your head, you catch Jean's teasing smirk. You roll your eyes at her antics. You nod your head towards the door and only start moving when Logan follows. You only glance at him briefly as you quickly turn to exit. Storm bumps your shoulder almost imperceptibly and winks at you. You narrow your eyes in return to her gesture, waiting for Logan outside the hall.

Once he stands beside you in the hall and the door is closed, you huff and drop your shoulders from where they had been practically pressed to your ears. You feel almost like Logan is looking at you, but you don't bother checking. Taking a step forward, you begin your tour of the institute.

The air around you is filled with awkward tension. And part of you is tempted to let it stay that way lest you become distracted by Logan again. And his stupidly good-looking stolen jacket. However, despite your valiant effort, your eyes flit to Logan's face.

From his side profile, you can see his defined jawline through the facial hair and subtle frown lines that stretch from the edges of his nose to the outer corner of his lips.

Catching yourself, you return your gaze onward. You find yourselves at the top of the staircase before the entrance. You perk up a bit at the opening of conversation.

“This is the entrance to the school; you can access most of the inside areas from here. The kitchen is through there, the student dormitories are down that hallway, and the teachers are opposite. Classrooms are upstairs, as are the rest of the dormitories. Downstairs is where the infirmary, laboratory, and battle practice rooms are,” you explain as you walk down the stairs, pointing to each of the doorways and stairs to tell him what they are.

“We were holding you in the infirmary early if you couldn’t tell, but we also occasionally use it as an extra lab. We have a library and a few common rooms on this level that connect the dorms.”

Turning to Logan, you see him nod, his particular way of showing you he was listening. You flash him a grin and head to the teacher's rooms. Walking down the hallway, you pass by a few students, to whom you give high-fives as you pass.

“I'll show you the room we’re providing you while you're with us. And I’ll tell you whose room is whose in case you ever need any of us.” Logan raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't comment. He just simply follows.

The hallway is mostly just a long series of doors. However, it is occasionally broken up by large windows with couches in front of them, bookshelves, and small tables with decorations and plants on them. As you pass by the doors, you point to each, telling Logan whose room it is and how to remember it.

“These two are Jean and Scott's rooms, though usually they are in one or the other. They’re the first room, so it makes them easy to find. This room right here is Ororo’s, and Hank’s is across from it. You haven’t met him yet ‘cause he's on a mission right now, but he’ll be pretty hard to miss when he returns. Hanks always has blue fur at the threshold, and you can usually hear music from Ororo’s.”

There's a bit more hallway that you two walk before you reach your door, and by some gracious being above, where Charles decided to put Logan. You smile upon seeing the familiar door to your room.

“This one is my room,” you say while pointing at the door. “It’s probably going to be the easiest for you to remember because it's right across from where you will be staying.”

A smirk spreads across Logan's lips, and he turns to you. “And I’m sure that was by complete accident; it's definitely just a coincidence.” He nudges your shoulder teasingly as he walks to the door of his new room.

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his insinuation.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t have a say in how rooms are picked; that's all Xaviors doing. Trust me, if I had any say, I would be on the top floor with my window facing the backyard.”

Logan's smirk never leaves as he opens the door. The nod he sends your way gives you the impression that he doesn’t entirely believe you. He steps inside the room, looking around. You walk in behind Logan but stay near the door.

“All the rooms have separate bathrooms, so don't worry about sharing. Right now, all we have is basic clothes for you, but feel free to get yourself some new ones. The closet's that door right there if you do,” you point to each door after explaining their respective purpose.

The room is in its basic cookie-cutter style, which all of them start with: plain off-white walls with wood paneling and crown molding. A window facing the outside has a plain queen-sized bed right under it. All of the cloth in the room is the same cream color. It gives the feeling of a hotel.

Logan turns to face you after sitting on the bed's edge. Arms propping him up from behind and legs mildly spread.

“What? Don't want me wearing your fancy X-men clothing?” Is his only response to anything you said. You smile and roll your eyes at him, one of your hands resting on your hips.

“No, I just got the impression that you wouldn’t want to wear Scott's hoodie,” you gesture to the gray zip-up, which, in your opinion, looks better on him than it ever has on Scott. "And he won’t be too happy about it either. “

The way Logan looks at you can only be described as incredulous, disgust, and dread all rolled into one. It almost makes you laugh. But you manage to keep it at just an amused smile.

“You're just saying that to get me shirtless again.”

You give him a shrug with your hands raised, “You don't have to believe me, but I can bet you $100s that Scott's name is on it.” The man grumbles under his breath about something you don’t quite catch as he unzips the jacket and strips it off.

You’re tempted to look, but you peel your eyes away to show Logan you are being truthful and don't just want to see him shirtless. As you look away, you’re reminded again of how bare the room is.

“You can also decorate how you like. Charles just asks to keep it child-appropriate in case one of them has to come in here.”

Logan chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses Scott's jacket to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I won’t get anything too ‘adult’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says, ‘adult.’ You smile in return as you catch the jacket. You drape it over one of your arms, willing everything that you don’t blush or start glowing.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you earlier, but the laundry room is further down the hall. It has a little plaque, so you won't miss it. You know, for whenever you do get your own clothes.”

You expect him to laugh at your retort, but he gives you this quiet smile instead. Not a smirk, a genuine smile, albeit a very small one, but a smile nonetheless. It makes a bundle of butterflies spread through your chest. Much like the blush, you try your best to suppress the feelings. You don’t need your powers giving you away this early.

All he says in response besides the smile is a simple, “thanks.”

You smile wider in return and give him a little nod. You turn and exit through the doorway, turning to him once you're past the threshold.

“I’ll be across the hall or in the lab if you need anything.” You close the door behind you and walk over to your own. You let out a relieved sigh once in the safety of your room. A faint purple glow begins to emanate from your veins. A result of you releasing the hold on your powers. Once the light fades, you take a moment to collect yourself before leaving to return to the lab.

Hope you all enjoyed! I can't promise a consistent schedule but I'll aim for a chapter a week. Thank you to my friend c20w for beta reading! And credit to strangergraphics for the beautiful banners!

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floridaboiler · 4 months ago

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The SS Edmund Fitzgerald was a Great Lakes freighter built by Great Lakes Engineering Works of Ecorse, Michigan, and launched on June 7, 1958. Here are the detailed specifications and description of the ship: length overall: 729 feet length between perpendiculars: 711 feet breadth molded: 75 feet depth molded to spar deck amidship: 39 feet draft (designed summer draft): 26 feet, 6.5 inches gross tonnage: 13,632 tons deadweight capacity: 25,891 gross tons service speed: 16 mph power: 7,500 shaft horsepower engine manufacturer: Westinghouse Electric Corporation registry number: US 277437 hull number: 301 The Edmund Fitzgerald was designed to carry taconite iron ore pellets from mines near Duluth, Minnesota, to steel mills in the Great Lakes region. The ship was noted for its luxurious interior, including deep pile carpeting, tiled bathrooms, leather swivel chairs in the guest lounge, and two guest staterooms for passengers. It featured advanced nautical equipment for its time, including a large galley and a fully stocked pantry. On November 10, 1975, the ship sank in a severe storm on Lake Superior, approximately 17 miles north-northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. All 29 crew members perished, and the exact cause of the sinking remains unknown, though it is speculated that the ship may have suffered from structural failure, topside damage, or grounding on a shoal. The wreck was located in deep water, split into two large pieces. The sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald led to changes in Great Lakes shipping regulations, including mandatory survival suits, depth finders, positioning systems, increased freeboard, and more frequent inspections of vessels.

#the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald #November 10 #1975 #On this Day #On This Date #This day in History

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the-trinket-witch · 8 months ago

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ADDITIONAL ALTUS LORE

Can't believe I freakin' forgot about this 🤦‍♂️Literally spent time workshopping this with @squidwen

For a city so industrial, relying on steam and using different manners of heat to build pressure might make one think soot and smoke would cling to everything.

Not So.

Not long after the city started gaining traction in its mechanization, Those On High understood pollution and general public machinery upkeep was in order. At first the task of cleaning the city and maintaining utilities was through general hiring and freelance. Those freelancers eventually began to talk, and with a task requiring one to traverse the city's rooftops -among other places- protections were needed.

So the Sweeps Guild was born.

'Sweeps' is actually not accurate. Yes, a lot of early union members were those who cleaned chimneys. But as electricity was introduced and the city grew larger, powerlines needed inspections, parks needed pruning, streets needed cleaning and so on.

A tourist might wonder how the city keeps so bright and shining, without seeing a single utility worker wandering the streets. That's because all their work is under cover of night. Spells and specialty equipment keep their work silent so as to not disturb the neighbors. But by dawn, their work is finished and they are allowed to retreat like the stars against the morning's rise.

It's a rare chance to catch a glimpse of a Sweep. A stroke of luck, you might say. To catch sight of one at the end of their day just as yours begins is supposedly a foretelling of good luck.

A Sweep is as Lucky as Lucky can be

Taglist:

@ceruleancattail @squidwen @thecosmicjackalope @vaporvipermedia@writing-heiress

@oya-oya-okay @k-looking-glass-house @thehollowwriter @rainesol @cyn-write

@heartscrypt @honey-milk-depresso @br3adtoasty @jackiecronefield @ruggiethethuggie

@hoboyherewego @achy-boo @oreoskys @oseathepebble @oathofoaks

@tunabesimpin @hamstergal @fumikomiyasaki@valse-a-mille-temps

@hallowed-delights @kimikitti @plutos-hell @thetwstwildcard @atwstedstory

@comingyourlugubriousness @ice-cweam-sod4 @twst-the-night-away @nammanarin @scint1llat3

#Trinket's Rattlin' Bones #twisted wonderland #twst oc #albert eastwind #twstairborneafternoonevent #twst fan event #twst fanevent #marypoppins #mary poppins

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bijoumikhawal · 8 months ago

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Dakh’voh pthak

For Bad Things Happen Bingo: Toxic Gas. Additional warnings for canon typical violence and anti-augment sentiment, set in a daemon AU

Vulcan mantras are from: https://visakavuhlkansuvulcanlegacy.wordpress.com/vulcan-mantras-zhit-kohlanlar-vuhlkansu/

Read on AO3

---

Julian turned to get to the docking bay, only to immediately bump into someone, making him drop his bag.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, oh, fucking-" It was another science officer, with their own dropped bag.

"It's fine." Julian mentally winced at his own tone. "I wasn't looking where I was going." he said, more gently.

The other officer bent over picking up the bags. "And I was looking, but I ran right into you. I- damnit, I really am sorry, I have a debriefing." She handed him his bag. "This one's yours, I think. Again, I'm really sorry, if you catch me in Rec Room 5 later I'll make it up to you." She ran off.

Julian rubbed his face as he slipped the strap over his shoulder to carry it properly, but he found himself smiling a bit.

He supposed there was something nice about hearing the word "sorry" from someone who didn't know him at all.

Kukalaka wove around his feet. "We're going to be late."

"No, we aren't." After a moment of thought, Julian picked her up and started walking.

Kukalaka bristled for a moment, but settled into the carry. She was picky about anything thst could lead to someone thinking of her like "a baby"- it was a carry over for cat daemons from how people saw their pets. Many people mistook her for a Bengal or Savannah, and did not realize that her form was that of a wild cat. People still avoided touching her, of course- but just as Julian often found himself annoyed by people talking about his youth, so did she with the assumption that she was a housecat.

However, she did like to be held. Just rarely in public.

---

The building was dark. Julian mentally noted that the auxiliary lights needed to be repaired. Long shadows were cast by old storage units and pieces of equipment as he flicked on his torch.

He and Kukalaka walked slowly, carefully observing the contents of the room and the overall condition everything was in. This building seemed to be primarily storage, and disused. It wasn't especially interesting- no computer stations that he could see.

As he entered the second chamber of the building, his light went out.

Julian shook his light, annoyed. It didn't come back on. He sighed and put it back in his pocket. He and Kukalaka could see just fine without it.

There were four chambers in all, with two small refreshers and a small room Julian supposed might be an office, and a slightly larger room with a two tables indicating you could take lunch there. It took Julian about 40 minutes to make a full perimeter circuit in the dark.

He really needed to do more than just the perimeter, just in case, but to do that he'd need a light. He quickened his step as he saw the door again, and pressed the button to open it.

Nothing. Nothing? Again- nothing.

Julian hit his comm badge. "Bashir to Defiant. The door to Building H has locked. Does anyone know another way out of here?"

Kukalaka got up, balancing on her hind legs to try and inspect the door. It was silent as she looked carefully, sniffing a few times.

"Bashir to Defiant. I'm serious, I didn't see another exit on the map in the mission briefing."

Kukalaka's ears flicked. "Julian."

"Bashir to- yes?"

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, and I wish-" He paused. Then he listened again.

It was silent.

Meaning Julian couldn't hear the electrical hum he had heard nearly every minute of his life for the past several years.

"Damn." Julian's mind started racing. Kukalaka dashed off in one direction to look for another exit as Julian turned the other way to do the same.

If he couldn't hear the electricity, of course the door couldn't open. And worse; the manual override didn't work properly on some of the buildings. It was why up until now, this outpost had been used only sparingly. They had come to retrieve some cached arms, yes, but they were also helping O'Brien take stock of what shape everything was in to see how long it would take to prepare it for rigorous use during the war.

Part of Julian sarcastically remarked, well, there's one more strike against being able to use this place, as he kept walking, feeling the wall panels.

If it was just that, Julian could have waited it out. Maybe, maybe it would've been worth trying to force the door. It was too thick for him to try the phaser. But if he couldn't hear the electricity... then life support wasn't working either. And there were no stores of food or water in this building.

He forced his breathing even, remembering a Vulcan exercise he used to calm himself.

Tash-tor kashek vukhut. Tash’voh kashek heh fa-wak zahal-tor vukhut.

One of the strategic possibilities for this outpost was that it consisted of several seperate buildings, spaced each a quarter mile apart, each with its own life support and atmospheric shield. It was an attractive redundancy, especially as they likely could upgrade the shields with defensive capabilities. Combined with the lower grade technology that could minimize it's presence on radars, well.

All of those particular characteristics reminded Julian of Camp 371.

If they were lucky, the atmospheric shield was still operational, and they'd been the only ones hit. He'd use his tricorder to see before they tried whatever exit they found, obviously. Once they were out, he should be close enough to visually signal someone, since his comm badge was on the fritz. If they couldn't find an exit, they had air for a more than a week. A few years ago, he wouldn't be tense at all about it- but with a war on...

Why was his comm badge on the fritz?

Tash-tor kashek vukhut. Tash’voh kashek heh fa-wak zahal-tor vukhut.

Focus. Focus.

---

Julian had circled the building twice, passing Kuks. It was on the larger side, and even though he wasn't tired, he took a rest anyway.

He pulled his bag into his lap and flipped it open, pulling out his tricorder and clicking it on.

Well. He tried to. The tricorder screen was black. Julian squinted as he tried it a few more times.

Tash-tor kashek vukhut. Tash’voh kashek heh fa-wak zahal-tor vukhut.

This was starting to feel like too many coincidences. He'd done his pre-mission check right before the meeting, since they had to board immediately afterwards. Everything had worked fine before then.

Julian heard a tinkling noise. Confused, he looked down at his feet, then around him. He hadn't stepped or sat on anything. It was too close to be Kukalaka.

He held open his bag to put the tricorder back.

Tash-tor kashek vukhut...

Julian gagged as a horrible smell hit his nose.

He saw what made the noise. A delicate little glass vial- about the size of his finger- now broken, with a simple circuit taped to it. The circuit, it seemed, had been triggered to shatter the glass.

Julian threw the bag as far away from him as he could out of instinct.

This wasn't a matter of coincidence.

His mind went back to the other science officer. The bags.

Had someone been trying to take out the Starbase? Or- perhaps her mission, and the vial had been timed wrongly, and the opportunity to present her with failed equipment hadn't gone as planned.

He picked up the bag again, cautious, and emptied it. There was the bits of glass, a dermal regenerator, a spare phaser, a hypospray, the trauma kit, a pair of gloves, a small tool kit, and that was it. It looked like she was also a doctor.

He slid on the gloves and felt along the lining.

His heart sank as he felt a large lump and a line of stitching. He tore it open and pulled out the offending object, about the size of his palm. A mobile EMP generator.

Julian forced himself to put it down gently instead of throwing it. It was evidence. His eyes watered, and he couldn't tell if it was from the smell or not.

The atmospheric shield might still be in place. This sort of device had a limited range at this size, and there was a perimeter of breathable air outside the building. But he had no way of finding out. And whatever was in that vial meant he had no way of knowing if he'd be alive by the time everyone else had noticed something was wrong.

Julian stood up. And for the first time in a very long time, he gave into the urge to scream.

---

Kuks had come running, of course. Their emotional bond wasn't as strong- consequences, consequences- and it was easy for one of them to have growing emotions of unease that the other only perceived as vague anxiety. But the scream was undeniable.

She let Julian hold her tight to his chest for awhile, rubbing her head against his face and neck as his fingers dug into her ribcage. But eventually, it was too much, and she had to squirm away.

"I'm going to keep looking for an exit."

"Kuks-"

"Julian." If she could stamp her feet with any seriousness, she would. "We aren't dead yet. How long has it been since the vial broke?"

"22 minutes."

"We aren't showing serious symptoms yet. It could be it's not concentrated enough to kill us for another hour, or even longer, because of how big the building is. Even if it isn't, we aren't dead yet."

Julian knew she was right (of course he did- she was himself and vice versa). But he didn't feel up to it.

She sighed. "Help look when you can." And with that, she bounded off again.

Julian sat there for a few minutes before forcing himself to get up and continue the search.

Not long after that, he started feeling dizzy. Rather- Kukalaka had started feeling dizzy, as there was a vague, achy quality that told him it wasn't this body feeling it yet.

He'd gotten used to the smell, but it was already everywhere. He didn't recognize it- it was godawful, and if it had ever shown up in any of his labs, he'd never have forgotten it. It made the dizziness worse.

He kept walking, feeling along the wall panel. He remembered the map so clearly, with its single marked exit point. Even if he found another door, it'd be the same as the first. What he really needed was a weak wall panel. Something he could pry off and shoot a hole though the other side, or something of the sort.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

It was so dark, his eyes hurt. They were strained, and he was fairly certain that gas vial was indeed irritating them.

He tugged on the neck of his undershirt. The old one had a bit of stretch, and he could've pulled it over his mouth and nose by now, protected them a bit.

He was almost directly across from where the vial had broken when the dizziness intensified, and he knew this body was feeling it too.

Julian pressed a hand over his mouth, desperate not to vomit. He was fairly certain it would only make things worse.

Dakh’voh pthak. Ri nam-tor ret na’fan-kitok abi’dakh odu pthak.

He kept walking. He wondered how Garak had known he recited Vulcan mantras- that crass little dig after he'd smacked his face into a bulkhead hadn't been random. He'd never mentioned it, though others knew- what a fascinating web it would be, if you could track the flow of the station rumor mill and chart it out.

Dakh’voh pthak. Ri nam-tor ret na’fan-kitok abi’dakh odu pthak.

Next chamber.

---

His head was spinning. Surely, someone had noticed by now? Gotten bored, tried to comm him- with one or two people spared for each building, the rest securing the cache or manning the Defiant, check in was at three hours. It had been three hours- longer than, actually, but who was counting? An hour and a half since the vial broke.

He'd stopped being able to walk ten minutes ago. He'd leaned against the wall for a break, and found himself sliding down, down, down it.

He wondered if Kukalaka had found a place with clearer air to stay. Her body was smaller, more susceptible- if one went, they both would. His eyes were hard to keep open already, and he couldn't tell which body was feeling it.

He wondered if he should've left a note with the abandoned bag. The vial and EMP seemed obvious enough, but what if they weren't? What if they thought-

Julian shuddered where he laid against the wall, gripped by a strange sensation. It wasn't a wholly unpleasant one, though it was clouded by the burning that had spread all over his face. Was that a symptom of whatever was in that vial?

There was a strange calm that came with it. That was nice, at least.

Julian hummed quietly to himself.

A streak of blue crossed his vision. Then again, flapping towards him.

"Butterfly...?" He hadn't hallucinated up to this point. This was new.

The streak of blue settled above his head, and started making a terrible racket. Julian lifted his shaking hands, trying to plug his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to the urge to close them.

He thought he heard something else, but soon after his body felt weightless and heavy at the same time.

He wondered it it felt different, depending on which body went first.

---

He was certain no one had ever thought of Dr. Bashir as small before. Perhaps his daemon, comparatively, but even that seemed silly. Size was not their typical vulnerability.

It was telling that he and Itzik has sat at their bedside for quite some time before remembering to remove their air masks.

Dr. Bashir and Kukalaka had been intubated the second they'd gotten to the Defiant's infirmary, which had made flushing their eyes with water a bit of a hassle. Once the readings of uzducine gas exposure had come up, Chief O'Brien, their chief security officer, and several others had been immediately sent down to investigate.

Garak would naturally have volunteered to go with them, but his hands were full of (metaphorical) pins and needles. He wasn't sure he'd he useful. Given the others (and he had seen the regret and anger on their faces) would not be able to visit Dr. Bashir until they were underway back to the starbase, he felt obligated to sit vigil until relieved.

He kept thinking about the feeling of soft fur against his hands and in his arms.

His hands, currently, were curled tight in his lap. He had to resist the temptation to do something troublesome. Such as slamming some fingers into a drawer.

The Defiant had different patient scrubs, and he liked them far better. These were a light grey-green. The tube crossing over them, he did not like- it was rigid and gross, provocative, primitive, exactly the sort of thing that made Garak avoid any infirmary as much as possible.

Dr. Bashir's hand twitched, and Garak straightened his posture immediately. Those damp, sticky lashes opened slowly.

Dr. Bashir looked around, gaze still unfocused- from the ceiling to the divider curtain to Garak for a long moment, then Kukalaka. Itzik had long since found a hidden perch. He gently began petting his daemon.

Garak looked away. "As I'm sure you have guessed, you have survived an attempt on your life once more. I must congratulate you again on your strength."

Something gripped Garak's hand and tugged. He looked back down.

Dr. Bashir was pulling on him with all his strength- which, considering, even with him in such a state, was hard to resist. Garak let his hand be pulled.

Dr. Bashir pressed Garak’s hand against his cheek and closed his eyes. There was a bit of unshaven hair by his ear- stiffer than the haunting sense memory, but enough that Garak's arm trembled slightly with the effort of resisting the urge to jerk his hand away.

Dr. Bashir's other hand kept stroking over Kukalaka.

He hadn't realized yet.

Oh yes, it had been necessary- by the time he had found her, she had collapsed. The fact that Dr. Bashir was still conscious right as Garak had found him was truly impressive, under the circumstances. To ensure no transporter problems through the thick walls of the buildings, you needed a working comm badge to latch onto.

Garak still couldn't imagine, even so, that Dr. Bashir would so easily forgive Garak manhandling his very soul, holding it in his arms like a small child. And worse- hesitating to let her go when the nurse indicated she needed to be put down on the biobed for intubation.

Or that, unspeakably, he wanted to do it again, kept thinking about it. Wait until no one could see, not even her human half, and cradle her in his arms again as shockwaves of alternating revulsion and shame crashed over him alongside adoration and wonder.

Garak slid his hand away, a contrasting guilt stinging him as Dr. Bashir's eyes opened again. "The nurse will be coming by to check on you in a moment."

---

Dr. Bashir and Kukalaka still needed to be intubated for awhile by the time they returned, and had to be moved very carefully as a result. Jadzia and the Chief naturally crowded around them once they were free of their duties, even managing to find some game to play with them to distract them from the tubes.

It had been a pitiful sight to watch them be shooed out as Julian was questioned for a witness statement. To watch their faces drop into heart wrenching worry and rage again.

Garak, naturally, was not requested to aid the investigation. He, naturally, did not let this stop him from keeping abreast of the matter. Should Starfleet be derelict, he would happily pick up the slack. He was contracted personnel now, after all.

It seemed a young woman- another doctor- had heard about Julian's personal history, and decided an augment was too dangerous to be allowed to live. She rather readily admitted it; from Sisko's notes, it seemed she had expected he would agree with her.

Finding a vantage point to watch as she and her daemon were loaded onto a transport after the court martial had been difficult, but necessary. He needed to know they were off the starbase.

Garak personally saw little wrong with executions. The Federation attitude towards them was laughable- death was a mercy.

Because death was a mercy, once the guilt was sealed, he did nothing. They would simply have to suffer a nice long life inside a cell.

Sisko sought him out not long afterward, brie furrowed with suspicion. His daemon padded along beside him.

"Mr. Garak."

"Captain." Garak tilted his head. "You needn't stand, there's a spare seat."

Sisko took it, leaning one of his forearms on the table as he looked at Garak with intensity. "I'm... surprised by you."

"Mm?" Garak took a sip of his drink. "Are you? What have I done now?"

"It's what you haven't done."

Garak widened his eyes. "Why, Captain. You personally reminded me this matter was best left to you and the other ranking officers- and I must say, you handled it quite well."

Sisko closed his eyes and raised his brows for a second. "Perhaps I believe that. But from what I hear, you haven't been to see Julian and Kukalaka since we got back either, and that makes me...suspicious."

Garak was glad his species' facial expressions were normally considered harder to read beyond what they intentionally telegraphed. "Your fellow officers have kept me busy, I'm afraid. After all, I'm the only contractor of my kind that they have." Garak lowered his voice. "I heard they tried reaching out to a few others, but they all declined."

Sisko's brow eased, and he sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing. I see I had nothing to worry about- nothing that I have to make a report on, at least." Sisko stood up. "Julian and Kukalaka are being fully discharged tomorrow. Back to full duty, allowed to stay in their own quarters again. In case you find some spare time."

#cipher talk #Ds9 #Garashir #my writing

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thesilliestrovingalive · 2 months ago

Text

Updated: March 5, 2025

Reworked Character #20: Hyakutaro Ichimonji

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, torture, crime, and animal abuse.

Aliases: The Qi Releaser and Blonde Grandpa

Occupation: 2nd Lieutenant and field electrical engineer in the Regular Army, Captain of the Intelligence Agency, and General of Division 6

Retirement plans: Reopen the Ichimonji martial arts school

Special skills: Proficiency in gathering intelligence and Ichimonji-style martial arts, inspecting electrical equipment, street fighting, and operating incognito

Esper abilities: He can strike a person's vulnerable points with either a spin kick or harsh jab, causing instant damage to blood vessels and bones that fully incapacitates them. Due to the experiments conducted on him and his tremendous martial arts skills and training, his body has become incredibly resilient. As a result of his iron-like physicality, his grip strength is powerful enough to tear skin. Additionally, he can communicate with bugs like cockroaches and ants, commanding them to survey areas that are difficult for him to access and return with crucial intelligence on enemy positions and other potential threats.

He has mastered the Hishou Ken technique, which enables him to harness the kinetic willpower surging through his body. This allows him to unleash a strange blue light from the black half-orbs with a blue-violet sheen located in the centre of his palms. This energy is released in a burst, rapidly pursuing nearby enemies. A medium-sized ball of energy feels like a hard punch with lingering pain for a brief moment. In contrast, large ones deliver an instant, crushing blow. He can launch between five to ten of these energy blasts before requiring a recharge period of three to six minutes.

During a minute of deep concentration, he can unleash a stream of fiery, electric blue energy that lasts for four minutes. This energy incinerates any enemy within its 10 ½ ft (320.04 cm) range and electrocutes enemies that aren’t directly in front of the blast, but are close to it. To maintain the blast, he must remain stationary, moving only slightly in one spot because any significant movement will break his concentration and halt the attack. Once the four-minute stream of energy has been unleashed, he must wait fifteen minutes to recharge before using this ability again.

Hobbies: Shaving, tai chi, wandering around battlefields, and playing the shakuhachi flute

Likes: Maintaining his hair, wearing fancy business suits, eating bananas and watching Kamen Rider with Utan, and all of the souvenirs he collected over the years

Dislikes: Being reminded of losing his family, anyone who dismisses his martial arts teaching, all of the harm General Morden has caused, and people confusing him as the first esper in all of human history

Favourite food: Mitarashi dango

Sexuality: Aromantic asexual

Gender: Male

Age: 54 (in 2022), 60 (in 2028), 62 (in 2030), 64 (in 2032), 66 (in 2034), 73 (in 2041), 75 (in 2043), 76 (in 2044), and 79 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 128 lbs. (58 kg)

Design: He’s a 5’ 7” (170.18 cm) Japanese ectomorph with a lean, athletic, slightly gaunt build and some muscle definition. He has a pale ivory skin and sparkling sunburst green-hazel eyes with a pink lavender sheen. He has a crooked, rosy nose, a brownish mole located above his right nostril, a missing upper left canine, and a silvery lower right premolar. He has the same unkempt hair and beard as Hyakutaro from Metal Slug 3 Pachinko, but with a few streaks of light ash blonde. Before being subjected to experiments, his hair was a jet black colour, and his eyes lacked an unnatural sheen. His face shows signs of aging, including forehead lines, frown lines, tear troughs, nasolabial folds, and crow's feet.

He has a large back irezumi tattoo depicting a blue-eyed white tiger battling a baku stealing a golden pear in a peony field, while the vermillion bird soars high above in a cloud-filled sky, watching the event. He bears numerous scars from his time on the battlefield: a lightning bolt-shaped scar extending from his left deltoid to the underside of his right pectoral muscle; multiple scrapes and cuts on his feet and right hand; a bullet graze mark above his right elbow; a bullet wound below the left side of his waist; and a semi-curved scar from his right temple to the center of his cheek. He also has sixteen cigarette burns on the sides of his neck, a series of stab wounds on his right upper arm, and severe burns on his left hand and forearm. He also has a slightly diagonal scar located on the left side of the bridge of his nose, his left little finger amputated, and the tip of his tongue has been cut off.

His military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, forearms wrapped in worn gauze, and fireproof field drab gloves featuring cutouts that expose the half-orbs on his palms. Similar to Regular Army peacekeeping troops, he wears a left-side reseda chartreuse armband displaying the Regular Army insignia and a lavender moisture-wicking dress shirt with an open collar. However, he also wears a Division 6 field tunic, which replaces the standard camouflage jacket. He wears metal wristbands, E-Armour, mid-calf Hooker’s green socks, and a pair of field drab paratrooper boots. He wears dark green, greyish-brown, and charcoal camouflage army cargo shorts with frayed hems, which is held up by his black karate belt. He carries a small apple green hobo bag slung over his left shoulder, which contains his walkie-talkie and a pack of banana-kiwi flavoured gum. He has a sheath for his Mark I trench knife, a holder for his tonfa, and a right-side drop leg holster for his CZ 75 with a silencer.

He wears a dark brown bandolier slung over his right shoulder, holding 9×21mm cartridges for his CZ 75. Hyakutaro carries around a field drab load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, electrician tools, and a disguise kit that adapts to the specific requirements of each mission. It also contains a maple wood baseball bat with rusty nails and all Regular Army-issued weapons for the comrades who need them the most.

When he's not on the battlefield, he styles his hair neatly, which is reminiscent of Hyakutaro's character portrait in Metal Slug: 2nd Mission. He wears a white dress shirt and a rose quartz cardigan-style vest with silver buttons. He accessorises with gold-rimmed sunglasses featuring yellow lenses, which he sometimes swaps for black eyeglasses. Around his neck, he wears an alabaster-hued scarf adorned with vertical stripes of Prussian blue and old lavender in a zig-zag pattern. He dons a pair of leather field drab dress shoes and dark goldenrod skinny jeans held up by a black belt with a green-tinted silver buckle. He wears a pink lavender tie with palatinate purple polka dots and a Hooker’s green business suit jacket with white cuffs. He still carries the apple green hobo bag, which now holds his pack of gum, a blue-violet case for his eyeglasses, and a handful of bananas for Utan. He often carries a hickory wood walking cane with a black finish and a green gold C-shaped handle.

He wears white boxer briefs with vertical sky-blue stripes and a gilt-brass heart-shaped locket. The locket contains a photo of his step-granddaughter, beaming with joy as she tightly hugs a birthday doll, her smile highlighting her missing upper left premolar. On his right hand, he dons a golden wedding band and a silver engagement ring with a trillion cut diamond. He always wears a viridian fanny pack with khaki-coloured straps and Chinese violet polka dots. Inside, he keeps his hair care essentials: L’Oréal Elnett Extra Strong Hold, Catwalk Your Highness Firm Hold Hairspray, Amika The Wizard Silicone-Free Detangling Primer, a wide-toothed Maya blue hair brush, a black detangling hair brush, and a palatinate purple paddle hair brush.

Character summary: He’s a wise, humble, respectful, and generous Buddhist who’s deeply devoted to successfully completing his military duties and supporting his comrades in combat. When necessary, will thoughtfully question orders that compromise his sense of honour and the safety of himself and those around him. He's a kind-hearted and approachable person who easily makes friends and greatly appreciates the friendships he has fostered over the years. Hyakutaro possesses a lighthearted and slightly absurd sense of humour, while also displaying surprising bravery and agility in battle. However, his clumsiness, predisposition to risk-taking, and occasional lapses in attention can sometimes make him accident-prone. Although cautious in his espionage work, he’s somewhat impulsive in combat, often bursting with boundless enthusiasm.

Hyakutaro lives with mild atypical depression and unresolved trauma, having learned to manage his symptoms while actively working towards healing and acceptance. Every second month, he takes a “depression nap” that lasts three hours, allowing him to clear his mind and get some much-needed rest. He has a habitual gesture of licking his thumb and then holding it up to gauge the wind's direction. As a nature lover, he strongly respects the environment and fauna, and can't stand people who abuse animals for sick entertainment. He sets exceptionally high standards for himself as a martial arts master, which can be sometimes crippling, leading to self-criticism and fixation on mistakes. Fortunately, with encouragement and affirmation from loved ones, Hyakutaro is able to navigate these challenges and maintain confidence in his abilities.

He remains eerily calm and centred, even in the most intense situations, and it's exceedingly difficult to provoke his anger. Despite his overly carefree and optimistic nature, his views are surprisingly grounded and pragmatic, never veering into the absurd. Although he usually has a happy expression, he's capable of turning deadly serious and menacing when necessary. He’s extremely supportive of his comrades, encouraging them to be their authentic selves and do what is right. However, this support can sometimes be misapplied, inadvertently encouraging negative behaviour. Despite his intelligence, he occasionally speaks out of turn, making others feel uncomfortable.

Driven by a desire for revenge, he seeks to hold General Morden and the Rebel Army accountable for the death of his family and many comrades and the kidnapping of his step-granddaughter that occurred during the Great Morden War. Whenever he hears anything about the Rebel Army, he immediately takes action and is determined to take them down. He feels proud of his level of seniority in the Regular Army and the respect it earns him, although he intends to retire and live a normal life once he gets the chance.

He’s a charismatic, attentive, and introspective leader who ensures his team runs smoothly and swiftly resolves issues as they arise. As a self-disciplined and emotionally intelligent individual, he’s highly perceptive, effectively reading the emotions of both situations and people. With unwavering resolve, Hyakutaro remains committed to his mission: protecting the innocent and defeating people who threaten world peace. Although he can be talkative at times, he is generally a man of few words, speaking briefly and directly when he does. However, when discussing his passions for martial arts and electrical work, he opens up and enjoys sharing his enthusiasm with his comrades. He has an imposing presence that commands respect, often accompanied by a confident and intimidating demeanour.

He takes great pride in being one of Gimlet's top instructors, having taught him valuable self-defence skills through martial arts and even gifted him his prized iron knuckles. He delights in having meandering conversations about random topics with Gimlet, sharing laughs and drinks along the way. He truly admires Gimlet's kindness, respect, and protectiveness towards him, but is put off by his short temper. He's uncomfortable with Gimlet's bullying and inappropriate behaviour. He's also perplexed by how someone he considers a good friend can be so hurtful to others without hesitation. Despite this, he tries to offer Gimlet constructive advice and encouragement to help him become a better person and find his purpose in life.

He looks up to his older twin brother, Nayutaro, for introducing him to martial arts and teaching him the fundamentals. He's grateful for Nayutaro's unwavering support and care, even when they're apart for extended periods. He's also close with his three cousins, treating them like brothers, and encourages their pursuit of martial arts excellence. However, he sometimes finds Nanahyakumantaro's intense brooding and Happyakumantaro's party-centric lifestyle to be egregious. He often engages in playful banter with Issenmantaro and Nayutaro. He also good-naturedly teases Nanahyakumantaro about his overly serious nature. Hyakutaro rarely argues with Happyakumantaro, especially when the latter fails to pay attention to important instructions or intentionally causes trouble at inopportune moments.

A temporary rift formed in his relationships with Nayutaro and his three cousins, Issenmantaro, Nanahyakumantaro, and Happyakumantaro, when he discovered their involvement with the Rebel Army following the formation of the Japanese Infantry. However, he didn't seem overly troubled by this revelation, particularly after they confessed that they soon grew disillusioned with the Rebel Army's atrocities. They share a common conviction that the Regular Army is corrupt and that those responsible for its nefarious activities must be held accountable for their crimes. Nevertheless, they’re reluctant to risk assassination and spark widespread chaos.

Hyakutaro deeply cares about his orangutan pet, Utan, willing to do anything to keep him happy and ensure he lives his best life. He values the companionship Utan offers and appreciates his unique ability to understand emotions and listen attentively to others. He finds the absurdly gentlemanly voice emitted by the device on Utan's collar, which translates his thoughts, to be hilarious. This is especially true when Utan attempts to be deadly serious and threatening. Hyakaturo appreciates the orangutan’s great sense of humour and enjoys sharing bananas with him. He's not fond of how Utan can come across as demanding and annoying when he wants something. Utan tends to throw tantrums when he doesn't get his way or when someone does something he dislikes. Furthermore, Utan can be a distraction when he unexpectedly ends up on the battlefield.

Backstory: Hyakutaro Ichimonji was born on August 26, 1968 in Kaev Seima, Mondulkiri, Cambodia. Much of Hyakutaro's life before his military service remains shrouded in mystery, with only a few details known about him. His father owned the Ichimonji martial arts school, while his mother was a covert agent for the Japanese government, disguised as an artistic businesswoman. They immigrated to Cambodia to live a life of solitude and peace, escaping the usual hustle and bustle of Nagoya. He’s the younger twin brother of Nayutaro Ichimonji, the declared eldest heir of the secretive Ichimonji-style martial arts and ninjutsu. Not much is known about the Ichimonji-style martial arts and ninjutsu due to its highly secretive nature. Practitioners refuse to share its secrets, fearing widespread replication and potential damage to its history. However, rumors suggest that the Ichimonji clan combines various martial arts from around the world with street fighting and/or tai chi. According to him, his personality was largely shaped by his mother and Buddhist teachings.

Hyakutaro, the youngest heir of the Ichimonji-style martial arts and ninjutsu, never practiced the art of the ninja because it had never interested him. Nayutaro taught him the fundamental principles of martial arts, while his father instructed him in advanced techniques, teaching him how to properly wield them. His mother shared with him the secrets of becoming a master spy, which sparked his interest in espionage work. Once he turned 12, his parents moved back to Japan to stay with his father's family in Kagoshima. There, he and Nayutaro met and lived alongside Issenmantaro, Nanahyakumantaro, and Happyakumantaro in a small neighbourhood. They quickly formed a strong bond, spending their free time together by having movie nights, playing board games, and exploring the outdoors. They also became classmates, attending the same school and helping each other out with homework. During grade 11, he pursued an apprenticeship to become a licensed electrician, a career path he genuinely aspired to.

It's unknown what happened to Hyakutaro's parents because he refuses to discuss their sudden disappearance from his life. However, according to him, a tragic event befell his parents that pushed him to live a life of crime as a yakuza member after he finished his apprenticeship, and his three cousins moved to other places in or outside of Japan. This explains the tattoo on his back, his former possession of iron knuckles, and his expertise in street fighting. He joined a yakuza gang alongside Nayutaro after undergoing yubitsume, which allowed them to showcase their martial arts skills. They participated in various illicit activities, including loan sharking, to provide financial support for themselves and their gang. His reputation grew as a formidable and unexpectedly generous shateigashira, bolstered by his Ichimonji heritage and expertise in espionage.

In his late 20s, he was recruited by the Regular Army and Intelligence Agency, who recognised his unwavering loyalty, exceptional combat skills, and expertise in electrical work. After leaving the yakuza, he faced a five-year antisocial force designation, making everyday tasks like opening a bank account, buying a car or renting a room extremely challenging. However, the financial support from the Regular Army and Intelligence Agency, who valued him as a key asset in tactical operations, largely mitigated these difficulties. Following his specialised training, he became a highly skilled tactical spy, successfully completing numerous high-stakes missions. He worked as a field electrical engineer for the Regular Army, where he became responsible for inspecting his comrades' electrical equipment. He also took the initiative to teach martial arts and hand-to-hand combat skills to cadets, new recruits, and fellow comrades who showed genuine interest.

As the Regular Army was affiliated with the Amadeus Syndicate at the time, he became one of the first individuals to undergo experimentation with psionic energy. Fortunately, he was among the few who avoided extreme physical stress and heavy scientific modification. Hyakutaro ultimately became the first recorded esper in contemporary history, marking a significant event since Ptolemaios' exile from his tribe. These experiments would ultimately propel him to living legend status as he ascended through the ranks, earning the distinctions of 2nd Lieutenant in the Regular Army and Captain in the Intelligence Agency.

Twelve years prior to the Arms Deal Barrage, he relocated to Vietnam, where he met Salomea, a Polish medical illustrator, during a visit to a local pharmacy. Over the next four years, they went on numerous dates and spent quality time together whenever he wasn't busy. He learned that she was a widow with a young adolescent son named Kordian. The couple eventually married, and he became Kordian's step-father. His married life and relationship with Kordian were healthy and loving. He supported them to the best of his abilities, even setting aside money for Kordian's education.

He played a crucial role in the Arms Deal Barrage as a tactical spy. He provided crucial intel on enemy positions and deliberately allowed himself to be captured to supply his comrades. Notably, he was among the select few informed by Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye that the Regular Army was corrupt and secretly involved in an illicit arms deal with the Serapion Fellowship. However, like the others, he chose to remain silent, fearing assassination and the inability to live a meaningful life. He aided Gimlet in pursuing Lieutenant Colonel Macba on a moving freight train, battling him in the front car and successfully defeating him. As a gift of appreciation and recognition for Gimlet's fighting capabilities, Hyakutaro gave him his iron knuckles before they left the freight train and received orders to destroy a Serapion Fellowship fuel factory.

While navigating a desert area littered with Serapion Fellowship bikers and tanks after Gimlet rescued him from sudden capture, he spotted a group of guerrillas and special forces operatives bullying a male orangutan wearing a diaper. The orangutan, whose voice was amplified by a device on its collar, begged its tormentors to stop and screamed in rage and agony. He promptly intervened, rescuing the orangutan and slaughtering his tormentors. As a token of gratitude, the orangutan offered him a banana that one of the guerrillas had been holding. Hyakutaro learned that the friendly orangutan’s name was Utan, born on May 14, 1948, in an Israeli zoo, and his advanced age was attributed to biological modifications. He decided to keep Utan by his side and equipped him with a MAC-10 for self-defence.

During the start of the Great Morden War, Hyakutaro was having dinner with his family and sister-in-law, celebrating the birthday of his 7-year-old Vietnamese-Polish step-granddaughter, Quyên. The evening was disrupted by a sudden raid in Vietnam. He witnessed the killing of his wife and step-son and the kidnapping of his step-granddaughter by the Rebel Army Bike Squad. It greatly devastated him, but he didn’t have much time to grieve as the Rebel Infantrymen took him hostage. They forced him to repair the Tetsuyuki in the Villeneuve Mt. System, threatening that if he refused, Quyên, who was also being held hostage, would be forced into Operation Satchen and face a gruesome death due to an explosive device implanted in her newly gifted doll. He reluctantly agreed to repair the electrical components of the Tetsuyuki, not wanting to risk Quyên’s life.

Deciding enough was enough, he engaged in combat with the Rebel Army Private 1st Class Tetsuyuki pilot and ultimately killed him, then escaped the warship. However, he would be recaptured and hastily relocated to Ronbertburg City as Marco, Tarma, Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye breached Rebel Army defenses in the Villeneuve Mt. System. Meanwhile, Quyên was rescued by Tequila and placed under Fio's care. The Rebels then subjected Hyakutaro to severe torture and later left him hanging on the roof where the Mini-Bata was once stored. Luckily, he was rescued by Gimlet and later reunited with Quyên, who was under the care of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S.

At this point, he joined the war effort, driven by a desire to support his comrades and a personal vow to protect his step-granddaughter at all costs. He assisted Fio and Eri on their intelligence-gathering missions during the Great Morden War, while providing crucial support to the resistance by supplying weapons and repairing electrical equipment.

During the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash, he was dispatched to gather intelligence on Rebel Army plans and Japanese Infantry positions. After surveying San Luis Potosí and stealing classified documents from a Japanese Infantry base, he was captured by Pipovulaj troops while returning to his assigned Regular Army unit, which had been deployed alongside him to provide additional combat support. Despite attempting to fight back, he was overpowered and subjected to six weeks of torture by the Japanese Infantry and Pipovulaj to extract information on Regular Army tactical operations. His escape remains unclear, but rumours suggest a Martian operative working for Pupipi, disguised as a Pipovulaj troop, may have assisted him.

Upon his escape, he found himself battling a contingent of Japanese Infantry soldiers and Pipovulaj troops. Fortunately, he was rescued by Nayutaro, Issenmantaro, Nanahyakumantaro, Happyakumantaro, and Division 6, who intervened just in time to prevent his recapture or potential death. After learning about their circumstances, he was appointed as their leader. As a sign of respect rather than genuine devotion, he began to worship Sol Dae Rokker. Following the surrender of the Arabian Infantry, he intentionally allowed himself to be captured in Hong Kong, where he was tied to a stake and heavily guarded by Rebels. He was later rescued by Division 6 and Marco's team, providing them with crucial intel on the Rebel Army's next location and offering combat assistance.

In New Godokin City, Hyakutaro and Division 6 were tasked with tracking down Sagan, while Marco's team handled the ongoing situation with Logan in the subway tunnel. Hyakutaro stealthily found Sagan in a raided shopping mall, where Rebels were partying, looting food and clothing, and socialising. Upon discovering this, he called for Regular Army reinforcements to aid in the assault. Once they arrived, accompanied by a battle-ready Rumi, the reinforcements and Division 6 tackled the Rebel threat with moderate success. In the final showdown, Hyakutaro aided Marco's team and the Pipakhroz by weakening the Rugname's core.

When Hyakutaro and Division 6 were deployed to a South Pacific island during the Survival Island Occupation, he commanded his team to confront the Rebels, while he searched for hostages and valuable intel. As he navigated through the dense jungle, he became lost and battled many Rebel soldiers, rescued hostages, and gathered important intel on current enemy plans, while trying to find his way back to Division 6. After two days, he encountered Dilovar, who was aiding the P’isqu Runakuna (“bird people” in Quechua) in their fight against the invading Rebel soldiers and searching for Walter and Tyra. Without a second thought, he joined forces with Dilovar, providing combat support and occasional advice. Hyakutaro eventually reunited with Division 6 and met Walter and Tyra, launching a strategic assault on the Rebel Army base housing the Cabracan. Following the battle, he invited Dilovar, Walter, and Tyra to join Division 6, impressed by their combat skills and teamwork.

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